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"It has been a long, chaotic day for everyone, especially the bride and groom," Mei Ling said, her authority gentle but absolute. "There is no need to parade them around for ancient traditions. Gunnar, take your wife back to Blackwood Manor and get settled into your quarters. The rest of the family will be staying here in the city over the weekend to finalize the territorial logistics anyway. Go on, son. Take her home."

It was perfect. Better than perfect. I heard the faint click of my mother's teeth. She couldn't dispute Mei Ling without creating a scene between Alphas. I kept my face completely deadpan behind my dark sunglasses. The weekend in the city meant my mother and the Blackwoods would be distracted by politics, leaving Gunnar and me at the estate.

I didn't need my eyes to see the light of glee I knew flashed in my mother's eyes above her fake frown. That distraction had worked just as she said it would. The Blackwoods had taken the bait to protect the newest member of their family against her overbearing mother. Everything was going according to Sorsha Lobo's plan.

The problem with my mother was that she always assumed hers was the only plan in play.

CHAPTER FIVE

GUNNAR

Ihelped my wife up into the passenger seat and shut the heavy door. Rosalind leaned her head back against the leather headrest, closed her eyes behind her blacked-out sunglasses, and let out a sigh.

I didn't try to start a conversation. The day had been a whirlwind of blood vows, last-minute groom swaps, and pack politics. If she wanted to rest, I was content to let her be.

As I pulled out into the late-night traffic, heading toward Blackwood Manor, my eyes kept betraying me, drifting sideways every time we hit a stoplight. Even encased in that ridiculous, frilly pink dress, she was impossible to ignore. Her skin was a rich, golden tan that looked soft as velvet against the bright silk. Beneath all those layers of ruffles, her body was a canvas of lush, sweeping curves: flared hips, a narrow waist, and full breasts rising and falling with her slow, even breathing.

My mind began choreographing the night ahead, piecing together a strategy like a surgeon preparing for a delicate procedure. Slow. I had to be slow. I’d undress her piece by piece, unzipping the back of that dress, peeling away the silk, reassuring her at every single step so she wouldn't freeze up under my weight and calluses.

The fabric of her skirt pooled loosely in her lap, settling into the hollow between her legs and outlining the unmistakable V of her thighs. I was going to be the first man to breach that divide. The first to lay hands on her, the first to claim her, the first to take what was now mine by law and blood.

I would be careful when I took her. I would protect her with my last breath. And right now, protecting her meant protecting her from me. From my sheer size, my rough hands, my big dick, and the wild wolf pacing beneath my ribcage. I was built like a stone wall, and she looked like she’d break if I lay on top of her. I had no fucking clue how I was going to navigate making love to a female half my size without leaving marks, but I’d burn in hell before I hurt her.

An hour later, the tires crunched onto the gravel driveway of the manor. The moment the engine cut out, Rosalind woke. She didn't move or stretch; she just sat up straight, her shoulders going rigid. She was still wearing those tinted shades, but I knew the second her wolf senses registered the change in environment. She was awake, alert, and on guard.

I stepped out into the night, walking around the hood to open her side of the truck. When the door swung open, she didn't jump down. She sat on the leather seat for a long beat, then extended one small, dainty hand towards me.

I took it. My palm engulfed hers completely. The warmth of her skin seeped through her glove into mine. I supported her weight as she stepped down onto the gravel, making sure her six-inch heels caught their footing before I let go.

Truth was, I had no idea what the hell to say to her. Small talk felt senseless after everything that had happened. Besides, she was the one who had announced to a room full of mob bosses and Alpha wolves that she wanted to make babies. So, if my wife wanted to get down to business, I’d lead her to where the business got done.

I guided her through the front doors into the dim foyer of my wing of the manor. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor, while my sneakers barely made a peep. We reached the base of the grand staircase. Rosalind took the first step—and immediately stubbed the pointed toe of her designer shoe against the wooden riser.

"Fuck!" she hissed, stumbling slightly as her knee buckled.

My hands shot out, catching her by the waist before she could hit the steps. She felt weightless in my grip, like a bird lifted off its perch.

"Do you want me to carry you up?" I asked, keeping my hands hovering near her, ready to lift her if she needed it. "It's two flights."

Rosalind's face tightened as if I'd just said the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. Even behind those dark lenses, the blistering indignity flashed in her features. "I can walk. I'm not an invalid."

She huffed, but she reached out her hand, like in one of those old Masterpiece miniseries my mom and sister liked to watch. I placed mine around hers. Her other hand slid along the dark oak banister as she carefully placed each foot on the treads. I stayed a step behind her the entire way, my body positioned like a human shield in case she lost her balance again.

Finally, we reached the top landing and stopped outside the double doors of my master suite. The hallway was dark, lit only by the faint moonlight streaming through the high, arched windows. Standing in front of my bedroom door, the tension between us tightened like a tendon stretched to its limit.

"We don't have to do this tonight," I told her, making sure my voice was calm, steady, and entirely free of demand.

Rosalind let out a harsh huff of air. "My mother has spies everywhere. She'll know if we don't."

"Your mother is not the boss of you anymore."

"You are?"

"It doesn't have to be that way. We can be partners."

She looked at me. Likely for the first time. I couldn't see her eyes behind the black of her sunglasses, but I got the sense that I didn't pass muster.

She reached out toward the door, her gloved fingers fumbling against the dark wood for a second before they finally found the brass knob and turned it. The door swung open into the dark room.