A Tiger's Bride (A Lion's Pride Book 4)
Read A Tiger's Bride (A Lion's Pride Book 4) Online
Authors: Eve Langlais
A Tiger’s Bride
(A Lion’s Pride, #4)
By
Eve Langlais
Copyright © April 2015, Eve Langlais
Cover Art by Yocla Designs © July 2015
Edited by Devin Govaere
Copy Edited by Amanda L. Pederick
Produced in Canada
Published by Eve Langlais
1606 Main Street, PO Box 151
Stittsville, Ontario, Canada, K2S1A3
ISBN: 978 1927 459 78 2
A Tiger’s Bride
is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.
When at first you don’t succeed—turn to abduction.
It’s all in a day’s work when this Russian Siberian tiger meets the woman he wants.
An accidental kidnapping? Check.
A forced marriage? Check.
A virgin bride? Damn. There go his plans for seduction and here comes the pressure into making her first time perfect. Because everyone knows that’s the one she’ll remember, forever. Gulp.
Add in a plane crash as well as hunters out to capture them and the heat is truly on.
Can this suave Russian mobster meet the challenge?
How much trouble would it cause if I kidnapped the bride before the wedding took place?
Probably more than Meena was worth—despite her formidable genes—and that was why Dmitri sat in a chair in the back row of the temporary outdoor reception area instead of plotting a grand abduction.
And, no, his disgruntled mien did not mean he sulked. He pitied Meena for making the wrong choice. Clearly, he would have made the much better husband. Fact, not arrogance, made him so sure.
Alas, Meena didn’t grasp his greatness. She’d rejected his proposal of marriage—to his shock—not that he’d taken no for an answer. As soon as he’d laid eyes on her splendid hips—made for bearing big, strong cubs—he’d wanted her to start his dynasty of tigons.
He should clarify, he didn’t mean Tiggers, which his sister purposely teased when she heard of his plan. Tigons were his goal, a tiger/lion mix, a formidable blend that resulted in strength, size, and a fabulous fur. However, to create this wonderful hybrid mix, he needed the perfect mate. As a male Siberian tiger in splendid health, with excellent lineage, physical stature, and lush hair, he already possessed great size. Add his excellent genes to that of a robust lioness and he’d make super babies.
Or he would have if some other man hadn’t stolen Meena from him. Never mind the fact that Meena was less than enamored with his plan, to the point that she escaped him—the locked door, bars on the windows, and remote location not proving a hindrance-—before he could get a ring on her finger. Sure, he’d noticed her reluctance. However, she would have eventually come around. Who wouldn’t love him? His mother declared him perfect. His grandmother said he did their lineage proud. As for his sister? Who cared what she said?
But no, Meena had to prove stubborn and end up rejecting him in favor of an omega liger. The shame. The disappointment. The relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with the stubborn female.
In a sense, Meena had done him a favor. The more he found himself subjected to her antics, the more he realized they simply wouldn’t have suited. At all.
For one, Dmitri preferred his women docile. He had enough controlling women in his life starting with his mother—
“You are not wearing that, are you? Here, let me choose something more appropriate. We do have an image to maintain, after all, with the lower classes.”
Czarina indeed. His mother suffered under delusions of grandeur and a past where their family reigned.
Then there was his sister and grandmother, both of them with way too many opinions on a suitable wife for a Russian lord—a mob lord, but still someone of importance. While the populace at large, at least the human one, might not recognize his superiority and dominance, those in the shifter world in Mother Russia recognized him for what and who he was. A powerful man that no one should ever screw with.
Meena dared to screw with him. Defied him. Escaped him and, in minutes, would become another male’s problem. Surely his inner feline didn’t breathe a sigh of relief?
As for him, he was back to square one. No wife. No prospect. No—
Something yummy comes our way.
Indeed something delicious did come sauntering past with wide hips, towering legs, and a scent that made him want to roll on his back and thrust his legs in the air so he could enjoy a good wiggle. He practically drooled at the gorgeous womanly shape that caught his eye. And as for her face? She looked just like Meena yet wasn’t her.
What’s this?
Did the genetically perfect Meena have a sister? An unmarried one? Could he be so lucky?
A murmur went through the crowd, and he caught the phrase, repeated more than once by a few people present, “Here comes trouble.”
Surely they didn’t speak of the goddess he currently undressed with his eyes.
Riveted, he couldn’t help but stare at the statuesque blonde as she walked the aisle with grace, head held high, long neck tempting, hips swishing. The picture of elegance. At least she was until her heel caught on a wrinkle in the red carpet and she squeaked as she went flying.
Almost, he went soaring from his seat to save her, but too many hands were already aiding her in regaining her footing. To dash to her rescue now would bring too much undue attention.
