“Oh god. She’s here.”

At the strain of the bridal march, the groom leapt to his feet and scanned the back of the hall for a first glimpse of his bride. Kalen bit back a smile, intensely amused by the bundle of nerves Marak, usually implacable and damn near impossible to rattle, had turned into. By the way the big man acted, it would be easy to mistake him for a green youth on his first date rather than the centuries-old vampire he was.

“Of course she is,” he murmured, unheard by his enraptured friend. “It’s only her wedding day. Where else do you think she’d be?”

Despite the sarcastic tone, Kalen was delighted for his friend. If anyone deserved a bond-mate, it was Marak. As both their monarch and a warrior, he’d walked a delicate tightrope all his life, with little thanks. It was nice to see the fates play nicely for once and reward someone who, in Kalen’s estimation, truly deserved it with true love.

Not that K believed in such a thing, despite seeing evidence of it right in front of him as Maria took her bridegroom’s hands. He didn’t believe in love. Not for himself. Not after Astra. His ex-wife’s betrayal had long ago cured him of hankering after anything but lust.

And he could happily fall in lust regularly, he mused, his gaze wandering over the bridesmaids gathered like a flock of flamingos on the bride’s side of the church. As best man, he would have the pleasure of dancing with them all. They were all lookers, most petite and dark haired. Not kyn, but the Ravensfords had a very dedicated seneschal family. His gaze moved on to the only blonde in the party. Appreciation rolled through him as he studied her curvaceous figure.

Well, he….llo, honey. Where have you been all my life?

If he’d been anywhere else, he’d have wolf whistled, but instead, he contented himself with leaning back in his chair to get a better look. His appreciation of her figure earned him a glare from the dowager who sat behind him, the sour-faced old prune clucking her teeth and pursing her lips in disapproval. He ignored her and continued his assessment of the mystery woman.

Tall and slender, she had to be over six feet, unlike the midget-sized creatures around her. Tall enough he wouldn’t get a crick in his neck when he kissed her. And he would kiss her. There was no way he’d let such a delectable creature slip through his fingers, even if he had to drag her off some place. One glimpse of that figure, the gentle curve of her neck at the nape as she turned away to listen to another bridesmaid’s whisper, was more than enough to make that decision for him. It didn’t matter he hadn’t seen her face yet. If it was as perfect as the rest of her, he would be hard-pressed to stop at just kissing.

The ceremony started and forced him to pay attention. He was on “pain of death” from the happy couple to make sure he didn’t lose the rings or screw up. Marak had a well-earned reputation as a vicious warrior, but Kalen was more scared of what Maria would do if he fucked this up. Disembowelment was probably one of the nicer things she had in mind.

Still curious, he tried to sneak glances at the mystery blonde as the ceremony progressed. All he wanted was a look at her face, perhaps even catch her eye and smile.

His efforts came to nothing. His view was blocked by three other bridesmaids and the tall figure of Garen Ravensford. The three women were oblivious, but Garen had noticed his attention. The small grin that spread across the older knight’s face told Kalen that Garen knew what he was trying to do. Instead of helping him by leaning back in his chair so Kalen could see the object of his affections better, Garen folded his arms and made kiss faces every time Kalen looked over.

Ravensford was a dead man.

Rocking back on his heels, he seethed with frustration. All he could see was the long length of a slender leg. Although it was a nice leg, one that threatened to sidetrack him with all sorts of intriguing thoughts, he wanted to see her face.

Maria and Marak exchanged vows, a curious blend of the kyn and human ceremony all rolled into one, but K wasn’t paying attention. Instead his mind ran over all the families, trying to recall every distant cousin or minor branch of the nobility. How had he missed a woman like that in the court?

The ceremony concluded. The congregation stood as the bride and groom made their way back down the aisle. The wedding party took their prearranged places in line to follow them and his heart leapt with anticipation. She would have to turn and face him now, and with Garen taking his place at the back of the procession, the tall knight couldn’t get in the way and block his view.

