Page 106 of The Librarian and Her Alphas

This startles a laugh from me, earning curious glances from nearby guests. My heart hammers against my chest as soft music plays in the background.

We’re halfway down the aisle now, and I can finally make out the expressions on my alphas’ faces. Damon’s dark eyes lock with mine through the veil, intense and possessive. To his right is Max, looking at me with pure adoration—his red curls catching fire in the sunset. Gunnar, stoic and powerful on Damon’s left, watches me with such hunger that my knees nearly buckle.

“Oh god,” I whisper to Carmen. “They’re looking at me like they want to devour me right here.”

“That’s how alphas look at their omega,” she responds. “Especially on their wedding day. Trust me, it’s a good thing.”

Three more steps.

My pulse races faster, the bouquet clutched so tightly in my trembling fingers that I’m surprised the stems haven’t snapped.

Two more steps.

I catch a whiff of their combined scents, and my omega wolf responds with a rush of slick between my thighs.

One final step, and I’m now standing before them.

“Who gives this omega to these alphas?” the officiant asks, his voice carrying across the gathered crowd.

“I do,” Carmen replies, placing my hand in Damon’s waiting palm. His skin is warm against mine, his grip firm and reassuring. Carmen gives me one last look of encouragement before releasing me completely and taking her seat in the front row.

I turn to face my three alphas, and my breath catches in my throat.

Damon’s eyes are suspiciously bright, a sheen of moisture making them glitter in the fading sunlight. Max is less subtle, a single tear tracking down his freckled cheek as he beams at me. Most shocking of all is Gunnar, whose usual stone-faced expression has cracked open to reveal raw emotion, his eyes swimming with unshed tears.

These powerful alphas are reduced to tears by the sight of me in my wedding dress. The realization makes my own eyes well up.

“You’re so beautiful,” Max whispers, lifting my veil and revealing my face to them fully. “Our perfect omega.”

I offer them a shy smile, still unable to believe that in moments, I’ll officially belong to these three incredible alphas who changed my life. My gaze drifts from their adoring faces to the guests, scanning the crowd until I find what I’m looking for- my babies.

They’re in the front row, all four dressed in adorable matching outfits. Phoebe and Amelia, with their tiny bows and red frilly dresses, are nestled in my mother’s arms, while Rhett and Luke, handsome in miniature gray suits, are being gently bounced on the knees of Carmen and Francine. At one year old, their little faces light up as they see me.

Tears spill over my lashes as I give them a tiny wave, my heart so full it might burst. The quadruplets wiggle excitedly in response, causing a ripple of affectionate laughter to spread through the guests.

The officiant clears his throat, pulling my attention back to the ceremony.

Damon steps forward first, taking both my hands in his. The setting sun casts shadows across the sharp planes of his face, making him appear even more dangerous and beautiful than usual.

“Lena,” Damon begins, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the hushed gathering. His dark eyes bore into mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “From the moment I caught your scent, I knew you were meant to be ours. I vow to protect you with every fiber of my being, to cherish what is precious to you, and to lead our pack with strength and wisdom.”

The sincerity in his words and the promise of protection—it’s everything I have ever craved.

“I will never let anyone harm you again,” he adds softly so only I can hear, and my eyes sting with grateful tears.

Max steps forward next, his eyes twinkling with affection as he takes my still-trembling hands from Damon.

“My sweet Lena,” he says. “I vow always to make you smile, catch you when you fall, and remind you every day how perfectly you fit into our pack and hearts.”

Max has always known how to ease my anxiety and bring light back into my life whenever he finds me crying or waking from a nightmare.

Then Gunnar moves forward, his enormous muscular frame blocking the sunlight as he stands before me, his face is tight with concentration. His love is an emotion clearly harder for him to express in words.

“Lena,” he says, his voice rough like gravel. His eyes lock onto mine with predatory focus. “I vow to fight for you until my last breath, to claim you in ways that make you remember who you belong to, and to worship every inch of your body until you can’t remember your name.”

A collective intake of breath ripples through the guests, and heat flares in my cheeks at his boldness. Typical Gunnar, saying exactly what he means without any filter.

“Lena, would you like to recite your vows?” the officiant prompts, and I nod shyly.

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