Ulfar (Intergalactic Surrogacy Agency #4)

Wedding

ULFAR

“They call it a tuxedo. Weird, huh?”

I step out of the dressing room and present myself to Orri, who’s wearing a similar outfit. The fabric is too tight, too itchy, too hot for my liking, but Sarah insisted.

“Why are we wearing these again?” Orri asks, fiddling with the cufflinks.

“Sarah wanted to have an Earth-style mating ceremony. On her world they call them weddings.”

“s,” he repeats. “And they suffocate themselves in clothes to do it?”

“Beats me.”

“Hey, I was thinking about something,” Orri says, running a hand through his hair. “These ‘weddings.’ Isabella told me that usually they happen before the child is born. Why wait so long?”

Stars bless him, he means well, but sometimes Orri can be a bit too nosy. It’s a good thing he’s my oldest friend. “In case you haven’t forgotten, our relationship hasn’t exactly been the most traditional one. Nor was yours, if I remember correctly.”

“Fair, fair.” Orri puts up his hands in defeat. “But won’t the baby make things a little more...complicated?”

“No more than having two mates in one lifetime,” I point out. His previous mate, Zannah, fell in battle, and Orri thought he would never love again. That is, until he met Isabella. Their love isn’t perfect, but it is real. I couldn’t be happier for them.

“Touché,” he relents, checking himself over in the mirror one more time. “Well, I’d better go join the others. The ‘wedding’ should be starting soon.”

Orri turns to leave, but when he’s in the doorway he stops. “Hey, Ulfar. I just remembered something.”

“Yeah?”

“I was right.”

A warm smile creeps up my face. The challenge he presented me long ago, when he and his mate Isabella were having their first child. At the time, I couldn’t conceive of anyone going so nuts over a woman. Especially a human.

But when Sarah came into my life, all the walls I’d drawn up around myself fell away. She inspired me to be a better man and a better alpha. And not only that, something else I thought I’d never be: a father.

* * *

The ceremony begins and I’m standing on a raised dais. A carpeted aisle splits the room in two, where rows of seating house all of our friends and family. It wasn’t cheap, but we even arranged for some of Sarah’s Earth friends to make the trip. An old-fashioned organ begins to play, and it begins.

Each of my Aesirheim battle brothers walks down the aisle, accompanied by their mates. Soren with Lara. Rathgar with Janie. Orri with Isabella. And even though they’re not formally mated yet, Djorn shows up with Vi.

They all walk down the aisle together as the organ plays. The women wear breezy white dresses that stop at the knee, while the men wear multi-layered tuxedos. The women look a lot more comfortable, if you ask me.

But as they take their seats and the organ begins a new tune, the itchy suit and the strange Earth customs don’t matter anymore.

Because there’s Sarah, walking down the aisle with her father, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

She’s wearing a gown of shimmering, iridescent fabric that gives off silver and lavender in the light. Delicate thread-work on the bodice creates patterns in the shape of constellations, and fiber-optic lights weave through the voluminous tulle. It’s almost like she is the stars. As she walks down the aisle with my tiny daughter in her arms, I thank whatever god is watching.

She’s the center of my universe, her and my perfect little daughter. And that’s all that matters.

Soon she’s standing up on the dais with me, and even her eyelashes shine with silver dust. Asgeir the priest stands between us, reading off some lines about harmony and union. I’m only half listening, because I’m too focused on the shine of her eyes, the flush of her cheeks. The shimmering, delicate details of her dress that glow with every movement.

And how could I forget our darling, perfect daughter? Baby Ember rests peacefully in her mother’s arms, bearing witness to our union.

“Do you, Sarah, take this man to be your husband?”

She smiles up at me, and it’s brighter than a starburst. “I do.”

Asgeir turns to me next. “And do you, Ulfar, take this woman to be your wife?”

I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. “I do.”

“Then it is my honor to now pronounce you man and wife. Ulfar, you may kiss your bride.”

When our lips touch, I pour into it a promise for the future. That I will be the best husband—and father—that I possibly can. And that I will stay by her side, come what may. Our energies combine and commingle, creating a symphony that could never be played with just one instrument. It’s a mix of both of us, and you know what?

It’s perfect.

THE END