“You don’t need a reason. Those damnable bands bind you so that you can’t leave. But if you remove them, then your choices become your own again. What is the more difficult battle? The one where you follow orders or give them?”
Roseâtre rubbed her face. She knew the answer to that one. “Following orders is easy.”
“Exactly. They have to come off, Ruthie. You belong to me and I to you. No one else. We won’t give up on your sister and we have months of the show left. But if she’s waking now, then now is the time to act.”
“But I can’t stay here without them.”
“Yes, you can. We’ll find a way. I don’t care how long it takes. But the bands come off.”
The order should have rankled. But it didn’t. Instead, a new sensation bloomed in her breast. One that vaguely resembled hope.
“Will you let me remove the bands?”
Would she? Could she dare?
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“Afraid of the battle?” he challenged, his blue eyes dark and assessing.
“No.” Absolutely not.
“Then we face each battle as it comes. But you’re mine and I don’t share. Will you take the bands off?”
“I don’t share, either.”
“Trust me, princess. You don’t have to. Now, will you, for the love of the gods, take the damn bands off?”
“No.” Roseâtre exhaled. Determination surged through her, a fierce pride and sense of self that she’d nearly forgotten. “But I will take them off for the love of you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Anthony wasted no time when she’d conceded to taking the bands off. He scooped up the half-forgotten key from the stone table and used it to remove the shackles on her wrists and the collar from her throat. They both stared at the items as though expecting them to spark and explode, but they did neither. They disappeared in a shimmer of golden light as though they’d never been.
Good riddance.
Hours later, entangled together in the sheets, Anthony watched her slumbering face. A slender alarm beeped on his phone.
Sunrise.
He held his breath. Her lashes fluttered open, revealing new flecks of gold amongst the field of her hazel eyes.
“Boo.”
He grinned, relieved. They spent the day making love, sleeping and eating but she was never out of his arm’s reach. The three stripes on her arm remained, the scars still pink. He liked those almost as much as the single stripe she’d given him.
Heidi waited for them on the theatre stage when they arrived for rehearsal, the tigers trailing Anthony and Roseâtre like a guard of honor. Her amused expression swept over them, from Anthony’s arm around Roseâtre’s back to the lift of her chin.
Anthony tensed, ready for anything.
The stage manager laughed, clapping her hands together in solitary applause. “Well done, Mr. diNapoli. Well done. I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t have it in you.”
“You knew?” Roseâtre gaped, shocked.
“Of course, I did.” Heidi’s smug expression gentled. “And it’s about time too. We just have to decide what to do about the show.”
Anthony made a cutting gesture. “Roseâtre performs, regardless of the damn bands. We’ll honor our commitments.”
“I thought as much.” Heidi nodded, satisfied. “Well, you should get to work. The show opens soon, and we still haven’t done a complete run-through. No more stage nookie for the two of you.”
Roseâtre’s strangled laughter was music to his ears.
A few days before opening night, Anthony found a few moments to use the phone. Roseâtre swam lazily in the pool, playing with Nalini. In just two short weeks, his princess had undergone quite the transformation. She no longer looked askance at the cats, but had drawn the line at letting them pile onto the bed with them.
The ring in his ear died as someone answered the other end of the line.
“Hello?” The earthy voice was low, husky and distinctly female.
“Mother?”
“Anthony!”
Warmth shook him. In the decades since his uncle handed him his ass in battle and ordered him to submit or leave, he hadn’t had the courage to face his mother. She’d wept openly when he’d chosen to walk away.
“Yes, Mama, it’s Anthony.”
“Are you finally ready to come home?”
He wrestled with himself. He’d explained his shame to Roseâtre and instead of disappointment or disgust, she’d merely slugged him in the arm and told him to grow a pair. Leadership wasn’t about winning. It was about doing what was best for the tribe or Pride. She’d sacrificed her freedom, her sense of self to protect a tribe member that didn’t even remember her. Could he do any less?
“Yes.” The word was short, a breath. But as his gaze slid over the pool, he met Roseâtre’s—no, Ruthie’s—grin. She gave him a thumb’s up. They would return to his Pride. He would bow to his uncle. He wasn’t all that interested in the burden of leadership, but she promised to back him every step of the way if he wanted to take it back.
“All the better to watch your ass,” she’d teased.
“Mama, I have a mate and I want to bring her home to meet all of you.” He held his breath during the long silence greeting his statement.
Finally, his mother’s soft sigh drifted musically through the phone. “It’s about time…”
Cerveau’s reaction was nothing like he expected. It took several days of rehearsal to get all the girls comfortable. Not even the vampire, Kiki, took her role as seriously as Ruthie, but they managed. Together, they adjusted the storyline, tweaking the turning points, the dark moment and the ending.
“So you’ll stay with the show for the seventy-five shows the diNapoli tigers are scheduled to perform.” Cerveau sat next to Ruthie at the stage edge. Anthony stood on the theatre floor, watching them. The quiet agony in Ruthie’s eyes slashed at his soul. No matter how much they discussed the issue, he knew that leaving would hurt her. But if her shield-sister was as loyal as she, the princess’s absence might motivate Jaimela to come out again, to fight to be at her sister’s side.
“Maybe longer. But I don’t know for sure.” Ruthie cast a glance at him and he nodded. Unquestioningly. Even if they left the Arcana Royale they wouldn’t give up on Jaimela. So if that meant putting on a cat and pony show every night, they would do it.
“It’s a selfish decision, but you deserve it.” Cerveau nodded. “Even if he’s a bit of a fun burglar to steal you away.” Yes, the woman smelled of Amazon, but she didn’t smell right and the painted emptiness in her features reminded Anthony forcefully of Roseâtre’s turn into a porcelain doll. Only in Cerveau’s case, the animation seemed wrong somehow, hollow.
“Jaimela…” Ruthie began, but the woman’s smile evaporated and her expression went completely cold. She drew away from Ruthie and stood.
“We have rehearsals and if your time here is that short, then you should make the most of it.”
Pain rippled through his mate, but she buried it. He caught her hand in his, resisting the urge to rub it against his cheek. She needed comforting, but she wouldn’t appreciate it in front of their audience.
“Why are you people sitting on your asses? We have a show to perfect. Move, move, move!” Heidi shooed them back to work. Ruthie squeezed his hand once before letting go and then followed her sister back to the stage, but Anthony paused, studying the stage manager.
“Honey, I’m way too much woman for you.” Heidi tweaked his nose. If anyone else tried that, he’d have taken their hand off, but there was something distinctly maternal about this Heidi and the crazy, little demon that raced around her heels, constantly chattering. The minion was even now creeping up on Nalini, the white tiger’s gaze bored with the childish tricks.