Really Unusual Bad Boys Read online

  “Well, maybe we can head back and talk about it. I’m sure we can all figure something out. I’m sure Shakar will remember his manners and I’m sure you’ll watch your temper.”

  “Will I, my Gladys?”

  “You’d better.” But she smiled to take the sternness out of her words.

  Rica had been in her mother’s land about, she figured, six hours, counting travel time from the jump-off point. And one thing her mother had never mentioned was, the pillows weren’t stuffed with feathers.

  Rica didn’t know what they were stuffed with, but they looked like shiny black beads…except they were soft. She’d been in the middle of a real circuit-clearing temper tantrum when she realized. What was that stuff, anyway?

  She picked up a bead and examined it. Part of her knew exactly what she was doing: she had a big problem she didn’t want to face, so her mind was casting around for things that she could face. Like pillows without feathers.

  She squeezed a bead. It squished, but didn’t make any noise or squirt—thank goodness. She’d been half afraid the thing had been stuffed with beetles…that’s what they looked like, beetles without legs, except squishy. It was—

  “Rica, dear? May we come in?”

  It was that Gladys. The king’s sweetie. And she said “we” so Rica figured the king was with her. Good. She tossed the bead over her shoulder, crossed to the doorway, and held the curtain back.

  “Hello. Come on in. It’s your room, anyway,” she added dryly, and the king smiled at her. Why…he looked just like Shakar when he smiled, all open and boyish. He had a downright pleasant face, come to think of it. And those eyes were really something. Small wonder Gladys looked at him like she looked at a rock star. “I made all the servants go away, but I could get you—”

  “You need not be in our service, Rica. We came to be sure your needs are being met. And I must beg your forgiveness for what happened earlier. It seems my son did not inherit his stubbornness, pride, temper, or poor reaction to surprise from his mother.” Sekal quirked an eyebrow at Gladys. “Or so it has been shown to me.”

  “Sir, I appreciate you and your lady coming by to make nice, but if there’s been a screwup here, we all know it’s not your screwup.” And what’s the deal with your pillows? she wanted to add, but managed to stop herself in time.

  “Ah…yes. About that. Rica, I would beg you to never think I wish any harm to befall you, but—”

  “You don’t have to explain, King Sekal. Your son made a promise and then tried to get out of it. I imagine it’s doubly bad if you’re a prince and you try to shirk duty.”

  “Yes,” he said simply. “It is doubly bad.”

  “But see, the thing is—I’m glad you came by, because I want to make sure we’re all clear—the thing is, when I get over being mad at the big cabbage-head, I’m going to want to be with him. After I beat him severely. Possibly more than once. So I better fight. What I mean to say is, I’m going to fight.”

  “Dear, are you sure—”

  Sekal cut her off, and Rica could see how that surprised Gladys. The old guy must feel pretty strongly about what was coming. “Rica, this is how I know you are already my daughter-by-mating. You do not ‘shirk.’ I am filled with pride to hear you speak thusly. But I must not set aside my concern for the new princeling—”

  “Or princessling,” Gladys added.

  “Yes. Do I understand correctly, your dam was from my land?”

  “Yes, sir. She fell through a thin spot and mated with my dad, and they had me.”

  “Then perhaps you know a bit of what would be required of you at a Groomfight. It is not to the death, of course, but you would have to physically triumph over those whose dams and sires came from here, and that I fear—”

  “Sekal,” she interrupted—and now he looked surprised. She figured not a lot of people cut off the king. “Can I tell you something? You and Gladys? Something secret?”

  Chapter 10

  Shakar took a deep breath and paused outside the room where his family was breaking the fast. He had—how did Lois put it? “Screwed the pooch,” that was it, that was the term for an error—several errors—of abysmal judgment. His father thought he was a coward, and worse, Rica thought he was a coward. Worse even than that, his baby was in danger.

  He had not honestly gone to Rica’s world—not that he had had much say in where he went, or ended up—to avoid the Groomfight, but once there, he could not leave the woman he had searched for his entire life. He should have explained to Rica that they missed—he thought they missed—the event, which would have been personally embarrassing for his father, among other things.

  His surprise to find he was mistaken was matched only by his horror when he realized that, in due accordance with tradition, Rica would have to fight.

  Well. She would not fight, and that was how it must be. If it meant banishment, exile from the hot sands and cool purple sky he loved, then so be it.

  He flung the curtain aside and strode in manfully, ready to repair the damage he had wrought through carelessness. Rica should not pay the price for his mistakes; he would see to that, at least.

  “—and then splat! Out of the sky he comes. Almost on top of me, thanks very much.”

