Page 16 of Claws and Effect

“That bad?” Seren whispered as they walked toward a less crowded area.

“Not bad. That’s the problem.” The gold embroidery on her gown caught the light as she moved. “He’s perfectly nice. Perfectly polite. Perfectly...underwhelming. I’m marrying someone whose most distinctive quality is being pleasant company.”

“The ultimate crime,” Seren agreed with mock solemnity.

“You’re not helping.” Laykin’s fingers tightened around her champagne flute. “I expected... something else.”

“What did you expect? Some brooding alpha who’d sweep you off your feet with one smoldering glance?”

The image of silver-rimmed eyes flashed through Laykin’s mind again, along with the memory of a powerful white tiger transforming into an equally imposing man. Her lioness stirred restlessly.

“I expected someone with presence,” she said quietly. “Someone who makes me feel—” She stopped abruptly. “This isn’t about feelings. It’s about duty.”

Seren’s expression softened. “Go get some air. I’ll run interference if anyone comes looking.”

Laykin squeezed her friend’s hand gratefully and slipped toward one of the arched doorways leading to a quiet corridor. Her mind buzzed with conflicting emotions—disappointment in her arranged match, confusion about her mysterious rescuer, and beneath it all, a gnawing suspicion about the attack itself.

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the approaching waiter until it was almost too late. A tray laden with champagne flutes tilted precariously as she turned directly into its path. Laykin braced for the inevitable crash?—

But it never came.

ELEVEN

Astrong arm caught her around the waist, pulling her firmly against a solid chest while another hand stabilized the waiter’s tray. The movement happened so quickly that the glasses barely rattled.

The scent hit her first—pine and snow with an underlying note of something wild and distinctly feline. Laykin’s body responded before her mind could process what was happening, her skin heating where his hand gripped her waist. Her lioness, who had been sulking since meeting the younger Rubin, suddenly sprang to attention, clawing at her insides with desperate need.

Him. MATE.

Her gaze traveled upward, past the immaculately tailored suit jacket to broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and finally—locking with deep brown eyes rimmed with unmistakable silver. The emerald of her gown seemed to intensify those silver rims as they stared at each other, neither willing to break the connection.

Time stopped. The ballroom faded away—the music, the conversations, the political machinations—all of it disappeared. There was only this man, this tiger, his arm still firmly aroundher waist, his scent enveloping her, his eyes burning into hers with an intensity that stole her breath.

“Careful,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through her entire body. “These marble floors can be treacherous.”

Heat pooled low in her abdomen at the sound. Her lioness purred and pressed against her skin, desperate to get closer to him. Laykin struggled to form coherent thoughts as recognition, confusion, and raw desire battled for dominance.

This is him. My rescuer. But why is he here?

Before she could speak, a familiar voice shattered the moment.

“There you are, Zyle!” The younger Rubin approached with a relieved smile. “I tried entertaining your fiancée until you arrived, but I think I bored her to tears. She’s all yours now, brother.”

Brother.

Zyle.

The pieces clicked into place with dizzying speed. Her gaze darted between the two men, noticing the family resemblance she’d somehow missed before. The powerful presence holding her wasn’t just any tiger shifter—he wasZyleRubin. Her actual arranged mate.

“You’re Zyle Rubin?” The words escaped in a breathless whisper.

Something flashed in his eyes—recognition, followed by a heat that matched the fire igniting in her veins. His hand on her waist tightened almost imperceptibly.

“I am.” His voice dropped lower, meant only for her ears. “And you must be Princess Laykin Barclay.” His gaze traveled over her face, lingering on her lips before returning to her eyes. “My brother Malachi has a habit of introducing himself by our surname only.”

Malachi grinned, completely unrepentant. “The look on your face right now is priceless, Princess. I’d apologize, but honestly, it was worth it.” He winked at Laykin before backing away. “I’ll leave you two to get properly acquainted.”

As Malachi disappeared into the crowd, Laykin became acutely aware that Zyle’s hand still rested at her waist, his thumb now making small, possessive circles against the silk of her gown. The simple touch sent electricity racing through her nervous system. She took a small step back, needing distance to think clearly.

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