When she dropped to shift, I hit the button on the elevator. Maybe I could get in, run from the fight like a fucking coward. I would do it to see Itzel, to know that she was safe. I would do anything to know that.
The man Shadow attacked lay dead under him, blood gushing from his ripped throat. But Shadow had collapsed on top of him, a bullet hole leaking blood from his back as his sides heaved with each labored breath.
I grabbed the gun off the floor just as the cheetah emerged from her human form. The elevator doors whisked open, and my chest constricted painfully. Inside were at least half a dozen more guards.
The female cheetah launched herself at me. Pure instinct alone made my hand rise and my finger squeeze the trigger. She hit me, unable to stop her forward trajectory. I fell under the huge feline form. Her claws sank into me, her teeth slicing my shoulder. Pain wrenched through me, but no sound came from my throat.
The guards rushed from the elevator and seized me and Shadow.
“He was trying to stop me,” I managed before their fists begin to fall. I squeezed in words between blows, defending myself for as long as I could. “Don’t hurt him. I attacked. I shot him. He was defending your guards.”
At last, the half dozen of them knocked me to the ground, their numbers alone too much for an injured man to fight off. A foot connected with the side of my skull, and the world blinked out.
*
I woke to the jouncing of a car over a rutted road, pain spiraling through me from the beating. I straightened, noting the details of my surroundings in quick succession.
Cuffs on my wrists.
Painful wounds that had begun to heal when I was unconscious but were still intense enough to be a liability.
A jeep with one driver and two male cheetahs in the back seat.
“Is the princess safe?” I asked.
The driver glanced at me with a wry smile. I recognized the man who had beaten me upon our arrival. Sir Kenosi, back in fatigues.
“She’s fine,” he says. “In fact, she doesn’t even know about this little mishap yet.”
“Where are you taking me?” I asked, glancing sideways as the car jarred along the pot-holed road.
“We put our own shifters in jail overnight for fighting to let them cool down. I’ve never had to detain a feline shifter from another nation.”
“I apologize for the inconvenience,” I said, folding my cuffed hands in my lap. “It won’t happen again.”
At least I wasn’t leaving Princess Camilla unguarded. I knew that despite their differences, Lord Balam would guard her with his life just as I had.
Until this incident, a voice inside my head reminded me.
I closed my eyes and laid my head back on the seat. Lord Balam would be a better guard than me. Hell, even Shadow might, as unpredictable as the man was. But he had a kind of fierce loyalty to the other princess that I had rarely seen. He knew she wanted Camilla safe. I had to believe that was enough. If I were honest, I had to admit a jaguar and a panther were better equipped to protect her than I was.
I had no choice but to trust them to take care of her until Princess Camila came to plead for my release.
If she came.
Sir Kenosi pulled the jeep over on the side of the sandy road where a squat, tan building sat. It was made of adobe, with tiny rectangular windows making slits close to the roof. It looked like the kind of jail that tortured people, precisely what I expected—and deserved—after what I’d done.
I was supposed to be the future queen’s loyal and trustworthy guard, not a man whose passions had him going feral and brawling like a common human. No matter the circumstances, I was never supposed to lose control. I was supposed to be an ocelot guard, a royal brute, equal measures dignity and menace.
But my heart had reduced me to this, walking in cuffs in front of an international playboy on our way into a foreign jail. I didn’t trust Sir Kenosi, and I didn’t like him walking at my back, but I wouldn’t let him see my unease. Whatever happened here, whether I survived it or not, I would show only the refinement my nation required. No more mistakes of the heart. Those mistakes were the deadliest of all.
A uniformed black woman sat behind bulletproof glass, watching us warily as we entered. Sir Kenosi spoke to her in another language, one I recognized only vaguely and understood not at all. The woman seemed to relax, speaking rapidly and gesturing to a side door.
