As penance for going so long between updates, here's nearly 10.5k of wedding emotions and mating rituals. Enjoy!

"And this is the honeymoon suite."

He noted that several of their bags were already in the room; they'd been told that Emma's dress had already been delivered and stored in the bridal suite downstairs, and the rest of her things for tomorrow had been whisked away by the astonishingly efficient venue attendants. He smiled when Emma sucked in a breath and her hand shot out to grip his arm as she took in the room itself.

It was almost like they'd specially redecorated it to match their wedding theme. White walls and low bookcases encased hardwood floors covered in red oriental rugs; almost the entirety of the outside wall was windows that looked out over the snow-covered gardens and woods beyond. There were large, comfortably plush red armchairs near a fireplace - unlit at the moment but he might insist on them lighting it just to add to the ambiance - and a free-standing wardrobe flanked the entrance to the bathroom. The bed, though, he sensed that his dearest wanted to do nothing more than face plant onto the unbelievably plush-looking red quilt and test out just how soft those pillows seemed to be.

"This is amazing," she breathed, walking to the windows to look out over the grounds. Snow fell thick and fast, as it had been during their drive up here, and made everything look truly magical. "Seriously, this is more than what I could have asked for."

Killian came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and pressing a kiss to her neck. When the inevitable question of 'where are we going to stay if we're having our wedding two hours away' had arisen, Killian had made all the arrangements under a strict agreement of surprise. Knowing Emma's reluctance to spend money, especially on something she might otherwise deem 'frivolous' or 'selfish', he'd especially wanted to keep such a grand suite of rooms secret - not to deceive her, but to spoil her as he so often wanted to. And staying in the manor that they were to be wed in would certainly make tomorrow easier, both during the day and the night to come.

The beautiful wintery scenes outside and the fact that the decor matched their theme was only a happy accident.

"It's nothing more than you deserve, my love," he told her, sincerity laced in his voice. Then, in a much lower tone - well aware that the concierge with them was also a werewolf - he added, "Let's hope they've reinforced the bed, aye?"

Arousal spiked her scent, making him grin. He backed off, looking back at the concierge, who had the decency to pretend she hadn't heard anything. "And the bachelor's suite?" he asked.

He heard Emma make the smallest noise of protest, but this at least they had discussed. While he wasn't a particularly suspicious wolf, he figured that with his luck with women - losing a hand for one and (in a roundabout way) getting shot while with another - he'd had all the terrible luck he could stand for a lifetime and didn't want to chance anything else. They'd spend the night apart and he wouldn't see her until she was walking towards him down the aisle.

"This way, sir."

Emma slipped her hand in his as they walked down the hall; thankfully it wouldn't be far and he could at least still smell her if he tried. "I don't want to do this," she murmured. "We haven't spent the night apart since you moved in."

"Codependent," he teased, though he understood exactly how she felt. "It's one night, love, we'll be fine. After tomorrow, there'll be no getting rid of me."

"Promise?"

"Aye," he said, pausing to lean down and give her a quick kiss.

The bachelor's suite wasn't nearly as grand as the honeymoon suite, but it suited him just fine. The polish on the wood was dark, rather than white, though the theme of red still ran through the fabrics and the bed looked just as comfortable as the one they'd share tomorrow night. His bags were there already as well, his tuxedo for tomorrow hanging in the wardrobe. "Well, this is cozy," he said, giving Emma's hand a squeeze.

"Shall I give you some time to rest after the drive out here, or would you prefer to go over the last minute details?" the concierge asked.

Killian shared a glance with Emma. He wasn't tired; he really just needed to stretch, and moving around making final decisions would help with that. She shrugged. "I'm okay to do prep stuff. We can take a break before the rehearsal later."

The concierge smiled and led them downstairs.

It was funny, he decided, how all the details and plans they'd been making weren't nearly as many as the ones done just in the last week. In addition to their own things, they'd brought bags of favors and decorations put together in the evenings, many of which would have to be taken home again and Killian had no earthly idea where they'd put them or if they'd even reuse them at all. These things needed to have designated places at the venue, and then there were discussions about floral arrangement placements, finalizing table setup, going over the guest list one last time, reviewing catering options again for both the rehearsal and the reception…

He had the beginnings of a headache by the time they were released from duties to relax and prepare for the rehearsal dinner in a few hours. "Can you believe these people think this is a small wedding?" he asked wearily as they trooped up the stairs.

"It is a small wedding," Emma said. She led them into the honeymoon suite, sighing in relief as she flopped onto the bed. Killian rolled his eyes good-naturedly as it took her another minute to remember to kick her shoes off. "Neither of us have large immediate families, few close friends. I think the most of the guest list is some business associates your brother insisted on and some of the ranking pack leadership that my uncle said we had to invite."

He grunted as he took off his own shoes before laying back on the absurdly comfortable bed. "All those bloody party favors say otherwise."

She hummed, rolling over to face him. "I thought you liked the favors."

He forgot, for a moment, what they were discussing as he took in the sparkle in her green eyes, the way the light caught in her hair and made it glow. The quirk of her lips said she knew he wasn't thinking about party favors anymore. "I do like them," he said, proving her wrong. "I just liked the idea of them more than the creation of them."

"Well, now they get to go to other people who hopefully like them and appreciate all the effort we put into them," she said, scooting forward enough to rest her head against his chest.

"The literal blood poured into them with all the papercuts," Killian mused, pulling her close and resting his nose against her hair. She giggled against him and he breathed in her scent, letting it wash over him and ease the tension between his shoulders. "Liam texted earlier, they'll be here soon."

Emma hummed, her hand fisting in his shirt. He could sense she was on the precipice of sleep; he wasn't sure he'd be able to, knowing his brother and family would be arriving shortly, but he'd be more than content to lay here with her, especially knowing that this would be their last peaceful moment alone before tomorrow night.

