“Oh, don’t worry,” Corinne said, drawing Saskia’s focus back to her. “I’m part of one of those couples myself. My fiancé is … special. I wouldn’t let the cat out of the bag, even if he did manage to wriggle out of coming with me tonight.”
Saskia let herself relax. “Well, then, you shouldn’t have any questions about me. It’s all perfectly ordinary, I assure you.”
The reporter looked from Saskia, to her fiancé, currently schmoozing with her father and the head of a major movie studio, to her future father-in-law, currently glaring at the reporter, and back to Saskia. “Hm. Keep telling yourself that, toots.” She stepped back and raised a hand in farewell. “Anyway, call me sometime. Even if I can’t pick your brain. You’re new in town. I can show you around, introduce you to some of my friends. We all have … similar interests, you might say.”
Saskia smiled in agreement and Corinne moved away, threading purposefully through the crowd and out toward the hotel lobby. Saskia watched her go for a second, then turned back toward her other guests. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Stefan still frowning, but now the expression was aimed at her.
What was his problem? she wondered. She’d never gotten the impression that Stefan Preda liked her very much, despite the fact that he’d pursued the engagement between her and his son with as much assiduousness as her own father. She knew the former head of his streak wanted intensely for the Preda and Arcos clans to be united. As they were two of the oldest and highest-ranking families of tiger shifters left in the world, the move would solidify their power and shove the other four remaining clans firmly onto a lower tier of the rigid Tiguri hierarchy. For it to happen, Nicolas Preda had to marry her. It was that simple.
Pushing the question of her future father-in-law’s mood to the back of her mind, Saskia mustered up another social smile and got back to the task at hand. Time to show the crème of New York society exactly how happy she was to have landed herself a man such as Nicolas Preda.
* * *
Nic realized early on that the party was going to last until approximately the end of time. The invitations had requested the guests arrive at 7:00 P.M. By 7:45 he had had his fill of glad-handing politicians and schmoozing executives, and by 8:00 he’d had enough of his future father-in-law. Gregor Arcos was a highly intelligent, crafty old sonofabitch, a man who had inherited his place in the world but who hadn’t been afraid to fight to keep it, and to fight dirty if he had to. That was a quality Nic could respect. What drove him crazy was the way Arcos seemed to believe that by getting Nic to marry his daughter he’d somehow acquired the power to control or guide Nic’s actions. Nic would have to find a way to disabuse the man of that notion, and quickly, without sparking a full-fledged battle of wills. Nic had no doubt he’d win—eventually—but he wasn’t prepared to risk the collateral damage. Not unless he had no other choice.
By 8:15, his own father had appeared on Nic’s shit list. Stefan Preda knew better than to let his son see his attempts at manipulation, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t working behind the scenes with all the determination and finesse of a master puppeteer. He might realize laying a hand on Nic’s strings was a bad move, but he showed no compunction about tugging Gregor’s here and there, or about doing his best to gather Saskia’s strings into his controlling grasp.
Nic couldn’t decide how he felt about that. Intellectually, he knew his father’s end goal was nearly the same as his own—to carve out a secure and significant niche for the Preda and Arcos streaks in Manhattan and to ensure the future of the Tiguri in local Other society, including winning a place on the Council of Others. The problem was that Nic’s social ambitions ended there. He reserved his other plans for his business, the family company he’d recently taken over from his father. Maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe now Stefan had too much time on his hands and the elder Preda was out to control Saskia from a sense of boredom or uselessness.
Maybe that was it, but either way, Nic found himself less than pleased over the way his father had treated his fiancée over the course of the evening, which was odd. He hadn’t expected to particularly care one way or the other. Oh, he would never tolerate anyone treating the woman with disrespect; to do so would be to show disrespect to Nic and his family, as well; that wasn’t the sort of thing a ther—a dominant male—would countenance. Still, Nic hadn’t expected the possessive instincts the small female seemed to call up within him. At least, not at this point in the relationship. Later, after they were mated in truth, he figured thousands of years of species memory would likely make him damned possessive where his woman was concerned. But now? They barely knew each other. It was too early for the beast inside him to be growling every time someone so much as said boo to Saskia Arcos.
