Page 13 of Claws and Effect

Never had instinct overruled reason in his decision-making.

Until today.

Until her.

The memory of her fighting replayed in his mind—not as a sequence of combat moves but as an expression of spirit. Determination in every line of her body, refusing to surrender despite overwhelming odds. The grace of her movements, powerful yet controlled. The flash of defiance in her eyes even as the tranquilizer began to take effect.

And beneath it all, the inexplicable pull he’d felt toward her. Not merely attraction—Zyle had experienced that before, acknowledged it, controlled it when necessary. This was something deeper, more primal. A recognition that bypassed rational thought and struck directly at the core of his being.

His tiger had recognized her as his mate.

The realization should have alarmed him. Instead, a curious calm settled over Zyle as the hot water sluiced away the physical evidence of the afternoon’s chaos. If his tiger had recognized her, who was she? A random lioness caught in unfortunate circumstances, or someone connected to the Summit Pride?

Someone, perhaps, connected to tonight’s event?

The thought sent a jolt through his system. Could it be possible? Could the lioness he’d rescued be the very princess he was arranged to meet tonight?

Zyle shut off the water, reaching for a plush towel. Coincidence of that magnitude didn’t exist. Or did it? His entire life operated on calculated probability, but shifter lore whispered of fate and predestined matches. Of mates drawn together across impossible odds.

He’d dismissed such stories as romantic nonsense.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

NINE

Zyle wrapped the towel around his waist and returned to the bedroom. Holden had laid out his formal attire for the evening—a tailored black suit, crisp white shirt, and silk tie in the deep crimson that signified Rubin pride colors.

“Your CFO called while you were showering,” Holden announced, not looking up from his tablet. “Something about treaty modifications that require your immediate attention.”

The reminder of business pulled Zyle back to reality. Tonight’s gala represented the culmination of months of negotiation. Tomorrow, formal documents would be signed. Within the year, he would mate with Princess Laykin Barclay to cement the alliance between their prides.

Princess Laykin Barclay, whom he had never met. Whose photograph he had never seen, thanks to the Summit’s strict privacy protocols for their royal family.

“I need everything you can find on a lioness shifter,” Zyle said, the decision crystallizing as he spoke. “Likely from a wealthy family, who might have been at a charity board meeting today. Combat trained, approximately five-three, athletic build, blonde hair, hazel eyes.”

Holden’s fingers stilled on his tablet. “Is this a security concern I should alert our team about?” His tone suggested he already suspected the answer.

“I need to know who she is.” Zyle picked up the formal shirt, the smooth cotton a stark contrast to the rough joggers he’d worn for his run. “The attack happened close to our delegation’s residence. Could be connected to someone from the Summit Pride.”

“The bears have historically opposed feline alliances,” Holden observed. “If they learned about our diplomatic mission...”

The possibility hung between them—that the ambush might have targeted someone connected to the Summit hierarchy. That the fierce lioness might be a security official or family member of the ruling pride.

Holden returned to his tablet, fingers moving rapidly across the screen. “There are several prominent lionesses in the Summit Pride who fit that general description. Several serve on their charitable boards.” He scrolled through the information. “The education foundation held a meeting this morning. Notable attendees included senior pride officials and...” He paused. “Princess Laykin Barclay served as chairwoman.”

Zyle absorbed this information with outward calm, though his tiger stirred at the mention of the princess—his arranged mate, the woman whose signature appeared alongside his on treaty documents, whose family sought alliance with the Rubin pride after generations of distance.

“Could our mystery lioness be one of their security personnel?” Zyle asked, deliberately steering away from larger implications. “Or perhaps a relative of the royal family?”

“Impossible to say without more details.” Holden continued scanning his screen. “The Summit Pride maintains strict privacyprotocols, especially for their inner circle. Very few photographs exist in public databases.”

“Keep digging,” Zyle instructed, focusing on buttoning his shirt rather than the unsettling possibilities forming in his mind.

“Think this woman is someone from the family?”

“I don’t know.” The denial came automatically even as doubt crept in. How hard would it be to marry one lioness and then see the one who captivated him all the time? Could he do it?

The implications sent his tiger into a frenzy of possessive energy. Silver edged his vision again—his eyes shifting without his conscious control.

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