Tomorrow.

He exhaled slowly, trying to keep his breathing even and a tight rein on his emotions; Emma would wake up if she sensed any changes and he didn't know how to talk to her about this. It might, he decided, reflect badly on their pending nuptials that he felt uneasy about discussing said pending nuptials. But it was difficult to figure out how to discuss his feelings when he knew bungling his phrasing would only make her afraid that he would leave her. He really just needed some time alone with his brother - Liam would know if he was just having a case of cold feet or if it was something worse. And since Liam and Elsa had only done the mating ceremony when they'd bonded, he'd be able to offer some insight on if this was possibly some side effect of the human ceremony.

He hoped.

He wanted this. He wanted Emma, wanted a life together, for good or ill, he just… He worried that there were too many things left unsaid between them before they took such a step. Particularly after their altercation last week - it hadn't escaped his notice, drunk or not, that they hadn't reached any understanding in their difference in opinion. And yes, that had been mostly his fault, driven to distraction by the alcohol and how arousing she was when she was angry, putting everything else aside to fuck her and forget that they were at odds with each other.

But she hadn't put forward the option to discuss it either.

Was this a sign? Or was this just a normal relationship bump?

Voices drifted up from downstairs - he recognized Liam immediately, scolding Anna's twins for running in wet shoes on the hardwood floors. Moving gently, Killian extracted himself from Emma's embrace, soothing her with a kiss to her brow when she grumbled. "Liam's here, darling, I'm going to see him. Rest."

She mumbled, relaxing into the pillows; he draped the blanket from the foot of the bed over her and left quietly, taking the stairs two at a time as the voices grew louder. As he came around the bend, a cheer went up. "There's the man of the hour!"

Liam enveloped him in a hug, slapping him on the back this time - "Don't grumble at me, old man, you're surely back on your feet now." - and then Killian went for the more gentle embrace of his sister-in-law, Elsa. "Hello, Killian."

"Elsa, glad you made it."

"UNCLE KILLIAN!"

He faked a gasp of pain as the twins, Harper and Sidney, crashed into his legs, each hugging around the knee and giggling. "I didn't know you were raising were-rhinoceroses, Anna," Killian said, and with great exaggeration lifted his legs high to walk over to hug her as well.

Anna looked exhausted and harried. He didn't envy her, having to keep up with a pair of four-year olds across two continents, even with three other adults to help out. "Pups have energy," she said, reaching down to pry the girls away. They whined and only clung to his legs harder. "Too much energy."

"Can we play in the snow now?" Harper asked.

Anna tugged on their arms. "Let go of Uncle Killian and we'll talk about it."

"Pleeeeeease, Mummy?" Sidney added.

"I said let go of your uncle." Anna's tone brokered no arguments.

With dramatic sighs, both girls listened and released him. Kristoff came over and took the twins in hand. "If we can get everything to our room in one piece, I'll take you out into the snow. Hi Killian."

"YAY!"

"Hey Kristoff."

Anna blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Where's Emma? We've been dying to meet her!"

"She's having a bit of a lie down, we got an early start today."

The concierge reappeared with room keys and there was more noise and a whirlwind of activity as everything was moved upstairs and the twins kept up a running commentary of everything they were planning on doing in the snow over the next few hours - Kristoff started to remind them about the rehearsal later, but gave up after they went into excruciating detail about what kind of snow fort they wanted to build. During the battle to put on proper snow clothes, Killian managed to lure Liam away to talk privately.

As the door shut behind them to the bachelor's suite, Liam sighed as the noise faded away. "I love them dearly, but my nieces are bloody exhausting."

Killian chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I can see that. Like that the whole trip, were they?"

"Not at first." Spotting a bottle of brandy on the dresser, Killian decided he needed some liquid courage; Liam sounded like he needed a drink after a long day of travel anyway. "They were fine in London, but about halfway across the Atlantic things got restless. I don't blame them, it's a long bloody flight, but I can only answer so many questions about going backwards in time before I need to Google something and I wasn't about to fork over a few quid for the pleasure."

Killian handed over a tumbler of brandy and they tapped the rims together before taking a sip. Liam makes a noise of content at the taste, then sets his glass aside. "So. My little brother is finally mating."

"Younger."

"Is it the end of bachelordom that's got you all worked up in knots?"

He winced; try as he might, Liam knows him better than anyone and there's no disguising the fear-scent from the man who once helped change his soaked bedsheets after nightmares. "Not exactly…"

Liam leaned back against the door and folded his arms, waiting for Killian to find the words. "I love her," he said finally. "I love her more than anything. I just… we've had arguments, we've had disagreements, and there are things I've never told her, just as I'm sure there are things she's never told me."

"Such as?"

"I never told her about our father."

Liam's eyebrow raises. "Well, considering the state he left us in, I don't imagine it's a topic you'd care to revisit often. Has she asked?"

"No, but there were moments during the wedding planning where we chose things for the memories of our parents. She probed the subject of Father but I never… I couldn't. She didn't pry," Killian said, taking another sip of brandy. "And last week, we found more information regarding the incident in October. We found ourselves… at odds, over how to handle the situation." Liam looked at him expectantly and Killian grimaced. "Alright, we fought. We were both angry and got drunk and fought some more and… set it aside in favor of more interesting activities."

"Not quite a hate fuck, but not make-up sex either."

"Liam."

He held up his hands in acquiesce. "Do you know when I told Elsa about Father? About how Mum died?" he asked, swirling the brandy around. "We were mated a year before I got the guts to tell her. Around the time she was thinking of starting her own brewery."

"How angry was she?"

"Considering we were still paying off the end of Father's debts when she and I mated, I think I got off easy. She didn't speak to me for a month, went to stay with Anna. It was right after the pups were born, so she told everyone it was to help out."

