Headstrong Prince

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “Uh…?” She wasn’t sure what to say to his rush of questions. “Dragons? Is that a gang?”

  “They are a group, yes. But do not worry. You are safe. I checked the alleyway. A man was sleeping. I gave him money for food and asked him to please leave the area for his own safety, but he appeared harmless.”

  “Who are you?” she asked, not taking her eyes off him.

  “Forgive me. I am Pr…” He hesitated and looked down at the floor. “I am called Ivar Othevar. And you?”

  “Beth—Bethany Watson. Call me Beth. What are you?” Her throat was so tight. She could barely breathe, but at least the words were coming faster now.

  “Beth. I am a…” Again he hesitated, glancing up at her before looking back down. “I am a driver of trucks. I take a route between Oxford and New Orleans.”

  “You’re a cat.” Beth lifted her hand toward the paintings but still didn’t take her eyes from him. “I saw you in the alley when I got into my car. That was you, right? You’re the cat-man.”

  He moved to look where she gestured. Seeing the paintings, he stared at them. She studied his bare back for movement. The solid lines of muscles along his spine flexed. She didn’t know why she wasn’t scared, but she suddenly felt safe.

  “You did this?” he asked, not looking away. “Have you been following me? Is that why you are in this city, too?”

  “I live here. I took a picture of you while visiting Oxford last year. It was an accident. I didn’t even know I had taken it until after I came home and was going through my files. I hope you don’t mind. I took some artistic liberties. There was something sad and determined in your expression.” Beth had stared at that photo for hours, trying to interpret the emotions. Never had she imagined she would be staring at him, standing shirtless no less, in her living room.

  He didn’t move.

  “And then tonight…” She finally looked away long enough to grab her camera bag from beside the door. When she turned back, she almost ran into his chest. She hadn’t even heard him move.

  Agile like a cat, she thought with a tiny shiver.

  “I saw…” She wasn’t sure how to say it. “I saw a tiger and then you in the alley. You can change, can’t you? Shift your shape from one form to another?”

  He looked as if he might deny it but then nodded once.

  “How can…? I mean, how do you…?” Beth wanted to touch him, to see if this was a hallucination. If someone said they saw men who shifted into cats, she’d have been one of the first to get them professional psychiatric help. “I’m sorry, I have always believed in the possibility of there being more out there, like ghosts being transferred energy at the time of death or psychic abilities developing in people who use a higher percentage of their brain, but I’m finding it very hard to believe in shape-shifting.”

  Without warning, Ivar’s body started to change. Fur sprouted along his features, running from his face down his chest. Claws extended from his fingertips and his eyes began to glow. For several deep breaths, he stood as a man-cat before the transformation continued. His body trembled violently as he bent over. She watched his form contract, pressing into the shape of a large tiger as if his cells somehow shrunk to fit the new frame. The jeans slid from his feline hips. He stepped toward her, head lowered. She lifted her hand to gesture at him to stop, and he placed his head against her palm. The softness of his fur took her by surprise, not that fur was soft, but that it was real. She touched him longer than she should have, hesitantly petting him as if he were a domesticated animal.

  Fur grew, changing into longer hair. She felt the shift beneath her hand as the locks tangled around her fingers. He looked up at her, cat eyes turning more human, paws growing into hands. The fur receded as if it had never been. The man knelt before her.

  Naked.

  He knelt before her naked.

  Beth realized her hand was still in his hair and she jerked back. Her skin tingled as if he’d done something magical to her. The lamplight cast over him, giving an appealing view of his flesh. The soft yellow tint of the bulb fused against his skin like sculpted granite, carved by the hand of a Renaissance master. She averted her eyes. “You should put your clothes on.”

  She heard the sound of his movement and hoped—didn’t hope?—he complied.

  When the sounds behind her stopped, she waited a few more seconds before peeking over her shoulder. He stood, completely dressed. He’d even put on his shirt.

  “Do you find it easier to believe now that you have seen?” he asked.

  “Does it hurt?” Beth wasn’t sure why she asked that out of all the questions she could have come up with. She imagined what it might feel like to have her body crushed and molded into a new shape.

  “No.” He shook his head. “It does not cause me pain.”

  “Are there more cat-people?” Beth’s mind raced. She wasn’t sure why this man was standing in her apartment like her artistic muse come to life. Maybe she was crazy? She heard stories of mental patients living in their own world but actually were in a hospital somewhere. That explanation sounded more plausible than a shifter in her living room.

  “Yes.” He nodded once.

  “There are cat-shifters in New Orleans?” How did no one know about this?

  “I do not think so. I have looked, but I have not found cat-shifters here.”

  “Is it rude of me to ask these questions?” Beth wanted to touch him again, so she pulled her hands together and held them in front of her stomach. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I thought you were some kind of sideshow curiosity. It’s just… Wow, you know.”

  “You should ask questions if you have them.” His eyes strayed to the picture she’d painted of him.

  “Do you have questions for me?” Beth couldn’t imagine what he’d have to ask her, but it seemed polite to at least offer.

  “May I see this photo you said you took of me in Oxford?”

