The Tiger King (Paladin Shifters Book 1)

by Patricia Logan

  ****

  Miruna Grey stepped out into the main corridor leading to King Fain’s rooms where she told His Majesty she’d meet him after their shift. Just down the hall was Damiano Satriale’s room. The paladin primero was one of the most handsome cats she’d ever laid eyes on and the man was gorgeous all over. When he’d stripped before his shift, she’d gotten an eyeful of what the man had to offer. He was ripped with muscle from head to toe, darkly tanned and dusted with just enough black hair in human form that she ached to slide her claws all over him.

  Miruna had every intention of letting him know just how receptive she’d be to his advances when she’d concealed herself in an alcove ten feet down the hall from the door to his room. Though she was due in the king’s chambers, she would take just a moment to kiss him and show him what he was missing before leaving him hard and horny for her. What better way to make him notice her since he’d all but ignored her, even at the banquet the night before. When he hit the top of the stairs and turned toward his room, she prepared to step out of hiding to surprise him. What she’d never expected to find was a man who walked with the purposeful strides that could only come from a man with a lot on his mind.

  And the fact that the man had a distinctive uncloaked Royal vibration. Son of a bitch. Damiano Satriale was of royal blood.

  Miruna had never seen that one coming.

  She shrunk back into the alcove, making herself small as he passed by, smelling like clean sweat and wet fur from their run. His tiger had been exquisite, even more beautiful than King Fain’s… King Fain who was related to his primero. Miruna had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from giggling out loud. The king must have absolutely no idea that Satriale had royal blood. If he did, the paladin would have been sitting in a cell somewhere caged in silver shackles until such time as he was dragged out into the pit where he’d be slain for the enjoyment of everyone in the massive royal arena. Wet heat flooded her body as she thought of the kind of champion Damiano would be in the ring. Sexy, powerful, and downright lethal.

  Miruna waited for him to unlock his door and step inside before she shot out of her hiding place. She had so much to tell His Majesty. Christos would reward her for the information and her loyalty. Of this, she had no doubt.

  ****

  Damiano was only slightly surprised when someone knocked on his door several hours after his shower. He grinned, hoping it would be his mate so that he could lose himself in some hot kisses. The frustration he’d been feeling from not being able to see or speak to Chino was driving him crazy. It was all he could think about. He got out of the chair where he’d been sitting and strode to the door, sliding the bolt to unlock it and throwing the door open.

  Stevens and three other paladin stood outside his door wearing grim expressions. Standing in the center of his four men stood Miruna Grey, the king’s most trusted councilor.

  “Sorry, Primero,” Stevens said, clearing his throat. “We have orders to arrest you.”

  The look in the captain’s eye was one of sadness and resignation. He was only following orders. They’ve found out about me and Paget. Shit. Overwhelming fear for his mate’s safety flooded his senses and he threw up a cloak to mask the scent from the shifters standing in the corridor. Has Paget also been taken into custody? The urge to blurt out the question was on the tip of Damiano’s tongue but he knew he needed to keep his mouth shut. He dragged his gaze down to Miruna who stood wearing a smug look on her beautiful face. He suddenly had the urge to wipe that smile right off her perfect red bow lips. How could anyone so beautiful look so ugly?

  “Shackle him,” she ordered, not breaking her gaze with him.

  Stevens sighed and nodded to two of the paladin with him. “You heard the councilor. Put the prisoner in chains.” They walked into Damiano’s room carrying silver shackles, forcing him to back up into the space. Both of the paladin looked as miserable as Stevens.

  They don’t want to do this.

  “You want to tell me what the fuck I’m being arrested for?”

  “Treason,” Miruna replied. Her red smile widened. “Are you going to cooperate or do I have the guards forcefully restrain you?” She nodded at the shackles one paladin held out. They were thick solid silver connected by heavy sterling silver chains. Once locked around his ankles and wrists, he’d be helpless and if left on for very long, he’d be as weak as a kitten in no time. Shifters, especially cat shifters, reacted very unfavorably to silver when it touched their skin. It reminded him of his time in the Middle East.