After a few more exchanges, the woman took a keyring down from the wall and gestured for us to follow. She disappeared through a door behind the counter, and a moment later, opened the door beside us and gestured for us to follow her back. We walked along a narrow passageway with small holding cells on either side.
Dead man walking. That was the phrase used on the tele-dramas my little sister had loved so much. That was for criminals sentenced to death.
I didn’t know my sentence. Perhaps it rested on the whims of Sir Kenosi, on whether he told my queen what had happened. Or perhaps it rested entirely on the whims of the future queen herself. If he told her, she might fight for me, or she might let me rot here while she continued her trek through the feline nations.
She had once been as predictable to me as my own heart. But considering the number of times I’d failed her so far, each time Princess Itzel drove a spike through the iron walls of my heart, I couldn’t predict what my queen would do when she learned of my latest betrayal.
The cells along the corridor stood empty except the last cell on the left. In the occupied cell, a cheetah woman lay sleeping on a bare mud-brick bench. The guard gestured for me to enter the cell to the right. Every instinct in me balked at walking into a cage. But I wouldn’t make a scene again. I’d be overpowered in seconds, and I’d only make things worse for myself and my country.
I had to stop acting like a man and start acting like an ocelot royal guard.
I walked into the cell, and the guards closed and locked the barred gate. Without a word, they disappeared down the dirt path between the cells.
I sank onto the stone bench and considered the weight of what I’d done. I knew very little about the criminal justice system of the Cheetah Nation, but I’d attacked guards at the home of one of the most powerful men in the entire world. If they didn’t sentence me to death, it was only because of my relation to the throne. And I didn’t want to use that to gain my freedom. I didn’t want to put another stain on the Ocelot Kingdom’s name.
Too late, reality whispered in my ear.
The best I could hope for was that they’d notify Princess Camila, and she’d take pity on me and come to my rescue, pathetic as that made me. Death seemed preferable.
Imagining Her Grace’s fury when she found out, I thought it quite possible that she’d leave me here. I had failed her more times than I could count on this trip. She had to do what was best for herself and her country, and I was no longer certain that I was it. How could I expect her to be sure when I couldn’t?
I considered my next move. Being a guard wasn’t just a job, it was a life. It was as much a part of me as my ocelot. And to be a good guard, I needed to keep my head and my strength, two things that were sorely lacking in an injured shifter. With that in mind, I lay on the stone bench and closed my eyes.
If Queen Camila never came for me, I would live the rest of my life, however long, behaving myself in a manner befitting an ocelot guard. It didn’t matter if she knew, if Princess Itzel knew, even if King Ocelot himself knew. I would know. If I could live and die with nothing else, I would keep my honor.
Eleven
Princess Camila
Heir to the Ocelot Throne
I stood outside the cell, looking through the bars at the dirt floor and stone bench afforded an ocelot royal guard, as if he were any ordinary criminal. I could have protested his treatment, but I chose not to. He deserved less.
Gabor sat on the bench, his back rigid and his eyes alert despite the deep, swollen bruises circling each one. His clothes were torn and dirty, but he managed to ret
ain the air of ocelot dignity that made our people so imposing. Straightening my shoulders, I commanded my companions. “Leave us.”
Lord Balam let out a huff of breath. “I thought we were getting Gabor and leaving.”
“We are,” I said. “But I would like to speak with my guard alone first.”
“Ten minutes,” Lord Balam said, turning on his heel and striding off, as if he gave the orders on this procession. Shadow looked from me to Lord Balam’s retreating back, wisely choosing to follow the jaguar.
“Come,” I said with a flick of my wrist toward Gabor. He snapped to attention and approached the bars. It was nice to see a little urgency in his obedience. He’d been getting rather lazy now that we’d left the Ocelot Nation. You could really tell what a person was made of when you took them out of their comfort zone.
Gabor may have been a formidable presence in the palace, but a few weeks away and his true colors were beginning to show. Pretty soon he’d lose the posture and be nothing but a slouchy roughian like Lord Balam. Perhaps all men were.