We must hide our interest lest people take note.
However, keeping his intrigue secret might prove hard, given he couldn’t take his eyes from the woman. She called to him.
Want her.
It wasn’t just his tiger that felt an urge to rub against the delightful creature.
The gears in his mind turned as he plotted. Perhaps this trip to America would not be wasted after all.
Moments later, when his ex-fiancée strode past on her father’s arm, he paid no attention. Who cared? Certainly not him. Funny how Meena in her white gown didn’t draw a single glance from him, and yet he’d memorized every inch of the unknown woman. The resemblance to his former fiancée was startling, and yet, at the same time, he noted the distinct differences. For one, the way they carried themselves. The object of his interest somehow managed a fragile appearance that belied her incredible stature.
The ceremony no sooner finished than Dmitri was on the prowl, moving with steady purpose toward his future bride—he ever was a man of snap decisions—until a burly man stepped in his way.
Not a small man himself, Dmitri didn’t balk in the face of the man’s glare. On the contrary, head held at an imperious angle—taught to him at a young age by his mother who insisted lords should always look down at the world, even if the world was taller—Dmitri arched a brow and, with an arrogance only the great can achieve, said, “You are in my way.” The unspoken remainder of his sentence was,
move before I move you.
Except, apparently, the rather large fellow didn’t grasp intimidation, probably because he projected a good dose of it himself. Meena’s father wasn’t one to bow before anyone despite his blue-collar status. “What the hell are you doing eying my daughter?”
“Is it not the prerogative of a jilted fiancé to lament the loss of a stupendous woman?”
Peter, whom he’d met the night before over vodka and arm wrestling, snorted. “Oh please, we both know you weren’t in love with my Meena.”
“I planned to marry her.”
“To make super babies. I know. We all know. And you lost her. But you know I was talking about my other daughter. Teena. You were eyeballing her as if she were a fresh-cut piece of porterhouse steak begging to get eaten. And I’m telling you right now to stop it.”
Teena. He had a name. He also had a threat to deal with. The day was getting brighter by the moment. “Your daughter, Teena, is she single?”
A low growl rumbled from Peter. “Doesn’t matter if she is or not. You stay away from her. She’s not like her sister. She’s fragile.”
And clumsy, given she managed to whirl and knock a waiter with a tray of drinks on his ass. At least the glasses that spilled held white wine, which meant only wet spots and not stains on those who received a dousing.
“What makes you think I would treat her with less than utmost courtesy?”
“I can see your devious mind churning. You didn’t get one daughter, so now you’re aiming to go after the other. Listen, boy, I don’t know how it works in Russia, but here in the good ol’ U S of A, we don’t stalk women and force them to get married. Whether we like it or not, there’s something called women’s lib which means they get a choice in who they spend their lives with.”
“So if I give her a choice, then you would accept my suit?”
“No.”
“Why not? I am wealthy. Well bred. I assure you, I am not one to philander. I would take my vow very seriously. So again, I ask, why not?”
That question caused drawn brows. “Don’t fuck with me, boy. And don’t fuck with my daughter. Teena’s too innocent to deal with a fellow like you.”
Innocent? What a lovely tidbit. His determination to possess her only grew, despite her father’s objections. “I think the choice should belong to your daughter.”
“And I’m telling you right now I won’t stand for you stalking Teena like you did Meena.”
Dmitri pursed his lips and made a noise. “The term stalking is rather harsh, don’t you think? Your daughter agreed to our engagement. It is not my fault she later got cold feet.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Are all Russians this arrogant and stupid? She never agreed. You locked her up. Now listen, you mule-headed moron, because I won’t warn you again. Stay. Away. From. Teena. The only reason you’re still alive is because I promised the pride’s alpha to not start a diplomatic nightmare. But give me enough reason and you and I will be making a visit to the woods. If we do, only one of us will be leaving it alive.”
Not one to cower before threats, Dmitri stretched his lips in what his enemies labeled his scary smile. “Anytime you want to visit the woods, let me know, although you might want to make your goodbyes before we do. I’m sure your family will probably miss you.” Confidence, Dmitri’s best friend since childhood.
His reply surprised the older man, who barked out a laugh. “By damn, you’ve got balls, boy. I’ll give you that, and under other circumstance, perhaps I might have let you court my baby girl. However, no way am I allowing my delicate kitten to marry some foreigner and move overseas.”
Dmitri took those words as a partial acceptance of his suit, a suit he didn’t repeat aloud. No need to warn those opposed about his plans.
And he did have plans, seductive ones, nefarious ones. Whatever a person wanted to call them, he didn’t intend to leave this party unless a certain lady was with him.
Willing or not.
Rawr
.
