Broken Princess: A Dark Paranormal Romance (Feline Royals Book 1)

by Alexa B. James

  That made me snort. “Riiight. Scared of his wayward human daughter.”

  “There are other forms of power besides the ability to change from animal to man,” Lord Balam said.

  I shifted on the seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. I didn’t know how much I should reveal to this stranger who had taken my virginity so eagerly. Besides what his body felt like, I knew very little about him. I knew his position, and that his cloak was part of him or his magic, and that he had some kind of oracle. That was about it. I didn’t know if I wanted to let him know how much sway I had over my sister or that I would be making as many decisions as she would when she was on the throne.

  “Tell us about the Panther Nation,” I said after a minute of watching the city slide by outside the car window. Father’s confrontational manner hadn’t helped our nation’s reputation or relations with others. I had no idea how the world out there would treat the daughter of King Ocelot, but I was going to find out as much as I could from Lord Balam while we had him.

  “Their territory spans most of the southeastern United States,” Camila said. “They share the country with a lot of other shifter sects, though.”

  I knew all this, but I nodded. “What are their people like?” I asked. “Their politics, their relations with humans and other supernaturals?”

  “They were hit hard by flooding in recent years,” Lord Balam said. “Much of their territory is now swampland or has been swallowed up by the ocean. A lot of them moved to other areas of the country. They struggle to maintain a strong clan in the area we are visiting.”

  Camila crossed her arms over her chest, biting at her lip in a rare show of anxiety to an outsider. “They’re not organized? Does that mean we won’t be visiting their king?”

  Lord Balam gave an ironic smile. “They have no palace to host us, Your Grace.”

  “Oh,” she said faintly.

  “Don’t expect the kind of royal hospitality your people can provide from every nation,” he said. “The Panther Nation is somewhat destitute right now. Their people live among humans and can be difficult to negotiate with.”

  “They’re lawless?” Camila asked, her eyes widening. I could see her pulse pounding in the side of her throat.

  “I will do everything in my power to make sure you have a safe, comfortable journey,” Lord Balam said.

  “We don’t have to stay long,” I assured Camila, reaching over to squeeze her knee.

  She straightened her royal mask and smiled at Lord Balam. “I’d like to officially extend my gratitude for your assistance.”

  “It’s a dangerous journey for any shifter heir,” Balam said. “Consider it a show of good faith between our nations.”

  “Father will be glad to hear it,” she said.

  “I’m sure he will,” Lord Balam said. “It must have been hard for him to find out the way he did. I admit, I’m surprised you didn’t think it important enough to tell him before the farewell breakfast.”

  Camila shot me a guilty look. “I thought it might be…indelicate of me to reveal such a thing about my sister.”

  “Lovely,” I muttered. “I guess we’re talking about this, then.”

  “Who a princess fucks is always the king’s business, is it not?” Lord Balam asked in his most cordial tone, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Camila. “Surely you must know this, Your Grace.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked, bristling at the veiled accusation that she’d done something wrong.

  “Only that I’m surprised at the lack of communication in your court,” Lord Balam said, his face bland as he turned to watch the city roll by for a minute.

  Camila cleared her throat, her cheeks reddening. “May I ask how long we can expect the pleasure of your presence?”

  “The pleasure of serving a princess is all mine,” Lord Balam said, grinning at me in a way that made my thighs weak with memory.

  But no more of that. No how, no way. That was not what this journey was about. It was about Camila’s mating amulets. Camila’s ceremony to find the right mate. I would be having no more mating rituals of my own. The last one had been more than enough. There was no way I was letting this asshole fuck me again. But god damn, what a fuck it had been. I fought the urge to let my eyes roll back and groan just thinking about the rawness of his bare cock against my delicate flesh.

  “Will you be escorting Camila beyond the Panther Nation?” I asked, ignoring the heat that had risen to my cheeks.

  “I’ll be here as long as you need me,” Balam said, his eyes serious for once.

