The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

Jessie’s POV

Werewolf ceremonies were traditionally held either at moonrise or when the moon was at the highest point in the sky, so it was a good thing it got dark about five in the afternoon in Minnesota at this time of year. I didn’t want to be apart from John for another minute.

By the time everyone was home last night and Larissa was out of surgery, it was four in the morning. The other Lunas pitched in and finished the wedding preparations, while a frustrated wolf lay on her bed letting her paw and her ribs heal as her mate fed her bits of meat. Her frustration at being left out was clear in all the mental communications she sent her helpers. We were all happy when Doc said she was good to shift.

I had been bathed, poked, plucked, arranged and painted until I reached a level of beauty I’d never find again. The dress was amazing, my bridesmaids were radiant, their mates and escorts handsome. I watched them walk out the door into the meeting hall to the sound of a pipe organ, and then it was my turn. “Ready?”

I looked up at Alpha Stan, the man who had been my Alpha and friend all this time. “I was born for this,” I said with a smile. The music started, and the door opened, letting everyone see me as he led me onto the white fabric that covered the aisle. If I had looked, I would have seen the faces of hundreds of family, friends and well-wishers. The crowd was mostly werewolf, but it included some of my human friends from college and work, important politicians, and other guests. We would play this one straight.

I didn’t care, my eyes were on nothing but my John.

He looked amazing up there in his formal clothes. His hair neatly combed, his black wool jacket and matching black six-button waistcoat set off by a white dress shirt and black bowtie. The cufflinks he wore bore the emblem of the Moscow Pack, a gift from Alpha Javier. From the waist up, it looked like normal wedding clothing, but MY man was a Highlander, and Scotsmen do things a little differently from there on down.

A dress sporran on a silver chain hung in front of where his zipper would normally be, holding down the formal kilt that spanned from his waist to his knees. The kilt was a Milne plaid, the traditional pattern of his Pack, in white with thick green stripes and thin red and blue lines. His tartan socks reached up to his knees, in black, with black boots.

Tonight, I’d finally find out just what was underneath a Scotsman’s kilt.

His Alpha, Esca, was standing by him along with his groomsman, while my girls were lined up next to where I would be standing. I heard everyone stand as we started towards them, and when he smiled at me and looked at me like the most important thing in the world, the waterworks began. Stan discreetly handed me his handkerchief, and I was glad for the invention of waterproof mascara or I’d end up looking like a racoon.

“Who gives this woman to be married,” Chair Robert Steele asked. (It was common for Alphas to get ordination in order to perform civil ceremonies in their Packs, and we were honored he would perform ours.)

“I do, on behalf of her late parents,” Stan said. He kissed my cheek and placed my hand in John’s, who drew me up next to him. The next few minutes were a blur as I focused on him. It was almost a shock when I realized my part was up.

“Do you, Jessica Ellen Donato, take John Seamus Pearson to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

I looked into the eyes so full of love. “I do.”

(On a cliffside villa in Sicily, as the moon sets on the water, dozens of wolves swarm onto the property and overwhelm the guards. Screams and gunshots are heard, and minutes later the wolves are running back out, backlit by the fires starting to consume the building that housed Santino Riini, his family and his men.)

“And do you, John Seamus Pearson, take Jessica Ellen Donato to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

He smiled and looked at me. “I do.”

(In a three-story structure in the old part of Corleone, teams of men dressed in black and carrying silenced weapons land on the roof of the heavily fortified building. Ditching their parachutes, they blast into the stairwell and into the upper floor of the building while snipers take out the guards. Muffled booms are heard, and flashes of light and fire in the rooms follow them as they move to the ground. Men rush out the gates into the night, and residents know better than to look out their windows. Minutes later, roaring fire engulfs the historic mansion that was the home of Salvatore Riini, boss of the Sicilian mafia.)

“Then by the power vested in me, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” I practically jumped in his arms, his strong arms pulling me up and into his hard chest as we kissed deeply. I lost myself in him, in the feeling of the bond, at least until I felt a tap on my shoulder and backed off. The guests were highly amused by our display.

