Turner felt on top of the world.

The two delicious steaks Bridget had ordered from Aussie had sated him without making him feel overstuffed, probably because he’d skipped the mash potatoes and only ate the side salad that came with the dish.

After dinner, he had made love to Bridget and would have happily gone for another round, but she’d refused, claiming he needed to keep his strength up for the fight.

The only reason he hadn’t insisted was that she’d been so stressed out that he’d been unable to bring her to a climax for the first time ever.

Usually, Bridget was highly responsive, and her uninhibited nature meant that she didn’t hold anything back. But not tonight.

Tonight, she was subdued and contemplative, and every time he’d tried to reassure her that everything was going to be okay, she’d snapped at him and then apologized immediately after that.

“Are you ready, love?” he asked as she emerged from the bedroom, wearing a plain T-shirt and jeans. Apparently, the induction ceremony didn’t warrant formal attire.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Are you sure jeans are okay? Isn’t the goddess going to attend?”

He was looking forward to it. Kian would have to introduce him to the Clan Mother, and he would finally get to talk to her face to face. Not that he had any illusions about conducting a conversation with the goddess, but even if the only things he was allowed to say were hello and thank you, he would consider it a great honor.

Bridget shook her head. “Annani is not going to attend the ceremony. She will only give you her blessing if you go into transition and experience difficulty.”

“That’s disappointing. I was hoping to meet her in person. She smiled at me, you know.”

Bridget arched a brow. “When?”

“At the wedding, when you and the other bridesmaids went to change outfits, Anandur dragged me on stage to do the sword dance. The goddess was watching, and I looked at her. She looked back and smiled. I almost tripped over my own feet.” He opened the front door, led Bridget out, then locked the door behind him.

“Here you go.” He handed her the keys.

As per Bridget’s advice, he was wearing loose exercise clothes. His wallet was already in her purse.

She dropped the keys inside it. “I’m sorry that I missed it. I like watching you dance. Especially in a kilt.” She waggled her brows. “You have very nice legs.”

Teasing was a good sign that her stress level was declining. At least he hoped it was, she might have been putting on a show for him.

Wrapping his arm around Bridget’s narrow waist, he pulled her close against his side. “I’m going to buy a kilt, so I have my own, and I’m going to dance for you whenever you want.”

They entered the elevator, and he leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “I hear that traditionally Scotts don’t wear anything under their kilts. When I dance for you, I’m going to follow that tradition.”

Bridget laughed. “I guess more than sock tassels are going to be flapping around.”

On the drive to the keep, Turner went over the strategy he was going to use in his fight with Kian. Not that he was planning to win, the idea was for him to lose, but he was going to give the immortal a run for his money.

Victor Turner wasn’t planning on going down easily.

Kian was stronger and taller, which meant that Turner would have to go for the guy’s legs and topple him down to the mat. His only advantage was his training. He had no doubt that Kian was well trained too, but hoped that the guy was too overworked to dedicate much time to practice. Besides, a man who possessed such impressive physical attributes probably relied on his superior strength and size more than he did on technique.

As he and Bridget entered the gym, Victor was surprised at the large turnout. He wasn’t that popular. Whoever was there probably came to see Kian. After all, it wasn’t every day that their regent went sparring with a human.

Except, when the cheering started, people looked at him, not at Kian.

Most were Guardians. Some of them he knew by name, like Anandur and Brundar, Onegus and Arwel, and Bhathian; others he recognized from the sword dancing he’d joined at the wedding.

Carol was there, beaming at him and clapping her hands so hard it must’ve stung. Andrew and his wife came together with their baby. Among the civilians, he recognized Eva, Vanessa, Edna, Brandon and William, and of course Roni, Sylvia, and Ruth.

So many people, and it seemed that they all came for him. Who’d called them? How had they known to come? Had Bridget group texted everyone while he’d been in the shower?

Kian walked over and offered his hand. “How are you feeling? Still good after your nap?”

“Never better.” Turner shook the hand he’d been offered.

“Glad to hear that. Drinking to excess is sometimes good for you. Not too often, but when combined with a joyous occasion it can work wonders on stress levels.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Turner smiled.

Kian’s little speech had sounded rehearsed, which further implied he was trying to hide something. The guy was a shitty actor and a terrible liar. But this was not the time or the place to confront him about what he’d done or hadn’t done at the wedding.

“So, how are we going to do it?” Kian asked as he walked over to the mat and removed his shoes.

Turner kissed Bridget’s hand before letting her retreat to the audience section where Kian’s wife wrapped her arm around her shoulders.

He was glad to see that she wouldn't be alone and that someone was there for her. Bridget was putting on a brave face, but he knew she was worried.

Hell, she was frantic. But there was nothing he could do to assuage her fears. They came from some irrational place inside her that his logic couldn’t reach and apparently neither could hers.

But then that was the nature of fears. They were rarely rational. Besides, most often it wasn’t the thing you feared the most that got you, but something you never anticipated. Like his military career which he’d survived unscathed, only to get ensnared by cancer.

Turner kicked off his shoes, walked barefoot over to the mat, and assumed a fighting stance. “We spar.”

Kian smirked. “It’s going to be over in seconds.”

“Don’t count on it.”