A Tiger's Bride (A Lion's Pride Book 4) (15 page)

The pompous human glared. “Stop trying to be clever. Just because you’re using words and put on a human face doesn’t change anything, beast.”

“My name is Dmitri, although that is reserved for friends and family. You, you may call me
knyaz
. My prince works too.”

“You have no name. No title. All you are to me is a trophy.” The human waved his hand in a wide sweep that encompassed the mounted heads on the walls. Faces frozen in a rictus, marbled eyes catching the lamplight, the taxidermied heads played silent witness to their discussion.

“You killed all of these animals.” Dmitri stated, didn’t ask.

The man sneered. “Every single one. Dirty beast people. And pathetic to boot. I expected more sport from your kind. I even gave them all a fair chance to run. Not my fault the hunter was mightier than they were.”

The human bragged about his murders. And for what? Sport?

I’ll show him who is master of the sport.
Dmitri also enjoyed hunting, especially those who killed his kin—such as poor stuffed Jorge in the corner, who just wanted to putter in his garden. No more fresh tomatoes from the vine. Mother would not be pleased.

Fear not, Jorge, I will avenge you.
And avenge all the others who had perished at this idiot’s hands.

First, though, the legalities, because killing humans for fun was prohibited. Bloody spoilsports in charge. “Wife, please note, should you be asked later by the tribunal, that this human does hereby admit his guilt in the blatant pursuit and murder of kindred spirits. It is my belief that these are hate crimes. The human shows a disturbing disregard for what he’s done and general…” Dmitri paused, looking for a word.

Teena supplied it, having also shifted, and praise be, that damn thong was at least covering part of her. “Idiocy.”

“What?” He’d forgotten what they were talking about.

“I said the human hunter is an idiot. Which means there’s only one verdict.”

“Guilty. He must die.”

Click
. A throat cleared. “Excuse me, but you both seem to have forgotten I’m the one holding the fucking gun.”

“Oh dear. That really probably wasn’t a good idea,” Teena muttered before she lunged at the hunter.

And that was when her mighty power, which he was going to start calling “making-shit-happen” kicked in.

Rawr
.

Diving toward the guy holding the gun, Teena could only hope that her usual ill luck would strike.

Or was Dmitri right? Did she perhaps just have a different type of luck?

As she soared through the air, very conscious that her unfettered breasts led the way, she just hoped she could startle the human with the gun enough to get the upper edge.

She startled him all right.

Only the whites of his eyes showed, and his jaw dropped as he staggered back from her, changing the trajectory of his aim. He recovered enough to pull the trigger, but that type of gun had a huge recoil. The gun bucked, the barrel swung, and apparently she had a lot in common with a barn. She was impossible to miss.

Ow.

He shot me.

Just the graze of a bullet, though, enough to nick skin and make her bleed.

He might as well have waved a red flag in front of her husband.

Apparently, it wasn’t just tigers who could leap a dozen feet in a single bound. Her husband coiled those muscled thighs of his and soared through the air to land on the hunter.

As he rapped the head of the human on the floor, he growled. “You.”
Bang
. “Don’t.”
Whack
. “Shoot.”
Bop
. “My wife.” A rapid set of taps. “Bad human. Dead human. Judgment carried.”

With a final crack, the cause for their troubles stared sightlessly at a ceiling, where a massive eagle floated on fishing line.

The cognizant part of Teena found the violence off-putting, but the predator in her—and face it, she was more hunter than prey—-liked that her mate had taken care of the threat.

“Good kitty.” She purred the words.

He heard. The massive body turned, still in a crouch. With a growly noise, he dropped their dead enemy, but danger still radiated from his skin, a vibrating tenseness that truly was sexy.

Look at that naked skin. So close and begging for a lick.

How about a rub even? Was it something in her expression, the fact that her nipples hardened, or did he feel the same thing? She didn’t know or really care.

They didn’t need an excuse to come together in a clash of bodies. Their arms wound around the other, their lips meshed with passion and breathlessness.

“We have got to stop meeting this way,” he said.

