"This 'naming ceremony'—is that Wolf tradition?" Ambrose asks, adjusting the collar of his shirt before the full-length mirror in our room.

I stand at his back, carefully gathering his hair into a ponytail and smoothing a few wrinkles from the back of the black silk vest he wears over a white shirt.

"It is in our family," I answer, lifting one shoulder in a shrug and then turning away to pull on my own carefully ironed garments.

A week has passed since Ambrose and Julian's return, and while our reunion is a sweet relief after months of lonely separation, it's not exactly the raging wildfire of passion I'd been expecting.

On the one hand, Ambrose has found a balance between his human side and his dragon's soul; before, it was all or nothing—either his fire was contained, or he was scaring me and turning things to ash—while now he has a far greater range of control: he can warm a mug of coffee that's gone cold, or incinerate things that piss him off.

On the other hand, he's barely touched me since he got back.

He'd started to—the first night he'd returned and a few other times—but as soon as things began to 'heat up' he'd abruptly stopped. I'd asked why, and he'd asked me, in return, to give him some time to be sure that his hard-won self-mastery would withstand the test.

"Imagine a dangerous beast," he'd said, "held in restraints, caged and chained; that's how my dragon's soul was controlled before—by the ritual, the relics, and the Gifts. Now, it's free—tamed, but not entirely trusted, just yet. If you befriended a wild wolf, no matter how gentle it seemed, would you try its civility while it ate?"

I'd had to admit that I would not; I had family members who would bite my hand off if I touched their food, and that was when they were in human form.

And I can bear to wait—I'm not a raging hulk of hormones like Dane—but even so: it's been a week, and I'm beginning to worry that, rather than resisting dark temptations, Ambrose is no longer tempted by me at all.

Now, as I dress, his arms slide around my waist, his warm breath ghosts against my skin, and he kisses the side of my neck as he pulls me close. I shut my eyes and lean back against him, signaling that I'm his for the taking, if he wants me—even if it means ruining my perfectly wrinkle-free shirt—but he merely holds me like that a moment before letting go.

"Any idea what they've chosen?" he asks, meaning Julian, Dane, and baby names.

I shake my head, hiding my disappointment with a smile.

"No idea. Although I think after my great-aunt Orfilia proposed 'Ulva and Warg,' they've put a moratorium on unsolicited suggestions."

"I liked 'Faelan and Lupita,' myself," he says, his eyes sparkling with humor as he helps me fasten the top buttons of my shirt.

"I wonder why." I roll my eyes.

Both names—one Gaelic, the other of Spanish and Latin origin, mean roughly the same thing: 'little wolf.'

"Whatever they've chosen, I'm sure it will be a perfect fit," he goes on, brushing his thumb along my bottom lip. "Those wee bairns are a precious pair."

He's not lying.

The twins—a girl and a boy—are adorable.

Their little heads are covered in a fuzz of the softest downy black curls, their skin is the lightest milky brown—a mix of Dane's dark almond shade and Julian's ivory—and they each have one amethyst and one amber eye. Both are absolutely perfect.

Even I, with zero interest in procreation, can't help but find them irresistible, and when Dane had asked me and Ambrose to be their godfathers (Julian had asked Chloe and Grace to share the opposite role) I'd felt a legitimate sting in my eyes.

"Makes me think it wouldn't be so bad, having a little brood of fire-breathers running about the place," Ambrose goes on. "What about you, love? Do you think you'd want children, someday?"

I go still, and my mind locks as I struggle for an appropriate response. I don't want to disappoint him, but I also don't want to lie.

"I don't think so, Ambrose," I say, looking up at him as an unhappy smile twists my mouth against my will. "I guess that's something we should have talked about before we irreversibly entangled our very natures, huh?"

"No, little wolf," he says, returning my sad attempt at a smile with a much softer and more self-assured version of his own as he brushes his hands over the sides of my face. "No. I've enough experience with 'family' to know that having one is no guarantee of happiness. If we ever decide to...er...expand...though, I do think you'd make a lovely father."

I swallow the bitter tang at the back of my throat.

"You would, too," I allow.

Whatever else I might think or feel on the matter, that, at least, is true.

"Well," he says, his eyes lighting with the mellow warmth of a banked fire as he leans to press a light kiss to my lips, "that is a thought to revisit some distant day, perhaps. For now, we've got a naming ceremony to attend."

