A Tiger's Bride (A Lion's Pride Book 4) (13 page)

With much yawning and stretching, Dmitri roused from his drug-induced slumber. At least his tiger did, and it seemed determined to make the man wake too.

Ever experienced the mental version of a bitch slap by big, hairy paws? It proved abrupt, but it also worked.

He seemed to be moving, just not using his own two feet. A pair of large men carried him, actually more like dragged, one to each arm. His eyes refused to stay open, the effects of the drugs lingering. In between blinks he caught sight of stone, more stone, oh and he thought he smelled a rat. The human kind, not the squeaky.

Abruptly, the moving stopped. The fellows gripping him tossed him forward. The hard floor almost smashed his nose, but instinct had him throwing out his hands and hitting the surface with his palms instead of his face.

Rude. Did those who manhandled him not know who he was?

I should tell them.
As soon as he managed to shrug this lethargic slumber. No wonder Teena seemed a touch annoyed at his repeated use of narcotics. The sensation of not being in control well and truly sucked.

No more drugging my wife.
Unless it was with kisses.

Dragging open heavy eyelids, Dmitri heard the clang of a metal-rimmed door getting slammed shut. In that moment, the loud sound proved a tie for nails on chalkboard. He still shuddered at the thought of his sister, a smirk on her face, dragging her fingers down the matte surface, doing her best to irritate him. It worked. So he retaliated. Her shrieks of outrage totally made up for the weeks he’d spent polishing silverware until he could see himself in it.

Head pounding, eyes gritty, and mouth in need of a stiff, alcoholic drink—all lovely side effects—did not prevent him from standing. And leaning. Damned floor tilted.

A crack of one lid allowed him a peek to take stock of his location. Dreary, and yet classic.
Look at that, they stuck the savage shapeshifter in a dungeon. Idiots.

Did they not do their homework?

Know thy enemy. A lesson taught on every knee of every adult he’d ever been bounced on.

To know every minute detail of a foe was to prevent getting screwed by them. Take now, for example. Had his captor done his due diligence, he would have known Dmitri’s favorite play area as a child was the dungeon—although it took a few times where his mother tossed him in a cell and said, “Come find me for a treat,” before he appreciated the entertainment value.

Such fun family times.

He took stock of his surroundings. While this dungeon didn’t belong to him, the archaic design, with its flaws and strengths, was familiar.

Hello, cell, my old friend.
His current room had no window. A shame, those types of cells were the easiest to escape from. Pop the bars and maybe punch a few blocks loose to widen the hole, and moments later, a certain
boyar
was strangling people before they could make a peep.

Forget escaping via a window. What else did he have to work with?

At least they’d not stuck him in an oubliette, a fancy French word for hole in the ground. Those usually proved the hardest to escape from.

The floor, while dusty, proved clear. No grate covering a drain so they could sluice away blood and other fluids. Poor thinking if you asked him. The cement pad was free of debris. No bones of previous occupants—which weren’t for eating, or so his mother said when she slapped them out of his hands at a young age. “No eating the leftovers,” she told him. “The flesh and bones of our enemy taste best fresh.”

Ah, the sweet lessons of youth. How he couldn’t wait to pass on these nuggets of wisdom to his own cubs, cubs he planned to have with Teena, and they would hopefully inherit her perfect demeanor and patience. Golden-haired children with her sweet smile and what about those sparkling eyes?

Screech. Put on the brakes and slow down, tiger.

The drugs must still have him in their grip. Waxing poetic about a woman. Suffice it to say he liked her, liked her enough that he imagined a future with her. Hips or no hips. Funny how he did not give a damn about the width of them. He was obsessed with his wife, and her genes had nothing to do with it.

In Teena, he’d found someone he could converse with. Someone who listened to him and didn’t belittle him, at least not in a cruel way. She could hold her own with her quick wit and melt him with a smile. She was kind, much kinder than him, but at the same time, she didn’t cringe at the roughness life could dish out.

As to her habit of inspiring tiny mishaps—and not so tiny ones—he loved it. Life with his kitten would never be boring.

A tiger needed some excitement in his life.

A life that someone seemed determined to shorten.

No dying allowed. I don’t care what the humans plan. It doesn’t matter.
Only one thing did. Getting out of here and back to his virgin wife.
So I can debauch her properly, bed or no bed.
This had gone on too long.

He kept studying his space. No cot to tear apart so he could steal the springs. Forget a frame he could use to chisel at rock or pry at the door.

The door didn’t sport any hinges he could remove. Nor did it sport a lock he could pick. The metal portal to his prison proved impervious to his fist, and the thick steel frame, embedded in the rock, held only a tiny window, a wee square with bars only wide enough to wiggle fingers through.

Utterly useless for escaping, but it was a window to the outside.

After a quick sniff to ensure no one lurked outside the door—he’d learned that lesson when his family visited his uncle’s dungeon up north and his sister bit him—he pressed close to the opening, searching for clues.

Nothing jumped out initially, but he did find himself admiring the ambiance.

Total dungeon vibe.

How he enjoyed the classics. In this case, an old dungeon that retained most of the fun characteristics that rendered it spooky, such as cobwebs in the corners—fat spiders being an awesome bonus, especially the hairy ones, which his sister hated, especially when tucked into her bed.

Totally worth the week of mucking out the stables that his mother made him do after.