Killian had a vague memory of that; it would have been after he and Liam had been outcast from their old pack, so his faulty memory could be pinned to some of the hard drinking and self-loathing he'd dunked himself in for a few years after losing Milah and his hand. There wasn't a lot about that time he could clearly remember, not until Liam had given him an ultimatum to sober up and pull his own weight. "So you're telling me I shouldn't do that."

Liam reached over and cuffed him on the ear. "Insolent pup. Tell her sooner before later, but don't make the mistake I did. It's the worst feeling in the world, knowing your mate is near but being unable - being forbidden - to see or touch her. Being rejected. We're not made for loneliness, we're made for Pack, and it nearly drove me insane to be forced out by her."

Killian thought about the allusions Emma had made to what it was like when a mate-bond was broken, the distant look she'd get in her eyes and the shadow of pain that would cross her face.

He never wanted to cause her that kind of pain, never wanted to experience it for himself.

"As for the other," Liam continued with a small shrug, "everyone has disagreements and fights. It's never a knock-down brawl, but Elsa and I have gotten into a shouting match a time or two. It doesn't mean you're mismatched, it doesn't mean your partnership is doomed to fail. It means you're human - or at least partly human, and sometimes you just don't agree. It's alright, Killian."

He worried on his lower lip, mulling that over. "That gossip you told us about, the anti-human talk. We're pretty sure Regina's behind it here. It hurt Emma when I said I wasn't opposed to some of the revenge ideas being tossed around - that's what we fought about. She thought I as good as agreed with the alpha who killed her parents."

Liam was silent for a long moment. Killian fidgeted with his glass. "Do you?" he asked finally.

"Do I what?"

"Agree with the alpha."

Killian bristled a little, but drank the rest of the brandy to keep from snapping out a retort. "I don't agree with her little gentrification ideas, but I don't disagree with the notion of payback for what that hunter did to me. I think I've earned that right."

Liam chewed on his lower lip, staring at him intently. Killian met his gaze squarely. Finally, he, too, downed the rest of his drink. "Are you planning on carrying out that revenge? Against a nameless, faceless hunter?" Killian opened his mouth - and then deflated as he realized Liam was right.

He had no idea who shot him and digging around for anyone who might know would definitely get him in trouble with the pack elders who had already said to let the matter rest. Liam rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You've earned the right to be angry about what happened, Killian. I just don't want you to lose everything you hold dear for one moment of personal satisfaction."

"I don't… I don't want anyone else to get hurt," Killian said, understanding some of his own anger and pain even as he voiced it. "He hurt me, and I don't know what state Emma would have been in had it been fatal. I don't want to think of it. I don't want to give that man another chance at me, another chance to hurt Emma, or hurt anyone else."

Liam made a noise like he was about to say something else, but then just sighed and pulled Killian in for a hug. "That's why we run in packs, brother," he said as Killian embraced him. "So we can protect each other."

He cradled his arm to his chest, tired of sniveling and crying like a child, but everything - everything - hurt too much and he had no other outlet that wasn't screaming his head off and that was slightly less socially appropriate. Liam crouched down next to him, seemingly unaffected by the stares of those who couldn't mind their own business at a man without one of his hands and too many emotions to keep to himself. "Come on, Killian, let's go home."

"We haven't got a home. We're cast out and it's my fault and-"

"Killian. As long as we've got each other, we'll always have a home. We're brothers. We don't need anyone else. We can protect each other, form our own pack. Come on."

The rehearsal went about as smoothly as such a thing could go, stopping every three minutes to explain what would happen next and then moving everyone into position for the next bit. The twins, not needed after their sprint down the aisle was redone several times in an attempt to slow it to at least a light jog, were whisked away by Anna and Kristoff to try and exhaust before bed so they could get enough sleep for the next day. Liam and Ruby also got to know one another quite well as the venue's coordinator made them practice their walk over and over again, with Elsa and Dorothy providing "helpful" commentary from the sidelines. Killian grew quite bored as he was only required to stand at the front during all of this, wondering when Emma's uncle James would lose his patience with the coordinator as she told them for the third time to go back to the doors and try again.

It was a relief to get to the dinner portion, to relax and chat with their families, give their small bridal party the gifts they'd found: Liam and James received cufflinks shaped like wolf heads, Ruby and the twins were each given a moonstone pendant with matching earrings. Toasts were made, embarrassing speeches were given, and it warmed Killian to his core to see the rest of his family so open and welcoming to Emma.

Ascending the stairs for bed, however, was probably the hardest thing he'd ever do in his life. Knowing they'd have to part ways at the top, Emma held his hand tight as they took the stairs slowly, chatting idly about nothing important. At the top, she pulled him flush against her, changing her grip from his shirt collar to his hair as she kissed him, her tongue slipping between his lips and her scent overpowering his other senses. His arms went around her waist, giving as good as he got, the soft moans and mewls he elicited from her music to his ears. "Don't use that other room," she murmured against his lips.

"Emma…"

"I know, I just… don't want to sleep without you."

Her grip in his hair eased and he rested his forehead against hers. "I don't relish the thought either, love, but we've talked about this. Extensively. Earlier today, even."

Her sigh mixed with a whine that triggered a reaction from his body. Killian shifted away a little as his cock stirred, making her giggle. "Come back in the room with me and I'll make it worth your while," she said, her tone dropping to something much more sultry.

He groaned, dropping his head to the crook of her neck. "You'll be the death of me, darling," he said. As a little bit of payback, he ran his tongue in a sloppy circle around the spot he'd mark her tomorrow night when he claimed her as his. Her arousal hit his nose and he thought perhaps this 'payback' may have backfired slightly. "I'm taking a raincheck on that for tomorrow."

As Killian lifted his head to meet her eyes, she looked at him with an indulgent smirk. "Your wife on her knees in front of you?"

"As opposed to my fiancée on her knees in front of me?"

