Epilogue
Jas
One year later…
Today is the day.
I’m getting married.
Again.
No girl dreams of her second wedding. I sure didn’t—until the Goddess bonded Dom and I, until I couldn’t dream of anything else. And now it’s all I want.
I’m in love, I’m happy, and I’m crying again.
“Stop crying right this minute!” Oriana exclaims with a laugh. She plucks a piece of tissue out of the box on the table and gently lifts my chin, dabbing around my eyes and upper cheeks.
“We can’t ruin this makeup. You are stunning without it, but you have evolved into something even more glamorous.”
I laugh, sniffling as she tilts my face to the left and right. I wanted a light beat of makeup—tinted moisturizer, a little blush, eyeshadow and eyeliner. Oriana added a little highlighter and, of course, lipstick.
We’re at Elora’s farm, and the weather, thanks to Elora’s magic, is absolutely perfect. It’s warm, with a light, cool breeze. The sun shines through large cloud wisps in a cerulean-blue sky. An outdoor ceremony and reception will be wholly romantic when the sun sets.
“All done!” she singsongs, tossing the tissue in the trash. "Flawless. Look at you—you’re glowing, Jas. Goddess, you make me so excited for my wedding day!”
Raene smiles at me before looking out the window longingly.
I hug Oriana, holding her for a moment, wrapped in plushy robes with our names hand-embroidered by Elowen, the button-up tops we wear peeking from underneath. Eventually, Poppy, Raene, and Elora all jump up and join the group hug.
“Okay,” Oriana pulls back. “We have our pictures in an hour and a half. The guys will be taking their photos after.”
I nod. Taking it all in. I’m almost there. At the aisle. Looking at my mate, watching me with the intensity of the sun. I haven’t seen the wedding flowers he made yet, and I won’t. Not until he sees my dress—at the ceremony.
Elora steps forward and turns my chair to face the mirror. “Now let’s do your hair.”
I’m standing under the Tearfall Tree, back in the comfort of my shirt and leggings. I check the time on my phone, then slip it into the pocket of my zip-up hoodie.
He should be here soon.
Suddenly, his scent fills the air before I even see him. Citrus-soaked trees with floral undertones flood my senses until I’m dizzy with it.
Together our scent is sickening sweet—almost unbearable. Inhaling deeply, I drag it into my lungs, craving more. I let it coat my tongue until I can taste him in the back of my throat, until it clouds my judgment because he is the most addictive tonic I’ve ever tasted.
Amataria, he growls. His voice slips into my thoughts that soften like my body sinking into his strong arms. He pulls me close, nose buried in the crook of my neck.
“Is it bad luck to see your bride before the wedding?” I interlock my fingers with his.
“We don’t need luck—we’re destined.”
His words graze the junction of my neck and shoulder, and I shatter. Turning around in his arms, I hold him close before he gently marks my lips with his.
“You are so damn beautiful, love,” he says, brushing his nose against mine.
“You barely saw me before you kissed me,” I giggle.
He takes a step back. His eyes are as big as his grin, the corners crinkling with love.
“I knew it—absolutely breathtaking.”
“I’m excited to see the flowers,” I say breathlessly.
“I’m almost positive your dress will kill me.” We laugh, and he rests his forehead against mine.
I take his hand. “Let’s go.”
Seren sits up from the blanket near Aaryn’s grave as Dom and I approach. Mellie is nestled beside her, taking a late nap, finding comfort amongst the hoard of stuffed animals that Seren brought for this pre-wedding meeting.
Dominik stands back, giving me this time with Seren. I kneel on the blanket, watching the sunlight filter through the trees, dappling the headstone and the new jar of honey Seren brought with warm gold.
I draw in a steady breath.
“I’m getting married today.”
The words tremble when they leave me. Not from fear or grief, but from the realization of how far I’ve come. From believing I could never love again to sitting here now with my heart full.
“You taught me what true love is supposed to look like,” I say quietly and smooth a loose curl behind Seren's ear. She smiles.
She continues to have a full-on conversation with her toys. Light pink blooms and delicate greenery are woven through her inverted ponytail. This sweet girl of ours.
