The Lion's Share (The Lion Princes Book 2)

by Leslie Chase

  "Good. Because even if something happens to me, I've made arrangements, Sophie. You won't be able to keep them safe." With that as his farewell, he turned and strode out of the door, leaving Sophie to try and work out what to do.

  Mattias prowled the halls of the castle, frustration boiling inside him. He could scarcely believe what he'd let Sophie talk him into. But on the other hand, he couldn't think of an alternative plan that she'd accept.

  Maybe once I've met some of these women, she'll know I'm serious about her. He growled at the very thought, but Sophie had been adamant. I need to get rid of some of this energy, he thought.

  That meant hitting the gym. His morning exercise was one thing, but if he was going to get rid of his frustrations, he needed to hit something. Fortunately, his family had always been interested in physical exercise. Lionhead Castle's gym was a lot more up to date than the rest of the castle was.

  He couldn't remember it from his childhood. Back then, his exercise had always been found running around in the gardens, chasing his brothers or mock-fighting with them. He almost wished that one of them was around now, a proper sparring match might be a good way to work out his frustration. But Roman was on his way to tour Leotania and Gabriel wasn't even in the country yet. A therapeutic fight wasn't in the cards.

  Still, once he found the gym he saw that it would do nicely. There were an array of weights and exercise machines, but he was interested in the punching bags, things he could take his anger out on without worrying about hurting anyone.

  I guess Grandfather kept his interest in boxing, Mattias thought as he changed. The old king had been a fan of the sport back when the princes were children, and Mattias remembered how proud he'd been of his skills. Indeed, Mattias could remember how angry his grandfather was the day he had discovered that a bear shifter visitor had let him win a match in order to try and curry favor with the King.

  The memory was bittersweet, and Mattias sighed. I wish I'd been able to spar with him, he thought, but he'd been too young when he had to flee the country. And he had to stay away until the chance had passed forever. One more thing that the assassins had taken from his family.

  With a grunt, he focused that rage into a punch, thudding it home on a heavy bag with all the force he could. It creaked, swinging slowly, and he unleashed a flurry of attacks at it, both hands smashing into the sand-filled bag, rocking it. He grinned, happy to be able to let out his anger at something, and caught the bag to steady it before starting again.

  Soon he was covered in sweat, his body burning with the pleasant ache of exercise and his frustration subsiding. He lost himself in the rhythm of the attacks, pouring his power into blow after blow, imagining the bag was an enemy to be crushed. If only it were that easy, if only every problem could be punched out.

  Thoughts were drowned out by the thump-thump-thump of his hands striking the bag, the steady stream of impacts one after the other taking his frustrations away. He wasn't sure how long had passed by the time his attention was drawn back to his surroundings again by someone entering the room. Pausing and steadying the swinging bag with one hand, he looked around.

  A couple of guards from the Royal Security Service watched from just inside the doorway, their faces closed and professional. Behind them, Captain Praetor entered.

  "What's wrong, Captain?" Mattias said with a frown. The men were in uniform, armed, and their eyes swept the room cautiously — it didn't look like this was a routine visit.

  "My apologies for the intrusion, sir," Captain Praetor said. "I'm afraid that I've received intelligence that there may be an attempt on your life, and additional security will be required to keep you safe."

  "Even here?" Mattias's frown deepened. The castle, at least, should be safe as could be, even if there were threats remaining. "What kind of threat are we talking about, Captain?"

  "The details are sadly lacking at the moment, sir." Captain Praetor sounded apologetic at that. "All I know is that the threat is meant to be someone close to you. My informant is trying to get more information, but that will take time and meanwhile I don't intend to take any chances with your safety. These men will stay with you until we've identified and eliminated the threat."

  Mattias shook his head. "I don't intend to live my life under the watchful gaze of your chaperones, Captain. I can take care of myself."