  I wondered what was in this for him or his nation, for that matter. They had no obligation to help the heir to our throne retrieve the six remaining amulets. They’d offered us an asset of immeasurable worth, and I couldn’t imagine why. Lord Balam was a wise man and part of the jaguar king’s court, which meant that he knew more about the other Feline Nations than I did. But what he would get out of it, I still didn’t know. I only knew that I was going to learn as much as I could from him while we had the benefit of his wisdom.

  “Do you know who has the panther amulet?” I asked.

  “I know where we can start looking,” Lord Balam said. “Their amulet is passed down within a family of Keepers. That prevents abuse of power by the king when it comes to the magic within.”

  I glanced sideways at Camila, but her face was as blank and placid as Gabor’s. I wondered if there was a way to change our tradition to keep a man like Father from abusing the amulet again. But that was a question for later, once Camila had taken power.

  For the rest of that day and the next, I asked Lord Balam as many questions as I could think of. I napped in the car, only to be haunted by dreams of Tadeu’s hate-filled eyes finding me in his last moments. He’d obviously blamed me, so how could I believe in my own innocence? I jerked awake on the second afternoon, chills racing along my arms, and pressed my forehead to the glass. When I opened my eyes, I saw a foreign land outside the window. The road was narrow and cracked, the water coming almost to the pavement on each side. Trees stood in the water, some dead and some alive, moss trailing from their branches to the ground. Dozens of vultures lined every branch, watching us pass.

  “This is a good place to start,” Lord Balam said to the driver as we approached a white cinderblock building with a faded Budweiser logo painted on the side. A cheap mylar sign outside announced it as Pedro’s Taco Bar.

  “Looks legit,” I said.

  “I don’t know…” Camila chewed at her lip, eyeing the place with suspicion.

  “Your Grace,” Gabor said, speaking for the first time since our trip began. “If I may make a suggestion, perhaps you would be more comfortable staying in the car until we know it’s safe.”

  “That sounds good,” I said, shooting him a grateful smile. “We’ll check it out and tell you if we find anything.”

  Camila didn’t need convincing. She was already nodding vigorously. It didn’t seem to matter if she actually retrieved the amulet as long as it ended up in her possession. Though we’d just started our trip, she already had dark circles under her eyes from not sleeping well in the hotel the night before. Otherwise, she remained as poised and beautiful as always.

  Feeling a bit outclassed, I raked my fingers through my dark waves of hair, trying to get the mass under control. I gave up before we’d even pulled into the taco bar.

  “The panther camp is somewhere around here,” Lord Balam said. “We’ll ask around and see if we can find out anything about the Keeper.”

  “Where is here?” I asked, stretching.

  “Outside Miami,” Lord Balam said as we climbed out of the car.

  I almost choked on the air. It was so humid I could just about drown in it, and mosquitos descended in droves even though bright afternoon sunlight washed over us. I swatted at them as we tromped along the wooden walkway to the door of the bar. A neon sign spelling out “beer” struggled to shine through the single, grimy window. A little sign taped to t
he outside of the window informed us that the health inspectors hadn’t been able to make it to the county this year, and that patrons of all eating establishments should eat at their own discretion.

  “Comforting,” I muttered as we stepped into the dim building. It smelled like stale grease, and our shoes made sticky noises as we crossed the floor. A handful of booths and tables filled most of the place. Two old white guys sat at a booth in the corner sipping beer in silence. A little girl with scraped knees sat at a table, her dirty bare feet swinging as she bent over a coloring page, furiously filling in a drawing of a pony.

  A fly buzzed by, distracting me from the other customers. I turned to see a stout man emerging from what must be the kitchen. He wiped his hands on a stained apron and picked up a pad of paper. “Welcome to Pedro’s,” he said. “I’m Pedro. You folks hungry?”

  “We’ll take four of your burrito-and-beer specials,” Lord Balam said.

  Gabor looked at him like he was crazy.

  “Anything else?” Pedro asked. If you didn’t look closely, you might have thought he was slow. But his eyes were alert, taking in our every move even as the rest of his face remained slack.

