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Tremotino had offered Leo a guest room in his home, where the ball was being held, but Cat had known to book him a room at a motel in a nearby town, too, just in case. The clean but dated motel room was where Leo unpacked his overnight bag, eyeing off the large beribboned box that Cat had told him was both his birthday gift and his costume.

Logically, he should sleep in the castle. Proximity to Tremotino before and after the event would give him more opportunities to persuade him to loosen his hold on Councillor Clyde and stop delaying the Sanctuary. Or, if his mother's predictions came true, he might be grateful to have a bedroom nearby when he met his fated mate, the sooner to indulge in a mating frenzy of wild sex.

Yet this shabby room, decorated in various shades of cream and brown, felt right. With his business background, Leo would have liked to think he did things logically, but the truth was, he went with his gut feelings more often than not. Passion and instinct were more powerful when he shifted, than when he was human, but they were still his primary drivers, even when he wore a suit.

Or whatever costume Cat's wicked sense of humour had driven her to buy for him. It could be anything. Some version of Prince Charming, embracing the classic fairy tale theme, or she could have gone for something more aligned with the fairy side of it, as a fae king wearing little more than a few strategically placed leaves. Whatever it was, she wanted him to be eye-catching and memorable, so that if his fated mate was at the ball, she couldn't possibly miss him.

Only one way to find out.

He reached for the ribbon, and untied it. Then he lifted the lid, and laughed.

The golden brown velvet suit matched the bed spread beneath the box, though this looked brand new, and likely tailored to fit him. He'd look more like a 1970s pimp than Prince Charming.

The creamy shirt looked like she'd had it custom made, with faint golden spots across the front. A box in the bottom held matching shoes in brown suede, with one final, flat box revealing not a mask, but a sort of headdress that wouldn't have looked out of place on stage at a performance of the Lion King . Which was probably exactly where she'd gotten it, or at least the inspiration for it, because it came with a note, in Cat's neat handwriting:

"Enjoy your birthday and the ball! PS, the Lion King is a fairytale – just ask my sons!"

Leo could only shake his head. Trust Cat to pick the perfect costume. His fated mate couldn't possibly miss him, dressed like this.

He'd shower, dress, and go to the ball, for what promised to be a night to remember.