The prison kept its medieval appeal with rock walls, cold, damp air, the faint rattle of chains. But it also incorporated smart modern conveniences like wrought-iron lights sculpted to appear like torches, the yellow glass cut in the shape of flame. Real torches were really awful, smoky and constantly in need of replacing. It could prove dangerous to hair as well if you walked too close and were in a stylish, long-and-shaggy phase.

The smell of burning hair to this day haunted him, especially when his sister left audio clips of his manly shouts of surprise on his voicemail.

No fire here. However, this dungeon had a solid freaking door that wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he kicked it. Not even a dent.

It was enough to make his tiger flop into a heap of shame.

“Stop that. We are not a superhero with inconsistent great strength. This is one of those times when we must use our wits.”

Of course his wits would work better if given some kind of tool. Since the only tool he had was his brain, he did the best thing he could for it. He took a nap.

Despite his slumber, when an outside noise was detected—furry swipe to his sleeping mind along with a tigerish version of “
Wake up, idiot.
”—he sprang to wakefulness.

Someone approaches.
Several someones judging by the irregular rhythm of thumping feet.

Finally some action.

Dmitri set the stage for confrontation. He sat and leaned against the back wall, an indolent pose with one leg straight, the other slightly bent, enough he could lean on it and adopt an expression of boredom. Also known as his
knyaz
look. Or, as Sasha named it, his haughty dick face.

And no, she didn’t mean hottie. She’d laughed when he’d asked.

It should be noted that felines were especially noted for their indolent, casual poses. But never doubt they were ready to act within a blink of an eye.

The footsteps approached, and his tiger practically rolled in his mind with excitement.

Calm down. I need to figure out the situation first
.

Then we play?

We will play hard,
he assured.

The footsteps staggered to a halt, and close too. He could see the close shave on the head of the guy standing right before his tiny window. However, while his enemy hovered close, the opening in the door was too small and too far from him currently for him to catch any scents.

The scraping of metal and then the click of a tumbler turning. A lock was disengaged, and the squeak of a door in need of oil meant a door opened.

It just wasn’t his door.

“Get in.”

Aha, the familiar voice of the pilot who’d jumped.

I see I am in the right place for answers.

And after answers,
Playtime!
His tiger practically roared.

“Before I do, um, can you tell me if you’ve got another prisoner?”

“Maybe. We catch a lot of things out here.”

“He’s pretty noticeable. He’s a tall guy and wide. Muscled and Russian. Did I mention very handsome? He’s got a sexy smile and the most captivating blue eyes.”

That voice. No. It couldn’t be. Forgot nonchalance. Dmitri sprang to his feet and approached the bars in the door.

He didn’t need to scent the sweet aroma to know Teena was in the hall outside his cell.

They’ve got my woman. My little kitten.

She’d gotten caught, and now they thought to toss his delicate wife in a cell. Unacceptable, and he’d do something to rectify it in a moment. It seemed she had company that didn’t mind talking.

“Who is he to you?”

“My husband. We’re newlyweds.”

“Your husband?” The disparaging sneer came through loud and clear. “Animals don’t marry. They rut. And fuck. In your case, your kind makes more monsters to infect our world.”

“What do you mean my kind? Aren’t we all human here?”

“Not all of us. Don’t try and hide what you are. I know. I’ve been watching. Guarding against your infectious spread.”

“Infectious? We’re not a disease.”

“No. You’re worse. You’re an abomination. To think you and others of your dirty kind have been living under our noses all this time.”

“Dirty? I’ll have you know we shower. With soap, I might add.”

Dmitri could have laughed at her indignant reply, and yet at the same time, he could have shaken her. Antagonizing the human male with the obvious bias could get her hurt.

He lays a finger on her and he will die screaming.

Kill him anyway.

His tiger came up with the most brilliant suggestions.

“Such a smart mouth. It won’t be so smart after I’m done with you. Did you know there’s a market for women of your kind? Even oversized ones such as yourself.”

Oversized? Had that man truly insulted his wife?

Rage built, simmering beneath his skin.

“You won’t get away with this.”

“I already have. No one knows where you are. Or even who holds you. And in a few days, weeks at the most, there will be no evidence left behind. Your tiger lover will be hunted and bagged, his fur kept as a trophy. As for you, maybe you’ll last longer than the other women. You are, after all, made of sturdier stock. But the places I sell your kind to cater to a rough crowd. As you’ll soon discover.”

“My husband will kill you for that.”

Such faith in him. Dammit. Even more pressure. This woman seemed determined to constantly challenge him.

His to-do list kept lengthening.

Save her from a dire situation—working on it.

Find a bed and debauch her properly—as soon as they got out of these cells.

Make her believe she was the one and only for him, the right one—he still had his work cut out for him there.

The noisy clump of half a dozen feet leaving saw him prowling and pacing the length of his cell. He waited until even the echo of their passage faded before springing to the door and peeking through.

Beautiful amber eyes met his via the window in the door across the hall. “Hello, husband. I have to say this honeymoon is really shaping up to be memorable. I don’t think I’ve ever been held prisoner in a medieval prison before.”

“Only the best for my little kitten.” She laughed softly. He had to ask. “You are well? They did not injure you?”

“I am fine. Once I found them, I went with them willingly, hoping they’d put me close to you.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand. You intentionally went looking for the enemy?”

“Yes!” She beamed. “For once, I’m doing something completely crazy. My family will be so proud when they find out I got caught on purpose so I could rescue you.”

“You did what!” He might have roared.

She didn’t seem impressed. “Don’t act so shocked. How else was I supposed to find you?”