And the ones that aren’t won’t have our size.”

“We know that.” Jess grinned. “And that’s why we’re providing costumes for those who don’t have them!” She pointed at a room off in a corner. “We even have tailors standing around to help with fittings.”

Ric glanced at Lock and immediately grimaced when he saw his face.

“You walked right into that one!” Lock bellowed, causing several nearby wild dogs and felines to take off running.

“Come, bear.” Sabina grabbed his arm. “We dress you so you don’t look more like fool than you usually do.”

Jess took Lock’s other arm and led him to the room. Ric tried to back out the door, but Maylin got a good grip on him and dragged him along behind them all.

“I so blame you for this, Van Holtz!” Lock snarled at his best friend.

“Like I’m not also in hell?”

The music changed from “Psychotic Reaction” to “Land of a Thousand Dances” and Blayne was immediately back by Gwen’s side, the two of them doing each dance called out in the song, the wild dogs clapping and cheering around them. Yup! Great music. As one nun had told her—or hissed at her, depending on your perspective—“Your only saving grace is your excellent taste in music, Devil’s Whore.” Gwen appreciated the compliment but could have done without that damn nickname.

Laughing and impressing the wild dogs, the friends danced, while Gwen enjoyed herself more than she had in a very long time.

After a few minutes, Blayne’s teammates ran up to them. There were a few moments of derby-girl squealing and hugging that for once, because she was having such a good time, Gwen didn’t mind—even though she did think, Didn’t you people just see each other yesterday?

Gwen didn’t even mind when they squealed and hugged her, too.

“I didn’t know you guys were coming,” Blayne said, her arm around Suli, a.k.a. Our Lady of Pain and Suffering, who was dressed as a very hot Sailor Moon.

“Invited by Jess Ward-Smith herself. She’s been at every bout we’ve had lately.”

“I heard you guys made it into the championships next week.” Gwen smiled at Blayne.

“Congratulations.”

“You’ll have to be there,” Suli said. “As our…what was it, Blayne?”

“Teammate in spirit!” And Blayne threw her arms up, cheerleader style.

“Right.” Suli laughed. “But seriously, Gwen, you should join the team. We’re up against the Furriers again.”

Gwen shook her head. “No, thanks.” She was more than happy to let that call for revenge go. “But I’ll definitely be there to support you guys.” And Blayne.

The music changed again, Martha Reeves and theVandellas’ “Heat Wave” blasting through the club.

The two friends grinned at each other before letting out a scream and breaking into the Watusi, the wild dogs going right along with them.

Nope, Gwen thought as she and Blayne moved expertly around each other. Nothing can make this night any better!

Nothing can make this night any worse!

Lock held on to the marble pillar, using his four-inch claws, while nearly ten She-dogs tried to pry him loose and drag him out of the room.

“I’m not going!”

“Come on, Lock! You look fabulous!”

“I look like an idiot! And I’m not going out there!”

This was ridiculous. He was an apex predator! There was no predator big enough or strong enough to hunt a grizzly except, maybe, another grizzly or polar—and humans didn’t count, since they had to use guns.

But instead of batting these tiny She-dogs around like they deserved, he was holding on for dear life and hoping they’d grow bored.

Of course, he should know better. They were dogs! Dogs didn’t grow bored. They could dig a hole for hours, chase their tails for hours, and apparently, they could tussle with a bear for hours!

Then Jess was there. The queen of the wild dogs. She personified doglike behavior. Like the brilliant poodle hanging out with all the dumb labs.

“You’re going out there,” she said.

“No. I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” And she reached up, gripped his nipples, and twisted.

“Ow!” Lock released the pillar to protect his nipples and that’s when one of them screamed, “Heave!”

The next second Lock MacRyrie was skidding to a halt outside that damn room.

A tiger male standing by looked at him and snorted. “Nice skirt, Gentle Ben.”

Embarrassed, mortified, and pissed off in general about the nickname, Lock slammed the back of his fist into the tiger’s nose.

The tiger flew back twenty feet, eventually hitting the floor, his hand over his face. “Motherfucker! You broke my nose!”

Not caring about the sobbing cat, Lock turned to the room, ready to retrieve his clothes and run home like a frightened cub, when the door slammed shut in his face. “Sorry!” the She-dogs yelled from the other side.

“We’re closed!”

“Open this door right now, or I’ll—”

“Lock?” he heard from behind him. “Lock, is that you?”

Cringing, Lock slowly faced the She-wolf. “Hi, Adelle.”

“Lock!” Hands covering her mouth, Adelle walked around him in a complete circle. She looked elegantly Van Holtz in a Grecian gown, her hair done up on top of her head in a mass of curls, with plastic snakes sticking out. “You look…”