Rian's POV
"This is unnecessary," I tell Damon.
"Bachelor party is tradition." He grins. "Even for second weddings."
The pack has planned separate bachelor parties—Luca with Sara and the females, me with the males.
"No strippers," I warn.
"Wouldn't dream of it. You're disgustingly devoted to your mate." Damon hands me a drink. "We're just celebrating. Relax."
I try. But I miss Luca. We've been apart for six hours, and the bond aches.
Having fun? I send through our connection.
Sara's trying to get me drunk. Save me. His mental laugh is warm.
You're on your own, baby. Suffer.
Traitor.
The party is actually fun—pack bonding, stories shared, laughter. But all I can think about is getting back to Luca.
"He's distracted," Damon announces. "Thinking about the Luna."
Everyone laughs.
"Can't help it. I miss him."
"You saw him this morning."
"Too long ago." I check my phone. Nothing. "Is it too early to leave?"
"It's been two hours. Yes, too early." Damon grins. "You're pathetic."
"I'm in love. There's a difference."
Finally, mercifully, the party ends. I shift and run home, desperate to see Luca.
He's already there, clearly just arrived, equally desperate.
"Miss me?" he asks, grinning.
"Constantly." I pull him close, kissing him thoroughly. "Never doing that again."
"Agreed. Six hours apart is torture."
"Absolutely." I lift him. "Bedroom. Now."
"Caveman Alpha."
"Your caveman Alpha."
We don't make it to the bedroom. He wraps around me, and I take him against the wall—desperate, needy, perfect.
"Missed you," I growl against his throat. "Missed this."
"Show me how much."
I do. Twice against the wall, once on the stairs, finally in bed for round three.
Later, thoroughly satisfied and tangled together, he laughs breathlessly.
"We're pathetic. Six hours apart and we attack each other."
"We're in love. Big difference." I nuzzle his neck. "How was your party?"
"Good. Sara got drunk and gave relationship advice. Ironic since she's single."
"What advice?"
"Keep you satisfied so you don't get clingy." He grins. "I think I'm managing."
"You're exceeding expectations." I pull him closer. "One month until the wedding."
"Nervous?"
"Excited. Can't wait to see you choose me again."
"I choose you every day already."
"I know. But this is official. Public. Permanent."
"Forever permanent," he agrees, kissing me softly.
We make love again—slow, tender, filled with emotion. One month until we recommit publicly.
But privately, we're already forever.
"Love you," he murmurs sleepily.
"Love you more," I respond, holding him close.
One month until our perfect day.
One month until he's officially, completely, permanently mine.