Nic had struggled with the feeling all night. First, he noticed it when he and his father had gathered with the Arcoses before the party began. The families had known each other for generations, so the regular meet-and-greet introductions hadn’t been necessary. Nic had shaken hands with Gregor and his wife, Victoria, formally slid his ring on Saskia’s slender finger, and offered to pour everyone drinks. Fifteen minutes of polite chitchat and the party could get rolling.
Something unexpected had happened, though, the minute Nic slipped the diamond and platinum engagement ring past his fiancée’s knuckle. Although he hadn’t seen Saskia Arcos in almost twenty years, he hadn’t had any trouble recognizing her. With her pale, creamy skin, red-tinged blond hair, and huge blue eyes, she still bore a striking resemblance to the eight-year-old waif who had dogged his footsteps throughout the entire week he and his parents had spent at Shadelea, the Arcos summer home in the English midlands.
While their fathers had taken the first steps in negotiating an alliance between the two streaks, Nic had roamed restlessly around the aristocratic old estate, stretching his legs on long walks, tiring himself out with neck-and-nothing gallops over the hills, and relishing the UK drinking-age laws down at the village pub. Little Saskia had even followed him into that dim, smoky building, settling herself quietly in a corner with a coloring book and a cup of tea, keeping her hands busy even as her attention remained entirely focused on the baffled nineteen-year-old Nic. No one at the pub had commented on her presence, least of all Nic. He’d been deadly frightened that if he acknowledged her presence he would somehow be obliged to take care of her, and he’d had no desire at the time to take care of anyone. He’d still been learning to take care of himself.
Saskia had never asked anything of him, though. Not during that whole vacation. She’d literally become his shadow, following him everywhere, staying a few steps behind him, observing everything but never speaking. It was odd how she’d never said a word to him and yet still managed to drag him through a minefield of unexpected emotions. At first he’d found her dogged attention amusing, maybe a little flattering, but like any nineteen-year-old boy, his amusement had quickly turned to annoyance. He’d tried a million tricks to get rid of her, but even the few times he’d managed to give her the slip she’d always managed to pop back up within an hour or two, still silent but ever more determined. When he’d run out of ideas for getting rid of her that didn’t cross the line into outright cruelty or physical harm, he’d allowed his annoyance to shift into bafflement and then resignation. He still hadn’t spoken to the girl, nor she to him, but he’d grown accustomed to her presence just behind him, and when he and his parents had finally left Shadelea he’d felt somehow naked and exposed without her at his back.
Funny, but he’d forgotten all about that strange feeling until tonight, when the grown-up version of that little girl had once again become glued to his side like a shadow. Her presence brought those memories rushing back, but things felt different now. Saskia Arcos wasn’t eight years old anymore. She was twenty-eight and very clearly a woman full grown. Her skin and hair and eyes might look just as he’d remembered, but the slight, gangly frame of the girl he had ignored had lengthened, matured, and filled out in some very interesti
ng places, each of them showcased in the strapless gown that floated around her every time she moved. The muted shades of orange and gold made her skin glow and her hair burn and the sweet sprinkling of freckles dusting her shoulders looked like a fine coating of cinnamon sugar. Nic couldn’t wait to lean down and taste them.
The only thing about that thought that didn’t sit comfortably with him was that he knew for a fact he wasn’t the only man in the room imagining the honey-cream flavor of her skin. The head of the Council of Others had made little effort to hide some very similar thoughts of his own.
Nic scowled and scanned the crowd to make sure the good-looking bastard had managed to find the exit. If not, Nic would happily escort him to it. Now that their engagement was official, by Tiguri custom Saskia belonged to Nic, completely. If the Felix De Santos didn’t learn to keep his salacious thoughts to himself, Nic would have every right and take every pleasure in pointing out the other man’s bad manners. With his fists. And maybe his claws. Possibly fangs. Once the tiger form broke free, no one could predict what it would take to satisfy the beast’s need to assert its dominance.