“How? Do you mean going from one calamity to another? Get used to it. This is what happens around me. We have to take our moments when and where we can.” She nipped at his neck.

She couldn’t miss the shudder that went through him.

“Wrap your legs around my waist.”

She did as told but still asked, “Why?”

“We are not going anywhere until I claim you.”

“Um, Dmitri, I hate to point out the obvious, but we’re going somewhere, and, guess what, still unclaimed over here.”

“Don’t confuse me with details, little kitten. I am too aroused to think straight. We are finding a spot that I might give you the wedding night we skipped.”

“What’s wrong with right here?” she asked as Dmitri jogged through a kitchen with lovely gleaming counters, and an older woman rolling dough. Or at least frozen in the action of, pin held over the floury ball, her jaw hanging.

“Hello there, cook. I am going to debauch my wife, which shall leave me famished. I’ll double your salary if have a good-sized breakfast for me and my kitten in about an hour.”

“An hour?” Tina squeaked.

“You’re right. That’s too long. Given the level of my need for you, more like fifteen minutes. But I can wait at least thirty minutes for food. We can cuddle while we wait.”

“Dmitri. That is so…so…”

“Russian?” he supplied with a grin.

She laughed. “Perfect!”

Dmitri proved his single-mindedness in hunting them down a bedroom. Two flights of stairs? He wasn’t even breathing hard at the top. Did he panic or grouse when the enemy stepped into view holding a knife? Nope, he just dodged sideways. The thug lunged, tripped on his untied bootlace—talk about ill luck—and tumbled down the stairs. She winced when she saw where the knife landed.

Dmitri whooped. “Look at that, kitten. You’re like kryptonite to my enemy.”

“You’re quoting superhero comic book stuff now? What happened to romance novels?”

“Superheroes always get the girl.” He winked as he swung open a door and then kicked it shut with a foot.

“Are we there yet?” she teased.

“We are. I present to you, a bed.” Over to the massive frame he strode, and with a smile, he dropped her on the mattress.

She hit the springs. They contracted then, with an almost audible
boing
, expanded, sending her up, which might not have been too bad except Dmitri lunged to grab her, hit the side of the bed, and toppled. He didn’t squish her, just landed on the mattress, but a puny made-for-human bed was no match for a tiger and a lioness.

Crack
.
Thump
. The bed collapsed on one side, and Teena bounced again, this time right off it.

This had happened enough times that she knew to tuck, roll, and then sprawl on the thick fur covering the floor—sniff, the mundane kind thank goodness.

“Kitten! Get back on this bed this instance.”

She rolled her head to see Dmitri had rolled onto his back on the sadly listing bed. Given it still had three more legs that could collapse, she stayed where it was safe.

But lonely.

She patted the spot beside her. “Oh. Dmitri.”

“No. There is a perfectly fine bed right here.”

Crack
.

Another leg cracked at the head, and the tilt changed the angle and rolled Dmitri. He didn’t wait to see where he’d land. To his feet he sprang, towering over her.

Six foot plus of prime male flesh. Naked male flesh.
Mine.

Oh yes.

Did her gaze give her away? Perhaps it was the lick of her lips that made his eyes smolder. Whatever the reason, in a blink, he was by her side, kneeling on the rug, his lips seeking out hers. Their mouths clung together, oblivious to where they were. Only one thing mattered.

We have to touch.

It wasn’t an option anymore; it was a necessity. The need burned within. The compelling urge to have him come within her, to claim her—and claim him—overrode all other concerns.

It seemed the same urgency possessed him. His mouth might be content to sip and taste from hers, but his hands were on a mission of exploration.

Callused fingertips rubbed the soft skin of her belly, sliding over her skin, eager to touch and taste. Taste skin that hadn’t seen a shower in a while.

“Hold on,” she said. As she rolled away to her side, breaking the embrace, she propelled her self to her feet.

He might have uttered, “Get back here. I was not done,” but she ignored him. Just like he ignored his own command, staggering to his feet with a growled, “Kitten.”

Did it have to do with the fact that she stripped as she sashayed away? As to her destination, a bedroom in a place like this had exactly what she needed, a bathroom and, even better, a large walk-in shower.

