Page 90 of Alien Mercenary's Wife
His hands trembled slightly as he smoothed the rich fabric of his dress uniform. Imperial black and gold, with the formal sashthat marked him as Crown Prince. The weight of it still felt odd across his chest, but today... Today, it felt right.
Behind him, the soft murmur of guests taking their seats rose. Imperial dignitaries mixed with his crew, an unusual combination that would have been impossible just weeks ago. Sparky's laughter carried across the hall, followed by Red's sharp whisper to sit thedraanthdown and behave himself.
T'Raal bit back his smile. Some things never changed.
Daaynal stood on the dais before him, in his full Imperial regalia. The ceremonial robes made his father look like the emperor he was, the iron crown catching the light as he reviewed the ceremony protocols on a dataflex.
"Nervous?" Red asked quietly from beside him.
He glanced at his daughter and smiled. Surprisingly, rather than having to be bribed to get dressed up, like normal, she'd agreed. Her flame-colored hair was styled elegantly, a delicate crown that marked her royal status nestled in the curls, and her formal gown showed off the scales that rippled beneath her skin. She looked utterly beautiful.
"Terrified," he leaned in to whisper.
"Good. You should be. But I like her. Don't fuck this up, okay?" She grinned as she stepped back to rejoin her husbands.
He nodded, his throat thick with emotion at the endorsement from his somewhat prickly daughter. He loved Reese, but it would have beenreallydifficult if Red hadn't liked her.
Behind Red, the rest of the Warborne crew stood as an honor guard. Skinny's massive frame was barely contained by his formal clothes, though Marika had somehow convinced him to leave his weapons behind. Sparky fidgeted with his collar, while Fin looked impressive in Navarrian royal dress. Eric and Zad stood behind them, next to Mayce and Lina. The others crowded behind them, Zero casting glances at a couple of Imperial lords who were looking down their noses at the mercenary team.
The sight of them—his chosen family, his crew, his people—dressed in their finest and standing witness to his wedding sent warmth spreading through his chest. They'd followed him across the galaxy, trusted his leadership through impossible odds, and now they were here to see him claim the happiness he'd never thought he deserved.
"Quite the honor guard," Daaynal murmured, stepping closer. "Though I must admit, the tradition is usually..."
"Usually what?"
"The groom typically sends his most powerful warriors to escort the bride safely to the ceremony," Daaynal commented, studying the assembled crew with interest. "A show of protection and respect. But you seem to have kept yours here with you."
T'Raal's grin spread. This was going to be good. "Actually, I sent exactly who I intended to send."
Daaynal's eyebrows rose, but before he could say anything, the ceremonial music began. Conversations died as heads turned toward the entrance.
T'Raal's breath caught as the doors opened.
Beauty appeared first, standing in the middle of the doorway and glaring around the hall. He looked lethal, a predator wrapped in formal clothes. Turning his head to the side, he nodded and held out his hand to someone they couldn't see.
"By the lady… A Serotovian," Daaynal breathed.
"Yeah." T'Raal's voice came out rougher than intended. "No one's getting to my mate with him around."
Daaynal chuckled. "The most powerful warrior you know, indeed."
The woman who stepped forward and took Beauty's hand stole every thought from T'Raal's mind.
Reese, his mate.
She took his breath away in her white wedding gown. The silk dress caught the light perfectly, flowing around her likewater. Her dark hair framed her face in soft waves, tiny crystals catching the light. But it was her expression that hit him hardest—pure joy, eyes bright with tears, and a smile meant only for him.
She was breathtaking. Absolutely, utterly breathtaking.
He couldn't tear his gaze away as she walked down the aisle with Beauty, her steps measured and precise. The pace was too damn slow. Protocol be damned. His hands clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to reach for her.
The guests rose as she passed, heads turning to follow her progress. Imperial dignitaries who'd probably never seen a human wedding dress studied her with polite interest. At the same time, his crew watched with the pride of family seeing one of their own claim happiness. Sparky was grinning so widely it looked painful, while Tal dabbed at his eyes with what appeared to be a crisp, white handkerchief.
As she got closer, T'Raal couldn't focus on anything else. The neural stimulator was gone—Laarn's healing had fixed that—and she moved with easy confidence. But it wasn't just the physical healing. She looked whole in a way that came from belonging.
Belonging with him.
Beauty delivered her to the altar, bowing to T'Raal before stepping back to take his place among the honor guard. T'Raal nodded his thanks. He'd trusted one of the most precious things in his life to the tall serotovian, and Beauty had made sure she was safe.
