by Eden Beck
“Aren’t you the one who was over there covering your ears just a minute ago?” Marlowe adds, screwing up his face as Romulus and Lydia share a mischievous kiss here in the middle of the kitchen.
Rory, meanwhile, has gone red from head to toe. “There’ll be plenty of time for that. For now … I think we’ll be more focused on helping Sabrina settle into her life as a wolf shifter.”
Marlowe scoffs. “More like just focused on keeping her alive.”
Romulus nods along with that, but Lydia just rolls her eyes.
“Sabrina is far more capable than any of you give her credit,” she says.
“Don’t worry,” I chime in, slipping over to plant a kiss on her cheek. “I fully expect she’ll be running circles around us before all is said and done. There’s a reason she’s ended up with all three of us.”
“Because even with all three of us,” Marlowe says, stepping up to jab me in my side. “We’re going to already have a hard time keeping up.”
“Well maybe you’ll have a hard time keeping it up …” I start, but I’m not allowed to finish.
Rory darts away from the sink after me, his soapy hands grasping at the air just behind me as I dodge out of reach.
“You little …”
Romulus has to pull Lydia aside to keep either of us from slamming into her as we duck and weave around the kitchen counter, Rory swiping out to try and box my ears and me staying just out of reach each time.
“I don’t know about you two,” I say after ducking a particularly close swipe, only to pop up on the other side of the kitchen island with a grin on my face, “but I don’t think I’ll have any problem keeping up with Sabrina’s every desire.”
I dodge again. “Because unlike you two, I haven’t yet gotten crotchety in my old age.”
“Hey!” Now Marlowe is swiping at me too. “I’m only six months older than you, you know.”
I pull down the corner of my face a bit to make it sag. “Like I said, you’re already an old man. Just imagine how ancient Rory is compared to you.”
I don’t manage to completely stay out of the two of their grasp for long. Eventually, first Rory and then Marlowe manages to grab me by the back of my shirt and between the two of them—start dragging me out into the garden.
I mock fear, flailing my arms out in front of me as I call out to Lydia to save me.
“Look what your sons are doing!” I call back, over my shoulder.
But Lydia just shakes her head—almost as much as her own shoulders are shaking from laughter.
It’s Romulus who answers.
“We’re not coming to your aid tonight, Kaleb,” he says, and then suddenly, his voice takes on a more serious tone again. “It’s time for you and your brothers to learn how to sort things out on your own.”
And I know, even as I’m dragged out onto the lawn where I’m sure I’ll spend the next half hour wrestling my way out of both my brothers’ grasps, that he’s right.
Even with all this talk of marriage, of pups, of responsibility … it isn’t just Sabrina about to start a new life.
We all are.
5
Sabrina
For all my worries, when the day of the wedding arrives, it’s everything that I could have ever wanted it to be.
Lydia set up the outside gardens at the side of the mansion to have a little gazebo and a small platform for the shaman to stand on as he conducts the ceremony. The grass is littered with tiny wildflower buds and we scheduled the ceremony for early evening, just when the fireflies will begin to emerge and twinkle their hovering bodies across the ground.
As soon as I mentioned the Queen Anne’s Lace to Lydia, she set about having a dress made just for me—and the results, when they arrive, are spectacular. It’s as if I’m clothed in the flowers themselves, arranged in such a way as to fit to my body and fall in soft folds to the ground at my feet.
She weaves a rainbow of flower buds grown in her own garden into my hair and braids a crown around my head that has a few loose strands falling down against my cheeks. I am barefoot, just like the boys will be, as a way to honor the ritual about to take place.
I am more than becoming one with Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb.
I am becoming one with the ancient power that made them the beasts that they are. The beast that I too shall soon be.
I don’t get as jittery before the wedding as I expected. Maybe it’s because the idea of a wedding is somehow less terrifying than the idea of being turned into an entirely new creature. Or maybe it’s just because I’ve wanted this for so long, this promise of never being separated from the boys that I love, that it just feels natural.
Inevitable.
Rory, Kaleb, and Marlowe arrive at the ceremony with bare chests and jeans that seem to have been fit to their bodies in such a way as to accentuate their growing desire for me as the day wears on. It’s certainly not the tailored look I’d have preferred at a normal wedding, but it was all I could do to get them to wear clothes at all—so I have to be satisfied with that.
They all look as though they are anxious to get to the other side of the ceremony so that what little clothes they have on can be removed and we can lie in revelry together. The fading twilight reflects off their muscular torsos and I feel faint before the ceremony even starts. As we all gather in the gardens; Romulus, Lydia, the boys and I, walk toward the shaman who arrives just as we step outside.
This is perfect, just us. Just my new little family.
A family sworn to protect me.
Who will not leave me.
Even when we’re suddenly not the only participants in this ceremony.
Because just before the ceremony can begin, we’re joined by another pack. And it’s the very last one we’d have dreamed to invite.
Remus is here.
