Beth blinked, looked down at the pretty pink dress, and then blinked again. “Why not?”

Felicity shrugged. “Give me a sec.”

Running back to an outfit she saw earlier, she grabbed the clothes, some shoes, a few pieces of jewelry, and then headed for the changing room. When she came out, a proud smile on her face and hands cocked on her hips, Beth caught one look at her and burst out laughing.

“You want to wear that?” She laughed harder, her eyes watering.

Felicity didn’t flinch, didn’t snicker, didn’t join in. She stood poised and ready. More ready to mate with Dom that she’d ever been. She wore a pair of gray athletic pants, the kind women wore to yoga classes, a black fitted tank top, and to top it all off she had on some cross-trainers.

“Are you going running or getting mated?” Beth sucked in deep breaths as she calmed herself down.

Felicity didn’t need to laugh though she understood she might look a bit silly to others. Fact is she felt comfortable and right in this. Besides, she knew without a doubt that nothing would keep Helena away tonight. Only now she was ready. She wasn’t going to wear some frou-frou gown that was non-conducive to fighting; no, she looked ready to fight and she was. Ready to fight for her man, the love of her life.

“Let’s go.”

Giving up, Beth shrugged. “Okay.”

Beth drove Felicity back to the hall she’d been at more than a week ago. The night was dark, the air a little muggy and warm. Reporters swarmed the area like bees to a honeycomb, each excited with their cameras flashing as they pulled up.

“Dom’s already here then?”

Beth nodded. “He said right at midnight and it’s five ‘til. You nervous?”

“Me, nervous?” She started to say that of course she was nervous, but then she quieted and took note of her emotions. “You know, I’m not. I’m ready to do this.”

“Good, let’s go.”

They walked through the press like  who were used to the attention, sparing a few small smiles and waves, ignoring the questions thrown at them, and entered the hall. Inside was excited chatter.

Felicity spotted Diane waiting at the entrance with bright eyes. She rushed forward. “What are you wearing?” It wasn’t quite admonishment, but close.

“I’m ready,” Felicity said.

“For what, dear?”

“Helena.”

Diane looked back over her shoulder as if checking for eavesdroppers. “How did you know she was here?”

Felicity shrugged. “I just knew.”

Diane stepped back, glanced down at Felicity’s athletic attire and then started laughing. She had a womanly laugh. Felicity tried to think of a time she’d heard it before but couldn’t. “I see now. You look beautiful, Ms. Shaw. Absolutely beautiful. I met your mother. She’s in the front row on the bruid’s side of the room. She’s a kind and lovely woman.”

Felicity grimaced. “Really?”

Diane nodded. “Really. Come, it’s time.”

Beth and Diane went ahead of her, scurrying to their seats. Felicity heard the ceremonial drumming start. The beats were to mimic the excitement of the mated ones hearts beating for each other. The tempo stayed slow as she hadn’t started down the path to him yet.

Felicity lifted her chin, took a deep breath, and then went into the hall.

Felicity entered the hall. All eyes were on her. Every single seat was filled. They stood at her arrival then at once they took to their knees, bowing before her.

Inside the hall red and white tulle draped from the arches in the ceiling, and the tables were covered in heavy cream linens with red and white tulips on top. It was beautiful; it was perfect. It was how she wanted her mating ceremony to look. This didn’t feel like a ceremony meant for another woman. This had her flair, her and Dom’s color everywhere. It was theirs.

Felicity took a moment to nod at each side of the room acknowledging their acceptance of the mating. Then her eyes shot forward as if drawn to him, Dominic Blackmore, her Dom, her man.

He stood tall on a platform at the end of the hall. He wore a black suit. She could see the quality of the material. His eyes caressed her body as he took in her outfit, then he was shaking his head, a smile covering his lips. She started forward, her steps quick, and a flutter in her heart.

The drum tempo picked up. The entire room thrummed with the sound as it beat against the ears. Shirtless timpani drummers stood painted in ancient symbols of mating and love on either side of the room. She couldn’t get there fast enough. A brilliant smile lifted her face.

He didn’t wait either. Quite unceremoniously, he strode down to meet her partway then lifted her into his arms as his lips claimed hers in front of all. The audience gasped, chuckled, someone hooted—probably Beth.

Dom pulled back, the look gleaming in his eyes. She shivered. “Baby,” she said, helplessly.

He wore a cocky smile as he set her back down to her feet. Then he grabbed her hand and led her to the alter. The drumming came to a climax, ringing louder than ever, the tempo increasing. A woman wearing all white stepped forward. She had hair down past her waist; it was champagne colored with silver streaks from age. She still had a beauty to her though time had finally started to show in her face. She opened her arms and heavy, billowing sleeves billowed.

“Arise.”

At once the drums slammed down then stopped. The echo reverberated in the hall then faded in waves. The audience rose and took their seats.

Felicity soaked up every single moment of the ceremony. She recited her vows then Dominic did his, staring deep into her eyes as if trying to convince her soul the words were true. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t necessary. She already loved him more than anything. Then came the part she’d been waiting for like a lingering thought in the pack of her head.

The great priestess lowered her arms and addressed the hall. “Any who dare to challenge the male, Dominic Blackmoore, doth step forward now or forever abstain with cowardice.”

A long minute passed.

Dominic glanced around the crowd, eyes hard and challenging, daring someone to try something. He looked like he was ready to tear open his shirt, jump down from the altar, and beat someone to a bloody pulp if they interfered with this ceremony. Felicity hid a smile behind her hand.

“No challenges for the male have been made,” the priestess said. “Any who dare challenge the bruid, Felicity Shaw, doth step forward now or forever abstain with cowardice.”

Felicity turned and scanned the audience, her stomach tightening as she sought one face accompanied by fire-red hair. She didn’t have to search long. The hair shone first as the woman stood and then her face came into sight.

Helena Blackmoore, the former bruid of Dominic Blackmoore, strode forward in a gown worthy of a queen. The bottom half formed a goblet shape. Her waist looked several sizes too small due to the corset she wore under the fine gown. It gave her a curvy hourglass figure. The material shifted and swayed as she made her way towards the dais. Lace draped off the bottom hem, scratching the floor as she walked. Her hair was held atop her head in an intricate bundle of curls. A diamond-covered tiara held it all together; it sparkled under the lights.

Felicity had known this would happen, but she hadn’t been prepared for this. It was almost too much. Her lips twitched. Dom shot her a questioning look then started to grin. His stupid grin made her smile even bigger. Then the laughter came. There was nothing she could do about it. Here she was wearing clothes ready to fight to keep her man, and Helena came dressed as if she was attending a Renaissance fair.

Helena’s eyes snapped cold fire. “I challenge her.”

The crowd gasped with excitement, but Felicity only smiled. This time she’d been prepared.