A thought struck him suddenly, and he frowned. The only woman he’d ever seen approaching that look was Vixen… his heart stilled in his chest as the bridesmaids moved in a group, arranging themselves in order of height, and he stood right next to his mystery blonde. After talking softly to one of the women next to her, she finally turned and he looked into a familiar pair of green eyes.

It was Vixen.

* * *

The western terrace ballroom had been transformed so magically Vixen’s jaw all but hit the floor when she walked through the doors. The formal room now looked like something right out of a fairy tale. Swags of white and silver chiffon descended from the high ceilings to wind around the imposing columns, and the suits of armor along the walls had been replaced by cascading floral displays that scented the air.

As this was a kyn wedding, there was no wedding lunch. Instead, waiters circulated with trays of champagne for the first toast. They’d soon switch to serving blood, though. It was the way of things, and the court took a while to adapt to change.

A small buffet was tucked away in the corner for the human guests, discreetly out of the way. Some of the older nobles, the ones who had been born kyn, found the sight of people eating distasteful. Vixen took refuge near it. If she’d thought walking into the main hall behind Maria had been bad, with all those eyes boring into her, the reception was a thousand times worse.

At least during the ceremony no one had been talking. To her—or anyone. Here at the reception it was a different matter. Despite the mingling, only her fellow bridesmaids and the other warriors had bothered to say more than two words to her.

The other bridesmaids were all human. Maria’s mother had been from a seneschal family, so they all knew what Vixen was. She was surprised to discover they were overawed, being in the presence of the infamous Vixen. She appeared to have become a girl power icon amongst the seneschal women, and at least two had asked if she’d ever thought of teaching self-defense.

Still absorbing that one, Vixen sipped champagne and studied the wall opposite to avoid “circulating.” She ignored the small group of kyn women nearby. They were all exquisitely dressed in the manner of the wealthy and eyed her with a mixture of pity and amusement. She recognized them, daughters of the wealthy noble houses, and no doubt all madder than wet hens that Marak hadn’t chosen from amongst them for his bride.

Their whispered comments reached her easily. Her knuckles whitened a fraction on the stem of her glass before she relaxed. The last thing she needed was to crush it and spill champagne all over her dress. She ignored the whispers as she had done for years.

“What does she think she looks like?”

“Heels with her height? And her complexion’s far too pale for that color.”

“Not talked to anyone but the cattle. You can tell she has no breeding.”

And, adding insult to injury, they finished with, “Don’t know why they invited her, or the rest of those Neanderthals.”

She knocked back her champagne in one go, not caring if that showcased her lack of breeding. Who cared anyway? All it meant was Mommy and Daddy had been lucky enough to be born with silver spoons in their mouths. She stood in a lithe movement and stalked past the small group of women. Her nerves disappeared as she drew the mask of a warrior over herself. She met their eyes challengingly—the lethal grace of a born predator in every line of her body—and then hid a satisfied smile as they all but fell over themselves to get out of her way.

They might look down on her for what she was, but she’d rather spend her time doing something useful like protecting people by fighting the rogues than living a pampered and useless existence. Wrapped in cotton wool, these women wanted for nothing. The only thing required of them was to look pretty, offer their throats to the guys their daddies picked out for them, and pray like hell they were fertile enough to conceive.

She curled her lip. Although they were born kyn, the descendants of demon warriors transported from their own dimension to this one millennia ago, they’d forgotten the meaning of the word “predator.” Half were probably afraid of their own shadows, and the rest preferred to fight with words. The nobles might consider the warrior caste dinosaurs, but the noble class were slowly killing their race.

“Fucking assholes,” she muttered, glaring at a guy and his wife who walked in front of her, and stalked out onto the terrace to get some air.

