A Tiger's Bride (A Lion's Pride Book 4) (6 page)

Yet so decadently, exotically sexy.

A male who drew her.

My husband.

Hers to touch. Kiss. Love if she so chose.

She could also make him love her.

Make him mine, all mine.

What a delightful concept. Except he didn’t seem keen on the whole claiming part, given he stood across the room pouring himself a beverage from a crystal-faceted decanter.

With her hands clasped in her lap, she asked the question burning inside her. “What happens now?” Would he ravish her as the next step in his ploy to reenact the romances he emulated. Should she splay herself on a couch in a pose of acceptance?

Lifting his glass, he swirled the contents before taking a sip. “In about fifteen minutes, we will leave for the airstrip. We will fly to my home in Russia. Your home now as well. But first, we must ensure your family”—his lips twisted—“does not follow. I should hate to have to kill them, especially as they would only be acting in your defense.”

“You’d kill them?” she squeaked.

He rolled his eyes. “Well of course I would if they tried to take you from me. You are mine now.”

The shiver that went through her had nothing to do with the ominous lowering of his voice as he claimed her, but more with excitement.

How decadent and sexy it sounded when he said it. But still… “I wouldn’t like it if you killed my family.”

“Then you will do your best to assure them that you are all right.” How easily said.

Not so easily done. “What am I supposed to tell them? They’ll never believe me if I said I was so enamored of you we eloped.”

“And are you?” He fixed her with his mesmerizing gaze.

“Am I what?”

“Enamored of me?” He asked it in a teasing tone, yet was it her, or was there a serious undercurrent within his query?

Surely not. He hadn’t married her because of some truly ardent need and desire for her. He merely wished to claim ownership of her genes—and use her wide hips.

Yet, despite his initial reasons, the end result remained the same.
He’s mine as much as I am his.

The very concept thrilled. However, she could almost hear Luna screech, “Stockholm syndrome!”

But was he truly her captor?

He was definitely impatient, or so she gathered, given his actions. However, other than marrying her before she could realize what had happened, and a sedative so she wouldn’t get him killed, he’d done nothing more dangerous than give her that wicked smile of his.

Well, he did kiss me.

That probably counted as dangerous, but in a way she wanted more of.

As to him posing another threat… No manacles tethered her in place. No guards held weapons trained on her.

But I’ll bet if I try to walk out the door, he stops me.

The electric thrill almost made her try.

A phone waggled in front of her. Her phone, as a matter of fact, which showed a plethora of missed calls and messages when she logged in.

Oh-no.

“How long was I out?” she asked, thumbing through the texts.

“Almost an entire day.”

“A day!”

“I needed time to alibi myself as well as secret you away.”

“How did you do that? I mean surely someone saw you lugging my unconscious body.” Because the last thing she remembered was being in his arms, engaged in a torrid embrace.

Judging by the sudden flare of his nostrils and the smoldering interest in his eyes, he remembered too. “Being a man of vast intelligence—”

Surely she didn’t snicker aloud?

“—I ensured my alibi. The wedding was too public to do something. I called over your cousins to take care of you when the drugs took effect. I made sure they saw me go to my room. Your cousin Luna even spent the night in front of my door.”

Dear cousin Luna, who brought new meaning to the word tenacity. Mother suspected a hint of stubborn mule on that side, and Luna’s mom, a bold Texan, never denied it.

“So if you were blocked, how did you do it?” How had he managed to secret her away and make her his bride?

“Delegation of course. I am a lord in Russia. I have minions to manage tasks.”

She tried not to giggle at the word minions. She did so like the yellow version of them in those movies. Did that make Dmitri, then, the super villain—with the heart of gold?

“Are these minions the same goons Meena was telling me about? I’m surprised you let those bumbling idiots anywhere near me.”

Dmitri grumbled. “I’ll admit they were not my first choice. My regular left- and right-hand were taken ill. Food poisoning apparently. So I was stuck with Gregori and Viktor. They make better pilots than henchmen.”

“You do know the term henchmen makes it sound like you’re a bad guy.”

“Excellent.” He beamed. “One has to make sure to keep one’s reputation intact.”

“So it’s true then? You’re a mob lord in Russia?”

“You make it sound so dirty. While my thoughts are dirty, my job is anything but. In the olden days, my role would have been
knyaz
or a
boyar
.”

“What, not a czar? Wasn’t that the emperor?” She couldn’t help a smirk as she teased him, his ego truly astounding and yet, at the same time, oddly adorable.

“I know my ancestors often strove for such a position of importance. However, I’d prefer to live well into my old age. I get enough assassination attempts with my position as it is.”

“And what is it that you do?”

“I am what you Americans would call the alpha of my clan.”

“There’s got to be more to it than that.”

His lips spread in a white grin that held more boyish wickedness than a man of his looks should ever use. “Imports, exports.”

“Of?” she prodded.

“Anything that will make money, or give me more power. I control a good portion of the black market.”

“So you’re a real criminal,” she stated.

“In Russia, the proper term is Capitalist, which I assure you is considered more revolting than a thief. Especially since I wear a suit.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Any worthwhile occupation for a male contains elements of danger. It is what we are bred for.”

“What of women? How are they treated?” She knew enough about the world to know that different parts of the world meant differences. How would Dmitri treat her? He tended to lean toward the autocratic.

“Women are to be cherished.”

Cherished as in restricted from doing things? That didn’t sit well if that was the case. “In other words, you think women can’t take care of themselves.”