  The guard captain winced. "I can see that you are no slouch at that, sir, but remember that you are in Leotania. The people likely to be attacking you will know your capabilities, and your weaknesses, better than anyone who might have threatened you in the United States — your shifter abilities aren't a secret here."

  Mattias growled. "Captain, I have spent all my life watching for the assassins who tried to kill me and my brothers as children. They knew exactly who and what we are, and that didn't mean I needed to hide behind bodyguards. I don't intend to start now, especially not since those assassins are no longer a threat to me."

  Praetor sighed, an expression of irritation flashing across his face so fast that Mattias almost missed it before it vanished behind the man's mask of professionalism. He walked closer to Mattias, looking him in the eyes. That was slightly disconcerting for Mattias, who was used to towering over most people, but Praetor was as tall as he was. He got the feeling that Praetor was equally unused to the feeling of trying to stare down a man the same size as him.

  For a moment they stood, locked in a staring match, and Mattias's lion growled at the challenge. Then Praetor grinned widely and looked away, shaking his head.

  "I'm sorry, sir," he said, the note of humility in his voice not quite convincing. "I suppose I may be too used to your grandfather: His Majesty would follow my advice on security matters, but you can make your own choices of course. I just hope that you won't be making your own mistakes: there are only so many threats that you can guard yourself against, after all."

  "I don't mean to discard your professional advice, Captain," Mattias said. "But I will not live a life padded in cotton wool. I have important matters to deal with, and I don't want to do everything surrounded by armed guards."

  "Perhaps we can compromise, then? My men will be discrete and hang back as far as possible. There's no need for others to even know they're there, unless there's trouble."

  Mattias considered that. On the one hand, he didn't like the idea of being followed everywhere, especially not when he was meant to be going on dates. On the other, he didn't want to humiliate or annoy the head of his security forces, and the man did seem to be trying to come up with a way they could both get what they wanted. Praetor had the experience of being the head of the King's security for years. Mattias nodded.

  "I don't see the harm in having some discrete security around," he said. "I'm sure your men are good at their jobs and won't get in the way. But if I want privacy, they will clear out and give me the room I need. Otherwise, no deal — I'll manage on my own."

  Praetor frowned again, then nodded dubiously. "I understand your feelings, sir. Privacy can be important. But it's also the single most dangerous thing you can have, especially if the threat is someone close to you."

  "This is not a negotiation, Captain," Mattias said, putting some steel into his voice. "I don't intend to live in a fishbowl."

  "And I don't intend to let you get harmed by your enemies, sir," Praetor said, his smile flashing again. Something dangerous showed in his eyes. "My responsibility is to your family, not to yourself, and until the new king orders me not to, I will keep you safe."

  They matched gazes again, and this time Praetor didn't back down as easily. But Mattias had no intention of letting the man take charge of his life. The two of them stared each other down, until eventually Praetor held up his hands and took a step backward.

  "Since we can't come to an agreement, perhaps there's a way we can settle this, Prince Mattias. I see that you're a boxer, and I have some experience in the ring myself."

  Mattias raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that we settle this by fig
hting, Captain?"

  "Why not? If I can beat you, then surely you can accept that I and my men have something to offer in terms of security. And if you can beat me, I'll be reassured of your ability to look after yourself."

  "That does make some sense," Mattias admitted. It seemed strange, but he couldn't argue with the logic of it. And if it got Praetor to back off without any hard feelings, that would be the perfect solution to the situation. Just as importantly, it would give him a chance to take out his frustration on someone who could hit back — so much more satisfying than a punching bag. "Okay, let's do it."

  Praetor's grin grew even wider, and he quickly got himself ready, ditching his equipment belt and grabbing a pair of gloves. Mattias swung himself up into the waiting ring, glancing at the guards Praetor had brought with him. They watched with interest, confident and focused, and he wondered that they weren't more surprised by this turn of events.

  As though reading his mind, Praetor answered his question. "This isn't all that unusual, you know. I used to spar with the late King often enough, and from time to time we'd settle some discussion that way. It was almost a tradition with him."

