Page 15 of Claws and Effect

TEN

The polished marble steps of Summit Castle gleamed under the soft glow of twilight as Laykin stepped out of her ceremonial limousine. Her pulse raced—not from nerves about the treaty signing or meeting her future mate, but from the lingering adrenaline of the roadside ambush hours earlier.

“You can do this,” she whispered, smoothing the silky fabric of her deep forest green gown. The dress hugged her curves, the gold embroidery catching the light with each movement while concealing any evidence of her earlier ordeal.

Seren materialized at her side, looking elegant in a midnight blue cocktail dress that complemented her dark curls. “Ready to meet your arranged destiny?”

“As ready as one can be to meet a stranger who’ll supposedly share my bed for eternity,” Laykin replied, injecting brightness into her tone despite the heaviness in her chest. Her lioness paced restlessly beneath her skin, still agitated from the earlier fight—and haunted by the memory of silver-rimmed eyes and the intoxicating scent of pine and snow.

The grand entrance doors swung open, revealing the spectacular ballroom beyond. Crystal chandeliers cast prismaticlight across polished marble floors. The air hummed with string music and conversation.

“Holy hairballs,” Seren whispered, nudging Laykin discreetly. “That wolf alpha on your left definitely needs a new brow game. Those things look like caterpillars having a wrestling match on his forehead.”

A genuine laugh escaped Laykin’s lips before she pressed them together. “Stop it. I need to appear dignified.”

“Dignified, not dead inside.” Seren’s expression softened. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Fine.” The dull ache where the tranquilizer dart had pierced her skin throbbed beneath layers of concealer, but she’d rather face another ambush than admit weakness tonight.

They glided into the ballroom, Laykin scanning the gathered crowd with practiced precision. Her royal training engaged automatically—back straight, chin up, smile measured. She caught her mother’s eye across the room; Juliette Barclay offered an encouraging nod while continuing her conversation with a silver-haired diplomat.

Every detail registered in Laykin’s mind: the calculated positioning of dignitaries from both prides, the watchful eyes of security personnel, the subtle glances exchanged between her father and the Summit elders. This wasn’t a ball—it was a chess game where every movement carried significance.

“Your uncle Marcello looks thrilled,” Seren whispered sarcastically, nodding toward a stern-faced man glowering beside a marble column.

Laykin followed her gaze. Uncle Marcello stood rigid in formal attire, his expression thunderous as he observed the mingling of the two prides. “When isn’t he plotting against progress? Mother said he nearly had an aneurysm when the treaty was first proposed.”

A passing waiter offered champagne. Laykin accepted a glass, using the moment to scan the room again. “Do you see him?”

“Your mysterious tiger in shining armor? No. But about half the males here are eyeing you like you’re the last salmon at a bear convention.” Seren straightened suddenly. “Potential candidate at ten o’clock, heading this way.”

Laykin’s heart skipped. A young man approached, his gait confident but lacking the commanding presence she recalled from her rescuer. His features were handsome enough—clean-cut with an easy smile—but something about him seemed almost boyish.

“Princess Barclay,” he said with a slight bow. “I’m Rubin. The invitation to your beautiful home honors us tonight.”

Laykin extended her hand, maintaining her diplomatic smile while disappointment crashed through her. This was the fearsome tiger alpha? This was her arranged mate? Where was the raw power, the electric presence that had made her lioness stand at attention in the forest?

He’s nothing like my rescuer.

Her lioness, who had been pacing anxiously all evening, took one metaphorical sniff and curled up disinterestedly.Not him.

“The honor is mine,” she replied automatically.

His friendly demeanor seemed genuine, but Laykin struggled to summon anything beyond polite interest. More importantly, the heat, the spark, therecognitionshe’d felt with the tiger shifter in the forest—none of it existed with this man.

This can’t be right. This cannot be the powerful alpha I’ve heard so much about.

“That’s very kind,” she said. “I understand you’re involved with several charitable foundations?”

Surprise flickered across his face. “Oh! Yes, though mostly in a peripheral way. My brother manages the more serious philanthropy work.”

The tiger shifter who’d rescued her had possessed none of this man’s casual charm—instead, he’d radiated pure, controlled power. The contrast couldn’t be more stark.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” Laykin finally asked, desperate for air. “I should greet some of the other guests.”

“Of course,” he replied, appearing somewhat relieved himself. “I’ll catch up with you later for that dance my mother insists we share.”

Laykin turned away, her shoulders dropping slightly once her back was to him.

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