Mitch had to clear his throat before he could speak. “I was.” He cleared his throat once more and tried again. “The Thorburns were very good to me, but they had a hard time dealing with a child with Alpha tendencies and the desire to fight. They didn’t really understand me, yet they indulged me. They found me teachers and put me into the training I craved. And Geir did the rest. I was well looked after and protected—perhaps too much—from the truth of what happened to my blood kin.”
To say Mitch was stunned by these revelations would be understating it. A lot. But he was coming to some harsh realizations as well. Suddenly, things were coming into focus. Magnificent things of great scale and design. Destiny. Fate. The will of the Lady. Call it what you will, he realized events had led him to this place, this time, this woman and this king. He knew what he had to do.
“My existence as Mitch Thorburn is at an end,” he declared. “That name is known by our enemies, and as far as I’m concerned, he died of the poison the day they burned Harris’s dojo in the city. But Mitch Gustavson lives, and it’s time to avenge my parents’ deaths and put right something that went wrong a long time ago.”
Silence greeted his softly voiced statement. He hadn’t expected cheering, but he didn’t know what to make of the silence until Gina squeezed his hand and drew his gaze down to meet hers.
“Whatever name you go by, you’re a man of rare honor, Mitch.” She reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek in front of all and sundry. It felt like a benediction. A touch of magic meant to begin healing the hurt places inside his soul.
He didn’t really know what had prompted his decision or his bold words, but he knew the Thorburns would understand. They’d always been there for him, even as he’d grown into his Alpha role—something neither one of his adoptive parents were. They weren’t afraid of him, but he’d become the leader of their tiny familial Pride by virtue of his cat’s dominance. It was an odd arrangement, but Mitch would never take advantage of it and they knew he wouldn’t. Still, it did cause some tension.
It had gotten better when he had been given the role he craved as a Royal Guard. He had taken the posting with the pantera noir and only went home to visit the Thorburns occasionally. They were good people, but it had become very obvious over the years that they didn’t really understand Mitch’s inner nature. They respected him, of course, and were proud of the man he had become, but they still didn’t quite understand him.
“Gina’s right,” the king finally said, extending a hand for a strong shake. “It doesn’t matter what name you go by, though I see your reasons for wanting to leave your old identity behind—both to safeguard your friends and former colleagues, and to honor your blood kin. It makes sense. And I give you your parents’ place in my Royal Guard. It is your birthright, and now that you are here, it is yours for the taking. If you want it.”
Mitch sank to one knee, beyond honored at the king’s gesture.
“It is my honor to serve you,” Mitch uttered the formal words, his head bowed.
“Then I charge you with my daughter’s safety,” the king commanded, surprising Mitch.
His first urge was to smile with satisfaction, but then he wondered, had the king meant more by his instruction? Had he just given Mitch implicit permission to date his daughter? Or was it what it sounded like on the surface? Mitch was confused.
“It is my honor to protect the tiger princess.” Mitch made the formal reply and rose. Gina looked thoughtful and a little miffed as she narrowed her gaze at her father. The king had a somewhat smug smile on his face.
“Now that’s settled,” Frederick went on as if something monumental hadn’t just occurred. “I think we need to talk about strategy. I assume from the performance I just witnessed that you’re back up to full strength?” His gaze shifted to Gina and back again. She was the doctor, after all, but Mitch knew his own body well enough to realize he was almost fully recovered from the poison.
“Almost.”
Paul Miller laughed out loud and drew Frederick’s gaze. Pinned by the older man’s stare, Paul spoke. “If that was his almost, then I’d truly hate to have to fight him at full strength.”
Chapter Eight
Gina felt a swell of pride. She knew full well that Paul wasn’t one to hand out compliments easily. The elder Millers had trained all their children and the children of the other families that had gone into exile with them to a high standard. They had been the best of the best when they’d left the tiger enclave, and they hadn’t let their skills or abilities fade over time. They still trained every day, as did their children.
Almost all of the progeny of those original Royal Guards had followed their parents’ inclinations. Only one or two of the younger generation didn’t have enough skill or desire to become Guards themselves. Such was usually the way with tigers. Most of the time, blood ran true. And the few that didn’t want to serve found other important roles in the Pride. They weren’t Alpha enough to serve and protect, but they had other qualities that helped their Pride survive and thrive.
The rest of the afternoon was spent discussing strategy and technique with her father, the Miller kids and their dad. Paul had called up to the house and asked him to come down to the barn at Frederick’s request. Mitch and his unique fighting style were the main topic of conversation. He was asked to demonstrate some of the holds, stances and other techniques he had been using during the earlier sparring practice.
And then, Gina watched in a little bit of awe as Mr. Miller and her father faced off against Mitch on the mats. Everyone watched in anticipation as the two best fighters of their small Pride took on the newcomer.
Things started slow and then built to a point where all three men were leaping, twisting and almost flying around the barn. It was two against one. Both older men—seasoned warriors—up against the younger. It wouldn’t have been a fair matchup for anyone else, but Mitch was not only holding his own, he was prevailing at times, making the older men really work for the small hits they managed on him.