~ ☾ ~

Welcoming new members to a Pack is a significant event, and some of my family have made the journey to witness it.

My parents already have half a dozen grandchildren between a few of my siblings, but they seem especially enthralled with the little twins. Of my brothers and sisters, only Sasha and Monty came along, the others being unable to attend on short notice. Sasha—the youngest of us—is more interested in playing with Dougal than the babies. Monty, though, can't tear himself away.

When Ambrose and I arrive at the cottage that evening, we find him sitting on the couch, one sleeping twin in the crook of each arm, looking like there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

He's six-foot-eight and three hundred pounds of muscle, but a glance is enough to see there are few places the twins would be safer than in his hands.

Julian seems especially relieved to have him here; getting the babies back from him is the hardest part of asking him to look after the pair. Moreover, Julian had taken an immediate and suspicious dislike to Darius L'Amour, who—for some reason—is still hanging around. I can't blame him, really; I doubt I'd want a voodoo vampire getting close to my kids, either.

Fortunately for Julian, Monty's already asked our parents for permission to leave their Pack and join Dane's, so he can be closer to his new nephew and niece.

They hadn't objected; unless one of my yet-unattached siblings Mates with an alpha, Dane will inherit our parent's Pack, anyway.

The rest of the party is made up of Ian, Sam, Chloe, Grace, and Freya.

Once the sun sets and the thinnest sliver of a new moon is just visible, cradling the bright spark of the evening star in the velvet purple sky to the west, we gather outside and greet our final guest: Julian's great-grandmother, Eirnín, and the only one from his side to attend.

His mom, he'd told me, had cut ties with him after he'd tried to explain what had really happened to his dad. Apparently, she hadn't even responded when he'd informed her that, despite his best laid plans, she was now a grandmother.

Happily, Dane's side of the family has more than enough love to make for the lack on his.

Our mom has brought along the large, shallow silver basin long used for this ceremony, and it's now set on a birdbath-like pedestal in a flat area of the meadow nearby. A few inches of water, brought by Eirnín from Faerie itself, fills the bottom and reflects the last pink and orange light of the evening sky.

We gather round, and Monty carries the twins—now awake and alert—and presents them one at a time to Julian and Dane. Julian holds each and carefully dips their tiny feet in the water while Dane touches a few drops to their foreheads and bestows their names with blessings of good fortune, long life, abundant love, and happiness.

And thus, we welcome Luna and Luca Hunter to the Pack.

~ ☾ ~

"Luna and Luca," Ambrose muses later that night, once we've returned home after several hours filled with good food, good company, and a few too many celebratory drinks. "That's 'moon' and 'light,' isn't it? Rather sweet, I suppose."

"Mm," I agree, flopping back to lie on the bed.

I'm tired, a little drunk (even with my fast metabolism, at my size there's no way I can keep up with Monty or Dane), and—for once in my life—a lot horny, and I'd like nothing more than for Ambrose to shut up and come fuck me. Unfortunately, his 'dragon' seems quite tame, tonight.

"They might be cute now," I allow, "but give it a few years. They'll grow into creepy-ass twins with mismatched eyes. Just wait."

"You're a triplet yourself," he points out, glancing over his shoulder at me as he undresses. "Do multiple births run in the family?"

"Fraternal triplet," I correct. "That's the non-identical, non-creepy sort. And yeah, Wolves have twins at a higher than usual frequency."

He hears something in my tone and turns to look at me, one brow raised and his lips curved in a slight frown.

"What's wrong, love?" he asks, giving me his full attention and coming to sit beside me on the bed. "Are you not feeling well?"

"I'm fine," I reply, a bit sharply, and then sigh. "I'm the same as I ever was."

Ambrose watches me for a moment and then comes to lie gently at my side. "No, you're not," he says, reaching to brush his hand up and down my arm. "When I met you, all those months ago, you were an injured, bedraggled, lost little thing. Now you're healed, and strong and whole. You're fierce, little wolf, and all alight with your very own fire."

I roll onto my side to look at him, sniffing back champagne-induced tears. "Did you like me better that way?" I ask. "When I was so hurt, I hardly cared what happened to me?"

His brows crease with confusion and concern. "Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Because I waited almost six months for you, Ambrose!" I say. "I waited, expecting that you'd come back all fire and flame, and instead..."

