The priest comes to stand between us. I’m focused on Wulfric’s hand in mine, needing something to ground me, so I don’t really pay attention to anything he’s saying. Until Wulfric speaks, his deep voice cutting through the noise in my head. “From henceforth, I vow to you that you shall have the protection of my pack. Be it with fang or claw, my blade or my body, I will protect you from my enemies, provide for you in times of hardship, and… love you until my dying breath.” He chokes on the last word but to his credit, gets through it without looking too pained. Shit. I have to speak now. It’s a werewolf version of a wedding, so I figured there’d be vows, but I was also hoping I’d be drunk by now. Except werewolves can’t get drunk. So instead of talking, my brain just… freezes. The silence gets thicker as the crowd waits with bated breath for me to honor their Alpha with loving words. My face burns hotter and my chest gets tighter. Clearing my throat, I stammer, “W-Wulfric…” Shit, what’s his last name? “Is your last name Wolf-Heart?” I whisper, then wince because everyone in this crowd’s a damn werewolf and now knows I don’t even know their Alpha’s last name. A smile twitches his lips. “Eriksson.” It’s a good name. “Wulfric Eriksson, I offer you this… prey. That I hunted. For you. It’s over there.” I point to the table. Lyall is standing beside the reindeer calf we caught, which is roasting over the flames. He waves. “Um. I know I’m not the mate you expected.” I wince. Way to air that in front of the crowd. “And I’m not a great hunter. Or much of a warrior. Or really anything special. But—” “You will be.” “Huh?” Wulfric squeezes my hand in his, his silver eyes never leaving mine. “Trust in the gods. They brought us together for a reason, no matter how unconventional we may be. You will do incredible things, Kieran, and I…” He swallows hard. “I can’t wait to see it.” I must be having a rougher day than I thought because suddenly I want to cry.