  Damiano had spent a great deal of his military time working and fighting with the shifter version of Israel’s Mossad. Those bastards had ways of making cats talk that still sent chills down Dami’s spine. One of their favorites was to hook their captives up to an IV drip of liquid silver molecules dissolved into an electrolyte solution. The electrolytes would keep a man alive just long enough for every vein in his body to burn him from the inside out. He’d seen a man strapped down, hooked up to the IV, and begin to scream like nothing Damiano had ever heard in his life. The man had turned bright red after a minute and after three minutes of blood-curdling screams, blood had poured out of every orifice, he’d lost control of his bowels, and he’d died in agony. Silver was cat shifter kryptonite.

  Damiano swallowed hard and held out his wrists, knowing they’d find the knives he wore when they pushed up his sleeves. Unlike his Damascus blades and Herstals which uselessly sat on the dresser across the room, the blades in his wrist sheathes never came off. Sure enough, one paladin disarmed him as the other one shackled him. The silver burned the shit out of his bare wrists that had already begun to redden. They pulled his backup weapons from the ankle holsters he wore before shackling his ankles. He watched them and then glanced back up at Miruna who stood outside in the hallway, guarded by the remaining paladin with Stevens as if Damiano somehow posed a threat to her.

  “So, I’m being arrested for treason? How do you figure I was treasonous? I just got here. I haven’t plotted King Fain’s overthrow. I have served him well. He told me as much in front of you this morning.”

  She smirked. “It seems that you don’t always cloak your vibrations. I picked up on it when you were walking to your chamber this morning. I knew immediately what you were and now, so does the king,” she said.

  That threw Damiano. He hardly ever let down the mask he wore at all times but when he’d been returning to his room after the hunt that morning, he’d not even thought about it. His mind had been more preoccupied with his sexy mate and Chino’s situation than cloaking his royal vibration when no other cats were in the vicinity. He’d forgotten for just one moment that the palace had alcoves like the one he’d seen Paget come out of once. They probably lined all the hallways and corridors in the palace and he hadn’t even thought about cloaking himself. How stupid could he have possibly been.

  At least this arrest has nothing to do with Paget. My mate is safe.

  “Take him to the portico. He’s to be taken to the arena,” Stevens said to his men. He glanced at Damiano one more time, conveying his dismay and regret with his expression, not wanting to voice his feelings in front of Miruna. He was in a terrible spot. From their first meeting, Damiano had felt a connection with this paladin and it hurt him to see him so distraught just for doing his job. He really hoped if this thing went badly for him, Stevens would be put in charge of Pasha Raab’s military detail. Damiano thought he would probably make a fine paladin primero and he’d no doubt show everyone how it was done.

  The two paladin who’d shackled him took Damiano by the elbows and helped him out into the corridor as he shuffled along taking baby steps. The chains he wore clanked together and rubbed against his skin causing excruciating pain and burns. He felt the strength melting out of him as he was escorted down the stairs. When he got to the bottom of the wide staircase, several servants stopped what they were doing and stared. Several gasps were heard and Damiano glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of each and every one of th
em, searching for Paget among them. He was nowhere to be seen.

  When he met the gaze of a very young cat with a beautiful face and long hair, he could see tears sparkling in her eyes. He held her gaze as long as he could before one of the paladin who’d shackled him yanked him forward. He stumbled out onto the cobblestone drive, hissing in pain from the silver, and saw that a Jeep had been driven up to the curb.

  “Put him in the back,” Stevens ordered. The two paladin helped him to shuffle over to the open door and then stopped him before stooping to grab him by both knees. He was lifted into the Jeep and pushed down onto the seat where a third paladin locked him into a harness. He relaxed on the seat and looked back at the palace, letting his gaze slide over the façade up to the window of his room.

