Chapter 40
Car doors slammed, the night air a sudden, cool rush against my skin. Above us, the restaurant loomed, a two-story behemoth, its upper windows glowing like warm eyes in the darkness. Inside, the heavy oak door swallowed us whole. “Hi, Alpha,” a voice boomed, warm and welcoming. “Your table’s ready.” We followed the waiter – a blur of crisp white shirt and polished shoes – up a sweeping staircase. The roof exploded in a breathtaking panorama of city lights, a constellation mirroring the hundreds of flickering candles below. Their light traced a path, a river of gold winding through rose petals scattered lavishly across the terrace, each bloom a vibrant explosion of color. It felt… unreal. Like a movie scene sprung to life. He pulled out my chair, the leather soft and cool beneath my hand. The waiter presented the menu, its heavy pages thick with the promise of delicious possibilities. He paused, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Shall we begin?”
“What’s all this?” My voice a low hum against the murmur of the restaurant. Candlelight flickered on polished mahogany, casting long shadows that danced with the slow sway of Jackson’s smile. It was a smile that banished the dim corners of the room, a sudden burst of sunshine chasing away the twilight. “I wanted to do something special for you tonight,” he said, his voice a warm counterpoint to the clinking silverware. The waiter, a young man with eyes that held the weariness of a thousand late shifts, approached. Our order: a simple exchange of words, yet the weight of expectation hung heavy in the air. When I uttered “Chicken Alfredo with garlic,” my tongue felt the promise of it, a savory anticipation blooming in my mouth, the rich cream and pungent garlic already painting a picture on my palate.
His hand closed over mine, warm and strong. The rough texture of his calloused thumb against my skin sent a surprising jolt up my arm. “Zoe,” he began, his voice a low rumble, eyes searching mine, a vulnerability in their depths that mirrored the tremor in his hand. “I’m so lucky. You’re…perfect.” He paused, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air between us, thick with the scent of roasting garlic and something subtly sweet – maybe his cologne. I saw the unspoken plea in his gaze, the risk he’d taken. Before I could overthink it, the words tumbled out: “I love you too.” His eyes widened, a visible breath escaping his lips. A grin, slow and breathtaking, spread across his face. He scooped me into his arms, a giddy laugh bubbling from him as he swung me, the worn wooden floorboards creaking beneath us in a rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart. He lowered me, his lips finding mine in a kiss as soft as a summer breeze, gentle as the first snowflakes of winter. The waitress’s discreet throat-clearing shattered the moment. We settled back into our seats, the remnants of the kiss lingering like the delicate perfume of the lilies adorning the center of the table in the softly lit restaurant. The chicken Alfredo arrived, a creamy, garlicky dream. A sigh escaped me as the first bite melted on my tongue – pure, unadulterated heaven. “Mmm,” I murmured, the sound a testament to its perfection.
Do I need to be jealous of the food, Jackson teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. I laugh, a delighted bubble of sound, and nod enthusiastically. “Very jealous!” I exclaim, and we both crack up, our laughter filling the cozy space of the restaurant. It’s true, the chicken Alfredo is a strong contender for my affections. That creamy, garlicky masterpiece has me swooning, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. But as I glance across the table at Jackson, his eyes crinkling with humor and his lips curved in a smile, I know my heart is his. The rosess between us might as well be Cupid’s arrows, for all the romantic atmosphere they lend to the moment. The delicate perfume of the blooms mingles with the savory aroma of our meal, creating a heady blend that has me feeling lightheaded. “You know,” Jackson says, his tone playful, “I think I can handle a little competition from the chicken. For now.” He winks, and I feel my cheeks flush with warmth. That mischievous glint is back in his eye, and I know we’re in for a fun evening, filled with delicious food and even sweeter moments.
The last bite of lemon tart vanished, leaving a sweet tang on my tongue. Jackson’s hand closed over mine, a warm, solid pressure. He guided me across the rooftop, the fairy lights blurring in my peripheral vision as we moved. The same whimsical decorations adorned this section, but here, nestled amongst the glowing orbs, sat a weathered bench overlooking a forest bathed in twilight. The air, thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, stole my breath away. Below, the trees formed a shadowy sea, the last rays of sun catching the tips of their branches like scattered gold. “It’s beautiful,” I breathed, turning to Jackson. His gaze, however, was fixed on me, intense and unwavering. A blush heated my cheeks under the scrutiny of his eyes. He stood, then knelt, his hand still clasped in mine. The sudden shift in the weight of his body sent a shiver, more than just the evening chill, rippling through me. An involuntary gasp escaped. From his pocket, he produced a small velvet box. The faint glint of metal inside caught the light. His voice, low and husky, resonated with a sincerity that vibrated in my chest. “Zoe,” he began, his eyes searching mine, “I can’t imagine this world without you. Will you do me the incredible honor of letting me show the world that you are mine? Will you marry me?”
The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows on the rough-hewn walls of the cave. His voice, a low rumble, vibrated in the air, “A mating ceremony. We’ll invite the whole pack.” He paused, his hand finding mine, the cool smoothness of the ring a stark contrast to the warmth of his skin. Princess-cut, a brilliant flash of light capturing the firelight, tiny diamonds whispering around its edges like a constellation. It wasn’t just a ring; it was a promise blazing against the darkness. My breath hitched. “Yes,” I whispered, the word barely audible above the crackling fire. Tears welled, blurring the already dancing flames. His eyes, alight with a joy that threatened to consume them both, widened. He scooped me into his arms, the rough fabric of his tunic scratching pleasantly against my skin as he spun me. The cave walls swam, a dizzying blur of stone and shadow. He roared his laughter, a sound both triumphant and deeply tender, echoing through the cavern, “I’m the luckiest wolf alive!”
Moonlight, fractured by the swaying branches, painted stripes across the dusty floorboards. I practically vibrated with barely contained glee. Katelynn and Aliza *had* to know. “Three weeks,” I breathed, the words catching in my throat with the dust and the speed. Jackson’s grin mirrored mine, sharp in the dim light. “Full moon,” he confirmed, his voice low, a rumble against the engine’s growl. “Pack run afterward. Perfect.” The pack house loomed ahead, dark and imposing against the star-strewn sky. The scent of pine and damp earth hit me—a familiar, earthy perfume. Bursting through the door, I slammed it shut behind us, the sound echoing in the sudden stillness. “Guys!” I exploded, barely catching my breath. “We’re doing it! Full moon. Pack run. Help me plan this thing, now!”