  “Anything to do around here?” Lord Balam asked as he handed over a few bills. “We’re from out of town.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Pedro said, spearing our order onto a metal peg. “I’ll have these out to you in just a minute.”

  “Friendly guy,” I said as he disappeared back into the kitchen.

  “Four beers?” asked a little voice behind us. The girl with the bare feet had left her seat and now slipped behind the counter. She climbed onto a chair and gestured between a stack of Styrofoam cups and a rack of mugs. “Here, or to-go?”

  “Here,” I said. Lord Balam quirked an eyebrow at me but didn’t protest.

  “Where are you from?” the girl asked, holding a mug under the tap.

  “Just a few hours south,” Lord Balam said.

  “You smell like air conditioning,” she said, stepping off the chair without spilling a drop from the two full beer mugs in her hands. She handed them to Lord Balam and went back to fill the other two.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where we could find some shifters around here?” I asked, lowering my voice and hoping Pedro wouldn’t come out and find us pumping his daughter for information.

  “They live in the swamp,” she said, not looking up from her task. “If you’re a shifter, you can tell them apart from the regular swamp people. If you aren’t, you can’t.”

  “What do you want with shifters?” Pedro asked, appearing from the back with a white paper sack on a tray.

  So much for stealth. “Nothing,” I said quickly.

  “Then I think you’d best be on your way,” Pedro said, holding out the bag until I had no choice but to accept it. A grease spot was already seeping down the side.

  “I can put your beers in a to-go cup,” the little girl volunteered as Pedro stood behind her, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes unfriendly.

  “We’ll be fine,” I said, edging toward the door. “Thanks, anyway.”

  Lord Balam chugged the two beers in his hands one after another, then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before following me outside. I dropped the burrito bag into the trash can and hurried after Gabor, who was already halfway to the car.

  “Hey,” Lord Balam protested, jogging after me. “I was going to eat those.”

  “Then you can thank me later when you’re still alive,” I said, nodding a thanks to Gabor, who held the car door open for us. Two old pickups had pulled up in the gravel lot and sat idling behind our vehicles.

  “If you’re going to blend in, you’ve got to eat like a local,” Lord Balam said, sliding in next to me.

  “We arrived in an armored limo with two escort vehicles,” I said. “There’s no blending in.”

  “What happened?” Camila asked, wringing her hands and glancing back over her shoulder at one of the trucks that had edged between us and the road.

  “Nothing,” I said. “They didn’t want to talk to outsiders.”

  “Let’s go,” Gabor barked into his radio, and the escort vehicle in front of us swerved around the pickup and onto the two-lane blacktop road. I tried to keep my face calm for Camila, but my heart was hammering. Were these guys trying to ambush us in broad daylight? Were they humans or shifters? Or something entirely different?

  Lord Balam shot me a grin as our car sped forward, spitting gravel. “Next time, why don’t you let me do the talking, Princess?”

  A pang went through me at the memory of Tadeu calling me that so many times. Times before he looked at me as he was about to die, hatred burning in his eyes.

  I pushed the image down, way down, and twisted around to see one of the trucks nosing in behind us so close that I couldn’t see the headlights. Shit. They were definitely after us.

  “Considering you’re wearing a fucking jaguar skin, it’s a little obvious you’re a shifter,” I snarled, turning back to Lord Balam. “So, I guess there’s no hiding who we are no matter who does the talking.”

  “You never know when you’ll need it,” Lord Balam said, his tail tickling against my calf as the car roared forward.

  Camila gasped, her eyes locked on my leg. She shrank back like Lord Balam had flicked a snake’s tongue against my skin. I remembered his tail curling around my thigh, and a shiver of heat rippled over my skin, pinching my nipples taut. I blamed the thrill of the chase as the big car barreled forward even faster.

  Balam’s tail wrapped around my ankle, but I refused to be distracted. I twisted around, trying to see through the windshield of the truck that stayed glued to our bumper. I made out a guy in a baseball cap and a hand on the wheel with tattooed knuckles.