"Touché."

He patted her arse and she squeaked. "Go, before the last of my will crumbles and they'll never drag us out of that room for tomorrow."

Emma glanced back over her shoulder as they parted, reluctantly, for their own rooms. It's only for one night, he told himself, smiling at her as he unlocked the bachelor's suite. "I love you," she said, her hand on the doorknob for the honeymoon suite.

"I love you too."

He leaned against the door once he'd closed it behind him, scrubbing his hand across his face. Every instinct told him to open the door, stalk down the hall, and join her in the other room, stupid human traditions be damned, but he was stronger than his instincts and would get through this.

So he thought.

Just getting ready for bed told him how used to having Emma at his side he was: he was reaching for her toothbrush before he caught himself - a habit now, to put the toothpaste on both of their brushes - and he draped a hand towel on the marble counter for her to use after she washed her face. All things she would be doing in her own suite, without him, and his heart panged at the realization even as he wondered how much water she was dripping on the floor when she inevitably forgot to grab a towel.

And laying in the bed itself? It smelled like laundry detergent and the very faint remaining scents of those who'd lain here before, all of them laying awake and wondering after their brides-to-be, just as he did. Nothing of the sheets or covers smelled like her and it was astonishing how tense he felt just because he lacked something he'd grown to take almost for granted would always be there.

This was bollocks.

He gradually kicked all of the covers off, the bed too hot after all his tossing and turning and punching the pillows into a much more comfortable shape, but it was no use. This was worse than when he'd been living in the hotel last summer; at least then he'd known they were apart for a good reason - well, work being a generally agreed upon reason, if not actually good. This was actual agony, knowing she was so close and something so trivial keeping them apart -

Hell and damnation.

This was all his idea but it was practically killing him. The most idiotic idea he'd ever come up with and now he was beholden to it, especially after he'd pushed her not once, but twice today to stick with it when she'd wanted to do away with it. Growling to himself, Killian swung his feet to the floor and got up, quietly shuffling to the door and going into the hall. The mansion was quiet, everyone else doing the sensible thing and sleeping. He crept down the hall until he reached the door of the honeymoon suite, knocking softly. "Emma?"

"Killian?"

He heard footsteps, and the wood creaked under the door, signaling she was on the other side. "I can't sleep," he said, keeping his voice down.

"Me neither," she admitted, her voice just as quiet. "Are you…"

"Missing you, not nervous," he assured her. "Well… not wholly nervous. It's just a human ceremony."

She chuckled. "Yeah. But then there's the whole other thing later…"

He smiled, resting his forehead against the door. There was a slight vibration against the door and he imagined she was doing the same on the other side, only this flimsy bit of wood separating them. How easily he could break it… nothing separating them…

His conversation with Liam came back to him, the possibility of Emma reacting like Elsa had and rejecting him looming above him. "Emma?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I… I want to tell you something. Before tomorrow." He heard her inhale sharply and hastened to add, "Nothing that affects us. It's - it's about my father. About why I didn't want anything honoring him at our wedding."

"Now?" Emma asks and he can almost see the incredulous look on her face.

"It's been complicated, love. I needed Liam to set me straight on some things before I found the courage to explain."

She didn't respond and he sighed, turning and sliding down the wall to sit against the door frame. "My father wasn't a good man. I didn't know this, but when I was a child he got in bed with one of the bigger crime families in London. We… our kind is useful as muscle, you know that. They hired out a lot of our pack, Gold had a deal with them."

"The same Gold that-?"

He nodded, even though she couldn't see. "The same. Far as I know, he's still the alpha, old bastard's been around for decades. Father got in on a tip from Gold, got steady work for a while. Which was good - I knew we weren't well-off, but not until I was older did I really know how bad it was. But then he ran into trouble. Cheated his way out of deals, skimmed the top off of payments. Gambling. Drinking. All on the mob's dime, until they pulled the plug on him and stuck him with the bill. Us with the bill."

Rustling cloth and the slight scrape against wood told him she was taking a seat as well. He talked quietly, explaining things he'd only really come to understand much later: his father dying unexpectedly (they still weren't sure if he'd paid some of his debts in blood or if he'd taken his own life), his mother working herself to an early grave, Liam making deals to keep the wolves from the door - metaphorical wolves, though a few werewolves from other packs wouldn't have bat an eye at punishing sons for the sins of their father.

Between explaining the state his father had left things in and his mum's death, Emma opened the door enough to slip her hand through, taking his own in hers and squeezing. She squeezed particularly hard when he named the amount of debt that had only been paid off in the last several years, but she didn't ask how they'd done it. She only asked, "Is that the end of it? The books are clean, everything's paid up, no one's going to come knocking at our door at three in the morning asking for a favor?"

Killian nodded. "Aye. Accounts are clean, no loose threads. And the years since have all been working to clear up our name. Everyone coming tomorrow - today - knows where we're from, what we overcame to get to this point. And I just… wanted you to know, before everything, why I only wanted roses for Mum."

"Okay." She squeezed his hand as she said it and a weight lifted from his chest. "I'm not thrilled you waited this long to tell me, but I get it. And I am glad you told me."

"Uncle Killian?" He froze. Shit. "I had a bad dream."

He looked up and saw Harper toddling towards him, rubbing her eyes. "I'm sorry, Harper. Did you hear us talking?"

"Yuh-huh."

"So much for a quiet midnight rendezvous," Emma murmured.

"C'mere." Harper all but collapsed into his lap, laying her head against his chest and tucking her thumb in her mouth. He wondered if he should get her to stop, not knowing if Anna wanted to wean her of the habit, but decided to let it be. "It's all right. Why didn't you go to your mama and papa?"

"They're sleeping." So going to the adults who were awake was the most logical step. "Why are you on the floor?"

"Yes, Killian, why are you on the floor?" Emma asked, amusement in her voice.

