you don’t ever have to impress them; they’re your family now, and if you were in those lounge pants and T-shirt you had on when I showed up this afternoon, that would have been fine.”
“I would never entertain in such casual attire,” he informed me, sounding almost affronted. “What does that convey to one’s guests?”
“To them, to my family, who are now yours as well, it says that you’re comfortable with them because we’re all just hanging out,” I assured him with a snicker. “But that’s not you, and that’s okay. You’re comfortable having dinner dressed in your suit and tie, but just know for next time that if you wanted to wear some jeans and a sweatshirt, that’d be okay too.”
When he didn’t say anything for a moment, I looked up at his face.
“I don’t own either of those items,” he deadpanned, the concern on his face evident.
I laughed and turned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and squeezing tight.
At dinner, Ambrose told me about how upset Graeme was the night of the gathering, and how Graeme had lifted him off his feet and held him on the wall. “I knew then, he was crazy about you,” he told the table, lifting his glass. “Welcome to the family, Graeme, Stone, and Gigi. We’re so happy to have you.”
I was proud of my brother and got up and went around the table to hug him. He groaned like I was killing him, and everyone laughed.
Later, as was tradition, I showed everyone my mark, and they all took turns kissing it to give Graeme and I their blessing.
Because the wedding was still a couple weeks away, Graeme would host a party to announce our union the following Friday, but since the contract was signed, his house was now mine, and we were, per lupine law, bonded. He had a ring that resembled a signet but was more crudely fashioned, gold, chunky and heavy, an ancient piece made by hand, not from a mold, passed down through his family for generations. His father had worn it most recently, before it was placed in a safe and locked away. But it was Graeme’s to bestow, and he wanted me to wear it, starting now, and so slid it onto the middle finger of my left hand, holding a spot there until the wedding, when he would give me a band of his own design. Everyone clapped when he lifted my chin and kissed me.
They wanted to see the house then, so Stone and Gigi, excited to share their home, our home—I had to get used to saying that—took my family on a tour, all except my mother, who stayed with me. She took me aside when Graeme excused himself to make a call, held my hands tight, and looked up into my eyes.
“Are you truly happy?”
Of course she would check. She was my mother. “Yeah,” I told her, smiling. “You can’t tell, ’cause you don’t know him yet, but he’s good. Like, down deep, all the way through. I know it in my heart,” I whispered. “He’s strong, and not just as an alpha or a cyne, but as a man. He’s not gonna let me get away with anything, but he’s not going to try and change me either.” She nodded instead of crying, and I let go of her hands and eased her into my arms. “He’s gonna love me someday, I know it. I can feel it.”
“Foolish child,” she chided me, kissing my cheek. “He loves you now.”
“No, not yet. You wanna think so ’cause you’re a romantic and––”
“He never takes his eyes off you,” she interrupted before she took a step back to gaze up at my face. “He touches you constantly. It was physically difficult for him to sit across from you at dinner, and while you were staring at his father’s ring when he put it on your finger, I was looking at him. The pride on that man’s face nearly made me cry,” she said, pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of her trousers and dabbing at her red, puffy eyes. “And my goodness, he’s all but drowned you in his pheromones. I can barely find your woodsy scent under his.”
Scent. Pheromones. Her puffy eyes. Something I should know.
“What?” I asked after a moment, trying to figure something out, thinking I needed to keep her talking. “Mom?”
“Your scent, love,” she reiterated. “I can usually smell you easily. I can pick out all my kids,