Lyra POV
The stars hung low over the village, a glittering canopy above the bonfire’s dying embers, as Jaxon and I slipped away from the wedding celebration. The pack’s laughter and music faded behind us, their cheers still ringing in my ears, a joyful echo of the day that had changed everything.
My hand was in Jaxon’s, our fingers laced, his ring on my finger a new, thrilling weight. My heart was full, brimming with the memory of our vows, the pack’s embrace, the moment we’d said “yes” beneath the flower-draped arch. I was his wife now, my husband, and the thought sent a shiver of delight through me, warming my skin despite the cool autumn night.
This was our wedding night, a sacred space carved out for just us, and every step toward the mansion felt like a promise unfolding.
Jaxon’