And those were the kinds of thoughts Nic most needed to get ahold of, he reminded himself. He forced a deep breath in and blew it out slowly. He shifted next to his fiancée until he could feel the warmth of her skin soaking through the fabric of his tuxedo jacket. The reminder of her presence beside him soothed his inner tiger and helped him regain control. He knew how little provocation it would take for the Council of Others to disregard the unspoken and fragile truce that currently existed between them and the Tiguri. After centuries of the absence of tiger shifters from most of America, no one knew quite what to make of the Arcos and Preda streaks’ decision to relocate both their businesses and their families to New York. It had made most of the Council a bit … edgy. If Nic wanted to keep the peace, he needed to keep a tight rein on his more primitive instincts, instincts his fiancée seemed to drag to the surface with unexpected ease.
“Well, I’d certainly call that a success,” Gregor Arcos crowed, rubbing his hands together with trenchant glee. “Very nicely done, my boy, if I do say so myself.”
Nic skimmed his gaze over the last few stragglers clustered in small groups in the hall outside of the emptied ballroom before turning to his future father-in-law. Behind them, catering staff had already begun dismantling the elaborate decorations. “The staff did an excellent job. I’m very pleased.”
“As am I,” his father said. Stefan nodded to Nic and Saskia, his patrician features looking almost relaxed after the well-received celebration. “You behaved just as I could have wished, Saskia. You were a credit to our family.”
Beside him, Saskia stirred, her shoulders straightening as she nodded at the elder Preda. “Thank you, Mr. Preda. I certainly wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone at such a lovely event.”
“Your father and I were very proud, Saskia,” Victoria Arcos declared. Nic had almost forgotten about Saskia’s mother. The woman tended to blend into the shadows behind her charismatic mate. “We only hope you’ll continue to demonstrate your value to your new family.”
Saskia merely smiled and inclined her head. Nic raised an eyebrow. Her family made it sound like they thought of her as a well-trained spaniel or maybe a schoolgirl who’d just navigated her first formal tea party at the age of seven when Nic knew very well that his fiancée had recently celebrated her twenty-eighth birthday. No one could doubt she was full grown, just as no one who really looked at her would doubt she would always behave with the grace and graciousness of a princess. He knew the practice of arranged matches like theirs was considered old fashioned—by everyone but the Tiguri, who considered the term “old fashioned” to be a badge of honor among their kind—but her family’s words made him feel like he’d just been transported into a BBC costume drama.
Slipping his arm around her waist, Nic drew his fiancée against his side and smiled at her parents. “My mate could never do anything less, I’m sure,” he said firmly.
“Ah, but she’s not your mate yet.” Her father chuckled, winking at them. “And I’m sure that’s something you’d like to get straight to work on, eh? You kids should go on home now. I had Saskia’s things sent over this morning. She should be all settled in by now.”
“Thank you, Papa.” Saskia leaned forward to brush a kiss against her father’s cheek, then settled right back at Nic’s side. The surge of satisfaction he felt at the action surprised him. “I’ll give you and Mother a call in the morning.”
“Not too early, I hope,” Gregor boomed, clearly amusing himself and earning a quelling look from his wife. “It takes effort to seal a mating. You wouldn’t want anyone to think you weren’t dedicated to the task, now would you.”
Saskia colored at her father’s crude words, and Nic fought back the urge to snarl. Everyone there knew that by Tiguri custom an engagement merely signaled an intent to form a mate bond and that the union wouldn’t be sealed, wouldn’t become the equivalent of a marriage, until Saskia became pregnant. Just like the bond wouldn’t be considered permanent until she gave birth to a healthy cub. No one had to point that out, especially not so crudely. The unexpected protectiveness Nic felt toward Saskia made him want to strangle her father for embarrassing her in front of both their families.
Fortunately, his father stepped in before Nic could act on his anger.
“Yes, the young couple should be given their privacy,” Stefan declared, his voice firm and only slightly tightened in irritation. “I know my son has made every effort to prepare his den for his new mate. He should take her home and show her.”