"Floor's better than standing," he said, putting his arm around Harper.

"Why aren't you inside with Emma? Isn't she your mate?"

They were getting to the twenty questions part of the night, it seemed. He only hoped she'd fall asleep before he needed to look anything up. "Not yet. We're doing… a human tradition. It's a little silly, but it means that the first time I see her tomorrow, she'll be all dressed up and pretty."

"She's already pretty."

"Aw, thank you, Harper," Emma said.

"So it's a surprise." Harper wriggled, getting more comfortable, and Killian winced as she jammed her heels and knees into sensitive spots. "Like when Daddy brings home flowers and Mummy tells him 'oh you shouldn't have!'"

"Yes, just like that," Killian said. "Now, you know it's very late - why don't you try to sleep, little one, and I'll tuck you in before I go back to my room? We'll stay here with you until you do, make sure no more bad dreams come."

"'Kay."

Emma's thumb rubbed against his in slow circles. They're quiet for the time being, letting Harper fall back asleep; Killian looked down when he felt her go limp against his chest and her hand fell away from her mouth, smiling slightly. "She's asleep," he whispered.

"They're cute," Emma whispered. "But I don't know how Anna and Kristoff keep up with them."

"Maybe there's some kind of superpower that you get when you become parents," he said, though he recalled how tired they - and Liam and Elsa - looked earlier in the evening. "Or maybe they just have a lot of playdates with the other pups their age so everyone gets worn out at once."

Emma hummed in amusement. "Let's wait a little bit longer before we find out for ourselves."

"Agreed," he said, squeezing her hand. He did want pups, eventually, and he thought that, despite losing her first litter so traumatically, she did as well, but he was more than content to have her all to himself for a while.

Harper made a noise and they fell silent again, listening to the mansion settling around them. Killian's eyelids felt heavy, but he didn't want to close them; if he did, he'd fall asleep in the hallway and then he'd never get Harper back to bed and in the morning Anna and Kristoff would be frantic wondering where their daughter was. But he didn't want to leave Emma just yet, so maybe if he closed them for just a moment...

"Killian."

His neck hurt. His neck hurt and he was sitting up and someone was shaking him. "Killian, come on, you need to get ready."

"Daddy."

"Come here, princess, you can tell me why you were out here with Uncle Killian while you get a bath."

"Nooooo."

Killian opened his eyes to a sea of people surrounding him; that might be a slight exaggeration, but his brother and sister-in-law were definitely there, as well as the photographer, Kristoff, Ruby, and a team of women he could only presume were there to manhandle Emma into hair and makeup.

Emma.

He remembered closing his eyes, not wanting to leave her just yet, and he must have fallen asleep before he could take Harper back and go to bed himself. "Damn, what time is it?" he asked, stretching and trying to get his spine in some sort of working shape.

"Just after eight," Liam said, offering his hand. Killian took it and Liam hauled him to his feet. "Come on, there's breakfast in your room; you'll feel better once you've eaten and showered."

Liam was right - the shower eased the aches he felt from spending the night on the floor with a four-year old on his lap and his arm twisted enough to hold Emma's hand - but the interrogation that accompanied breakfast about why they'd found him on the floor outside of Emma's room didn't improve his mood in the least. "At least you told her," Liam said when Killian had answered every question to his satisfaction. They were getting dressed now, following the strict orders of the organizer who'd rapped on the door and told them the photographer would be stopping by. "And she's not calling the whole thing off."

Killian only glared at Liam's reflection in the mirror, but chose not to reply. He hadn't quite realized how many parts went into his attire for the day and realized with another pang how Emma had quietly infiltrated this part of his life as well - she seemed to sense when there would be any difficulties with his disability and moved in before he ever realized there might be an issue. Now he had one cuff done and set with the wolf's head cufflink and the other hanging uselessly around his wrist, and his bowtie hanging limp around his neck. "If you wouldn't mind shutting your gob and being a useful best man, brother-"

"Ah, right."

The photographer did indeed stop by, snapping photos of Liam tying his bowtie and setting the boutonniere - roses for their mother, as promised - and getting them to do some 'candid' shots to fill the time before they needed to head downstairs. "How's Emma doing?" Killian asked as they trooped down the stairs.

"She's growling at everyone sticking her with hairpins and insisting she can do it herself, or at least that's what she was doing when I was in there," the photographer said.

Killian smiled and Liam clapped him on the shoulder.

The downstairs has been transformed with fairy lights - not real fairies or bewitchment, which would have cost extra and Emma had put her foot down on that when non-magical lights would do the trick - and red berry branches frosted with white glitter. The altar's backdrop was a stunning view of the snowy scene outside; the whole thing would be rearranged after the ceremony for dinner, while the guests enjoyed cocktails and the wedding party had more photos done.

It looked like a winter wonderland and he wished he could see Emma's reaction when she saw it.

"Are you sure it's not too…" Emma paused, unsure how to phrase it. She chewed her lower lip, looking over the ideas jotted down. "Girly?" she finally asked.

She could almost feel the exasperation rolling off of him. "Love, it's a seasonal theme."

"Yeah, but it's not like, covered in flannel or antlers everywhere or-"

"Emma. I don't bloody care about making it manly or girly or what have you. Is this what you want?" She hesitated for only a moment before nodding. The way he prioritized her wants and desires before his own was still so foreign to her and she just didn't want to push him on something he didn't want. Then, as if he read her mind, Killian added, "If I truly didn't like it, I would say so. Just as long as you're the one wearing the dress and I'm wearing the trousers, it's fine."

She glanced up at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Darn, I was hoping we could switch on that one."

She laughed as he growled and slung an arm around her neck, proceeding to mess up her hair.

