Epilogue:
Priscilla’s POV
“I love you,” I murmured against Wyatt’s lips in what must have been the thousandth kiss of the evening. He pulled away to pepper kisses down my neck, wrapping an arm firmly around my waist. He smoothed out the ruffled lacy edges of my mauvy pink dress.
As always, his touch enveloped me in warmth. Setting my skin alight. Wyatt was never further than an arm’s length away from me. The past several days, we were constantly intertwined. I was a part of this world, and Wyatt wanted everyone to know it.
Finally, after six days of parties, inviting allied packs onto the New York reserve, and eating a smorgasbord of various foods, our celebration came to an end. The ceremony wasn’t like a Catholic wedding that I had seen as a child.
Thank God it wasn’t.