  Suddenly, our car slammed to a halt. I flew forward, crashing into the seat facing ours, my face slamming into Gabor’s chest. His arms shot up, circling me protectively as the scream of tearing metal and shattering glass filled the air.

  Sixteen

  “Camila,” I screamed, diving toward my sister. Lord Balam had slammed into her, and when I pulled him back, he slumped to the floor, clutching his head. Camila’s fingers dabbed at a wound on her forehead where their heads had collided. The skin had torn, and blood seeped between her fingertips.

  “Check her for injuries,” Gabor barked at me, drawing his gun and scanning the windows for an attacker.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, pulling Camila’s hand away from the swelling already forming on her head. My hands shook as hard as hers. This was insane. We hadn’t even made it to their king, and we were already under attack.

  “I—I think so,” she said, her eyes dazed. Her skin went pale when she saw the splotches of red on her fingertips.

  As she swayed, I cursed myself for being so naïve. I’d never been outside our safe little nation. I had no idea what the world was like. Attacks didn’t happen in our territory—not to royals, at least. Not since Mom’s death, after which King Ocelot went a little overboard with executing anyone who so much as looked at him funny. What had Father been thinking when he sent Camila on this quest first? Yes, he’d done it once, but the world had been a different place thirty years ago.

  “I think maybe I should lie down,” Camila said, laying her head back on the seat and closing her eyes.

  She should never have come on this mission. She should be at home, safe in our palace with its boring tutors and manicured gardens. How would we get any of the amulets if we had to spend every waking moment protecting Camila? Not to mention the conspicuous transportation required to keep her safe.

  “I’m going to talk to them,” Lord Balam said. “See what they want.”

  “Are you crazy?” I demanded. “They just tried to kill us!”

  “Are we going to live in here for the rest of our lives?” Balam asked. “We have to get out eventually, and the sooner we talk to them, the sooner we’ll know what they want.”

  Staying in the car sounded a whol
e lot better to me, but he had a point. We might as well get out and face them before they decided to dismantle the car to get to us.

  “Fine, let’s go,” I said.

  “I’ll go with him,” Gabor said. “Stay here with the princess.”

  “Yeah, not happening,” I said. “You’re her guard. I’m supposed to negotiate.”

  “Your Grace,” he started, but I held up a hand to stop him.

  “I didn’t come here to be a princess carted around in a limo,” I said. “I know you think you have to protect me, but I came to do a job, the same as you. My job is to get the amulets. Not to wait here for you to bring them to me. That’s Camila’s job.”

  Gabor’s brows drew together in a troubled frown.

  “You ready, Princess?” Lord Balam asked, smiling like he found all this amusing.

  I turned back to Gabor, pressing my palm against his knee. “You’re the best guard we have,” I said. “That’s why Father sent you. Guard her well.”

  Gabor’s scowl deepened, and after a second, he lifted my hand and pushed his gun into it. “Guard yourself well, Your Grace.”

  “You need this.”

  He shook his head. “I have other weapons.”

  Right. He was a shifter. If needed, he could shift into a cat and fight with claws and teeth. The prospect of seeing someone shift both terrified and fascinated me.

  I took a deep breath and brushed my wild hair off my face before turning to Lord Balam. “I’m ready.”

  We stepped out into the harsh glare of the sunlight. The limo had hit the front guard vehicle, a giant SUV that had slid halfway off the road, its nose sunk in water and grasses. The truck behind us had slammed into us, and behind that, our second escort SUV and the other truck had pulled up. Their doors stood open, and a skirmish had broken out on the road. Lord Balam jogged toward them.

  “Your Grace,” cried the driver of the sinking guard vehicle, running up to grab my arm. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I don’t know what happened. There was something in the road, and I braked suddenly… I saw something.”

  “What did you see?” I asked, anxious to follow Lord Balam. Even with four royal guards surrounding me, I felt exposed. I wanted to be with Balam, to arm myself with knowledge of what the fuck was going on.