(Black-dressed men pull an accountant out of his bed at gunpoint, his wife being held back by another. He is given a simple choice; transfer the money or die. He makes the transfers. The men leave, but ten minutes later the police arrive and seize his books and computers.)

“It is my honor to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. John Pearson,” Robert said as he turned us towards the crowd, who stood and applauded us.

(Tipped off by anonymous but detailed phone calls, police in the early morning hours raid over three dozen locations where wanted Mafia members are found, along with drugs, weapons and other contraband. In the first twenty-four hours of the nationwide sweep, over three hundred Mafia members are arrested. The National Police hail the operation as ‘breaking the back of the Mafia in Sicily.’)

We walk back up the aisle, basking in the well-wishes of our friends as I hold him. This whole ceremony satisfies the human side of me, the part that dreamed of a big wedding when I was a little girl. My wolf doesn’t care, she got her mate months ago, she has twin pups in her belly, so all this is just in the way of her getting to the buffet table. We set up the reception line, and the photographer takes some pictures we can feed to the press being kept well away from us.

Alpha Javier and Luna Abrianna congratulate us, and Javier turns his head to my ear when he gives me a hug. “It’s done,” he whispers. I look over to John and let out a relieved sigh.

That danger was over.

I leaned back towards him, my nude body catching the last of the evening rays while my toes dragged through the warm ocean water. It may have been winter back in Minnesota, but here in the Maldive Islands it was eighty degrees with a light wind. My back exploded with tingles as it touched John’s chest as he settled behind me on the lounge in the shallow waters. “It’s so beautiful here,” I told him as I watched a pod of dolphins playing in the distant surf.

“What I love about it is that I have just you; no distractions, no phone calls, and no clothes.” The ten days here after our wedding had been amazing and passionate. The private island resort had every amenity you could ask for; fishing, sailing, jetskis, scuba diving, even deep-sea fishing upon request. We didn’t have to do anything we didn’t want to do; a chef came three times a day to prepare our meals, the bar was fully stocked, and fresh towels and sheets were provided daily. My favorite part of the villa was the huge circular bed, set in a three-sided porch overlooking the ocean waves. Most of our time had been spent making love there, or by the water. We both had deep tans now.

Our wolves had even gotten into the action, taking advantage of the unspoiled wilderness lying beyond the beach. All the development on the ten square mile island was within a hundred yards of the ocean.

“We do have to go back tomorrow,” I said with a sigh.

He tightened his arms around me as we watched the sun reach the horizon. “We should have a toast,” he said.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I stood up, moving over to the sparkline cider on ice and caviar that had been set out for us. Pouring us each a glass, I could feel his eyes raking over me. “See something you like,” I teased.

“When I’m on my deathbed and my life flashes before me, I want to pause it on this moment right now,” he said. I looked at him quizzically. “Your body, backlit by the sunset in a tropical paradise, your belly swollen with our child, it’s all I need to die a happy man.”

“You smooth-talking Alpha, you,” I said as I set the glasses and the tray of snacks by the lounge he was using. “Get up, I want to see this too.”

He smirked and got up, walking over to where I had been standing as I took his place on the lounge. I could see what he meant, his body was outlined perfectly, so strong, so beautiful. “Hey, is that time right,” I asked.

“What time?”

“The sundial. It says it is five… wait now four… now two…” I was leaning back, teasing myself with my fingers as his body reacted to mine. “Looks like we’ve got all afternoon to make love now.”

I shrieked as he picked me up, setting me on the railing with his back to the ocean before he dropped to his knees and put his head where I needed it to be right now. My legs wrapped around his shoulders and my hands gripped the rails as he quickly got me going again. As much as I loved it, I wanted him inside me and right now.

I pulled his head up with one hand, my eyes begging for him to take me. He stood and entered me fully in one motion, and I moaned with the sudden stretch from his hard cock. I needed it fast and hard, and he gave it to me. I broke on my first orgasm almost immediately, but he wasn’t done with me. We’d made love so many times today already that he would have some staying power. “Take me to bed, my big stud,” I said as I clung to him.

“With pleasure, my mate,” he said. He never pulled out, he just walked me to the bed and lowered us to the mattress where he continued to plunder my body to three more, before we finally fell asleep to the cool island breeze over us.