6
Sabrina
Remus and his pack appear suddenly from the forest, walking up the hill to the house and around to the gardens where we all stand. Romulus immediately positions himself in front of Lydia and all three of the boys form a tight circle around me.
“What are you doing here, Remus?” Romulus calls down to his brother as soon as they’ve begun to approach. We’ve all been so busy preparing for the wedding that we didn’t sense them.
That, I’ve realized, is our undoing.
We should have been more vigilant than ever today. Because of course, today is the day they would come. Why would Remus stand by and let this happen when there’s a chance he could stop it before it even began?
But then what Remus says throws me off guard. All of us.
“I’ve come to make peace and join in the ceremony of my brother’s pack,” Remus answers with a smile.
I’m not convinced for a second.
This … it doesn’t feel right. His smile is disingenuous, and I can hear the low growl of his pack deep within their throats. Remus clears his own throat and the growling murmur seems to cease.
“And why would I believe that you want to make peace now, after all this time and all of the wrongdoings?” Romulus asks, his own voice steady when my whole body can’t seem to keep from shaking. “Why would you want to be a part of the very thing you profess to hate the most? Sabrina is not only marrying my sons tonight; she will also be starting the first night of her turning ceremony. In seven night’s time, she will be one of us.”
His candor surprises me.
But then again, if Remus is here, then he already knows.
I notice Remus clench his jaw ever so slightly at the last part of what Romulus just said.
He didn’t seem to like the reference to me being one of them. But still, he keeps the friendly smile on his face and keeps up the act.
His pack is huge and greatly outnumbers us, even with Vivian’s pack added to Romulus’. To mine. Ours, as it soon will be.
If they came here to try to fight and stop my turning, they will win. There’s no way we can defend ourselves for long against this many shifters, no matter how str
ong Romulus and the boys are.
As everyone remains still in the tense moment, I suddenly wonder if all of this is too much for me to ask of the boys. My recklessness in wanting to plunge head-first into being turned will cause them consequences that I hadn’t even thought of. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but now I have a nagging suspicion that I have no actual idea at all.
All my preparations, my reading, my worries … what if it really wasn’t enough?
This very moment might end up costing all of us our lives and they did it all for me. I don’t trust Remus or his pack and I was hoping that Romulus and the boys wouldn’t either. But it seems that I keep being wrong about many things.
Too many things.
“You’re really willing to put the past behind us and to move forward in peace?” Romulus asks. “After everything?”
This time there’s a slight quaver to his voice that wasn’t there before. He’s eying his brother differently now.
No, don’t be so foolish, I think to myself. I catch Lydia’s glance from the corner of my eye, and I can tell that she is thinking the same thing as I am.
This is all too conveniently timed. There’s no remorse on Remus’ face. No repentance.
“And you are going to accept Sabrina as being a part of my pack and not some abomination to be hunted?” Romulus continues. He must be able to sense our unease, even without Lydia’s gift. But he must want this badly.
Too badly, I realize, as I watch Romulus’ carefully curated guard drop after all this time.
“Yes,” Remus says. The word slides off his tongue too easily as if he’s been practicing the sound of it. “It’s quite obvious that your boys, and my nephew, are not going to let this girl be. I had been hoping that with enough scaring, you would all change your minds but obviously that didn’t work.”
He has to stop to choose his words. He looks as if the words taste bitter on his tongue. As if they are venom to him.
“So, if you are planning to turn this human into a shifter and bring her into your pack and your family, then there is only one choice for me to make. I either lose my brother forever, or I make peace with it. I already feel like I’ve lost you for more time than we should have let things come between us. I’m ready to absolve that separation and return to being brothers.”
But as much as Lydia’s hand reaches for Romulus, how she pleads with him in her eyes … he ignores her.
Remus holds out his hand for Romulus to take. The low undertone of growling from his pack starts up again, but after Remus whips his head around to glare at them with his deep, black, alpha eyes, they all fall into submission behind their pack leader and remain silent.
When Remus turns back around to face Romulus, I want to say something to tell Romulus not to fall for whatever it is that Remus is plotting. Surely, he can see through it. Surely, he knows this is all a ruse.
That even if we have peace today, it won’t last.
But Romulus is lost. Maybe he’s grown sentimental now, thanks to me. Or maybe he’s just always had a soft spot for his long-lost brother … because he takes his brother’s hand to shake and a new peace is reached, one that I don’t believe to be real.
The tension in the air lightens slightly as Remus’ pack loosens and some of the pack members walk closer to the platform where the ceremony will take place to watch. Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb relax their postures in accordance with their father’s lead, but they still remain close to me as the other pack filters into the gardens.
“I don’t like this,” I whisper to Kaleb.
“I don’t either,” he whispers back.
He takes my hand and the four of us walk toward the platform to begin the ceremony. A pair of eyes in the crowd catches my attention.
It’s her, that girl that wanted to kill me in the forest; the girl that was promised to Rory once. She glares at me with a still-fuming hatred in her eyes. Not only doesn’t she want to see a human be turned, but she doesn’t want to see me married to the man she was promised.