“Fighting?” I hissed at him when he stood in front of me.
“Your Grace,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly. His level of respect seemed to be diminishing with our time away from the Ocelot Court as well, so it was nice to see him bowing at least a bit.
“Don’t Your-Grace me,” I said. “You were arrested for fighting like a dirty commoner. What were you thinking, Gabor? You’re supposed to be keeping me safe while I gain the amulets, charming and negotiating with their royals, not out brawling in the streets with the servants.”
Gabor stiffened even further. “I apologize, Your Grace.”
Just once, I wanted him to bow his head in shame when it was appropriate, to bow down to me and kiss my toes like he should. But he was too proud to grovel without a direct order, and I was too proud to order his groveling. He wouldn’t even correct me, tell me that he had been neither in the street nor with servants. I already knew he’d fought with some guards in Sir Kenosi’s tower. Pride might have made him a loyal subject at home, but it would be his downfall here. And his downfall could mean my downfall. I had to appeal to his sense of duty if I wanted to get through to him.
“I shouldn’t have to come to your rescue like this,” I hissed. “It’s disgraceful to the entire Ocelot Nation for a member of our court to conduct himself in this manner. Need I remind you, rescuing the princess is your job, not the other way around?”
“I was attempting to do just that,” Gabor said. “I only asked to check in on Princess Itzel on your behalf. I know how much Your Grace has been worried about her.”
My lips felt cold as I drew a breath through them. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” I said. “I have received an update already.”
“You have?” Gabor asked, drawing back just a bit. Just enough for me to see the flicker of concern in his hard eyes, to see them soften for the briefest moment before he put on his emotionless statue face. But he wasn’t emotionless. I glimpsed that when I surprised him with that information, and suddenly I knew. He hadn’t gone to see my sister on my behalf. That might have been his cover story, but he hadn’t walked away like an obedient servant when they refused to let him see her. He’d cared enough to fight with the guards when they wouldn’t let him see her. He’d gotten himself beat up—for her.
And even though he was just a guard, the knife of betrayal slid between my ribs with surprising pain. I didn’t want Gabor the way Itzel hinted. He was beneath me, and my mate wouldn’t be an ocelot. That eliminated him more completely than the sociopathic nature all guards in my father’s employ possessed. Still, I should be his first priority. For once, I wanted someone to think I was not only more important because of my birth, but because of my capabilities. But even the guards underestimated me.
“Your duty is to me,” I said, matching Gabor’s hard tone with my own. “Or have you forgotten so easily now that the threat of your execution isn’t hanging over your head from my father’s knife? If that’s the case, let me remind you that I am every bit as capable of ordering your execution for treason as he is. You did abandon your post, after all. You disgraced our court and used your position to try to gain access to an unconscious member of the royal family. What did you mean to do to her, Gabor? Did you think you’d make her death look like the fault of the Cheetah Nation? Or was it something more untoward you wanted to do to my sister while she slept?”
A muscle jumped in Gabor’s jaw, and I knew I’d gotten to him. Yes, he might still look like a statue on the surface, but he was quite capable of losing his temper. He’d done it just the night before, after all.
“I only meant to obtain information on her status, Your Grace,” he said, his body rigid as he stood at attention before me.
“That’s not your job,” I said. “Your job is to stay by my side and serve me every moment that I ask. If you’re incapable of doing that because your mind is filled with perverted ideas about a common human, I will be happy to relieve you of all duties and send you home. It is a rare privilege for an ocelot to travel the world. I could grant it to any one of Father’s guards.”
He swallowed, a glimmer of gold shining from his eyes. “Yes, Your Grace. I am thankful for the opportunity to serve you. I have made a grave mistake, but I hope your infinite wisdom and kindness allow me to prove my loyalty with continued service.”
