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Magnus grunted. Vidar offered a brief nod before both of them melted away into the crowd. The moment they were out of earshot, my mother turned to me. She reached up, placing her small, elegant hands on the sides of my neck, and pulled my head down so she could press a warm, gentle kiss to my forehead, just like when I was a boy. She wrapped her arms around my torso, hugging me tightly.

"I am so proud of you," she murmured against my chest. "So very proud."

The cold ache in my stomach vanished instantly, replaced by a deep, soaring warmth. I wrapped my massive arms around her small frame, burying my face in her hair.

I lived for those words. I was the brute, the bone-breaker, the heavy hitter. But at the end of the day, I was my mother's son. Making her proud was the anchor that kept my wolf grounded.

She pulled back, her dark eyes shining with affection as she smoothed down the lapel of my tracksuit jacket. "You stepped up when your family needed you without a single moment of hesitation. You showed the strength of a true Blackwood alpha today."

"Thanks, Ma," I said, my voice thick.

Her smile stayed, but her gaze flicked over my shoulder toward Rosalind before returning to my face. Her expression softened into something cautious, almost protective.

"Sorsha has kept that poor girl sheltered her whole life. She’s delicate. Fragile. You must be extremely mindful and gentle with her."

Even my mother? It was one thing for my brothers to doubt me, but hearing it from Ma stung. Did no one in this family think I possessed a single shred of finesse? Did they all think I was going to lumber into a bedroom like a wild bear and crush my bride?

Rosalind had managed to break away from her mother and was currently standing near a stone pillar, picking at the frills on her pink sleeve. She looked small. Ridiculously small. Her shoulders were narrow, her waist tiny, her skin smooth and unmarred by a single scar or callus.

And then, like a lightning bolt cracking through my skull, the full reality of the situation slammed into me.

Fuck. She wasn't just weak and innocent. She was likely a virgin.

I'd never fucked a virgin. Not even when I was one. My tastes had always leaned toward older, experienced females—women who knew exactly what they wanted in bed, women who could handle being thrown against a headboard, women who didn't come with the delicate weight of taking something that could never be given back. I knew how to pleasure a woman who knew her own body, but a virgin? A delicate princess who looked at me like I was the monster under her bed?

What the hell was I supposed to do on our wedding night? I couldn't ask my mother. The mere thought of asking Mei Ling Blackwood for advice on deflowering my bride made my ass pucker with second-hand embarrassment.

I sure as hell wasn't going to ask my brothers. If I asked Magnus or Vidar, I'd never hear the end of it. They'd either joke about it or worse; give me a five-point lecture on anatomical sensitivity.

I glanced toward the front of the room where my father was holding court with a drink in his hand. I could ask him... but no. Asking the Alpha of the pack how to sleep with my wife felt like an invitation for a father-son talk I had no desire to survive.

My eyes swept the rest of the hall, searching for an alternative, until they landed on a sofa near the side archway. Sitting together, whispering and laughing over glasses of champagne, were Nell and Addie; my two new sisters-in-law.

Nell was a brilliant panther princess who’d managed to tame my hard-headed brother Magnus. Addie was a sharp, steel-spined corporate she-wolf who had somehow survived being thrown into Vidar’s cold, calculated world and made Captain Stiffness fall to his knees. Both of them were women. Both of them knew what it was like to be brought into the chaotic storm of the Blackwood family from the outside. And both of them had been virgins at one point in their lives.

I rolled my neck until the joints popped. Decision made, I straightened my shoulders, adjusted the sleeves of my tracksuit, and made my way across the room toward my sisters-in-law.

"Well, if it isn't the groom of the hour," Nell said. "You look like you're about to run a 5K or beat someone up behind the pews."

"Or both," Addie added coolly. "Is everything all right? Your new bride is looking awfully pink over by the pillars."

I cleared my throat, shifting my weight from one designer sneaker to the other. Suddenly, standing in front of two sharp, uncompromising women to ask for marriage advice felt a lot harder than interrogating a bound suspect in a dark room.

I leaned down, dropping my voice low so that other shifter hearing wouldn't pick it up over the surrounding buzz of the reception. "Look... I've got a situation. It's about virginity."

There was a half-second beat of absolute silence.

Then Nell’s lips twitched.

"Wait," Addie said, her eyes widening as she exchanged a quick glance with Nell. "Are you a virgin, Gunnar?"

"What?"

"I mean, it would explain a lot." Nell leaned in with a mock-serious expression. "The tracksuits, the bravado, the endless jokes."

"I'm not⁠—"

"It’s okay, Gunnar," Addie soothed. "There’s no shame in it. The first time, all you really have to remember is where things go."