Becca stuck her tongue out and then blew a tendril from her forehead. “I’m going to die of heat exhaustion if we don’t get out into the fresh air soon. What time is it?”

Looking at the clock, Lyssa jumped from the edge of the bed. “Holy crap. I gotta put on my dress and finish my face.” She whirled on her heel. “Terez, can you do Becca’s veil?”

The small woman nodded. “Of course, go…go.”

“Lyssa, what the hell kind of hairspray did you use on my hair?” She reached to scratch behind her ear. “It itches.”

“I just need five minutes in the mirror—” Lyssa stopped, finger pointed. “Becca Louise Duran! I worked too hard to get a natural look that can resist the gale force winds off this damn beach, so you will sit on your hands if you get the urge to touch. At least until after pictures.”

Terez laughed at the young woman as she carefully fitted the veil amid the sophisticated curls framing Becca’s face and neck, letting the sheer fabric fall in floaty layers to the bride’s shoulders.

The seamstress pulled her to standing and helped Becca turn to see the full effect in the mirror.

“Lyssa!”

“What’s wrong now? I knew it—” Lyssa’s words clipped halfway out of her mouth. “Oh my God, Becca. You’re stunning!” She stared slack-jawed at her friend.

Becca sniffed, dabbing one eye with a tissue. “You think?”

Lys nodded. “You look like the picture of your mom on your dresser back home.”

Becca smiled. “I know. It’s like I look in the mirror and she’s suddenly here with me.”

Lys held out her arms and hugged her friend. “She is, my friend. She is.”

Wiping her eyes, Lyssa then smacked Becca’s arm. “My makeup is running down my cheeks now. Thank you very much.”

“I told you to use waterproof, dummy. Mine is in the blue bag if you want, but hurry. I’m due to make a grand entrance, in case you forgot.”

Lyssa laughed. “I didn’t forget, but it’s not like they can start without you.”

Twenty minutes later, Becca stood at the end of the aisle, soft music playing as she watched Jaylon take his place under the canopy set on the edge of the beach.

The wind had died down and the sun was setting on the horizon. Jasper held her arm, his wheelchair firmly on the planks beneath the white satin runner.

“You ready for this?” he asked.

Becca smiled down at him, her hand in his. “Absolutely. I’m just nervous my train will get caught up in one of your wheels.”

He laughed. “If it does, just let it tear, sweetie. It’s you everyone’s watching, not your dress.”

She chuckled. “They’ll be watching all right. Especially if I end up with a wardrobe malfunction.”

Jasper grinned, and her heart squeezed. He had such a hard life these past two years. Alastair’s rogues had worked him over as well, despite his age.

She gave herself a mental slap for letting thoughts of that asshole taint her day. Jay was right. Alastair Reece needed to be put down.

The music swelled and all eyes turned to her and Jasper. She looked up the aisle and saw only Jaylon. He was amazing in his black tux, fitted so his broad shoulders and trim waist made him even more mouthwatering.

Jasper took it slow, letting her take care to keep her dress clear of his wheels. She glanced around, her senses picking up something and she wondered if Jay was in trouble. Then, a loud pop-pop left Becca crumpling to the ground and Jasper screaming her name.

People raced around yelling, but the sound was thick in her ears. Her shoulder and chest burned, and sticky warmth spread into her cleavage, dripping toward the top of her wedding gown.

“Becca’s hit! I want the bastard dead!” Jaylon’s voice was all that registered, but not much more until Lyssa stuffed handkerchiefs to her shoulder and chest to stop the bleeding.

“My dress,” Becca muttered, trying to stay alert.

“Fuck your dress, you’ve been shot!”

Jaylon rushed to her side, cradling her head in his lap. “Bec! Oh my God! I knew I should’ve killed that bastard when I had the chance!” His gaze tore from Becca to Jasper. “How the hell did Reece get free?”

“Jaylon, focus! Later for revenge. Becca’s got to shift! She’s lost too much blood,” Lyssa sobbed.

“Lyssa’s right. Jaylon, help me get Becca to her knees,” Lucilla ordered, but Lyssa shook her head. “No, the corset’s too tight. She’ll only hurt herself trying. We’ve got to get her out of her dress.”

Jaylon snapped his fingers and someone shoved a knife into his hand. He cut the ties and by the grace of God the corset fell loose, the garment itself intact. Lyssa and Lucilla pulled the dress down Becca’s legs, yanking it from her body. Jay carried her half naked to the edge of the canopy away from the crowd and into a protective circle of his wolf shifters.

“Find the bastard. NOW!” he ordered and then turned his attention to Becca. “You need to shift, love. Please. It’s the only way.”

She lifted one weak hand, cupping his cheek. “I’m sorry, Jaylon.”

His jaw clenched at the sight of her so pale and weak. A snarl ripped from his throat to match her pain as her form twisted and reshaped, bones and muscle tearing and reforming until her sleek leopard lay on its side, panting.

Nodding for Lyssa and Lucilla to take care of her, he stood as two of the men returned dragging Alastair between them.

“Is the bitch dead?” he spat.