For her first time, she’d like to at least be bathed. Clean for the dirty acts to come.

Naked, and unabashed, she stood for a moment and basked in the heat of his smoldering gaze. The skin between her shoulders prickled, her skin hyper aware.

She couldn’t resist and peeked over her shoulder. In sucked her breath.

He’s magnificent.

Dark hair tousled by their play. The haughty lines of his face stark with need.

A need for her.

She stepped into the shower and gasped as she turned the knob, the cold water spritzing her but quickly getting warm.

His nostrils flared, yet he said not a word. He didn’t need to. Erotic tension poured off him, his entire body held taut and coiled, ready to spring.

So dangerous.

So hot.

Mine

“Come here,” she demanded. Who was this bold Teena? This brazen temptress who called to him?

Did he hear her thoughts? Because he answered. “You are mine.”

Possession could be a sexy thing.

He came to her, her husband and soon-to-be lover. The large shower quickly became cramped.

It was perfect. His body brushed against hers, igniting all her nerve endings. His hands took to rubbing circuitously over her back, each time widening the circle of his stroke. He built the tension, moving closer and closer to…

“Aaah.” Her head went back as she sighed. His hands cupped the swell of her breasts, weighing them in his big palms. The slight squeeze created small shivers.

Against the cold tile wall of the shower, he pressed her, his big body cushioning against hers. A thigh split apart her own, the bunched muscle a shuddering pleasure to grip and rub against.

Her sex reveled in the friction against his leg. But it wasn’t what she ultimately wanted.

She reached down and grasped him, the thick root of his cock barely fitting in her grip.

So wide. And the length… Up the slickness of his shaft her hand slid, the hot steel, hard, rock hard actually, and almost alive. It tensed and pulsed as she played with it. For every sign of pleasure, a quiver went through her sex.

Now. Please now.

She must have whispered it aloud because he answered. “Yes. But not here.”

He stepped from the shower, and she could have sobbed at the loss of contact. But he quickly drew her after him, wrapping her in a fluffy towel before sweeping her into his arms and stepping into the bedroom. The bed still leaned at an angle.

He looked so pained. Poor guy with his obsession on making her first time perfect.

“I know you’ve got your heart set on a bed, but don’t a lot of romances say a rug in front of a fireplace is just as good?”

Lucky for them it was a gas fireplace because Dmitri set her on the plush carpet and insisted on lighting it for effect.

She might have complained, except it gave her a moment to calm down and to admire the movement of his ass when he hunted for the dial to activate the gas-burning hearth.

Flickering flames danced behind him as he spun with a pleased look. Back to her side he came, leaning down and resuming their kiss and the press of their bodies.

Had she thought she’d cooled down during that respite? Never. The banked fire flared to life, even more intense than before. The throb of her sex demanded satisfaction.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him close to her as her hips angled below him.

A sharp nip of his lower lip had him chuckling.

“Are you ready for me, kitten?”

Would he stop torturing her? She bit the column of his throat, a firm chomp, hard enough to break a little skin, enough to give her a more primal taste of her man.

He let out a sound, unlike any, a cross between a roar and a groan.

The teasing ended.

The head of his wide shaft nudged at her lips. It dipped into the dewing honey, wetting itself. As his lips claimed hers, fierce and controlling, he pushed.

Oh my.

It was unlike anything she’d imagined, the stretch so noticeable, and yet…pleasurable. He might prove a snug fit, but it was happening.

She dug her nails into his back, arching at his slow penetration that turned into a sharp tug of pain.

He’d breached her maidenhead.

…and kept going.

Her breath came in hiccupping pants, her whole body tense and coiled. His hips were rotating against her, grinding himself into her. It was fucking incredible.

Her mouth opened in a soundless scream. She arched. She clung to him and, at the same, time pushed away.

The intensity. The pleasure… The—

Like a slow wave, a big one, followed by more soldier waves, ranks and ranks of them, rolled through her body.

She might have called his name. She might have possibly died.

But one thing was for sure.

He’s mine.