I don’t need Lydia’s gift to know that.
Every inch of my bristles. I’m no wolf yet, but I still feel as if every sense inside me, every instinct, is on fire—begging me not to trust this newfound peace.
This so-called peace.
But then I look at Rory, and Marlowe, and Kaleb … and then to the shaman on the platform. This peace might not last, but this is still my wedding. This is still a moment I’ll remember forever.
It’s a moment that’s about to change everything.
For better or worse, it’s too late to change now.
So, I step up onto the platform with the boys and try to block out how anxious I am. Instead, I focus on them. On their faces.
And I find, just like Romulus with his brother, that everything else seems to melt away.
Nothing else matters but this.
7
Sabrina
Any last questions regarding the wedding and turning ceremony are answered by the shaman as the four of us stand in front of the leathery old man and I allow him to paint the inside of my wrists with a red paint. He uses a thin little brush to draw a complex symbol on each wrist that looks like a moon made out of an eye, or perhaps it’s an eye made out of a moon.
Either way, the symbol marks my wrists—and marks me for turning.
“By the end of this ceremony,” the shaman explains, “you will be bonded in marriage to these three men. You will also have started on the process of turning.”
Process. That’s a bit of an understatement for what the next week holds for me. For what the next few months will entail.
“The wedding ceremony is a symbolic ritual that will bond you as mate to Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb; and will bond you to Romulus pack and family for the rest of your life,” he continues, the words sweeping over me and washing away any remnants of fear that still gripped my insides.
This is what I have been waiting months to hear. Over a year. It’s what I’ve wanted more than anything.
“The turning ceremony will begin tonight. It will take seven days to reach completion. On the last night of the ceremony, you will experience your first shift,” the shaman says, his eyes raising to the moon slowly growing brighter each night as it nears its monthly peak.
I turn to whisper in Rory’s ear as I feel the eyes of the crowd gathered behind us. I don’t like that the other pack is here, I wish they weren’t. I wish I couldn’t feel their gaze like needles pricking at the back of my neck.
“So, there is a ceremony every night for the next six nights after this?” I ask. I know the answer to this, but I want his reassurance. I want to be sure I’m right, that this isn’t another one of my fevered dreams about to dissolve into nonsensical chaos.
But Rory’s hand is steady in mine. His voice sure, his eyes bright.
“Yes,” he answers quietly to me as the shaman draws a long silver cord out of his satchel.
Before I can get too far ahead of myself, the shaman makes a signal to the boys and suddenly all three of them have managed to bring forth a giant claw out of the fingers that looks more like a wolf talon than a fingernail.
The shaman reaches for my wrists and turns them upward so that the symbol he painted on them is facing the sky. Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb, each slash their claw into my flesh in one swift swiping motion that leaves a long clean cut stricken against the painted image. It hurts, but I manage to not scream from either surprise or pain. Instead I manage to keep my face composed even as droplets of blood mingled with red paint drip down to stain the front of my gown.
Then Romulus comes to stand in front of me and with his single claw extended, he too makes a slash against the symbol on my wrist—in the opposite direction of the other three.
“This is the first step of your turning,” Romulus says, his voice so low that only I will hear.
I watch as each of them uses their claw in turn to slash a mark into their own wrist and then extend their arms out forward to touch alongside mine.
The shaman takes the long, silver cord that he’s been holding and uses it to bind each of our wrists together. It’s a strange sensation, having all four of their forearms pressing against mine as our warm blood intermingles and my skin burns from the cuts.
The shaman brings a small dish of cool water to each of our lips as we take a sip. I wonder if there was some truth to the wolf-touched water myth, but then he explains that it is water charged by the full moon. Even as he says it, I swear I can feel the water spread like silvery moonlight through my veins.
When the shaman unties us, Romulus pulls his arm out first and then the other boys follow suit. A few words are said, and then he announces that the turning has begun.
“And with that, you are now bound in blood and law to Rory, Kaleb, and Marlowe,” he says, his head bowing a second. “As we, the shifters call mated and as you … human soon to be shifter … call married.”
I feel a lump rise in my throat and new tears shine at the ends of my lashes.
It’s not the traditional ceremony I expected once. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Me, Rory, Marlowe, Kaleb … we’ve never been traditional.
This here, it feels right. Even with Remus and his pack here eying us, waiting to devour us at the first opportunity, I wouldn’t change a thing now that we’re here. Now that this moment has come.
I turn to face Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb, as the final words are spoken over us. I ignore the stinging in my wrists and the silvery ice in my veins and instead, I focus solely on them. Them.
Soon as I am kissed by each of them, we will belong to each other and no one else in an unbreakable bond that can be undone only by death. The words at this ceremony would leave any traditional human wedding ceremony completely lacking.
Marlowe kisses me first and I can feel his warm body melt against mine as he holds me. It feels as though we are merging into one perfect union. Kaleb kisses me next and his tongue reaches so deeply into my mouth that I feel it make my thighs start to quiver as if it is almost as sensual as intercourse will be.