  Mattias laughed. He could see that, the old man loved to box after all, and getting a sparring partner worthy of him couldn't have been easy. Settling policy that way, though, that seemed a little out of character for him. Mattias couldn't see his grandfather ever giving up that much power.

  Praetor pulled himself up into the ring and the two of them faced off against each other.

  8

  Sophie made her way back to her office in a daze, trying to think about what to do. Can I tell Mattias about this? Can I not? The risks were real either way, and she felt a strong urge to just bury her head in the sand and ignore the problem that Praetor posed. But she knew that she couldn't do that, she just didn't know how to go forward.

  I need to talk to Mattias, she decided. About finding a mate for him, even if we can't talk about Praetor. And maybe I'll find a way to let him know what's going on without Praetor listening in.

  She felt better for having made a decision, even if it wasn't a clear one. It was a start, and having something to do let her focus on something other than the threat to her family. It was still there, of course, in the back of her mind, but she had learned to focus on the problem in front of her. One thing at a time, that was the way forward.

  At least she had a safe excuse to find the prince. He'd promised to look at the folder of potential mates she'd put together, and if Praetor was listening in on their conversations he'd know about that. There wasn't any reason for him to be suspicious of her meeting Matt for that.

  Collecting the folder she’d tried so hard to get Mattias to look at, she headed out to find him. It took a longer than she'd expected. He wasn't in his rooms, or in the royal offices. But the castle's staff had long practice in keeping track of royalty, and with a few questions she found out he'd gone down to the gym.

  The thought of seeing him exercising made her pause. Was it a good idea to see him like that? After how she'd responded to seeing him that morning, she wasn't sure how she'd take it, and even the idea of it made her blush. I've got to be able to, she told herself firmly. We're not fated mates, remember, Sophie? I just have to be strong.

  Without giving herself a chance to chicken out, she walked down to the gym. Images of Mattias, half-dressed and sweaty from exercise, filled her mind as she went. The effort of shutting them out kept her from paying any attention to her surroundings until she arrived.

  She was at the door before she noticed the Royal Security guards standing at the doorway. Her stride faltered for a moment, but she kept walking. If she turned back now, what would they tell Praetor? That she'd come to speak with Mattias and turned back when she saw that they'd be overheard? She didn't want to find out how he'd interpret that; it was far too likely he'd assume that she'd intended to tell Mattias about his plot.

  That wasn't even entirely untrue.

  Unwilling to take that risk, she walked past the guards and stepped inside, only to stop in her tracks as she saw what was happening inside the gym.

  In the ring in the center of the room, Mattias and Praetor were squaring off against one another. Both had stripped to the waist, their muscular torsos on display, and Mattias was already glistening with sweat from his workout. The impact of seeing that was stronger than Sophie had imagined, and she gasped as she stared at him. Her eyes wandered across his chiseled abs, his strong arms, his determined face.

  Both men heard her gasp and turned to look at her. Mattias smiled at her, a grin that made her blush deepen instantly as he winked at her. It took all her strength of will not to abandon her plan right then and there and throw herself at him. Her body wanted him, her soul wanted him, but her mind stood firm. I made a promise, damn it. And I what kind of a daughter am I if I break a promise to my parents just because I saw a man half-dressed?

  Tearing her eyes away from him, she took a deep breath and tried to slow her heart. She could feel his amusement at her reaction somehow, and would have glared if it hadn't meant looking at that perfect, irresistible body again. It's not funny, damn it.

  Praetor was flushed as well, but he didn't look happy to see her reaction. Anger boiled in his eyes, and he shot Sophie a glare. Before Mattias had turned back to him, he wound up and threw a powerful punch straight at the Prince's jaw.

  Sophie gasped, too late and too slow to warn Mattias, but his cat-like reflexes saved him from the worst of the punch. By the time it was landing, he was already twisting away, and rather than catching him squarely, it glanced off. The force of the blow still turned him, and Sophie's hand went to her mouth as her prince staggered backward, raising his hands to protect his head from a vicious follow-up blow.

