Page 55 of Talk Howly to Me

"Four days ago," Ronan began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the clearing, "Kozue, Sloane, and I completed our triad mate bond. And tonight, I want to honor that bond here, where it matters most. Not with some grand, formal spectacle, but with words spoken before the people who are our home."

Kozue’s breath caught in his throat. He’d imagined a public mating ceremony might happen eventually—some official pack gathering with ritual and tradition. But this, under the stars by the fire that had witnessed their entire lives, was infinitely more right. This fire had seen them as children, had warmed them after countless victories and consoled them after their greatest loss. It was the heart of Hale Lodge, and Ronan was placing their bond right at its center.

Ronan turned, his entire focus narrowing to Sloane as he took both her hands in his. "Sloane Carter," he said, and the name sounded like a vow in itself. "You crashed into our world like a storm, all fierce courage and guarded hope. You asked for no one's protection, yet you fought for this pack as if you'd been born to it. You saw a home in these walls before you even knew what they truly were. You are my strength when duty weighs heavy, my peace in the chaos, and the joy I never allowed myself to want. I choose you. Today, tomorrow, and for every dawn that follows. My mate. My heart. My home."

A soft sob escaped Sloane’s throat as tears traced shimmering paths down her cheeks, catching the firelight. Kozue felt the echo of her overwhelmed emotion through their bond—a torrent of disbelief, gratitude, and a love so deep it threatened to buckle her knees.

Then Ronan turned to him, and Kozue met his brother’s gaze, the blue eyes that had held his trust for twenty-seven years now shimmering with uncharacteristic intensity.

"And you, Kozue," Ronan said, his voice dropping, becoming more intimate, though it still carried to every wolf present. "My brother in every way that counts. My first ally, my last defense, the one person who has never asked me to be anything but who I am. You saved my life, but more than that, you taught me how to live it. You were the family I had left, and now you are the family we've built. My loyalty to you isn't duty. It's the bedrock of everything I am. My brother. My Beta. My other heart."

Kozue’s throat closed and he tried to swallow, tried to master the surge of emotion that threatened to undo him. These weren't just pretty words; they were the unspoken truth of their entire shared history, finally given voice. Ronan had always shown his loyalty through action—through shared burdens and silent support. Hearing it articulated, here before their entire pack, carved through every layer of Kozue's carefully maintained composure. But Kozue stepped forward, the movement instinctive and he took Sloane's hands from Ronan, his own palms enveloping hers.

"My turn," he murmured as he felt Ronan's quiet approval through the bond.

"Sloane," Kozue said, his deep voice rougher than he'd intended. He saw the tear tracks on her face and his wolf growled softly, wanting to lick them away. "You walked in here looking like you expected the world to disappoint you. But you let me see your scars, and you never flinched from mine. You fight like a wolf and love like a force of nature. You make me want to be the man who deserves to stand beside you. And you make me believe I don't always have to be the one holding everyone else together, because you're strong enough to hold me. I am yours. Completely and irrevocably."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead briefly against hers, breathing in her lavender and vanilla scent before pulling back to face Ronan. This part was harder. The words for Sloane had flowed from a well of devotion. The words for Ronan came from a place so deep and so old, he wasn't sure he could dig them out without exposing everything.

"Ronan," he began, his gaze locking with his brother's. "You gave me a family when I had none. You never made me feel like I was taking someone else's place. You just made room. You trusted me with your life, with your pack, and with your grief. You are my North Star. My anchor. The best man I've ever known. My loyalty isn't something I give you. It's who I became because of you. My Alpha. My brother. My family."

A single tear, traitorous and warm, escaped the corner of Kozue's eye. Before he could wipe it away, Sloane reached up, her thumb brushing it from his skin with a tenderness that made his heart ache.

