21. Gunnar
Chapter twenty-one
Gunnar
I’m staring at the rings like they’re alien tech—glittering, confusing, and damn expensive. I grunt, shifting uneasily on my feet, feeling like an intruder in this upscale boutique that smells like money and snobbery. Oberon and Luka are out there somewhere, probably shooting the shit and talking about how lucky I am…and here I am, trying to pick out jewelry.
“Damn, I could use a woman’s eye for this,” I mutter under my breath, picturing Aisling’s grey gaze that always seemed to see right through me. What would she want on her finger? Something as bright as her smile? As unique as her spirit?
Nero leans in, his presence a strange comfort despite everything. He plucks three rings from the display with the ease of someone who knows luxury, and I can’t help but raise an eyebrow.
The guy’s got taste, I’ll give him that.
“Thoughts?” Nero asks, holding them up between us, each catching the light and throwing sparks like tiny stars.
“Shit, man, I don’t know.” I rub the back of my neck, frustration knotting in my muscles. “They all look…sparkly.”
He chuckles, shaking his head—a silent ‘you hopeless alpha’ without saying a word. “Think about Aisling, Gunnar. Her style, her laugh, her skin…”
I do think about her, more often than I’d like to admit, but never in relation to something as delicate as jewelry.
“Remember how she looks when she’s truly happy,” Nero continues. “The shimmer in her eyes when you crack one of your god-awful jokes. The glow on her skin when she’s lost beneath you, legs tangled with yours, the world fading away…”
It’s like he’s flipped a switch inside me, and suddenly I’m there—in those intimate moments where Aisling’s laughter is a melody that fills the room, her satisfaction an aura that bathes us both in its light. My heart hammers as memories flood in, each one a piece to this puzzle of choosing the perfect ring for her.
“Focus on that feeling,” Nero continues, voice softer now. “Which one of these echoes that shine?”
I stare down at the trio of rings again, each beautiful yet so different. One, in particular, draws me in—a ring that seems to capture the essence of the night sky. Its round center stone is surrounded by black diamonds that glint with a dark inner fire.
“This one,” I say, voice firmer than I expect. It’s not just a choice; it’s a realization, a knowing deep in my bones that this ring belongs on Aisling’s finger.
Nero studies the ring and then nods, approval lighting his eyes. “That’s the one. Fits her, doesn’t it? Like it was crafted with her in mind.”
“Sure does,” I agree, warmth spreading through me from the pride in his gaze. It’s strange, finding such kinship with Nero—once my enemy, now one of my greatest friends. But here, in this small victory, it feels like we’re more aligned than ever.
“Good choice,” Nero says, clasping my shoulder briefly before he turns to flag down the clerk. It’s a simple gesture, but it resonates—a signal of solidarity between two alphas who’ve found common ground in the strangest of places.
I nod, watching as Nero converses with the clerk. “Put it on my tab,” he mutters, and there’s that edge of brashness I’ve come to expect from him. Our shoulders bump—an unspoken ‘you’re welcome’—as he hands over his card. The clerk processes the transaction, packaging the ring with reverence before ushering us toward a private room.
“Let’s get you suited up, big guy,” Nero smirks, pushing open the door to a room that smells faintly of cedar and leather.
I step inside, my hands suddenly clumsy as I pick up the suit we chose earlier. It’s a sleek thing, dark as midnight and probably more expensive than anything I’ve ever owned. A deep breath steadies me as I shrug into the jacket, but when I reach for the black tie, my fingers betray me, fumbling the silken length like it’s a foreign object.
“Here,” Nero says, stepping into my personal space with an ease born of familiarity. His hands are deft where mine are useless, working the fabric into a perfect knot under my collar. “You know, you could just wear a clip-on.”
“And risk Aisling’s judgment? Never,” I grunt, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite the tension in my chest. There’s something about the way he’s standing so close, the heat of his body, the scent that is uniquely his—a mix of cologne and alpha—that stirs memories of the night we all made love.
I…enjoyed it. More than I expected.
I want it again.
“Got it,” Nero chuckles, stepping back but not before his fingers brush against the base of my neck, sending an unexpected jolt through me. His touch is casual, maybe too casual, like he’s done it a thousand times before.
I catch his brown eyes with mine, a silent acknowledgment of the charge that passed between us. He doesn’t look away, and for a moment, everything else falls away—the chaos of Pacific City, the looming wedding, the war we’re entrenched in—it all just disappears.
What really matters is our pack. Our family.
I’ll fight for them until my dying breath.
“Thanks,” I say gruffly, adjusting the jacket over my shoulders. The fabric is a little too tight—just like most every other garment I’ve ever worn.
Nero nods, his gaze lingering on me a second longer before he breaks the contact, going to lean back against the wall and sweep his eyes over me. “You clean up nice, Gunnar. Aisling won’t know what hit her.”
The Oasis Strip’s dim light casts shadows across the room, lending a sort of gravitas to the moment. Nero leans against the wall, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, watching me as I wrestle with questions that have no place in the sterile confines of this dressing room.
“Hey, Nero,” I start, my voice betraying none of the inner tumult. “Did you…I mean, have you always…” I trail off, the words clumsy on my tongue.
“Spit it out, Gunnar.” Nero’s smirk is both a challenge and an invitation.
“Have you had a thing for me this whole time?” The question hangs in the air, raw and vulnerable. It’s crazy—like asking about the weather when there’s a storm brewing on the horizon.
Nero pushes off from the wall, closing the distance between us. His smirk morphs into something more enigmatic, and damn if that doesn’t make him look even more dangerous. “I never hide what I want,” he says, his voice low and rough. “And I don’t limit myself with labels—alpha, beta, omega, men, women, any shade in between. They all have their unique advantages.”
His words wrap around me, laden with unspoken promises and the thrill of unknown pleasures. My heart thuds erratically, and I’m acutely aware of the charged space between our bodies.
“Relax,” Nero murmurs, so close now that I can feel the warmth of his breath. “We’re pack now. We’ve got all the time in the world to explore.”
I stand there, tie perfect, heart racing. I didn’t expect this, didn’t expect my body to react to him with such urgency. It’s Aisling who has always kindled my desire, her shimmer when she laughs, the spark in her eyes—a constellation of emotions that guide me.
But Nero…he’s a wildfire, untamed and unpredictable.
“Thanks,” I manage to say, trying to regain some semblance of control. But before he can step away completely, something compels me to reach out, my hand closing over his shoulder, grounding him in place.
“Nero,” I say, looking into those penetrating brown eyes, “we’re going to do great things in Pacific City. You and me, we’re not just pack. We’re allies in this fucked-up world.”
A hint of surprise flickers across his face before it’s quickly replaced by that characteristic smirk. “Didn’t peg you for the sentimental type, Gunnar. But yeah, I agree. Great things.”
I let my hand drop, but the connection lingers, electric and buzzing with potential. With a nod, we acknowledge the unspoken bond between us—partners in crime, allies in war, and now, comrades with benefits waiting to be explored.
“Let’s get moving,” Nero says, breaking the charged silence. “We’ve got a wedding to start.”