by R. J. Blain
How did a lioness sneak onto my detail? “I think you need a beer for being forced to put up with me.”
She grinned. “I think you need some formal training where you’re not being tossed around like a sack of grain for a change. A workout will do you good. I’m formally trained with a sword, so I might be a decent sparring partner for you. I can also arrange for a good instructor to work with us. I’ve a few contacts I can impose on.”
I sat straighter. “While you’re working miracles, can you get me on a local courier route?”
“I can’t promise, but I can most certainly try. The pride always needs packages delivered, and controlled work seems far more productive than chasing you down every other day because you’re bored out of your mind. Men. They seem to believe they can catch a tiger by her tail and keep her caged at their convenience. I’m a lioness. I know better.”
Anatoly hissed at the Secret Service agent. “You’re not supposed to be encouraging her.”
“There’s no reason you can’t do your work while accompany your tigress. She’s named Runs Against Wind for a reason. It’s not her fault you refuse to acknowledge that. I’ve been trying to convince the First Gentleman that a trip is the best medicine for her at this point in time. Her gaudy little necklace will protect her, as we’ve already seen. It bound itself to her for a reason. What that reason is? Who knows.” Beverly strolled over and sat on the edge of the table, snagging Matt’s beer out of his hand and taking a swig. “I can tell you this, however. Your tigress is healthy. Her horses are healthy, even the scrawny one with patchy fur. You’re worse than a lion with your posturing. And trust me, I know all about lions. Gabe is such a lion.”
I toasted Beverly with my beer. “Think you can whip those two old men into shape, Beverly?”
“It depends on why I’m whipping them into shape? Your agents are just doing their jobs. I know it steps on your toes, but they’re good at what they do.”
For the first time in months, I thought I could do my job well for a change—and for a good cause. At the same time, I could hunt my past, slaughter it, and put it behind me forever. “If the damned tiger is going to be stuck in meetings about a damned stone that grows feet and walks off, then let’s go find the damned stone and be done with it already. I’ve got a Weapon Clan to beat up, too.”
Anatoly snorted. “I wasn’t all that serious about you taking on an entire clan to earn me.”
“Too bad. You issued the challenge, so you’re just going to have to deal with it. And frankly, they need to be disciplined for losing their damned Starfall Stone. How better to do it than by kicking their asses before giving it back? That makes my victory all the sweeter.”
“Without a Blade Clan sword of your own?” he challenged. “You won’t stand a chance, Runs Against Wind.”
“I don’t need a Blade Clan sword to kick their asses, thank you very much. I’ll let that become one of the crowning achievements of my life. When I win, you will surrender.”
He growled. “What are you going to do next? Ask for a bow?”
I smirked. “Now that you mention it, that would be nice. You can wear it around your neck, and then I can leash you and prance you around Charlotte at my whim. I’ll make Todd shift and ride him while I lead you around. I’ll even have Todd dress me up so I’m particularly lovely.”
Nothing pleased me quite as much as riling Anatoly Silverston into incoherent fury over my latest jab, and when the bar brawl resumed, he waded in and took his temper out on one of Matt’s poor tables. Turning to the bartender, I said, “I’ll pay for that one. I goaded him into it.”
Anatoly got unreasonable whenever he thought someone might see me when I was looking at my best. Some women didn’t like the look of jealousy on their man, but Anatoly wore it well—and only with me.
He thought I wore jealousy well, too.
No wonder Siberians drove everyone crazy. We were well on our way to driving ourselves crazy, and everyone’s annoyance at our behavior fueled my need to tug my tiger by the tail.
“That’s not necessary, Runs Against Wind. I’ll charge the Secret Service. It’s their fault for not keeping a better eye on you and that damned tiger.”
I laughed, and while word would ultimately reach my aunt and uncle in the Oval Office, it’d be worth the scolding. “Just tell me when you want me to break it up, Matt.”
The bartender rose to his feet with a heavy sigh. “I’ll go get the stick. I’d like a bar left at the end of the day.”
