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FORTY-FOUR

T wo weeks later, Bess stood in the royal bridal preparation room, her hands shaking slightly as Emesyn adjusted the glittering tiara atop her carefully styled waves. The transformation from Earth insurance clerk to Nova Aurora’s queen seemed impossibly swift, like something from a fairy tale that shouldn’t happen to ordinary women like her.

“Stop fidgeting,” Gerri commanded, appearing suddenly at her side in a stunning cobalt blue designer suit that made her white bob gleam even brighter against her petite frame. “You’re going to make Emesyn stick you with those pins.”

“I can’t help it,” Bess admitted, catching a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. The wedding gown was unlike anything she could have imagined—shimmering white fabric that reflected the light of Nova Aurora’s dual suns in a way Earth fabrics never could, hugging her curves before cascading into a train that would trail behind her through the royal gardens. “Six weeks ago, I was processing insurance claims.”

Emesyn smiled, sliding another pearl-tipped pin into Bess’s hair. “And today you’re marrying the most eligible bear shifter on Nova Aurora.”

“Most insatiable, too, from what I hear.” Gerri winked, her blue eyes flickering briefly to gold. “Those scratch marks on your hip healing nicely?”

Heat flooded Bess’s face. The mate mark had indeed healed into a faint silvery scar that tingled pleasantly whenever Charov was near. Though she had quickly learned that the mate bond had other, more intense effects—like being able to sense his moods, his desires, and most disturbingly, when he was thinking about her in particularly carnal ways. Like right now.

“He’s thinking about you, isn’t he?” Gerri placed a knowing hand on Bess’s arm. “I can always tell when mates are communicating.”

“Not exactly communicating,” Bess murmured, feeling her core tighten at the wave of possessive hunger that swept through the bond. “More like...projecting.”

“Bears,” Gerri rolled her eyes. “No patience. Especially on their wedding day.”

A loud knock at the door made all three women turn. Emesyn opened it to reveal a royal messenger who bowed deeply.

“His Majesty wishes to know if his bride requires anything before the ceremony.”

Before Emesyn could answer, Bess felt another pulse through the bond—this one so explicit that her knees nearly buckled.

“Tell His Majesty,” Bess said, finding her voice suddenly husky, “that his bride requests he keep his thoughts decent until after the ceremony.”

The messenger’s eyes widened, but he nodded and retreated.

Less than thirty seconds later, Charov’s deep laughter echoed through the mate bond, followed by: Never .

“He’s impossible,” Bess sighed, but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

“He’s yours,” Gerri corrected, adjusting Bess’s veil. “Forever. How does that feel?”

Bess closed her eyes, allowing herself to truly feel the connection that pulsed between her and Charov—warm, vital, and as necessary as breathing. “Like coming home to a place I never knew existed.”

“That’s how it should feel,” Gerri nodded approvingly. “Now, let’s get you married before that bear of yours decides to skip the ceremony and just carries you off to his den.”

Emesyn gasped. “He wouldn’t!”

Bess laughed, feeling another wave of impatience through the bond. “He absolutely would.”

Bess soon stepped onto the petal-strewn aisle, her breath catching as the assembled crowd rose to their feet. The royal gardens blazed with color—flowers from both Earth and Nova Aurora arranged in breathtaking harmony, just like the union they had come to witness. Through her delicate veil, Bess saw hundreds of faces turn toward her, but she only had eyes for one.

Charov stood at the altar, tall and absolutely handsome in his royal regalia. His deep blue eyes locked onto hers with that familiar intensity that sent ripples of heat through their mate bond. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring slightly—the bear within him recognizing its mate. The raw possession in his gaze caused her knees to weaken.

Breathe. Just breathe. Bess commanded herself as she took the first step forward. The mate mark on her hip tingled as Charov’s emotions flooded through their connection—pride, desire, and something deeper that made her heart race.

She had expected nerves, but with each step toward her future, she felt only certainty. Six weeks ago, she was unfulfilled and unseen. Today, she was claiming a kingdom—and a king.

When she reached him, Charov extended his hand, his large fingers engulfing hers. “Mine,” he growled, low enough that only she could hear.

“Not yet,” she whispered back, a teasing glint in her eye. “There’s paperwork to file first.”

His lips quirked in that smile that transformed his regal features into the playful man she had fallen for. “Always the proper clerk,” he murmured.