“And now look at you,” Gerri continued, gesturing grandly at Camille’s reflection. “Partner in the most successful development firm in the country, mated to one of the most powerful Alphas on the East Coast, and absolutely glowing with happiness. I’d say you traded up considerably.”
“More than considerably,” Serena interjected. “She went from a gilded cage to a life of actual purpose and passion. Plus, have you seen her mate? The man is smoking hot.”
“Serena!” Camille protested, though she couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face.
“What? It’s true. And the way he looks at you? Like you’re the only person in the room, like you hung the moon and stars just for him. That’s the kind of love people write songs about.”
Helena nodded approvingly. “My son has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. You’ve given him something I thought he’d never find—peace.”
The mate bond hummed softly, carrying echoes of Leander’s emotions from wherever he was. Anticipation, love, fierce protectiveness, and underneath it all, a contentment so deep it made her breath catch. He was thinking about her, probably counting the minutes until he could see her walking down the aisle toward their future.
“My life is perfect. Better than perfect,” Camille replied softly.
A sharp knock interrupted the moment, followed by Travis’s voice through the door.
“Ladies, we need the bride downstairs in five minutes. The groom is pacing like a caged lion, the guests are getting restless, and if we don’t start this ceremony soon, I think Leander might actually shift and hunt down his mate himself.”
Gerri clapped her hands together with delight. “Oh, how wonderfully dramatic! Nothing like an impatient Alpha to add excitement to a wedding day.”
Camille’s pulse quickened, the mate bond surging with sudden intensity as Leander’s need to see her, to claim her officially and completely, crashed over her in waves. His lion was calling to her, demanding she come to him so they could complete this final step in their journey together.
“Ready?” Helena asked softly, adjusting Camille’s veil one last time.
Camille looked around the room at the women who’d helped shape her into the person she was meant to be. Serena, who’d never let her settle for less than she deserved. Helena, who’d shown her what maternal love actually looked like. And Gerri, who’d orchestrated this entire miraculous transformation with supernatural precision.
“More than ready,” she said, her voice steady and sure. “Let’s officially make me a Drake.”
The bedroom door swung open again with characteristic authority, and Travis stepped inside, his gray eyes scanning the assembled women with barely concealed amusement. His dark golden hair was perfectly styled for the occasion, and he wore a charcoal gray suit that made him look every inch the distinguished Beta of their pride.
“The groom has officially lost what little patience he had left.”
Helena laughed, her warm green eyes sparkling with maternal affection. “That sounds exactly like my son. He’s never been good at waiting for anything he wants, and right now, what he wants most is to make Camille officially his.”
“Well then,” Camille said, smoothing her hands over the silk one final time, “I suppose we shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer.”
Travis stepped aside with an exaggerated bow. “After you, soon-to-be Mrs. Drake. Though I should warn you—the man waiting for you down there looks like he’s ready to devour you whole the moment you’re within reach.”
Heat bloomed across Camille’s cheeks at the suggestive comment, but she couldn’t deny the thrill that shot through her at the thought. Leander’s possessive intensity had been one of the first things to capture her attention, the way he looked at her like she was something precious and powerful all at once.
As they made their way toward the door, Gerri suddenly stepped forward, her blue eyes unusually serious despite her satisfied smile.
“Camille, darling, before we head downstairs—would you do me the honor of letting me walk you down the aisle?”
The request caught Camille completely off guard. She’d been dreading this moment, knowing her parents wouldn’t be there, knowing she’d have to walk that path alone. The idea of Gerri filling that role felt both surprising and absolutely perfect.
“Are you sure?” Camille asked, her voice thick with sudden emotion. “I mean, I would love that, but?—”
“But nothing,” Gerri interrupted firmly. “I’ve never had the privilege of walking a bride down the aisle before, but it feels entirely appropriate here. After all, I’m the one responsible for this whole magnificent mess, aren’t I?”
Serena wiped at her eyes, her usual composure cracking. “That’s absolutely perfect. Gerri, you’re the reason Camille found her happiness.”
“Indeed I am,” Gerri replied with characteristic confidence. “And I intend to deliver her to that impatient Alpha of hers in style.”
The garden was transformed into something from a fairy tale. White silk draped from ancient oak trees, creating an intimate cathedral beneath the open sky. Hundreds of white roses and gardenias filled the air with their perfume, and soft string music drifted through the afternoon breeze. Pride members filled elegant chairs arranged in perfect rows, their faces bright with anticipation and joy.
But the moment Camille stepped onto the white runner that led toward the altar, everything else faded into insignificance. There, standing beneath an arch of white flowers and trailing ivy, was Leander.
He wore a black suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build, his blonde hair catching the sunlight like spun gold. But it was his face that stole her breath—the raw emotion written across his features and the way his piercing green eyes locked onto hers with such intensity she felt it like a physical touch.