I worked out the worst of my nerves putting an end to the brawl, and I even got to spar with Beverly, who wielded a table leg with pleasing enthusiasm. I blamed the felines in us for how our spat turned into a wild chase across the bar, punctuated with hisses and the occasional roar.
The Hope Diamond glittered once near the start of the melee, pulsing with a pale blue nimbus and washing Matt’s stick in its light. His beloved baseball bat of bar protection would never be quite the same, but I figured he wouldn’t mind its newfound case of indestructible, as not even a table was able to withstand its increased might.
My roaring summoned my secret service agents, and when Randal hissed at me for giving them the slip, Beverly and I went for them like they were the dessert of our bar brawl menu.
One day, I’d stop trying to pounce either agent; they always dropped me to the floor without delay. To make sure I didn’t go anywhere, Simmons sat on me. My roar of disapproval captured Anatoly’s attention, who decided the best place for him was seated on my back.
“Damned tiger,” I growled.
Randal seized Anatoly by the scruff of his neck. “The easiest way to catch a wayward council member is to catch his lady. While I would’ve been happy to leave you to your brawl, Jesse, Anatoly is needed in another meeting.”
I drummed my fingers on Matt’s floor. “I see I’m being cruelly used as bait again. Give me something useful to do, Randal. I’m tired of being bored.”
“To be fair to her, she was just watching the fight while sipping a beer in the corner,” Beverly announced from her position prone on the floor beside me. “She only got involved when Matt gave her the stick.”
My agents glared at the bartender, who retrieved the fallen bat and returned it to its place behind the bar. “The fight ended after she cracked the first table in half with the bat. Also, I’m very impressed my bat survived that.”
If he wasn’t going to mention the bat had glowed blue in the Hope Diamond’s light, neither would I.
While Randal kept a hand on the back of Anatoly’s neck, I twisted until I could grab hold of the tiger’s knee. “My tiger. You can’t take him, Randal. My tiger. I will fight you for him. I saw him first, so he’s mine.”
“You can’t stake any claims on him right now, Jesse. He has an important meeting.”
I roared at my agent, and I shifted, which made a mess of my clothes, as I’d put on a lot of pounds after recovering from my menagerie of illnesses. After some lessons with Anatoly, with the threat of tiger claws in my ass as motivation to do the job right and without delay, I transformed in less than thirty seconds with my fur growing in last. My agents cursed, and Randal lost his hold on my tiger, scrambling to dodge my massive black paw.
“Jesse!”
I inhaled, but before I could roar again, Anatoly wrapped his arms around my neck and drew my head against his chest. “All right, my beautiful tigress. Easy does it. No mauling your agents. I know you’re upset and bored, and I’ll look into ways to fix that now that you’re feeling better. How about this? I’ll take you to the meeting with me, and I’ll tell them you’re cranky about being separated from me. Those council member busybodies will ask you really nicely to keep the discussion private. You probably know just as much as everyone else in the room, too, so you’ll be useful in the discussion, although we’ll need to swing by your suite for a change of clothes.”
The slight emphasis on my suite reinforced his continual displeasure over having been barred from moving in with me
—or being able to move me out of the country’s seat of power to his home in Charlotte. On that, we were on the same page. I didn’t want to be stuck under my aunt’s thumb forever, but she always managed to talk me into staying.
Frequent visits from Anatoly, Todd, and my uncle helped with that.
It wouldn’t help for much longer, as I’d rather fight every night with the damned tiger than attend fancy dinners with a strict avoidance of beer. I didn’t know what my aunt had against beer, but if I didn’t regain my easy access to alcohol, I’d snap. Or bite Anatoly.
Or both.
I figured my asshole aunt wanted me to take a bite out of the damned tiger. I’d already snuck a few nibbles of his throat as taste tests, finding him much to my liking. According to Todd, I was a Siberian to the core, and I’d be leading Anatoly on for at least another year or two before mauling the bastard and taking him for a ride he’d never forget.