And quite suddenly, Killian was alone at the front of the room, looking out across the dozens of people in attendance as Liam escorted Ruby down the aisle. The twins, dressed in their little fur-lined capes and hoods over their white dresses, had apparently received another briefing on how not to run down the aisle, because this time they managed it only by attempting to walk with one foot placed precisely in front of the other, heel to toe, and garnered a lot of 'aww's from the congregation.

When they finally reached the end of the aisle, rose petals scattered in their wake, the music changed and everyone stood, completely blocking his view of the back of the room - the intent to hide Emma until the very last moment-

His heart must have stopped at some point, or he'd passed on from the sheer boredom of waiting for the ceremony to start. An angel appeared at the end of the aisle, practically glowing in white and draped in a furred wrap - he realized it matched Emma's pelt almost exactly and wondered how she'd managed to arrange that. Her hair, pulled away from her face, cascaded down her back in gentle curls underneath the veil, and a silver tiara dotted with small roses rested on her head. He couldn't see much detail in the bodice of her gown, covered as it was with her wrap, but the skirt flared out at the waist to drape elegantly to the floor, something sparkly sewn into the organza winking at him in the light with every step she took.

She was breathtaking.

James leaned over and murmured something he couldn't make out over all the other ambient noise, but whatever he said caused Emma's smile to widen, and Killian's insides melted all over again at the look of pure joy on her face. When they reached the end of the aisle, James paused and kissed Emma on the forehead. "Your parents would be proud of you," Killian heard him say quietly.

Killian stepped forward and offered his arm as Emma discretely swiped at the corners of her eyes. "You look absolutely stunning, love," he murmured, leaning in to give her some cover.

"And now I'm ruining my makeup," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion. "Dammit, I told him not to make me cry. He was threatening to all morning."

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her, letting her dab at her tears before they joined the officiant. He never quite knew how to take her uncle, not when he'd shown more than once that he had the bite to back up his bark. Neither he nor his choice in mate seemed to lean heavily on the sympathetic or emotional side of things, though he supposed there had to be some kind of familial loyalty for them to take in their orphaned niece. But they were pack, and bound by blood to one another, and the occasion of one's life-bonding to another could be as good a time as any to prove that the care and protection they'd provided to her went much further than a sense of familial duty.

Clutching his handkerchief just behind her bouquet, Emma nodded and they stepped forward, allowing the patient officiant to begin.

He barely heard the speech, so mesmerised as he was by the soft, happy glow she seemed to radiate. The congregation chuckled when the officiant said his name a few times to get his attention in order to recite his vows.

This had been another long source of debate between them, whether or not to write their own vows. He'd been on the side of writing their own, while she'd been fine with something more traditional. In the end, they'd agreed to write their own - he suspected she relented because they'd gone with so many of her desires for the design of the wedding, but she'd never admit it - and even now, when it wasn't her turn, he saw her starting to flush from anticipation at such a show of vulnerability.

"Emma, I'm not someone who believes in fate or destiny, but I may have to bend that belief when it comes to you. Though we hardly spoke that first meeting, something must have compelled us to meet again, and through that I am forever grateful to have found someone who completes me as much as you do. Every day with you is a joy, even when we argue or we don't see each other because we're on opposite shifts. You have changed my life, irrevocably, and I can never repay you for that. But for a start, I vow to honor and love and cherish you, to show you every kindness you deserve, and to always stand by your side, from this day for the rest of our lives."

As he spoke, he took the simple platinum band with a line of diamonds from Liam and slid it onto her ring finger, then slid her mother's ring on after. Emma reached up and dabbed at his cheek with his handkerchief; startled, he gave her a questioning look before touching his cheek and realizing it was wet. As there were still tears in her eyes, he could give himself a pass for being so emotional in the moment, and took a breath to try and calm down.

She smiled, and took his ring, a match to hers with only a single small diamond for decoration, then took a shaky breath.

"Killian, I'm not as good at flowery speeches or putting emotions to word as you." She paused, letting everyone chuckle at that, himself included. "But I wanted to try to put everything into words, because sometimes I forget how similar we are, that you and I need to hear the words of validation and love and support, even when you do that infuriating thing where you seem to read my mind and give me that smile like you just got lucky and guessed what I was thinking. So I vow to try harder on that, so you don't have to pretend to get lucky any more, but more importantly I vow to show you how much I love you in any way that I can, even when I can't put it into words. And I vow to honor and cherish you, and boss you around in sickness but compromise in health, from this day on."

Everyone who knew about Emma's treatment of him after the accident laughed at that as she slid his ring on. He twiddled his fingers a little, the unfamiliar pressure of the ring fading as he grew accustomed, and they joined hands again as the officiant stated, "By the laws that govern man and wolf, it is with great joy that I declare you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride."

Killian thought his face might break from grinning as everyone started to clap; he only winced slightly when he heard Alice's distinct, piercing whistle (the other wolves in the crowd chastised her for that), then proceeded to sweep Emma back in a dip before kissing her. She squeaked in surprise, gripping the collar of his jacket, and smacked him on the arm when he brought her back up. "You're ridiculous," she told him.

"But now you're stuck with me," he observed as Ruby handed back her bouquet.

Emma tucked herself against him as she slid her arm through his. "I am."

The afternoon wore on into the evening as photos were taken, speeches were made, food was eaten, and everyone exhausted themselves with dancing. At last count, at least thirty-seven people had tapped their glasses to make Killian kiss his wife - his wife - and they'd managed to eat an entire plate of food between them before running around and greeting everyone and shoving cake into each other's faces. Even Killian couldn't remember all of the people he'd introduced Emma to and vice versa; it was enough to just remember that if he didn't recognize them then they were likely acquaintances of Emma's family.

Finally, as people gradually started to leave, Emma caught his eye and took his hand. He thought that, as those at the center of attention for this particular party, they would be missed right away; but she slipped them both through a back door and around the areas of congregation to a side stair, sneaking upstairs and locking themselves in their room before anyone could stop them. "Oh thank God, I just want out of these shoes," Emma said, leaning against the door with closed eyes and a satisfied sigh.