Both his brows shot high. “Perish the thought. Women are what keep families from splintering.”

“So now you’re saying women control stuff? But what about the whole I am alpha, I’m the boss spiel?”

“I am, and I also know when to take advice. Only a stupid man challenges the ideas of an intelligent woman.”

“Mama’s boy.” She coughed it.

He should have taken offense. He smiled. “Perhaps, and yet there is no shame in admitting my mother is an intelligent woman, with a slightly overly enthusiastic response to some situations. But fear not, I’m sure she won’t do anything to you. You are, after all, my wife.”

“This is priceless. My dad is going to want to kill you and your mother might take an issue with me. So where do we hold family gatherings that have floors that are easy to mop?”

“Here of course. Our floors have centuries of history spilled into them. And a little is more or less expected over here. It’s—”

“The Russian way. So you keep repeating.” She rolled her eyes but smiled. His matter-of-fact arrogance was natural, not feigned, and totally endearing.

“See, you keep showing your utter perfection by understanding me so well already. My mother will surely recognize this. And if not, fear not, I will protect you.”

Her lips pursed. “It seems like our families have some things in common.” Her dad went cuckoo over family matters too. A good thing the national park was close to their house and possessed a deep ravine. Otherwise, they might have never gotten to hug their daddy growing up.

She tried to bring their conversation back on track. “We seem to have wandered. So you drugged me, then had your goons somehow kidnap me.”

“It took many rubles to convince them to dress as women, and Viktor has asked for a bonus since a male guest took certain liberties with his person.”

Men dressed as women? A certain pair of ugly cousins and the Jell-O shots they pushed on her made her grimace.
I walked right into it.
Not a hint of warning, even from her inner feline.

No need to tell her to hang her head. Someone was feeling embarrassed.

“If you had henchmen doing everything, then what were you doing? Yapping on your phone nefariously plotting?”

“While twisting my imaginary mustache and laughing evilly?” He snorted. “Not quite, little kitten. Given I didn’t know how this attempt would go, I elected to rejuvenate myself.”

‘You slept?”

“Yes. I do not know why you sound so offended. You slept too.”

“Because I was drugged.”

“Think of it as synchronizing our schedules. I know my brilliant wisdom is sometimes hard to follow, but you’ll get used to it.”

“I will?”

He smiled with utmost confidence. “Yes. But you are distracting me. You wanted the whole tale. My men drove you to a prearranged airstrip, where they smuggled you aboard my jet within a crate packed amidst some oranges.” Which explained the citrus scent that clung to her.

“Where you with them?”

“I wish.” He made a face. “Unfortunately, I had to delay my departure from the ranch, lest I draw suspicion. You should be commiserating with me.”

“Why?”

“I had to put up with your family at breakfast.” How aggrieved he sounded. “Your disappearance was noted, and can you believe they accused me?” The affront in his tone was genuine.

“But you did it.”

“Well, yes, I did, however, the nerve. Accusing a guest at their breakfast table.”

“Let me guess. Daddy attacked you.”

“We might have exchanged some physical words. Given my treatment, I took my leave and boarded my private jet. We picked you up then flew to the coast. During that flight, I planned our wedding, arranging for a clergy-minded friend of the family to perform the ceremony. As to the rest of our incredible and, yes, you can say it, romantic tale, you know what happened next.”

“Yeah, you drugged me and brought me…” She peeked around. “I still don’t know where we are.”

“Moscow, little kitten, but we shall not be here for long. I popped us into this suite by the airstrip while they refuel and file my flight plan. I’d hoped you’d wake before now.”

“Why?”

“So we could consummate our commitment to each other.” Said with a completely straight face.

I am married to a whackjob.
A cute one, but still… “You are utterly mad. We aren’t consummating anything. Maybe in your world, this is romantic, but in mine, this gets you arrested.” Which, damn him, was actually kind of romantic. Yet it still begged a question. “I’m still not clear why you’d go through this much trouble. Wouldn’t it have been easier to maybe ask me out on a few dates, charm me with your personality, and then pop the question?”

“Dating takes too much time. I wanted you. I took you. You’re mine.”

She shivered. Women’s lib could say what it wanted. Being claimed by a sexy male still held loads of seductive charm.

“What about letting me make that decision?”

The smile he unleashed on her should have come with a warning label—bad decision-making ahead. “You won’t regret it, little kitten.”

A part of her hoped so, but truly, only time would tell.

The phone in her hand vibrated, shaking with the fury of the incoming call. It didn’t take the ‘Imperial March’ from
Star Wars
belting out for her to guess it was from her father. This would prove interesting.

She waited for Dmitri to snatch the phone from her hand. No way would he let her talk to her dad.

With a nonchalant wave in her direction, he said, “You should answer that. He’s very worried.”

“What, no warning to say nothing or else?”

“The choice is yours, little kitten. An adventure rife with pleasure, passion, and me. Or my sudden death and a return to your boring life of before. Our future resides in your hands.”

She knew what her hands would rather have a hold of. Not the best thought to have when about to deal with the devil that loved her. Taking a deep breath first, she answered. “Hello, Daddy.” And yes, she did use her most guileless, little girl voice.

“Don’t hello me. Where the fuck are you? I know something’s happened. I fucking knew I should have killed that goddamn prick when I first saw him eyeballing you like a piece of bloody steak.”

“Daddy. Language!” She mimicked her mother’s pitch perfectly.