I reached through the bars and patted his cheek. “Oh, Gabor. You don’t think I’ve forgotten what you already sacrificed to serve my family, do you? You have proven yourself to the Ocelot Court. I only want you to remember that before you do something rash like this again. I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson and won’t dare make another mistake like this. After all, you wouldn’t want your sister’s death to be in vain, would you?”
His jaw gritted back and forth the slightest bit, but the fire had gone from his eyes, which were now as blank as the rest of his face. “No, Your Grace.”
“Very good,” I said. “Don’t forget it again. I might not be in such a forgiving mood the next time. But now that we’ve taken care of this little misunderstanding, let’s put it behind us. I won’t speak of it again, and I expect the same courtesy from you. I am your queen, and you will obey me. Your job is not to anticipate what I want to hear about my sister or to try to find out by force. Your one and only job is to keep me safe. Unless I ask for your opinion, you are not to offer anything other than your complete support and agreement of anything I desire.”
With a face as serene as if he were in the middle of a meditation, Gabor gave me the answer I desired, the one I’d known would come once I’d talked a little sense into him. He gave a slight nod of his head and answered simply, “Yes, Your Grace.”
Twelve
Itzel
Princess, Ocelot Nation
I woke and sat up, only to be stopped by an IV strapped to the back of my hand. I swallowed a lump of panic, trying not to freak out as my last conscious hours came back to me. Sinking back on the bed, I took in the room. It looked like any hospital room anywhere. An adjustable bed with a railing on the side, an IV stand with a bag of clear fluids dripping into my arm, a bank of monitors, and a window. I sat up again, swinging my legs off the side of the bed. The starched sheets slid off, exposing my naked body.
The room swam, but I grabbed the IV pole to steady myself. Apparently, they didn’t do hospital gowns in the Cheetah Nation. I scanned the room for anything I could put on, but finding nothing, I made my way to the window without dressing. Far below, I could see a manicured green space with trees, neatly mown grass, and little benches with birds hopping around them, pecking at crumbs. The view comforted me, and I returned to the bed and sank down, already exhausted. My shoulder didn’t hurt, but a thick bandage covered it, and my head felt groggy enough for me to know I must be on some strong painkillers.
Just as I lay back, the door opened, and a handsome black man strode in. He wore a tailored charcoal suit that I instantly recognized as designer of the hi
ghest quality, fitted to just hint at the sculpted body beneath.
“Glad to see our newest guest is back in the land of the living,” he said, giving me a haughty half-smile. “It was touch and go there for a while.”
“How long have I been here?” I asked, acutely aware of how naked I was, and how suave and fully clothed he was.
“A few days,” he said, pacing to the window. I got the weird sensation that he was checking where I’d been, that he somehow knew I’d gotten up.
“Days?” I asked.
He turned back to face me. “You had major surgery. You’d lost a lot of blood, and there was some deep muscle damage. You’re lucky they missed the major arteries.”
Something about him—the smile, the voice, the gait—struck a familiar chord, but I couldn’t remember much of anything past when I’d left Lord Balam. I studied the man, trying to place him. He had medium brown skin, sensational bone structure, full lips, a wide nose, and short, buzzed hair. An uneasy feeling settled in my lower belly as he stared back at me, as if expecting me to say something.
“Where’s my sister?” I asked, my stomach suddenly dropping out. I’d been out for days. Anything could have happened to her in that time.
“She and the men are in a suite across the way,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the window. “They’ll be pleased to hear that you’re awake.”
“Are you the doctor?” I asked, scanning his fit build again. He sure wasn’t attired like a doctor, but then, I knew less than nothing about medical practices in the Cheetah Nation.
“I’m Sir Kenosi,” he said.
Of course he was. That’s why he looked familiar. He was a fucking celebrity. And I was naked, injured, and hadn’t bathed in days. Now I knew why the guy at the hangar had looked so much like Sir Kenosi. Apparently, the guy liked to wear disguises and go around snatching people who dared enter his country without checking in with him first.
Captive Princess: A Dark Paranormal Romance (Feline Royals Book 2) Page 6