King's Throne(39)

If they mated, it would be for life. She wanted that with all her heart. She was beginning to crave it with every fiber of her being. But her female nature demanded more of her mate. It demanded that he claim her in the way of their ancestors. Her inner tigress deemed him worthy, but it was going to take Mitch to make that final connection. The claim. The demand for submission that her tigress was all-too-willing to give him—and only him.
The girls didn’t have time to comment on her admission because the men chose that moment to pause for a water break. They were all sweaty and in various stages of undress. Most of the Millers had their shirts on, but Mitch’s clothing hadn’t been that good of a fit to start with. He’d shed his T-shirt already and was clothed only in the borrowed sweatpants.
Gina found it hard to look away from his gleaming skin and the muscles that played just underneath. He was a specimen of masculine perfection if she’d ever seen one.
Tad tossed him a towel and Mitch wiped his face. The Millers kept their private dojo stocked with supplies. A small refrigerator held bottles of water and sports drinks and Paul handed out bottles, tossing them across the length of the barn to each of them.
“Shall we show them how it’s done, ladies?” Gina asked with a sly grin.
Mandy giggled and ran for the hidden control panel. She hit a few buttons and several items slid out from hidden cupboards in the walls, among them was a set of uneven bars, an extra-long balance beam, a pommel horse and a vaulting horse and several other items used in gymnastics. Adele and Violet moved everything into position while Mitch whistled once through his teeth.
“That’s some setup,” he observed, coming over to stand beside Gina. “You aiming for just a workout or something more?”
“Watch and learn,” she countered, enjoying teasing him. “We’re tigers. We’re good at tumbling and jumping, and we use it in conjunction with more traditional martial arts.”
“I’m familiar with the concept.” Mitch looked down at her through slitted eyes. He seemed both skeptical and intrigued.
“You do gymnastics?” Gina wanted to know. He was big for it, but he definitely had the body. Those muscles were long and lean. She didn’t doubt he could do more than just plain old fighting with them.
“I’ve been known to tumble a bit. It didn’t come quite as naturally to me as to some of my shorter brethren.”
“There are rings up in the rafters and a high bar we can put out if you like. Paul will probably get it out of storage before long. He likes going round and round.” She made a silly face, used to Paul’s antics. “There’s plenty of space for even a guy as big as you to fly a bit.” She nodded toward the rafters of the barn, high above their heads. The entire space was open and voluminous, built that way for just this reason.
Gina’s attention was caught by a bead of sweat sliding its way down Mitch’s throat as he raised a half-empty water bottle to his lips and proceeded to gulp the remainder down. He held it upward, his neck stretched as he emptied the clear plastic bottle. His throat worked, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. Gina caught her breath. The man was so sexy, even his simplest motion made her wet.
She looked away before he finished with the drink and caught her staring. Again. She really had to stop ogling the man. Or…maybe not. He was just too handsome not to look at.
Violet jumped onto the balance beam and ran at a rapid pace, jumping and tumbling as she went on the tiny ribbon of only slightly padded wood. Mitch watched her, his eyes narrowing as if assessing her skill. He didn’t seem surprised. He’d definitely seen this sort of thing before.
Adele started running and jumped into a simple vault, starting off slow as Mandy started stretching and tumbling a bit on the mats. Mitch’s gaze went from one to the other, his gaze measuring.
“Is this the way regular Royal Guards train?” Gina had to ask.
“More or less. We all get tumbling and the unique fighting style that combines our more gymnastic abilities with self-defense as well as offensive fighting. Looks like our training in many respects, though I guess your version of it is truer to what it once was. I heard one of my teachers remark once that when your father went into exile, he took the best of the Guard with him.”
“He didn’t ask any of them to come. They all volunteered.” She was quick to defend her father.
Mitch turned toward her. “I meant no disrespect. I’m sure they followed your father of their own free will. He is the king after all, no matter if he doesn’t want to rule. If I’d been in the same position as the Millers, I probably would have followed him too. But it left a bit of a vacancy in the tigre Royal Guard ranks. Most of the best and most senior teachers went with your father. Those who were left to carry on were good but not exactly in the same league as those who departed. Which is part of the reason I went to the pantera to complete my training.”