Chapter 99

"I'm so glad you chose a December wedding, darling girl," Jeanette says to me, looking a bit misty-eyed. She steps back from the mirror we're both looking in after adjusting my veil and clasps her hands in front of her.

"Me, too," I breathe, lifting a hand to touch my face. Jeanette slaps it away, playfully.

"What are you doing?" she exclaims. "You're going to ruin all of Maya's hard work. You look stunning, my dearest. Don't smudge your foundation, I beg of you. Are you nervous? A mimosa will calm you right down."

She bustles over to fetch one of the grapefruit mimosas - my personal favorite, hence why they're being served instead of the more usual orange juice - from the tray in the bridal room, where we're getting ready.

Jeanette has already had two, and I see her hesitate for a moment before shrugging and grabbing a third.

"I'm the mother of the groom," she announces to me as she sashays back over and hands me one, raising her glass to clink it with mine. "I can be a little tipsy at my own son's wedding."

I laugh and let her lead me to a wide chair that I can sit in without wrinkling my dress. I love this dress. I don't even want to know how much it cost to restore, which makes it very handy that it was a personal gift from Jeanette.

"You look so beautiful, my darling," Jeanette sighs, surveying me again. "I knew this dress was for you as soon as I laid eyes on it. It was my great-grandmother's, you know. She wore it at her wedding."

"It's stunning," I say, running a cautious hand down the skirt. The gown is a ballerina-style design with a tea-length full tulle skirt and a corset bodice studded with real diamonds that glitter in the light. Layers of pink give it a blush appearance.

• "She was a ballerina herself, my great-grandmother," Jeanette sighs. "Before her marriage. She quit after she married. I grew up thinking that that's what women in our family simply didtraded their ballet shoes or their microscopes for diapers and charity events.

"But you've taught me otherwise, my darling. I've been wrong about many things over the years, and I hope I'm not too old to admit it."

"You're not," I smile softly. "You've been completely wonderful, Jeanette. I can't thank you enough, for everything."

"It's my pleasure, truly," Jeanette says. "You're the most wonderful girl I could ever imagine for Marcus. You're a true wolf, my dear. You know that, don't you?" Her gaze sharpens, looking at me seriously all of the sudden.

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused. "You've said that a few times, but I thought you were just speaking, you know, metaphorically."

"I did at first," Jeanette admits. "But I can sense the wolf in you, quite literally. Do you know the ancient legends of our people, about the human soulmates of our wolves?"

I shake my head, and she continues.

"It's very rare, so rare that for a long time, we thought perhaps it was only a nice story. But Liam has done more research, and we can all sense it in you. It's true.

"In most marriages, wolf or human, the people love each other very much but are not what we would call 'true soulmates' - not everyone has a soulmate, you see. Even between wolves, soulmates are rare.

"Emmett and I are not soulmates, for example. Not in the literal sense. Oh, we love each other devotedly, and we are soulmates in metaphorical sense of which you speak, the common way.

"But, sometimes, two souls find each other and are linked so strongly that they can sense that they belong together. The pull is indescribable - nothing can break that bond. Not even death. Some even say that our souls are reborn, over and over, and that true soulmates will find each other in every lifetime.

"In even rarer circumstances, sometimes a wolf's soulmate is born as a human. When they meet, the human's soul recognizes the wolf's soul, and it changes. Like calls out to like, and the human's soul will transform into the soul of a wolf."

I'm stunned and speechless.

"I can see that you're wondering what this means for you," Jeanette smiles. "Don't worry, darling. You are not going to sprout fur and start shifting at the full moon, I promise you. The transformation never goes that far.

"What it means is that you have a wolf's soul inside of you. Other wolves can sense it. You can sense Marcus, read him better than any of us. You can also read other wolves very well - I've seen it already, with my own husband, how you can intuitively care for him.

"Your body won't change, but your intuition does. Your psychology. You will think more like a wolf, understand the way we work. It will make you an even more excellent werewolf doctor than you already were, because you will sense changes in us that most human doctors would not be able to instinctively detect.

"And, of course, it means that you will forever be one with my son. Your heart calls to him, and his to yours. You will always be in accord. It's a magical, marvelous gift, Nicole, and I'm so happy for both of you."

She leans forward and gives me a careful hug, then leans back and exclaims again.

"Ah, I never should have told you all this! Now you will cry and ruin your makeup!" She hastily rises from her stool in front of me and chases after a tissue to dab at my eyes.

She's so wonderful - it's all so wonderful - that I laugh even through my tears of wonder and joy.

The wedding is in the theme of a winter ballet, designed largely around my dress. Ice sculptures are artfully scattered around the reception room, silk panels of ice blue and sparkling silver line the walls, and a fountain of champagne burbles pleasantly like a winter brook.

Emmett walks me down the aisle toward Marcus, who stands by the altar beaming with a joy so intense it's like a sun beckoning me closer. His dark gray suit is complemented by a rose-colored tie, which echoes the undertones of blush in my skirt.

Mendelssohn's "Wedding March" plays proudly as I walk down the aisle, and I feel like I might cry again. I catch Jeanette's eye from where she's sitting at the front, and she frantically mimes dabbing her eyes and looking upward. It's so funny that I laugh and manage not to spill any makeup-ruining tears.

The ceremony is beautiful, as lovely as I'd always hoped it would be. When Marcus and I say our vows, holding hands tightly in front of all our friends and loved ones, I feel something deep in my heart seal with a decisive clasp.

I wonder if this is part of the soulmate thing that Jeanette told me about. I decide that it must be.

When we kiss, our guests jump to their feet and cheer. Liam lets out a long wolf-whistle, which make both Marcus and I start laughing hard enough to break our kiss and turn to face everyone.

We raise our joined hands, my bouquet of pine boughs and white roses held aloft between us, and take our first steps down the aisle and into our new future.