“This is going to be tasteful,” Logan insisted, hands on his hips like a mother hen standing guard over a bomb. “Elegant. Mature. A peaceful gathering of warriors celebrating love and pack unity.”
Hunter stared at the banners being unfurled, each with cartoonish drawings of a snarling wolf kissing a moon. “Logan.”
“Yes?”
“You’ve spelled ‘ceremony’ with an ‘S’ and two Ms.”
“That’s the Shadow Fang spelling. It’s cultural.”
Troy snorted. “Since when?”
“Since now. Shut up, we’re fostering inter-pack harmony.”
Kade, already ducking behind a stack of folding chairs, muttered, “I give it fifteen minutes before someone ends up pantsless.”
They were gathered in a clearing just beyond the ceremonial site. The goal: a calm pre-mating toast. A final moment of unity. Logan had personally banned