  The young girl who’d been crying was standing at his window with her arm around Paget’s back. The stricken look on his mate’s face was so devastating, Damiano almost broke eye contact with him; when Paget reached up and laid the palm of his hand against the window, letting his tears fall, Damiano felt his own, burning behind his eyes. He kept his gaze focused on his mate’s beautiful devastated face as the Jeep started up and began to roll away. With every turn of the tires on the cobblestones, the physical pain of his separation from Paget hurt more. Once his sweet little mate was out of sight, he bowed his head and looked down at his hands. The shackles began to blur only a second before a single tear rolled down Damiano’s face.

  Chapter Seventeen

  C hino woke in pitch-black darkness. He was lying on something very hard and very cold and it wasn’t until he moved that he realized he was chained and his shoulder was throbbing like a son of a bitch. It took great effort to sit up with the iron chains connected to a wide collar around his neck but he eventually got to an upright position. As his cat eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cell where he determined he was, he realized that he was underground as he made out various scents. He could smell dirt, decay, mildew, and worst of all, vomit, blood, and feces. Shit. He was in some kind of jail cell but where on earth could he be? He lifted his nose to the air and sniffed, catching the scent of horses somewhere nearby.

  The last thing he remembered before blackness claimed him was… Bennett… Did that fucking bitch shoot me? His memories slowly came back and with them, both the ache that had been persisting in his shoulder since rising out of the depths of unconsciousness but also a pounding throb in his head that wouldn’t quit. He reached up and reached for the collar around his neck, testing the thickness of the iron with the tips of his sensitive fingers. The collar lay heavily just above his clavicles and it was just loose enough to have rubbed skin off several spots on his neck. It hurt like a motherfucker but at least it was iron and not silver which would have burned like hell and weakened him.

  Bennet. Motherfucking Bennett had been the one who’d shot him while they were chasing Cleveland. Chino would bet good money that Bennett had killed everyone in that control center and blamed it on Cleveland. Chino felt so stupid that he hadn’t figured it out. All the time he was there, he’d suspected Takemoto was the rat who’d stolen Askari Nelson’s body from the medical examiner’s office at Base Camp so that it couldn’t be properly autopsied. He let out a long breath, moving his arm and testing the muscles in his shoulder. His chest ached and his pectoral muscle and belly were covered with blood where it had run down his body from the gunshot wound.

  Blood also covered his side and shoulder where it must have seeped from the wound after he was shot. He reached around to his back with the opposite hand and felt for an exit wound. Sure enough, he found it. The bullet had been a through and through, the best kind if one wanted to survive. The thought occurred that if he weren’t shackled, he could actually heal himself with a shift but his panther’s throat would be crushed if he were to dare shift with the collar on. His captors had planned so well that silver restraints were actually completely unnecessary after all. Chino was fucked every way from sideways and he knew it. He had no choice but to wait in the dark cell and hope that someone eventually came knocking.

  ****

  Standing at the window and watching the Jeep drive away from the palace with his mate was the most devastating thing Paget had ever done. His love, his life was in that Jeep as it left the palace. He’d been shocked when Rahnnie had come charging into King Fain’s chamber where he was changing the bedding, only to burst into tears at his feet, sobbing something about the paladin primero being carried away in chains. Paget had taken her hand and they’d rushed out of the king’s chamber to avoid risk of Rahnnie being caught there. Down the hall, Paget had sniffed at Damiano’s door before entering, finding it empty. When they’d both rushed to the window to find him being lifted into a Jeep by two paladin, Paget’s heart nearly broke.

  He knew what he had to do. Giving Rahnnie a kiss on the head, he thanked her and ran out of the room, tearing down the servant’s stairs with the master key he always carried tucked away in his pocket. Pasha Raab had to be told what was happening. He’d know what to do. Paget got to the basement and charged down the corridor toward the kitchen, grateful for once that the only sounds he detected came from the kitchen. He prayed that he could get to the king without being spotted by another servant. The planets must have been aligned in his favor because he reached the door to the dungeon without running into any other servants. He pulled out the master key and unlocked the massive padlock, yanked the door open, and closed it silently behind him. He made his way down the narrow steps in the darkness the way he’d done a million times before and was at Pasha Raab’s cage before he knew it. The king already stood at the bars, hanging onto them as he watched Paget’s desperate run toward him.