The gymnastic abilities of all three men came into play as they bounded off the mats, the apparatus that had been left around the edges of the practice area and even the walls. At one point, Mitch swung up into the high rafters of the barn itself to avoid a concentrated attack from Frederick, only to land behind Tom Miller, striking a point off the older man.
This went on for a half hour or more until the door to the barn opened discretely behind the watchers. A gust of cold air heralded the arrival of Gina’s mom and Joan Miller. Both women seemed surprised by the main attraction everyone was watching with such intense concentration.
“If I’d known this was what was keeping you all, I would have brought a big bowl of popcorn with me,” Joan Miller whispered to her eldest. Paul smiled and tucked his mother under one arm in a loose hug. She was shorter than every one of her sons, but still the clear Alpha female of the little familial Pride.
Gina’s mom took a spot next to her on the end. “Your Mitch moves like the wind,” she commented in a quiet whisper that wouldn’t carry over the background noise in the room.
Gina started a bit. While she agreed he did move like the wind, the part that stopped her short was her mother calling him her Mitch. Did her parents see what was happening between her and Mitch? Did they approve? Or was it simply a convenient phrase that meant nothing of the sort? She didn’t know, but she liked the tone of admiration in her mother’s voice. Mitch really was something to look at.
“He’s amazing,” Gina agreed, not bothering to hide her true feelings. If her tigress had her way, Mitch would be her mate. Her mother would have to get used to that idea sooner or later—assuming Mitch cooperated.
“Have they been at this long?” Her mother hopped up to sit on the ledge behind her, getting comfortable.
“About forty minutes. Maybe a little more. But Mitch had already grounded all of them—” she pointed to the assortment of younger people seated next to her, “—and me, before Dad got here. One at a time a
nd as a group. He’s really something to behold when he gets going.”
“His fighting style is like nothing I’ve ever seen,” her mother commented, her gaze transfixed on the amazing speed and athletic motion of the three men fighting at the center of the dojo.
“He learned from the pantera noir. They trained him from the time he was thirteen.” Once again, pride filled her voice.
Mitch was like no man she had ever known. He’d faced such adversity in his young life, yet he’d found a way to grow into a man of uncommon skill and unquestionable honor. He’d been accepted by one of the most secretive and selective shifter Clans. The pantera noir were notorious for not accepting just anyone among them. They were especially protective of their monarch. Mitch had to have proven himself in some way to even be allowed to train with them. To be trusted with the life of the Nyx, he must have done something even more powerful.
Just watching him face off against their best fighters—her father and Tom Miller—it was clear he was in the same class as both of them. Maybe even better. After all, he was coming off a grievous injury. He had admitted that he wasn’t yet fully recovered. And still, he took on two of their best as if it were nothing. No sweat. No big deal. Just another day in the dojo.
He was beating them too. It wasn’t an obvious, flat-out victory, but it was clear as the bout went on that Mitch was scoring more points on them than they were on him. Gina was impressed all over again. If he could do this now, what would he be like at full strength?
Most importantly, would he be good enough to take on Uncle Gisli and win? She sent a prayer up that it would be so. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever. He was hers and she was his. It would just take a little more time to convince him of that unrelenting fact. She needed that time. Desperately. But she didn’t think they were going to be allowed that luxury. Things were moving fast now and she had a premonition that events were speeding along and she had no choice but to be caught up in them. The whirlwind was coming and she could either fight it and lose, or allow it to sweep her along toward their destiny.
“You could do worse than a man like that,” her mother observed, still in that low tone that wouldn’t be heard beyond the two of them in such a large space. She nodded toward Mitch, now running literal circles around Tom Miller, much to the delight of his sons if their heckling hoots and hollers were anything to go by.
She turned to look at her mom, more interested suddenly in her opinion on Mitch as a mate than the mock combat taking place in the center of the room. Her mother’s opinion mattered greatly to Gina.
“Would you and Dad object if it turned out Mitch was my mate?”
Her mother turned to meet her gaze. “Is he?”
The sounds of the room faded as the moment of truth hit her. Silently, she nodded, holding her mother’s gaze. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but the tears that came into her mother’s eyes sparked an answering moisture in her own. Why were they crying? Was it bad? Or tears of joy? Or what? Gina was so confused.
And then her mother reached out and hugged her.
“Oh, baby girl, I’m so happy for you.” The whispered emotion was thick and sweet. It was good. Her mother was happy with Gina’s choice. “Does he realize it yet?”
“I’m not sure.” Like a magnet, Mitch drew her gaze. “I think he’s fighting it, though the indications are there…” She trailed off, not wanting to go into explicit detail with her mother.
“Sometimes men need a little push in the right direction,” her mother surprised her by saying.
“But he’s the dominant partner in our pairing. My cat knows and accepts that.”
“That’s good,” her mother replied with a satisfied smile. “Having your tigress on board means this is a good match. But maybe you can coax her to be a little more forward in getting him to take the lead.”