She kicked off her heels and he watched with amusement as she shrank in height. A log in the fire popped and Emma's eyes opened, then widened as she took in the room.

He'd made arrangements with the staff to have a fire started while they were out; additionally, an ice bucket with a bottle of wine sat on the dresser next to two glasses, and white candles flickered around the room, bathing everything in a soft glow. There were even rose petals scattered on the quilt and Emma's hand went to her mouth when she spotted them. "Killian, this is too much -"

He stepped towards her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "It's hardly anything at all, love. It's just a little nightcap on top of the evening - we should pull out all the stops, when are we going to get married again?"

He took her hand and she allowed him to pull her over to the dresser. "Still…"

Happily, someone had already opened the wine and left the cork in at an easy to remove angle; Killian popped it out and poured them each a glass. "Still nothing," he said, handing hers over and taking up his own. "Let's make every moment of today something to remember. To us, Mrs. Jones."

He held out his glass to tap against hers and they both drank. "So," Emma said, swirling her wine around in her glass. "Shall we… get into something a little more comfortable?"

"By all means."

This should be the 'ripping each other's clothes off' portion of the evening, but if she felt as weary as he did then he didn't blame either of them for slowly undoing buttons and untying knots. He watched her reflection in the mirror as she pulled the pins from her hair and untangled the tiara and veil from their precarious perches. She left her shawl draped over the back of a chair and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Help me with this?"

His mouth felt suddenly dry, the coquettish way she lowered her lashes making his heart race. Standing close behind, Killian lowered his lips to her shoulder, pressing featherlight kisses along her skin up to her neck as he popped each button open. She let her head fall to the side, giving him better access, and she groaned when he scraped his teeth along the juncture of her neck. The scent of arousal flooded his nose and her dress slipped, the last button free; the heavy material pulled the bodice around her middle and he was delighted to note that she wasn't wearing a bra. "Sneaky wench," he murmured against her skin, then ran his tongue along the soft shell of her ear.

"Didn't feel necessary," she breathed, stepping away. "Give me a minute, and I'm all yours, I promise."

He backed off, nodding, and she hurried into the bathroom, hiking up her dress as she went. He picked up his wine glass for another sip, then went about undoing his suspenders and unbuttoning his shirt, letting it hang open for now. The water in the bathroom turned on and he heard her start to - presumably - wash her face, and smiled to himself. As beautiful as she looked when made up, he loved her completely bare and free; for one thing, he didn't particularly pride himself when wearing lipstick on his cock. For another, he preferred the way she smelled without all of the artificial nonsense that came with perfumes and makeup.

As he turned down the covers, scattering rose petals to the floor, he heard a delicate cough from behind him. Turning, the vision before him made him feel as if all the wind had been knocked from him.

Emma, leaning against the doorframe in such a way that highlighted the curves of her breasts and hips, wearing naught but lace panties and garters to hold up the silky stockings.

"Bloody hell…"

"I thought about getting something slinky," she said, pushing off the doorframe and walking towards him. Good God, he'd seen her in everything and nothing at all but she still managed to make his cock swell with every surprise. "You know, white silk teddy, really go for the whole virginal bride thing." She paused right in front of him, her fingers slowly dancing up his chest and giving him gooseflesh. "But then I figured, there's nothing virginal about me, and you'd only rip it up anyway, so save myself some money and go with what I've been wearing all day."

He swallowed hard and his cock throbbed. "You've been wearing that all day?"

"Mmmhm."

There was a sly smile on her lips - lips that were a hair's width from his own, tempting and plump and still stained red from her lipstick. He surged forward, catching them with his own, moving against her mouth with the sort of desperate urgency he's come to associate only with her. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and it landed somewhere on the floor behind him as her hands moved to his waistband and pulled. Ever the clever multitasker, Emma walked them backwards, towards the crackling fireplace and the fur rug laid out before it, and eagerly welcomed his kisses as she unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers. He stumbled slightly and she caught him, giggling against him as he hastily shoved his trousers and underwear down, leaving them strewn in their wake.

He took advantage of his hunched position and gripped her hips and nuzzled her covered core. He inhaled, feeling the rush of adrenaline as the wolf in him rose closer to the surface with the need to bite claim take. Her hands in his hair - her touch gentle and soothing despite the racing thrum of her heartbeat in his ears - calmed him only slightly and his tongue flicked out, licking a stripe up the thin cloth hiding her from him.

The fresh wave of arousal hit his nose before her gasp reached his ears.

"While I very much appreciate these," he murmured, fingering the strap of a garter, "and I would dearly love to revisit them in the very near future, you're hiding something from me."

His fingers hooked under her waistband and he swiftly pulled them down, helping her step out of her stockings; these were all tossed unceremoniously to the side as he sank to his knees, gently urging one of her legs up and over his shoulder and granting him access to the sweetness of her sex. "Good girl," he whispered, absently noting that she had goosebumps on her thighs, "let me have a taste…"

Killian parted her folds with his fingers, leaning in to run his tongue along her slick seam. Her grip on his hair tightened and his skin tingled - fuck he loved her pulling his hair. He drank her in like a man dying of thirst: laying the flat of his tongue across the length of her and thrusting across her clit, tracing nonsense patterns over every sensitive spot he could remember, trading fingers for tongue in her dripping entrance. Every sound elicited was a treasure, the moans, whimpers and stilted cries music to his ears - and he even enjoyed the little rebukes she gave him, knowing there were keen ears throughout the building around them and not caring one whit.

He was a man claiming his wife, his mate, and he didn't give a damn who was nosy enough to hear it.

