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A smile tilted her lips as she gazed upon those assembled.
    Already a queen , Brad thought grudgingly. He hadn’t wanted to like Eve, but he’d had no choice. From the moment she’d fallen at their feet dressed in her short little red dress, Brad had known his guys’ night out would never be the same.
    If only I hadn’t suggested that stupid bet …
    Yet would it really have mattered? He’d bet J.C. that Eve wasn’t the type of woman who’d enjoy a threesome. J.C. had reluctantly taken the bet, knowing that if he won, they’d both get to indulge in her luscious, inviting body.
    If he’d lost, Brad would have been entitled to his claim: J.C.’s ass. In all their time together, J.C. had always been the dominant one. Brad wanted to turn the tables, just once.
    The bet had backfired. Brad had lost, but having sex with Eve had been better than he’d expected. Despite his misgivings, he’d loved every minute of the passionate encounter.
    His hand drifted to his already hard cock, palming the thick length. He could remember the way it felt to bury his dick between her ass cheeks, to force his way past the rigid barrier of her anus until she held him fully inside her tight, hot depths.
    At that moment, Eve looked up. Their gazes met. Locked. A blush stole up her cheeks, but her smile didn’t dim. Inclining her head in acknowledgement of what they’d shared, she swept past him to take her place in the center of the glade.
    The seven pack elders sat in a semi-circle around the bride, all in wolf-form. Brad watched as she stopped before them in turn, her fingertips grazing each one’s fur as she murmured soft words meant for their ears alone.
    Whatever she said clearly wasn’t what they’d expected. Brad watched as the elders gaped in open-mouthed wonder. Silence descended over the glade. Every wolf in attendance held its breath in anticipation.
    “My Queen wishes for our traditions to blend.” J.C.’s deep voice echoed through the glade, startling the Zanteans out of their reverie. “As such, I’ve agreed to recite time-honored human vows.”
    Brad’s stomach clenched at the familiar sound, recalling the many times he’d heard J.C.’s deep, satisfied groans of desire and wishing desperately he didn’t remember.
    As J.C. strode confidently toward his mate despite the murmurs of disapproval echoing through the glade, Brad’s thoughts churned. Memories flashed across his mind. He and J.C. had grown up together. They’d been best friends since childhood, practically inseparable. The Three Musketeers, Brad’s mother had called J.C., Brad and Ali, J.C.’s half-sister.
    Ali .
    An image of the strikingly beautiful woman Alison Hill had grown into flashed across Brad’s field of vision. For a moment, he saw her clearly, one eyebrow arched in invitation as a crooked, playful grin lit up her face. As always, her dark eyes sparkled with mischief. She’d gotten them into more trouble than he cared to remember.
    She was also the only woman Brad had ever cared about. And until his encounter with J.C. and Eve, she’d been the only woman he’d ever fucked.
    He blinked, his gaze scanning the glade for another glimpse of her, but he saw only the same faces he’d grown accustomed to. Standing out among them, Eve and J.C. held hands, beaming with more happiness than Brad could take.
    He shook his head, silently cursing himself for his foolishness. He hadn’t seen Ali in nine years, not since the night she’d left his bed and abandoned the pack without as much as a word of parting, or even a feeble explanation.
    Brad released a deep breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and forced himself to focus on Eve’s words.
    “I, Eve, take you, J.C., to be my husband. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”
    Brad gazed past their clasped hands, his eyes focusing on J.C.’s hard shaft spearing the air before him. J.C. repeated the vows without smiling,