Chapter 83

Addy’s POV

We lingered under the covers a few extra minutes—okay, maybe twenty—because neither of us wanted to face the world before caffeine and carbs collided gloriously on our plates. When we finally shuffled downstairs, it felt like we were riding a conveyor belt straight through a breakfast buffet. I lost count somewhere between the mountain of pancakes and the fourth slice of bacon. Damian found my frenzied consumption both horrifying and hilarious; he kept cheering me on like a competitive eating champion. (“Go, bride! You’re eating for two!”)

Fueled by syrup and sugar highs, we hit the showers. I tackled my own makeup while Damien went treasure-hunting for his tux—Jared was holding it hostage until the last possible second because secret­s. (Apparently seeing me in my dress would violate some unwritten Werewolf Groom Protocol. Fine by me. I’m nothing if not dramatic.) My hair went up in a gloriously messy bun—two seconds flat—and I ditched the veil, becaus