“You taught me that anything is possible.”
I turn toward the steady presence of my mate's footsteps. Dominik settles beside me, fingers finding mine.
“I will honor my word to you with every breath I take. They will always be cared for,” he says.
His gaze lingers on Aaryn’s name, forever etched in stone, before his eyes lock with mine. They flash gold, primal, and possessive. The raw need to bind myself to this wolf, as his wife, consumes me like a fire.
Make me your wife, I whisper, my voice brushing against the walls of his mind, soft at first, like a gentle knock on a door echoing within a quiet home.
His lips curl slowly, revealing fangs that gleam with dangerous promise.
DOM
The harpist plays eloquently near one of the many large floral arrangements I created to decorate the wedding stage.
I have a fucking harpist at my wedding.
Jasmira.
A year ago, we became mates. And today, she will become my wife.
We’re surrounded by all of our family and friends. My parents and grandparents smile from their seats. I’m sure my mother has an entire box of tissues in her purse, along with little candies she sneaks to Seren. Elowen sits with empty seats waiting for Lorien and Seren.
“Are you nervous?” Garruk whispers, leaning in. He holds out an arm, straightening the jacket of his matching almond linen suit. Sylas, Malik, and Viktor stand beside him.
The whispers fade to silence as the harpist’s fingers strike the first notes of our chosen song for the bridesmaids’ processional, each vibration of the melody wrapping tightly around my heart.
“I’m not nervous…only impatient. The hard part was thinking I’d have a life without her if she refused me. This part’s easy. This is the moment where the rest of my life begins.”
Poppy, Raene, Oriana, and Elora all walk down the aisle in a line of flowing sage-green dresses blending beautifully with the bouquets of subtle blooms in their hands and greenery surrounding the ceremony. They stand across from me, waiting for the rest of the procession.
Seren and Mellie are next, and she looks adorable in her white-and-dusty rose tulle dress, which brushes against the grass with each step as she tosses soft white and pink petals ahead. She tiptoes around the fallen petals in her ballet slippers.
The keta prances beside her, head held high with a floral collar decorating her neck, a deliberate match to the blooms in Seren’s hair.
A ring bearer pillow rests on her back and is tied under her belly.
My ring and Jasmira’s rose-gold engagement ring—a pear-shaped vintage pastel pink sapphire adorned with diamonds, and a diamond wedding band—glisten on the satin pillow, tied together with twine.
And the music changes once again. A sweeping romantic melody drifts through the air. Now that the sun has set and the fairy lights twinkle, the evening feels even more magical. It’s soft, enchanting—we’re all holding our breath.
Flora—our officiant—rests her hand on my shoulder, keeping me grounded because I’m about to jump out of my shoes and run towards her.
I see her, and the entire world stops.
She appears at the end of the aisle on Lorien’s arm, the light illuminating the soft curls of her hair. Half braided, the rest flows over her shoulders, tiny flowers tucked in by Elora’s magic, growing there just for today.
Blythe steps forward and places a bouquet into Jasmira's hands.
She glances down at the large bouquet filled with ivory moon-lilies, white and blush pink roses, eucalyptus, pampas grass, and a few brown feathers.
She stills for a moment before accepting the flowers, before her gaze lifts again, straight to me.
Her jaw drops slightly, eyes widening, tears gathering instantly along her lashes.
They’re perfect. They’re absolutely gorgeous, Dom, she whispers through our bond.
It's hard to care about her reaction to the flowers I made her anymore. She steals the air from my lungs.
Her dress is lace—soft and intricate. It fits her perfectly. Sexy and romantic, the plunging V-neckline reveals a visible piece of our mating mark shimmering between her breasts. Flowing lace sleeves hang down to her wrists, and a small train trails behind her.
She’s surreal.
Like something straight out of a dream.
My mate.
My wife.
I draw in a careful breath, forcing my wolf down and my emotions back under control as she comes closer, the thought settling deep in my chest. Without thinking, my fingers find their way to the mark on my skin that binds us together.
She’s walking toward me. Towards us. Toward our forever.