* * *

Stepping into the cool darkness, she closed her eyes in relief and turned her face up to bask in the silvery light of the moon. She took a few deep breaths, and the tension in her muscles started to ease. But within moments her peace was shattered by a voice from the darkness.

“I wondered how long it would take you to come out here.”

She turned, startled. It was a familiar voice. If she was honest with herself, it was one she’d been waiting all night to hear, ever since taking that silent walk down the aisle with a brooding warrior at her side.

Kalen stood beyond the lights of the terrace, his tall, broad-shouldered figure as familiar to her as her own in the mirror. But she’d never seen him like this, a brooding presence in the darkness, with all his attention focused on her. Kalen was all smiles and jokes, banter and innuendo… not dark and sensual focus.

Her heart leapt and did that frantic little dance behind her ribcage as everything female in her screamed for him to notice her. It was an instinctive reaction, one she’d tried for years to smother, but it just wouldn’t go away.

Reality returned as she remembered where they were and how she was dressed. “Yeah, no prizes for that one. Anyone with half a brain can see I don’t fit in with polite society.”

Her reply was without its usual bite. Surrounded by warriors, the meanest sons of bitches out, she was expected to be mean and tough. So she was. She always hid her true self behind sarcasm and bluster so that no one, especially the man in front of her, would suspect her hard outer shell protected a softer and more sensitive center. Normally.

At the moment she couldn’t bring the mask into place, though. She was too far out of her comfort zone, dressed up in unfamiliar finery and feeling as though she’d had the stuffing knocked out of her.

Not meeting his eyes, she walked over to the stone railings that bordered the terrace, next to a set of steps that led down into the gardens. Her hands rested on the cool stone as she took in a breath of night air. The gardens were filled with night blooming flowers, the gentle scent soothing her agitation for a moment. The tranquility only lasted a few seconds as his voice sounded right beside her ear. She jumped as he startled her. Her hearing was excellent, but she still hadn’t heard him move. Crap, she was out of it. The last time anyone had snuck up on her was years ago when she was still coming into her warrior abilities.

“You look different dressed up.”

His voice was a whisper of sound in the darkness and sent a warm shiver down her spine, as if he’d reached out and run a large hand over her sensitive skin.

She ignored it to snort, “No shit, Sherlock. You’ve never seen me in a dress before.”

She held her breath, waiting for the derisive chuckle and sharp comment she knew was coming. Instead though, there was silence, and she felt the heat of his body as he leaned closer. So close, his warm breath fanned over the back of her neck, whispering across the tiny hairs on her skin.

“No, but I like it. I’d like to see you in one more. And out of it…” His deep voice was low and husky.

“If you’re—” Whirling around, she expected to see a grin on his face as he made fun of her again. Her words died in her throat. Instead of amusement, his expression was hard, his features drawn tight and his eyes unreadable.

“You’re beautiful.”

He lifted a hand to tuck a stray curl of hair behind her ear. The slight touch made her shiver, her gaze locked with his as his fingertips trailed over her cheek.

“Yeah, right.” Her voice was a croak, her mouth suddenly dry as a shiver rolled down her spine. He’d only touched her cheek, yet her body reacted to him like a bloom opening to the sun. “To hear them talk in there, you’d think…”

She clamped her mouth shut, appalled at what she’d been about to say. She’d learned early on never to let anyone see the chinks in her armor. Childhood bullies driven to their ways by the marks on her face and body had taught her to keep everything safely inside. But here she was… one soft touch and she’d been ready admit her innermost fears, put them in words in front of Kalen, the warrior who’d spent the last few years poking fun at her. If she did that, she might as well walk right on back in the ballroom and announce it to everyone in there.

It was too late though. She’d said enough. Realization flooded Kalen’s eyes as he looked down at her. Most warriors topped six feet—even Vixen—but he still towered over her.

“Ignore them. They’re just jealous.” His voice wove magic out of the moonlight and darkness, sending another shiver up her spine. She wanted to believe him, his words like a balm to her injured feminine pride, and she wasn’t strong enough to resist.