I trail off as I see his eyes go dark, banked coals losing their heat and cooling into ash.

"Is that all you want from me?" he asks quietly, sounding unexpectedly vulnerable and unsure. "Is my dragon's nature all you love?"

My breath catches and my eyes go wide as I see, in that instant, what a mistake I've made: I've been focusing so much on his nature when, really, I couldn't care less what he is.

I see, also, that I'm not the only one in need of reassurance.

"Ambrose... I love you," I begin, reaching to take his hands in mine as we lie facing each other on our sides. "I love you because you care about stupid dogs who get hit by cars, and stupid little wolves who offer to take care of dogs they don't own."

"You're drunk," he whispers, laughing under his breath and pressing two fingers to my lips.

I smile. "Drunk on love. Otherwise, just a little tipsy. I know what I'm saying."

"I should hope so; you're a linguist." He smirks.

I suppress a possibly inebriated laugh.

He's not wrong.

Shanti—and her father—are well-connected in the world of Knowledge Acquisition, and a word from her would guarantee me a position at any of a dozen top universities and colleges around the world.

Instead, I've chosen to stay independent.

I have my credentials, my restored reputation and, as Shanti is keeping her shop in Spring Lakes for now, access to quite a unique library, indeed. I can write and study, and help Shanti organize and acquire materials for her shop, and—eventually—maybe build a reputation as a keeper and guardian of knowledge in my own right.

Meanwhile, I'm relying on my Mate to take care of me in more ways than one and, for once, I'm okay with that.

"Ambrose, I love you," I repeat. "I love you because you see me for who I am. I love you because you're brilliant, and compassionate, and beautiful. And dragon or not," I finish as tears slip from my eyes, "I just want you to love me back."

He shakes his head. "I do, Noah—you know I do. I'm just afraid—"

"I love that, too," I interrupt. "I love your fire, and your passion, and your barely contained flames. I... I like it when you want me like that."

He stares at me as my face grows hot.

"Really?" he asks.

I nod.

"You'll tell me if you don't, right?"

I nod again.

"Very well, little wolf," he grins. "Just remember—this time you asked for it."

~ ☾ ~

First, he ensures I'm able to give my full consent.

Then, he binds my wrists to the bed with his tie.

His eyes are lit with dark flame, his teeth are sharp, and his tongue is hot and sensitive as it tangles with mine.

We're both naked, and his body is strong and pressed against me in all the right places as he kisses me, one hand cupping the back of my neck as he supports himself with the other.

Once we're both breathless, he lets me go and sits back, looking down at me.

I'm completely at his mercy, exposed to his gaze, and it's clear he likes what he sees.

My breath catches as he smooths his hands over my chest and then lowers himself between my legs.

"Just feel," he says, and then, with his fingers and his lips and his tongue, he shows me everything that feeling means.

When I'm gasping, open and soft for him, laid bare and almost painfully sensitized, he sits back, stoking himself with one hand.

"Do you want me, like this, little wolf?" he asks.

I look up at him, my cheeks lit with embarrassment even as my body burns for him.

"Yes. I want you, Ambrose," I breathe, and adjust myself to better receive him.

His eyes go dark with hidden flame, he presses himself to my most intimate skin, and then he's inside me, filling me with heat, and I can't help the sounds that escape my lips.

We move like that, together, his hand on my cock, and his deep inside me, both warmed with inhuman fire, until at last I lose my mind in it. I feel Ambrose pulse hot within me, and then I come undone with ferocious pleasure of my own, my vision going white and then dark as I fall to the edge of a breathless sleep.

Ambrose, too, collapses at my side, taking me in a far gentler embrace, his face tucked in the crook of my neck as he surrenders to our mutual enervation.

"Alright, little wolf?" he asks, freeing me gently from my makeshift bonds.

"You tell me," I answer, half conscious but filled with a rising happiness that could outshine the sun.

His lips curl in a smile, and he kisses the end of my nose.

"You and I, little wolf," he says, pulling me against him with a satisfied sigh. "We're alright."

~The End~

[A/N] Dear readers: Thank you so much for reading this book 🥰. I wanted to try my hand at writing a longer story, and this story certainly got looong! I'm not good at editing, but hey, maybe I'll give it a try 😉. Also, if you have any thoughts on the story to share, please do! Again, thank you so much for reading—it keeps me writing. 💗