The Alpha's Unwanted Luna novel · Chapter 22 of 24

Chapter 22: A Wedding of Her Own

By four o'clock the whole ridge was cooking.

Garland women carried iron pots up the slope, two to a handle.

The weaver ordered the barracks wolves around.

Ashcrest's trucks came over the border with two hundred wolves and a barrel of cider.

The humming old man held a sheet cake against his chest.

Fergus carried a crate of wine on one shoulder and a folding chair under the other arm.

"Your terms said today," he said, setting the crate down. "I took them literally."

"That's what terms are for."

"I know. I'm very sorry I'm not the groom."

He kissed my forehead, lightly, and went to find a corkscrew.

I stood in the middle of the chaos in my father's canvas coat, with flour on my cuffs.

My second term was that nobody gave me away.

My third was that I kept my name, and the fourth was that nobody said the word obey.

Eamon agreed to all of them at once, in his one good shirt.

Then he asked whether there was a fifth.

"There will be," I said. "I'm thinking."

Gwendolen found me behind the weaver's cottage, where I had gone to breathe.

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