Kisri: ... and the Beast, Book 2 by Moira Rogers

appreciated a lady with more spirit than decorum were at war. I didn’t desire an old man who only wanted me in hopes of gaining your ear.”
    “You sound as though you’ve given it some thought,” he said casually.
    She sidestepped. “I gave plenty of thought to what I did not want when it was being forced on me day after day.”
    Mal flashed a feral grin. “No one will force you to do anything, cousin. On pain of death.”
    That, at least, she believed. “And you’ll respect my choice, whether he’s a peasant or a noble or not a lion at all?”
    He nearly winced. “Not a lion at all? Isn’t that taking things a bit far?”
    Kisri laughed and teased him with a careless shrug. “We’re allies with the wolves now, are we not? Surely your friend the High Lord has many handsome wolves under his command.”
    “None fitting for a royal lioness,” he grumbled.
    “Oh, Mal.” She rocked to her feet and up onto her toes to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be so grumpy, cousin. The war is over, and now you can go home and marry a pretty lioness and have dozens of babies who will keep you too busy to frown at me.”
    “I still worry about you, and about Ennon.” He paused. “He was very quiet when you arrived.”
    He was circling like any good lion, stalking the truth as his prey. Kisri evaded him by patting his cheek. “You should glance in a mirror. Your scowl is even more intimidating than it used to be. If I weren’t a royal brat, I might be quiet too.”
    Mal sighed and ducked away from her. “My scowls have never affected him that way before.”
    She had to be careful to skirt around an outright lie. “I was a trial to deal with. I imagine he finds silence safer than such an admission.”
    “Perhaps.” Mal strode to the tent’s makeshift door and turned to look at her. “Dinner. I’ll have the cooks prepare something special tonight, in your honor.”
    “I’ll be prepared,” she replied, hoping her smile was as easy as her voice. It would give her a few hours’ time, in any case. A few hours to devise a plan that would steal her precious secret minutes with the First Warlord. In the midst of the High Lord’s own camp.
    She could only hope tactical cunning ran in their family.
     
     
    The first thing Mal did was hit him.
    Ennon took the punch because he deserved it, and because the High Lord wouldn’t have doled it out if he hadn’t already figured out what had happened.
    At least partly. No way did he suspect what Ennon had really done, because he wouldn’t have limited himself to a punch. No, he’d have come at him with claws and teeth, and Ennon would have been fighting for his life instead of rubbing a sore jaw.
    “You son of a bitch ,” Mal growled. “I gave you one task— one .”
    “I know.” Ennon rose and waited for the next blow. “I brought her back safe.”
    “But not untouched.” The High Lord’s biting stare dared him to deny it.
    He couldn’t, of course. “No, not untouched. But I took nothing by force.”
    “Oh, I don’t give a damn, En,” Mal spat. “I didn’t accuse you of rape. I accused you of flouting my orders, and of taking advantage of an innocent.”
    How could he possibly defend himself when it was all true? He’d known that taking her, initiating her into the ways of sex, was better saved for the man who would take her as his wife as well as his mate. Anything less wasn’t fitting for a royal like the High Lord’s cousin.
    He squared his shoulders. “I did things I should not have done, but Kisri didn’t suffer. She won’t, not after I’m gone.” Too bad he couldn’t say the same for himself.
    Mal closed his mouth abruptly and stared at Ennon. “You mated her. I felt the echo of it when the two of you came into camp, thought it must have been my imagination, but it’s real. You mated her.”
    It felt like more of a damnation than a blow from Mal’s fist. “Kisri—she doesn’t know.”
    He’d thought Mal couldn’t look more surprised, but