  Praetor pressed his advantage, moving in smoothly, throwing punch after punch at Mattias. The prince's guard protected his face, so the Captain aimed low, striking his torso hard.

  Sophie's heart was in her mouth as she watched the prince back away under the relentless assault of the Captain, bruisingly powerful blows raining down on him. This is my fault, she thought. If I hadn't distracted him, he wouldn't be suffering so badly.

  But as Mattias's back met the ropes, he slipped sideways, darting out a jab of his own. Overconfident, Praetor hadn't kept his own guard up, and the Prince's blow staggered him, interrupting the rhythm of his attacks. His next punch glanced off Mattias's guard, and the two fighters separated, Praetor shaking his head as if to clear it.

  Mattias didn't give him a chance to recover, diving in to launch his own assault, punch after powerful punch. Praetor ducked and weaved, surprisingly agile for such a big man, and none of Mattias's blows landed cleanly. Even so, they rocked him this way and that as he was driven back.

  Praetor snarled something unintelligible, his face twisting in anger, his movements losing their grace and focus. Sophie felt herself tense as he tried to land a jab through the rain of blows Mattias landed on him. Willing to take a hit in order to punch the Prince in the face, he leaned in as he struck. It was enough to stagger Mattias, but the blow Praetor took in return sent him stumbling back a pace, dazed, and the fighters broke apart. Both were breathing heavily, and neither looked willing to give in, but they didn't want to jump right back into the fight either.

  The two men circled each other as Sophie looked on. She didn't know what they were fighting over, but she could see that it mattered to them a lot more than a friendly sparring match should. The tension of the watching guards was palpable. The whole room was filled with a feeling of dreadful anticipation.

  Praetor's patience gave out first, and he leaped forward, leading with a devastating right hook. Sophie gasped — that looked like it would break bones if it connected. But at the last moment, Mattias ducked back, letting the fist swing harmlessly past.

  His counter was more controlled, and it landed square on Praetor's jaw. The guard captain fell backward, his legs giving out as he collapsed to the canvas with a thump
. Sophie shivered with relief, glad to see that her prince was safe, and it took her a moment to realize that was how she thought of him. Wait a minute, he's not mine. And I'm here on important business, I can't let myself get distracted by him.

  But it was so easy to do just that. He stood tall in the ring, gleaming with sweat from the fight, his body achingly beautiful. Bruises rose where Praetor had struck, marking him with a hard-fought victory, and that only made him more attractive. A man who could fight and win, who could stand against a foe and take hits as well as he could dish them out... Sophie felt herself melt as she looked at him, and realized that she was chewing on her lower lip. He saw it too, grinning down at her, and she blushed, looking away and trying to get herself under control.

  Her gaze caught Praetor as he started to move, and the look in his eyes when he saw her was full of pure rage. It was enough to shock her thoughts back to clarity as though a bucket of ice water had been upended over her. But the anger wasn't directed at her.

  She started to call out a warning, but she was too slow. Before she could get anything out, Praetor lashed out with a kick that smashed Mattias's legs out from under him, sending him tumbling to the canvas.

  Unlike Praetor, though, the prince controlled his fall, twisting with cat-like speed and landing in a roll that took the force out of the impact. Praetor leaped after him, low to the ground, arms outstretched to grapple, and Sophie rushed forward to the ringside. She had no idea what she'd do when she got there, just that she had to do something. Praetor looked as though he'd kill Mattias if he got the chance, the wild light in his eyes dangerous and hungry, and Sophie needed to protect the Prince.

  As she asked herself how she was going to do that, the two men locked in a grapple, Praetor's arms squeezing tight around the Prince's body, his legs twisting for purchase. Mattias growled, a deep and inhuman sound that froze Sophie in place for a moment but seemed to have no effect on the Captain.