I figured my fuse was better counted in days or weeks, as every glance at his throat gave me ideas.
Worse, I already considered him as mine without exception, and I resented when anyone took him out of my sight, especially so he could do something like attend yet another damned meeting.
To make it clear I loathed the situation, I twisted in Anatoly’s arms and roared in Randal’s face.
“That was even moodier than normal for you,” my agent observed, and he wiped his face. “And now I’m wearing your spit. When I signed up for this, I had not anticipated wearing tiger spit.”
Anatoly chuckled. “It’s a known hazard when you’re close enough to get a good look down our throats while we’re roaring. She’s gotten very good at roaring.”
“That she has. Come on, Jesse. How about a compromise. After all of those nasty meetings your tiger has to attend, we’ll come back here for another beer, and we won’t tell your aunt.”
I perked my ears at that.
“Way to encourage alcoholic tendencies,” Simmons muttered.
“Simms, she’s a merc. Hell, even Todd has had alcohol dependency issues. It took him years to get clean, and he’s able to have one or two a week without running afoul of problems.”
Ah. Enlightenment struck me.
From the outside, I supposed it did look like I had severe alcohol dependency issues. Flattening my ears, I regarded Anatoly through narrowed eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that, Jesse. I like when you get frisky in bars. Good things happen to me when you get frisky in a bar. I’m not a participant in this scheme to curtail any drinking habits. If it lures you into coming home with me, I’ll provide a single beer for you every night. That will keep your evil aunt off my back and you get your beer. After all the shit we put up with, a beer a day is basically mandatory.”
Randal shook his head. “The no beer rule applies to you, too, Anatoly. You’re at equal risk of dependency issue as her. The President is very much aware of your tendency to look for information in bars while consuming copious amounts of alcohol.”
Anatoly hissed at my agent. To distract the tiger from my agent and potentially mauling him, I nipped his shoulder, one part to return his attention to me, one part to make it clear he was mine.
He yelped. I liked the sound so much I nipped him again.
Randal grabbed me by my scruff and did his best to haul me off Anatoly without success. “Damn it, Jesse. You can’t maul him right now.”
“She’s more than welcome to maul me at her leisure,” Anatoly replied with a rather breathless tone of voice.
“Tigers,” my agent spat, giving another tug of my scruff. “I’ll give you twenty minutes alone in your suite to get your need to posture and maul out of the way, but not a damned minute longer. Off your tiger, Jesse. He really does have to go into his meeting. While you’re marking your territory in your suite, I’ll run a messenger along and make it clear you’ll be accompanying him.”
As his terms won me the war, I released Anatoly, dragged my rough tongue over his cheek, and released him, pawing at my clothes. One day, I’d remember to strip before shifting. Only a few special pieces, such as the feathers bound in my hair, my beads, my turquoise bracelets, and the Hope Diamond, escaped from my shifter ways.
One set of my leathers tended survive, but the rest of my clothes tore to shreds.
I gave a final swipe at my ruined apparel, picked up the plain katana I carried around as a consolation for my lost Blade Clan weapon, and headed for the door, leaving the others to follow or not as they decided.
Anatoly, as always, caught up to me first, and he rested his hand on my shoulder to make it clear I was his and his alone.
And I, being the foolish Siberian I was, bit his hand hard enough to draw blood to make it clear he was mine and mine alone.
My bite mark on his hand, along with the faint tattoo I’d left on him in Miami, would do to ensure those watching understood I’d claimed him. For now.
Chapter Two
Without fail, I neglected the signs of general exhaustion. True to Randal’s word, he locked me in my suite with Anatoly for company. The tiger laughed and flipped his middle finger at the closed door. Then he shucked off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, which transformed him from a handsome man into a breathtaking one.
My urge to bite him grew, and I clenched my teeth to resist the urge.