  “Of course.” Beth crossed to her portfolio and laid it on her small dining table. She flipped through the pages before finding what she was looking for. She gestured down at it. “Here.”

  Ivar stepped closer to her, and she felt the heat radiating off his body. She smelled the subtle scent he wore, soap and something else she couldn’t define. This couldn’t be a delusion. It felt too real. But if it was a delusion, did that mean she could lift her hand and touch his hair again? If this weren’t real, then it wouldn’t matter, would it?

  “I remember this night,” he said after a long moment. “It was the night I arrived. I saw you across the street with what I thought was a magical device.”

  “Magical device?”

  “Camera.” He gave a small laugh. “I have learned much since then.”

  “You saw me take your picture? I didn’t see you.”

  “A man bumped into you. He had funny white facial hair.” Ivar gestured to his face to indicate a long mustache. “I have not seen the style since.”

  “I vaguely remember that happening. It was an extraordinary night. College kids were talking about a cat-man. Some guy was walking around asking people to marry him.” Beth looked at the photo as if it could unlock the past.

  “You saw Finn?” This news seemed to excite him.

  “Yes.” She slowly nodded. “I think he said that was his name. Do you know him?”

  Ivar’s eyes flashed with green briefly before disappearing beneath his closed lids. He nodded once.

  “In that picture, what were you running from?” She inched closer to him. The floorboards creaked, and his eyes opened. The glow was gone.

  “I wasn’t running from anything.”

  “What were you chasing?” Beth studied his expression, staring as he looked at his photo. In some ways, she’d lived with his face for months, and that made him feel like a friend, but she had to remind herself that he was a stranger who had come to her home less than an hour ago.

  “You. I was trying to get to you.”

  The answer was honest, simple, a
nd she didn’t know what to do with it. It thrilled and frightened her at the same time. She found herself leaning closer. “Because of a magic camera?”

  He shook his head. “Because I was lost, and when I saw you I didn’t feel as lost.”

  Beth’s breath caught as he turned to face her. He stood close. There was something almost lover-like in the way he regarded her. She’d be a fool not to admit the chemistry she felt, a magnetic pull to be near him. But physical attraction aside, she wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend. She had a plan. A good plan that involved establishing herself as an artist. “Where do you think the other cat-shifters are if they are not here?”

  “I know they are on Qurilixen. I have been searching for the Draig in this city, but I have been unable to locate them until tonight.”

  “Draig?”

  “Dragon-shifters,” he explained.

  “Dragon-shifters?” Is that what he’d meant when he said the dragons had been following her? This night kept getting stranger with each passing moment. Cats were one thing. She had seen a tiger before. But for some reason, the idea of mythological dragons was a little harder to believe.

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Dragon-shifters come from the same place as my people.”

  She felt he was telling the truth but didn’t know exactly what to do with the information. She also wasn’t sure which questions to ask next. “I don’t understand why you are telling me all of this. Why are shifters interested in me? I’m just… me.”

  “I’m telling you because you asked.” His eyes dipped to her mouth as if he wanted to kiss her. For an insane moment, she thought about letting him.

  “You were lost in Oxford when I happened to be visiting there. And now you are in New Orleans looking for dragons.” Beth shook her head and backed away. What was she doing? This whole evening was insanity. She had the urge to lock herself in her bathroom and hide in the bathtub where no one would think to look for her until morning. “Is this some kind of joke? I mean that’s a lot of coincidences. I don’t know who would want to prank me like this, but…”

  Ivar stepped back as if she had somehow insulted him with her observation. “I don’t question what the gods have planned. I did that once, and it did not end well for me. They sent me to you, and I will not fail to understand what I must do.” He went to the window and looked out. “Something is not right. What do the dragons want from you? They did not appear until I saw you.”

  “What do you mean the dragons want me? Why would anyone want me? I’m just an artist. My last art critique was earlier today, and it was brutal if I’m honest about it, so it’s possible I’m not even a noteworthy artist.”

  At that, he frowned. “Then you must stop talking to people who do not understand art.” He gestured at the painting of his face. “You captured something I have not wanted to face within myself.”

  There was a conviction in his voice, and he complimented her more with that one declaration than she’d received in a lifetime. “Why are the dragons after me? What do they want?”

  “You tell me. You ran from them.” He again looked out the window.

  “No. I ran from you. I saw your eyes change when you were on the bench next to the Victorian lady statue, and I panicked.” She went to see what he looked at. “Are there dragons outside right now?”

  “You can’t sense them?” He frowned before answering his own question. “Of course you can’t. You’re an Earth human. If you know nothing about this, they must be here for me. This is more than I wanted to say to you tonight, but I found the dragon-shifters. Or, more to the point, I think they found me. There is a chance they will not be happy with my presence. They defected from Qurilixen, and they know I’ll want to take them back to our home planet with me. They might not be willing to return.”

  “Planet?” As in alien cat-shifter capturing dragon-shifters visiting Earth? Every time she began to feel as if she might be sane, he’d say something else that made her believe otherwise. “What exactly did you mean when you stated that you arrived the night I took that picture?”

