A Private Ceremony
The moment Isla stepped into the Alpha’s quarters, she stopped in her tracks. The room, so often a place of strategy and tension, had been transformed into a haven of warmth and beauty. Candlelight flickered on every surface, the golden glow illuminating the rich textures of furs and dark woods. The air was filled with the delicate scent of roses, their petals scattered like a pathway across the floor.
“Draven?” Isla called softly, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders, catching the golden light like a halo.
He appeared from the shadows, his broad frame leaning casually against the hearth. His amber eyes, so often hardened by the weight of leadership, softened as they landed on her. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze lingering on her like a man seeing the moon for the first time.
“It’s for you,” he finally said, his deep voice steady but laced with emotion. He stepped toward her, his movements deliberate. “For us. For what we’re building.”
Isla’s lips parted in surprise, her silver eyes flickering over the room. “You did all this?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
He gave a small nod, a rare, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’ve given me more than I ever thought I deserved, Isla. I wanted to give you something in return—even if it’s just a moment to celebrate.”
Her heart swelled, and her hands fluttered to her stomach. “Draven…”
He closed the distance between them, taking her hands in his. His touch was warm, grounding, as if anchoring her to him. “You’ve changed everything,” he said, his voice rough with honesty. “You’ve given me purpose beyond duty, a family, a reason to fight harder than ever.”
Draven knelt before her, resting his hands gently on her abdomen. The sight of him, the mighty Alpha on his knees before her, sent a wave of tenderness through Isla’s heart. “I swear to you,” he said, his voice low and raw, “I’ll protect you and our children with everything I have. Nothing will touch you—nothing will harm you. Not while I draw breath.”
Tears blurred Isla’s vision as she cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing against his stubbled jaw. “You already do, Draven,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You always have.”
He pressed his forehead to her stomach, closing his eyes as if in silent prayer. For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and the steady beat of her heart.
Draven stood and guided her toward a low table set by the fire. Plates of fresh fruit, bread, and wine waited for them, alongside a small bouquet of wildflowers. He poured a glass of water for Isla, handing it to her with a teasing smile. “Micah would have my head if I let you have anything stronger,” he said, earning a soft laugh from Isla.
As they ate, the weight of their recent battles seemed to lift. Draven’s laughter was rare, but tonight it came easily, a sound that warmed Isla from the inside out. She teased him about his stubbornness, and he countered with wry remarks about her unyielding will.
“You’re impossible,” she said, shaking her head with a grin.
“And you’re infuriating,” he replied, leaning closer. “But somehow, you make everything feel worth it.”
Later, he led her to the thick furs laid out before the fire. The glow of the flames painted their skin in shades of gold and amber as they sat together. Draven pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around her.
“You’re my everything, Isla,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And now… so are they.” His hand rested gently over her stomach, his thumb tracing slow, reverent circles.
Isla tilted her head back to meet his gaze, her silver eyes shimmering with love and determination. “And you’re mine,” she said, her voice steady. “No matter what comes, we’ll face it together.”