She cursed him when he retreated, leaving her thrumming and on edge, but he had other plans. He laid her down on the rug, the heat from the fire licking along his skin. Her legs fell open, leaving all of her spread and bare for him, glistening in the light. Her scent washed over him anew and he couldn't tell which pounding heartbeat belonged to whom and he swore he'd never been so aroused in his entire life as he was in this moment. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching him with clear expectation on her face. Moving so that he was kneeling before her, he hitched one of her legs over his hip and dragged the head of his cock through her wet folds. Her head fell back as she moaned, her hips thrusting up slightly to try and catch him inside of her. His eyes fell to the juncture of her neck.

Soon.

"Right now?" he asked, repeating the motion with his cock. She bit her lip this time and he couldn't help but grin. "Are you certain?"

"Killian, if you don't fuck me right now, I swear to God-"

He surged forward, sheathing himself in her in one movement and she gasped. He swallowed hard, hardly giving her a chance to adjust to the sudden intrusion before he began to move. Her core felt hot and tight, gripping his cock as he slowly fucked into her and his instincts clamored to take over.

Bite. Claim. Take.

Mine.

A snarl escaped, his grip on his control gone, and he surged forward again, knocking Emma flat on her back as he picked up the pace. She let out a small cry of surprise, but even so her hands flew up to his back, her nails digging in as she, too, gave in to her baser instincts.

He pounded into her, reveling in the feel of her writhing under him and the pleasure coursing through his veins; her nails scored down his back and he barely restrained a howl as she fought to roll them over but he wouldn't have it. She bit his shoulder, fighting against his weight keeping her under him, and he bit her lip in return, sucking it into his mouth with a sloppy kiss. Her pupils were blown from arousal and the almost feral pull of this ancient ceremony.

Did he look like that too? A wild, untamed thing with the moon in his eyes and the call of the Pack in his veins?

She pushed against him again even as she rutted up against him; he didn't quite expect a fight for dominance of their mating ritual, but he shouldn't have put it past her. The wolf in him had control, snarling every time she tried to push back and make him submit to her. Every snarl was met with another bite and another push, another attempt at a roll to place her on top of him and this addition to their ancient dance only made his blood run hotter. He couldn't ask for a better woman to be his mate, fiery and spirited, his equal or better in every way. The curling pleasure of his impending orgasm began to build and he gave in to her fight, letting her roll them over so she was splayed on top of him. The pause for shock, that he'd let her dominate him for even a moment in this, let him sit up, balancing her on his lap.

She seemed to understand without words, and looped one of her arms around his neck as he braced his arms on her hips as she continued to move. Her eyes fluttered closed as her free hand slipped between them, touching herself and brushing against the base of his cock as she hurried along her own pleasure. He was close, the need to spill into her and mark her as his, but they needed to do this together.

He dipped his head down and took a nipple into his mouth, her other breast brushing softly against his cheek as she continued to rock. His name fell in a rough chant from her lips as he sucked and rolled her nipple around on his tongue. "I'm-"

"Ready?" he asked, his own voice harsh and almost foreign to his own ears.

He looked up and could only make out only a thin ring of green in her eyes. She nodded, an errant curl falling across her face, and he renewed his grip on her hips and sped up their movements.

As their pleasure peaked, the room was oddly silent. A man taking his wife for the first time, one might expect the walls to shake from their cries, for noise complaints. But any sounds they would have made were muffled, as he sank his teeth into the juncture of her neck and felt the sharp prick of her teeth puncturing his skin in return. The pain was brief and shifted almost instantly to pleasure, almost overwhelming as the ancient magic of the mate-bond took hold and wrapped itself in his orgasm. The bliss doubled, then tripled, and he felt disoriented for a moment, a hundred thoughts that weren't his own filling his mind and with a distinctly feminine touch that would have been familiar outside of this distracting haze of magic and feeling; he heard a distant wolf's call and the answer of the Pack as everything faded.

Killian didn't black out, but it was a close thing, his body pleasantly numbed as he withdrew from Emma. She, on the other hand, sank bonelessly against him, curling up against his chest as the pounding of their hearts quieted in his ears.

He glanced down to where he'd bitten her, taken her at last, and saw only the smallest pinpricks from his incisors marring her skin, already healed. Such a tiny thing to carry such weight, and he absently brought his hand up to touch the marks he now bore to match.

She jerked against him when he touched them, and a fresh sensation of arousal coursed through him - tired as he was, he shouldn't be nearly ready for another round yet, but just touching the mate-mark seemed to revive him a little. "Interesting..." he mused.

"Not interesting enough to test out right now, I hope," Emma mumbled. "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted."

Killian chuckled, and managed to both get to his own feet and haul her up into his arms, bridal-style. "We'll test the limits of this another time, my love. Let's get you cleaned up and we'll have a well-deserved sleep."

She waved him off after he set her on the feet in the bathroom and he left her to her privacy, going to bank the fire instead. They traded places once she was done, and after he'd cleaned his teeth and wiped himself down, he returned to the bedroom to find her looking all to pleased and comfortable under the covers. "We're taking this bed home with us," Emma declared.

Sinking into it next to her, he decided it might not be a bad idea. "Or we could just inquire about where they got it and buy our own."

She grumbled, curling up into him and laying her head on his shoulder. "Stealing's more fun," she said and he had to laugh.

"I like our bed," he said.

"It's not as comfortable."

"No," he agreed, "but it's ours. It's where we came together for the first time. And it smells just right - it smells like you."

She scoffed, but a shift in her scent told him she was pleased. "Flatterer. I'm already your wife, no need to keep it up."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Nonsense. There's plenty more compliments to shower on you, and I'll take it as my husbandly duties to pay them out as I see fit."

"You're ridiculous."

"I am," Killian agreed, and kissed her again. He felt as drowsy as she smelled, sleep pulling at his bones, and the bed was comfortable. "Dream of me and all of my ridiculousness, mate."