“They’re probably fetching Gentry to make sure we stay put this time,” the tiger said, shaking his head. “They’re utterly clueless.”
Yes, they were.
I padded to the bedroom so I wouldn’t assault the tiger and sink my teeth into him, shifted, and snagged my bathrobe, wrapping in its warm, fluffy confines. After careful consideration and a battle with myself, I secured it with the sash. When I emerged to the sitting room, Anatoly had flopped onto the couch to wait for me. He yawned, and I recognized the pinched appearance of his eyes a sign of his exhaustion, likely far worse than mine.
I exhausted myself trying to find some way out of the boredom. He exhausted himself trying to make sense of the United States government and lording over all other felines. I exhausted myself further doing my best to match him. Then, because he was as much of an idiot as I, he did the same.
We were quite the pair.
I flopped on the couch beside him, snuggled close, and invited myself to nestle my head on his shoulder. As always, when we grabbed a few moments of peace, he wrapped his arm around me and dropped a kiss on the top of my head.
My aunt had been the first to kiss me that way, and her affection had broken me. Determined to acclimate me to the idea people could actually love me, Anatoly had taken to kissing the top of my head as a form of greeting or when we snatched a few moments of quiet together. The first time I hadn’t flinched, shortly after I’d fully recovered from my illness, he’d told me he was proud of how far I’d come.
I’d cried without understanding why.
I no longer flinched, and I no longer cried, either. I would blame being sick until my dying day for the ridiculous number of tears I’d shed since returning from Fort Lauderdale.
Todd enjoyed teasing me about how I became easily overwhelmed at the concept of having a family, and the stallion would likely continue to do so for the rest of my life.
Jerk.
Really, it was no wonder everyone got mad when I denied Anatoly was my boyfriend. In reality, I didn’t want him as my boyfriend. I wanted him.
Permanently.
I sighed and relaxed against the tiger I needed to hurry up and claim before someone stole him from me. “I want to go into the council and murder them every day.”
“Strangely, so do I, but I suspect you have a different reason for that than I.”
“Probably.”
“Come get your nibbles in before those busybodies interrupt us,” he replied, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “You get upset when you don’t get your nibbles in, and you haven’t gotten your nibbles in for at least a week now. At most, we’ve seen each other for a few minutes a day here and there, an
d you’ve barely snuck in a scrape of your teeth when no one has been looking.”
“Twenty minutes isn’t nearly long enough,” I complained. The process of nibbling the tiger into submission needed at least an hour, and while I mostly focused my attention on his shoulder, neck, and upper arms, I always concluded my session with his mouth.
One of these days, the damned tiger would break my restraint, and he’d only have himself to blame. I had enough experience in bed for both of us, and I enjoyed teaching him how to kiss me right, coaxing him along until he’d become a deft and interesting partner.
Without fail, someone interrupted us before we took it any further, which was my own damned fault.
My damned need to nibble took up a lot of time, and he enjoyed it as much as I.
“I’ll neglect to leave tonight, and I’ll hide in your suite under the bed until your agents decide it’s time for them to guard the hallway. We can escape through the pool and find some peace and quiet in the maze.”
The last time I had gone into the maze through one of the pools, I’d about drowned myself thanks to a damned sedative. I’d meant to explore the pools and maze again, but opportunities were few and far between. Taking Anatoly down with me would add an edge to my explorations. It would be a matter of time before Randal or Simmons figured out I’d given them the slip.
I figured my aunt hadn’t heard about the pools from Blossom’s father, Mayor Longfellow. Or Todd. Or Gentry. Hell, she probably knew, but had decided the only suite suitable for me included a pool.
Tigers loved water.
Had she thought I’d make use of the pools, I would’ve been kicked out of my suite and put somewhere safer—one with fewer escape paths.
I thought about it as I began my nibbling quest on his earlobe. I growled and gave a tug, holding on with enough force to make it clear I was the one in control.
Rather than being properly intimidated, he chuckled. “I can’t tell if that’s a yes or a no.”