Gina wasn’t quite sure what her mother was driving at, but she was getting some particularly naughty ideas. It was clear her mother wouldn’t object to Mitch. And if Mom didn’t object, Dad wouldn’t either. It was clear just by watching them spar that her father already had a healthy respect for Mitch’s fighting abilities. They’d also discussed the Rule and the history of the Clan and she knew the signs that told her without words that her father liked the way Mitch’s mind worked. They’d talked a lot about Mitch’s business background and experience, including his take on the world economic crisis and what could or should be done to fix it. The fact that he came from a family that had been close to hers in the past counted in his favor too, though he had been raised by others.
It looked like green lights on all fronts, except where it counted most. Mitch had kissed her. He’d even gone a little farther than that, but he seemed to shy away from the final step toward a deeper relationship with her. She’d have to fix that at her earliest opportunity. Maybe even tonight. If she could wangle a way.
She lapsed into silence, watching Mitch move around the dojo. He was poetry in motion, but her mind was on the possible scenarios she could engineer once she had him alone again. Night couldn’t fall too soon as far as she was concerned.
Eventually the bout came to an end with no clear winner, but all three men were smiling and sweating. There was a bank of showers along one wall of the dojo and everybody was able to clean up a bit before heading back to the Millers’ home. Joan had insisted everyone stay for dinner.
It turned into a raucous evening with all the Millers, including Tad and Mandy’s baby, young Addie. She was adorable and was passed from adult to adult to coo over and cuddle. She was a peaceful baby whose true name was Asdis, which meant goddess in Icelandic, and Gina had always thought there was something a little fey about her.
Unlike her parents, little Addie had clear blue eyes that she had never grown out of. She wouldn’t begin to shift until her teenage years, but Gina privately wondered what kind of tigress she would turn out to be. Very few golden tigers had blue eyes.
One other good thing to come out of the meal was that Maribeth had visibly backed off. She no longer flirted with Mitch, which calmed Gina’s tigress. In fact, Maribeth had given Gina a little wink and thumbs-up when Mitch wasn’t looking, wishing her good luck in the silly way they had as schoolgirls. Maribeth had ceded the conquest to Gina. Thank goodness. Gina hadn’t wanted to fight with one of her oldest and dearest friends over him, but she would probably have been pushed in to it if Maribeth had continued her flirtatious ways.
When the meal was finally over and the night had grown dark and cold outside, they lingered for a while over coffee in the Millers’ big living room. Eventually though, it was time to leave. A contingent of Millers—both old and young—formed an informal Guard troop of sorts to escort the king and queen back home. Some of the others wanted to do the same for Gina, but Mitch declined their help, saying he could protect her well enough on the short ride to the cabin.
After everything they had seen him do in the dojo that day, nobody cared to argue the point. Of them all, Mitch was the superior fighter. If he couldn’t keep Gina safe, nobody could.
They set out quietly from the big house, taking a different route than the royals, moving stealthily back to the dojo to retrieve their snowmobile. Mitch checked it over before starting it up, exercising some of his ingrained Royal Guard caution. He waited only for Gina to hop on the seat before taking off toward the cabin.
When they got close, he stopped the vehicle a short distance out, going the last yards on foot. His approach was again, cautious. It was clear he wasn’t taking anything for granted. They’d left the cabin secure, but they’d been gone for hours. Anyone could have infiltrated the building during that time.
Gina pulled out her smartphone and started accessing the cameras both inside and outside the cabin that she had set to broadcast to an incredibly well-hidden internet address. While she checked the small screen for any possible evidence of intruders, Mitch did a more physical inspection. Between the two of them, they soon established that nothing had been disturbed sinc
e they’d left.
Mitch parked the snowmobile on one side of the cabin where it was hidden from view and joined her inside a moment later. The place was toasty warm and closed up for the night. Gina had shut the blackout curtains before they’d left, knowing they’d be returning after dark. And this time, she hadn’t forgotten to close a single one. They were as secure as they were going to get.
Which meant the moment of truth had arrived. Gina had been going over the discussion she’d had with her mother earlier that evening for the past hour or two. She was as certain as she could be that Mitch was her destiny. Her future. Her mate.
Drastic measures were called for in order to get him to admit what she knew in her heart was the truth. He was hers, just as she was his.
And there was no time like the present.
She shed her coat, walking up to Mitch as he did the same. She didn’t stop to think or give him time to move away. She simply stepped right into his arms and hugged him close.
He was so warm. So vital. So alive.
She could tell he was confused by her actions when his arms seemed to pause before slowly wrapping around her. He let her rest her head against his shoulder for a long moment before she felt him move back a bit to look down at her.
“What’s this all about?” A confused smile played about his masculine lips and she read uncertainty in his golden eyes.
“Something I should have done days ago. The moment the poison was out of your system and I got a taste of your natural scent, I knew you were the one,” she admitted. “I debated jumping you in the shower.” She had to laugh at herself, knowing honesty was the best policy among mates. She would start as she meant to go on—laying out the truth, fully expecting he would do the same.
“Whoa, princess—”
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