“Dance with me?” He held a hand out.

She couldn’t help the shudder that ran through her as she cast a haunted glance at the tall windows, the light from the festivities inside spilling out into the night. No. There was no way she could go back inside. They’d all be watching her again, dissecting her every move and probably hoping she’d trip and fall over her own feet.

“I don’t think I’m ready to go back in yet,” she admitted, even though, in a small protected place in the center of her chest, one she wouldn’t admit to anyone, she desperately wanted that dance. Kalen was so different out here, and she liked it, liked him when he wasn’t sniping at her.

“Neither am I… I came out to escape as well. Out here, just you and me.” His voice was low and persuasive, and his gaze never left hers.

Just one dance. Out in the darkness where no one could see them… What harm could it do? She reached out and placed her hand in his without speaking. The warmth and strength in his fingers as his larger hand enveloped hers made fire race through her veins but she ignored it.

This was Kalen.

Whatever madness the romance of the wedding or the night air had wrought on him, he wouldn’t want her, not really. In the morning he’d probably deny he’d even spoken to her. So any half-formed fantasies of him pulling her hard against him, or of his hands molding her body to his as he plundered her lips and then drawing her deeper into the shadows…

Fuck. She needed to get laid. Taking a breath, she forced her heart to slow before his keen senses picked up her reaction. It was just physical, nothing more. The reaction of a woman who hadn’t had sex in… too long, that was for sure… to any half passable man who got near.

She met his gaze as he pulled her into his arms, and they moved slowly to the music that filtered out onto the terrace. Under any other circumstances, she’d never have agreed to dance to this with anyone, much less Kalen. Rock and heavy metal were far more her style. But the romance of the occasion mellowed her and she relaxed in his arms.

They fit together well, moving so naturally it was as if they were made for each other. She sighed softly, the unaccustomed champagne flowing through her veins. It wasn’t enough to make her tipsy—no warrior would make that mistake—but it was enough to relax her guard several notches.

The music changed to something even slower, more romantic, and Kalen pulled her closer. At first she stiffened but his large hand smoothed over the small of her back, a soothing sound in the back of his throat, and she relaxed slightly.

The rhythm of the dance changed to slower, more intimate. She held her breath, aware of every movement of his hard, leanly muscled warrior’s body against hers. For a moment, the forbidden fantasy of what it would be like between them filled her. To have him naked above her, taking her with the passion and dominance she yearned for, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She fought it back, a flush mounting on her cheeks.

Then Kalen stopped moving and murmured her name. She looked up, blinking as her eyes readjusted to the darkness, only to find he’d moved them farther into the shadows at the edges of the terrace, well away from the ballroom doors.

“I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he whispered, tilting her chin up to claim her lips.

The instant his lips touched hers, she lost the ability to breathe. Excitement and nervous heat rolled through her in equal measures as his mouth moved over hers. Soft at first, his kiss was gentle and caressing as though he were being careful or thought she might bolt. But when she didn’t, his mouth became firmer and more demanding.

She whimpered in the back of her throat and tried to get closer. She’d been kissed before, but no one had ever aroused such a bone deep and instant need in her before. Her hands slid up around his neck as she opened for him, fingers spearing into his hair.

His start of surprise was quickly hidden, a rumble of approval sounding in the center of his broad chest as he slid his tongue deep to explore her mouth. The kiss became hot and fevered, the erotic slide of his tongue against hers stealing her ability to think beyond the next kiss.

It was everything she’d secretly fantasized about alone in her bed at nights. Secret dreams of what it would be like for a male to see her as something other than a freak or abomination. No, it was more than that. She’d fantasized about him, about Kalen, from the moment she’d met him. But she’d never thought he would feel the same…

“Oh heavens, darling…” a venomous female voice drawled behind them. “Scraping the bottom of the barrel, aren’t you?”