Sloane turned to him, her eyes still swimming but her voice clear and strong. "Kozue," she said, and his name on her lips was a benediction. "You were the first person in this place who made me feel seen, not just as someone who needed help, but as a person. You see what people need before they ask. You build bridges where I would have built walls. You make this fierce, dangerous world feel safe. You make me feel cherished. You are my warmth, my laughter, my safe harbor. And I choose all of you."

Kozue was crying openly now but before he could completely fall apart, she turned to Ronan.

"Ronan, you are strength made solid. You carry the weight of this entire world on your shoulders and you never buckle. You saw a broken fighter and you offered her a home, a purpose, and a love so steady I finally understand what it means to be safe. You are my protector, my leader, my future. I am yours. Always."

For a breathless moment, there was only the crackle of the fire and the shared heartbeat of their triad bond.

Then Sloane rose on her toes, cupped Ronan's face, and kissed him. It wasn't a peck for an audience; it was slow, deep, and full of a promise that made the air itself feel charged. When they finally parted, Ronan's eyes were closed as if savoring the taste of her vow.

Then she turned to Kozue, and he met her halfway. Her lips were soft, and he poured every ounce of his devotion—the years of quiet longing, the fierce joy of finally being chosen, the unwavering commitment—into that kiss. She kissed him back with equal intensity, her fingers tangling in his hair. When they broke apart, the heat between them sparked with a promising edge.

But the spell broke as the pack erupted into applause and cheers. The sound washed over him—a wave of acceptance and celebration as they stood there, a united front. Soon, their family approached to offer congratulations. Eli clasped his shoulder, Emerson hugged Sloane with happy tears, and for a good twenty minutes, they were swept up in the warm chaos of well-wishes.

As the crowd finally began to disperse, the last of the pack members heading home through the mountain night, Kozue leaned close to Ronan, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "Your suite?"

Ronan's blue eyes darkened, the firelight catching the hunger in them. He glanced at Sloane, who was watching the exchange, a knowing, anticipatory smile playing on her lips.

"Lead the way," Ronan said, his deep voice thick with promise.

Minutes later, the suite door clicked shut behind them, sealing them inside a world that belonged only to them. Kozue's wolf paced just beneath his skin as he leaned back against the solid wood. The scent of Sloane—lavender and vanilla, now woven with the smoky remnants of the bonfire and the musk of their combined arousal—filled the room, and the triad bond pulsed with a raw, hungry current so intense it made his head swim.

Sloane turned toward them. "You know," she said, her voice a low purr that sent a jolt straight through him. "The other night, I noticed Ronan's bathroom has a jacuzzi. It looked… very inviting."

Ronan's lips curved into one of his full smiles. "That sounds like a perfect way to end a perfect night."

Without another word, Sloane moved, walking past them and swaying her hips with a confidence that was entirely new and utterly intoxicating. She was leading, and Kozue's wolf surged with approval.

Yes. Show us what you want.

He and Ronan followed her across the suite, through the doorway into the spacious, slate-tiled bathroom. But she didn't hesitate. Her fingers went to the hem of her simple dress, pulling it up and over her head in one fluid motion. Then she shed her lace bra and panties with quick movements, and stood there for a heartbeat, backlit by the soft vanity lights. She was all lean muscle and soft curves, the twin mate marks on her neck a dark, beautiful claim against her sun-kissed skin.

Kozue's breath hitched at the sight of his beautiful mate, and beside him, he heard the sharp intake of Ronan's breath. His own clothes became an unbearable barrier. He tore at the buttons of his henley, his movements uncharacteristically hurried, while Ronan yanked his sweater over his head. Jeans and boxers were shoved down, kicked aside in a tangle of fabric. Within moments, they stood as bare as she was, two powerful warriors laid utterly vulnerable by their need for one woman.

Sloane had already stepped into the sunken jacuzzi tub, a massive stone basin built for relaxation—or for this. She turned the taps and the thunder of filling water echoed in the tiled room, and with a click, she activated the jets, the water churning to life.