Page 59 of Claws and Effect

Laykin nodded slowly. “I agree. Whatever Marcello or his associates are planning, the unified security protocols would make it much more difficult.”

“I’ll call Holden, have him prepare everything for an immediate signing rather than the later in the evening.” He started to pull away, but Laykin tightened her grip on his hands.

“Zyle,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For caring about me. For protecting me. For supporting me with my family. For...” She struggled to articulate the swirl of emotions in her chest. “For treating this asourproblem, not just mine.”

His expression softened in a way that made her heart skip. “Because it isourproblem. Whatever happens tomorrow, it’s not just you, Princess. I’m always going to be there to back you up.”

“I know.”

“We should get some rest,” he murmured, though his gaze dropped to her lips in contradiction to his words.

“Probably,” she agreed, stepping forward to close the distance between them.

The kiss began gently—a reaffirmation of their partnership in the face of tomorrow’s uncertainty. But gentleness quickly gave way to something deeper as his arms encircled her waist, drawing her flush against him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, the soft strands slipping through her grasp as she pulled him closer.

Each touch carried unspoken meaning—his hand on the small of her back promising protection, her fingers tracing the contours of his face pledging trust.

Laykin shivered as his lips traced a path along her jaw to the sensitive spot below her ear. “So much for sleep,” she whispered, earning a low chuckle that vibrated against her skin.

“Some things are worth losing sleep over,” he replied, lifting her effortlessly into his arms.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to their bed, all thoughts of tomorrow’s council meeting temporarily banished by the heat of his gaze and the promise of his touch. For now, there was only this moment, this connection that transcended duty and politics to become something beautiful and true.

FORTY-SEVEN

Zyle blinked awake, his tiger senses already alert despite the peaceful quiet. He turned his head, breath catching at the sight of Laykin sleeping beside him.

The fierce, independent princess who had stood toe-to-toe with him in arguments now curled against him like she belonged there.

Zyle traced the curve of her spine with his fingertips, marveling at the softness of her skin. His tiger rumbled contentedly beneath the surface as she stirred, pressing closer with a sleepy murmur. He bent down, kissing the crescent-shaped birthmark below her ear, breathing in her scent—sunshine and wild honey.

Laykin’s eyes fluttered open, hazel irises catching the morning light. “You’re staring again,” she whispered, voice husky with sleep.

“Can’t help it.” He brushed his lips against hers, reveling in the way she arched into him, fingers tangling in his hair to deepen the kiss.

She broke away with a reluctant sigh. “What time is it?”

“Early.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We have time.”

Laykin stretched against him, her body warm and pliant. “Time for what, exactly?” A mischievous smile played at her lips as she trailed her fingers down his chest.

Zyle caught her hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss her palm. The simple gesture seemed to affect her more than any passionate embrace—her pupils dilated, breath catching. He loved discovering these small vulnerabilities in her lioness.

“Time for coffee, at least,” he said, voice rough with restraint. “Covenant signing today, remember?”

Laykin groaned, burying her face against his neck. “Don’t remind me. I’ll have to be diplomatic to people who tried to kill me.”

“Not for long.” His arms tightened around her protectively. “After today, no one questions our alliance.”

She pulled back to study his face, tracing the line of his jaw with her thumb. “You almost sound like you’re looking forward to it.”

“I am,” he admitted, surprising himself with the honesty. “Not the politics. This.” He gestured between them. “Us.”

Laykin’s expression softened, the vulnerability she showed only to him shimmering in her eyes. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. “Me too,” she whispered, the simple words carrying more weight than any formal declaration.

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