  “That was the night Finn and I came through the portal to visit Earth.” He said the words, yet he managed to keep a straight face.

  “Sooo,” she drew out her words as if to prompt the punch line that hadn’t been forthcoming. “Is this, um, your first time, ah, visiting us?”

  “No. We have come before through the portals. Until recently, though, they were sealed, and travel was forbidden. Our ancestors used them to escape from Earth long ago, and now we use them to come here and look for brides.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded abnormally high in her disbelief.

  “Yes.” He nodded, not seeming to notice the fact she was inching further and further away from him. He smiled. “It is nice to be able to talk about this to a living person. Portal travel is a very political matter on my planet.”

  “Of course. I think it would be.” Her eyes were wide as she nodded. I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. This guy is crazy. I may be crazy.

  “The shifter elders remember what it was like when your people tried to hunt us to extinction.”

  “We did that?” She slowly sat down on a small bar stool, letting the crazy just play itself out. This was almost too much.

  “Yes. There are a few elders left who used to live on Earth who have told us the stories. Religious zealots spread fear about anything that was supernatural. They called us evil. Cats and dragons made an alliance. We left together through the portal and buried the opening inside a mountain so humans could not follow us. The intent was never to return.”

  “But you did return.” Each time he paused, she felt compelled to speak. Beth told herself to be quiet, to not encourage him.

  “It would seem the gods had other plans for us, and we were obligated to come back. Shifter females stopped being born, and without humans, there is no source of compatible mates for my people—at least not in the numbers we need for long-term survival.”

  “So you’re here to…” She didn’t bother to finish the sentence. Her eyes strayed to a bottle of vodka on her kitchen counter. She rarely drank, but she contemplated reaching for the liquor now.

  “Finn and I came to find brides to stop the elders from sealing off the portal at the next royal assembly. They were to take a vote, but the outcome was inevitable. So, we took action to keep the portals open until we could find another way to supply brides to shifter men.”

  “And why would your coming here keep them open?”

  “If the elders saw us happily married, then they would be forced to change their minds.” He sighed heavily. He again checked the window. “Finn and I are princes. If they didn’t leave them open, the single men still looking for mates would force their hand. To close the portals only after the princes found wives would send a bad message to the people.”

  Cat-shifters. Dragon-shifters. Aliens. Portals. Princes. Insanity.

  “Come. We should leave this place.” He moved as if he expected her to follow him out the apartment door.

  Beth stood from the stool.

  “Um…” She followed him, but instead of going into the hall after him, she shut the door and locked the deadbolt. “No.”

  9

  Ivar tensed as the door swung shut and then slammed behind him. The click of the lock seemed to drive home the fact that Beth hadn’t followed him, instead she was still inside and he, outside.

  He reached for the doorknob, testing it. It was locked. “Beth?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Beth, are you safe?”

  Ivar pressed his ear to the door and focused his hearing. He heard the sound of footsteps and the clinking of ice in a glass. Liquid poured. He didn’t understand.

  It was fairly obvious that the gods wanted him to be with this woman. He’d seen her the first night he was trapped, felt compelled to go to her before she disappeared. His intentions to claim any woman were not the most honorable in hindsight. Apparently, the gods had wan
ted him to wait for the right one. But tonight, when he saw her again, he knew. She was meant to be with him. He had to protect her. He had to keep her safe.

  Mated shifter men all explained love the same way. One look, one moment, and a man knew whom he was meant to spend eternity with. He felt it that first night. He felt it now. It was as much a part of him as shifting and breathing. It was fate. And Ivar’s fate was named Beth.

  So why in all the blasted forests was she not following him to safety?

  The gods were not going to make this easy on him.

  Ivar pressed his ear closer to the door. Nothing. He looked to the floor seeing two shadows the size of feet. He leaned and looked inside the peephole. Beth gasped on the other side, and the shadows disappeared as she moved away.

  “Beth?” Ivar knocked on the door. “Do you need time to prepare for the journey?”

  She was beautiful, so much more than he’d remembered. When he’d knelt before her, gazing up in the soft light after she’d stroked his head, it had taken everything in him to resist wrapping her in his arms to kiss her. The animal inside of him wanted to play. The man inside him had to put a tight leash on the big cat. Ripping off his mate’s clothing wasn’t exactly honorable, at least not during their first conversation.

  Well, unless she wanted him to.

  Ivar’s grin only lasted a few seconds. His senses tingled. He’d momentarily forgotten the dragons on the street below. He looked down the dimly lit hallway. The building was old and had a faint musky smell. It was not the place he wanted his princess to live. Beth deserved palaces and exquisite gowns. He wanted to give them to her.

  “I told you.” The Draig voice was unmistakable as was his use of the Qurilixian language.

  “Yes, but is it him?” another voice answered. “Where is his guard?”

  Ivar moved toward the sound. Sternly, he ordered, “Make yourselves known.”

  Seconds later, a door cracked open, and a woman glanced into the hall. Seeing Ivar, she slammed it shut.

  “I told you they would hunt us down, Galen,” the first voice stated. “It is just as we were warned. They won’t let us find happiness. They want us at their mercy.”