“Gladly.” Nic smiled down at Saskia, forcing thoughts of her parents out of his head. She made a much more pleasant thing to focus on. “Shall we?”
She nodded on a deep exhalation, and for the first time Nic noticed the faint shadows of exhaustion under her bright blue eyes. He was feeling pretty tired himself. He should have realized how exhausting the past week since the betrothal had been for his fiancée.
“Yes,” she breathed with a tired smile. “That would be wonderful.”
“I’ll have the car brought around.”
Stepping away from her, he beckoned to a staff member and gave instructions to contact the valet desk. Behind him he could hear the stilted conversation between Saskia’s family and his father, and Nic felt guilty at his relief that his share of it was nearly over. You would think that in a community as small as the Tiguri, with barely fifty families left, the sense of shared history and shared culture would draw them closer together, but it hadn’t. Maybe it was because tigers were solitary animals, but the Tiguri just weren’t good at building community, much less maintaining it. For that reason alone, the Council of Others should know that no Tiguri would want to get involved in the intricate business of Others politics. That would be like a hermit running for president—not only wouldn’t he get any votes, but also he wouldn’t know what to do with them if he did.
It took only a few minutes before a staff member alerted him that his car was waiting, and when he did Nic made short work of extricating himself and his fiancée from their parents’ company and whisking her toward the lobby. He collected their coats from the concierge, helped her into hers, and guided her into the back of the black sedan with maximum efficiency and minimum fuss. Within moments, the driver had pulled away from the curb and eased his way into traffic. Nic relaxed back into his seat with a sigh and watched the twinkling lights of the city move past the tinted windows.
The interior of the car was silent for several moments, just the muffled sounds of motor and city and the occupants’ quiet breathing. Then Saskia spoke softly. “I’m impressed.”
Nic turned his head, his keen night vision having no trouble making out her delicate features. “Impressed?”
“You decided it was time to leave and had us out of there in under six minutes. If I’d tried to manage that, it would have taken me fifteen. Easily.”
He heard the soft echo o
f amusement in her voice and flashed her a grin. “It’s all about planning, timing, and execution.”
“And ruthlessness. I admire that.”
Both remained quiet for another long minute.
“You’re different from how I remember you.” Once again, Saskia took the first step to breach the silence. “At the time, I thought you were already all grown up, but now that I can see the man you’ve become, I realize how silly that idea was.”
“You were … what? Eight? Last time we saw each other?” He watched her face, tried to read her expression, but all he could see was the tranquil blue of her eyes and the soft cream of her skin. “I’m sure at the time that nineteen seemed ancient.”
She smiled. “Not ancient. Just … impressive.”
He chuckled in spite of himself. “My nineteen-year-old ego thanks you for that.”
Nic watched while she turned her gaze forward and stared unseeingly at the front of the car. The driver remained silent and anonymous behind the barrier of smoked glass, but Nic doubted Saskia even thought of him. Her attention all seemed focused inward, as if she barely even realized she wasn’t alone. It was quite a kick to the ego. In the past, when Nic had taken the odd moment to envision having a mate he’d somehow never expected that she would be able to dismiss him so easily from her thoughts. It irked him, especially as often as his thoughts had turned to her in the last few hours. Which he also hadn’t expected.
He considered and rejected several conversational forays while the limo cruised along the short distance from the hotel to their new home. Nic considered it new himself. He’d only moved in a week ago. His father had been the one to suggest that the new couple should have a place of their own, rather than a section of Stefan’s admittedly enormous home. In essence, Nic had chose the new place with Saskia in mind; only he hadn’t actually had her in mind, just an image of her—an anonymous female figure he’d pictured only as she related to him. His fiancée, his wife, his mate, the mother of his cubs. Now he found himself confronted with an actual person, and he no longer felt sure about what he should do. Should he speak? About what? Or should he keep silent and respect her privacy? Did what he did right now even matter? Presumably, they would have a few decades together to talk, to get to know each other. There was no hurry, was there?
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