  “What is it? What has happened? I scent turmoil and terrible fear on you, Paget,” the king asked.

  Paget dropped to his knees outside Pasha Raab’s cell. “Oh, Your Majesty, Damiano is found out. They’ve taken him away in silver shackles.”

  “Rise Paget and slow down,” the king said, laying a firm hand on his shoulder as he reached through the bars.

  Paget rose to shaking feet and stared at his liege through the thick bars of his cell. “I was cleaning King Fain’s chamber when another servant came to tell me Damiano was being taken away in chains. When I ran to his room to look out the window… oh, Your Majesty, they had him in chains… silver chains. He was shackled at the hands and feet and they were loading him into a Jeep that was waiting on the drive.” Paget felt hot tears roll down his cheeks. “We’ve all been betrayed. I must free you now.” He looked down at the keys he still held and then back up at the king. “Please, Your Majesty… in case they know about you… about me… I must free you.”

  Pasha Raab stared at him and Paget recognized the compassion in his features. He nodded and Paget let out a long breath. “At long last, it is time, Paget. Unlock the cell and follow me. We’ll hide in the palace until it is safe to go and find my primero.”

  Paget’s hands shook violently as he struggled to find the right key and the king reached through the bars, covering his hands, stilling his frantic movements.

  “Give me the keys, young Paget. I’ll do it.”

  Paget gladly handed over the key ring and watched the king mess with them until he found the right one. Within moments he’d found the proper key and reached through the bars to unlock the cell. It creaked open and Paget stepped back, both dreading what was about to happen and thrilling that the time had finally come for him to free his monarch… a man who’d become a dear friend over the last five years. His eyes were drawn to the king who stood naked in front of him, outside his cell for the first time in years, and he cursed his own foolishness. If his head had been on straight, he would have brought the king clothes to put on. He didn’t have any in his cell since he spent most of his time in shifted tiger form. He only shifted back to human when he needed to eat or converse and Paget hadn’t even remembered to do this simplest of things.

  “Sire. You’re naked… I-I…”

  “No
matter, Paget. Let’s get out of here. We have no idea what happened that they’ve arrested Damiano but since I am still alive and you’re not under arrest, my best guess is that somehow he let down his cloak and the king learned of his royal blood.”

  Paget’s hand flew to his mouth as the tears burned again. “You know my mate has royal blood, Your Majesty?”

  The king nodded, reaching out to take Paget’s shoulders. Their eyes met and Paget could scent only resolve and strength from his monarch. “I’ve felt Damiano’s vibration since he arrived, Paget.”

  “Oh, no. King Fain and his cohorts will slay him, Your Majesty.”

  “Come on, boy,” Pasha Raab said, tugging on his arm. “We need to move quickly to put an end to their plans.”

  Paget’s heart fluttered. “Yes, Sire.”

  They turned toward the stairs and began to run. Taking the stairs two at a time, Paget ran behind the king who made it to the top in no time. Pasha Raab put his face to the crack in the door and sniffed and Paget hung back, knowing that the king was checking to make sure they wouldn’t be found out when they pushed open the door. All but a few people in the palace thought the door was permanently locked. When the king scented the coast was clear, he opened it and stepped out of hiding for the first time in five years. Paget followed him, making sure that the door was pulled closed and the padlock re-applied before he followed in Pasha Raab’s wake.

  The king was huge, easily as large as Damiano, if not larger, yet he moved with a grace Paget had forgotten, so unlike Christos Fain. He seemed to know where they were headed and Paget followed him without question as they stepped out in the hallway leading to the kitchens and back up into the palace by way of the servant’s staircase. Navigating the next minefield had Paget’s heart racing a mile a minute. He crushed down the fear of being discovered and blindly followed his one and only ruler, trusting that he knew what he was doing.