  “Truly?” The king, Shakar was amazed to see, was hanging on Rica’s every word, as were Damon, Maltese, Maltese’s woman, Lois, and Gladys.

  “Yeah, but he can haul a lot of wood, so he sort of redeemed himself. You know, until lately,” she added in a mutter.

  “You’ve got to have another one of these jobbies,” Lois said, passing Rica a plate overloaded with ghannas. “They’re like a cross between a pear and a strawberry, except five times as sweet. And juicy! They gave you a bunch of napkins, right?”

  “Lois, I’m stuffed. I’m gonna pop like a squished grape if you keep feeding me.”

  “Well, you gotta feed the baby. And one thing about this place—they don’t have sunscreen but the food rocks.”

  Anne swallowed then cleared her throat. “When are you due, Rica?”

  “I’ve got a long ways to go, Loo. I—”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but my name is Anne, despite what you’ve heard. Loo is—” She cut her gaze to the left, where Maltese was grinning at his plate and finishing the last of his meal. “—a private nickname. But you were saying about your due date…”

  “As best as I can figure—”

  “I have come,” Shakar declared, “to make amends with all.”

  They looked at him, Maltese still chewing. Shakar knew from a lifetime of experience that only the threat of war would keep Maltese from breaking his fast in the morning and possibly not even that—hadn’t Lois said something about a fight with the dark travelers?

  “Oh,” Rica said after a silence that seemed, to him, to take a very long time to be broken. “It’s you.”

  “Yes, it is I. I must—”

  “You must sit down and eat, dear,” his future mother-by-mating said gently. “Have you eaten a thing since you got back? You must be starving.”

  He glanced at Gladys, possibly the only member of the family who did not wish him dead, and found a smile. “As a matter of fact, I am most hungry. But that is not why I—”

  “Then sit down, dumb-ass,” Lois told him. “Before Rica eats it all.”

  “Oh, I like that. Here you’ve been jamming all this food down my throat like someone was paying you by the hour—”

  “Ah, the good old days. Minimum wage, no benefits.”

  He sat. “I do not think you are understanding my purpose here this morning. I—”

  “Was a total big loser,” Lois said, “and you shouldn’t forgive me, but if you do forgive me, I’ll make it up to you with gobs of oral sex.”

  Gladys and Anne blushed to their hairlines; Rica laughed out loud. It was a fine sound and almost distracted him.

  “I—”

  “—have my father’s temper and, occasionally, his poor manners, but I am not a bad man.”
r />   “Father—my king—”

  “In case you haven’t figured it out—my God, boy, you’re slow—”

  “No,” Gladys said. “Just stubborn.” Somehow, when she said it, it did not seem like a matter to take offense over. In fact, it seemed as if all of them had decided not to take offense, which was beyond belief, because—

  “Look, you screwed up, and I’m not saying I got over my mad-on, because I’m still pretty pissed. But we’ve all got jobs to do, and we’ll do them, and we’ll go on from there.”

  “Jobs to do?” Rica was right; he was slow. His father must have gone to her and tried to explain his position, and she of course explained that she would—“No, Rica! No! You must not fight! You—”

  “Shakar—”

  “No! I forbid it! We will leave at once. We will not return whilst this hangs over our heads. We—”

  “—will be exiled?” Rica asked quietly. She had folded her fingers together to make a tent and now rested her chin on the top of the tent. She did not smell angry, only tired. “You’ll lose everything, Shakar. Everything.”

  “Not everything,” he replied.

  “My son, sit down.” His father had come to him, had hurried to his side, and Shakar was surprised to find himself on his feet; he must have leapt up when he shouted. He allowed his father to press him into a seat and accepted his pattings. “I was foolish not to see this for what it was last sunround. I assumed the worst and did you a sorry turn. But now listen: Rica has a stronger grasp, in this, than you do. She must do this for you, for the baby, and for herself. By doing this, she wins her mate rightfully, and secures a home for her infant. And word is spreading. Think, my good son. Everyone is talking about the strong dark mate you returned with; your care for her wellness is obvious. Who will risk the wrath of a prince? I am certain they will ‘put on a show,’ as my Gladys says, and then it will be over.”

  “But I can’t—she can’t—Sire, I cannot allow this thing.”

  Rica looked at him from the other end of the long table. She popped a kumkoss in her mouth and said, “Honey, what makes you think any of this is up to you?”

  Chapter 11

  “Maybe this is a silly question,” Gladys began. “O my Gladys, I doubt that.”

  “Wait ’til you hear the question,” Lois suggested.

  “But why can’t we just cancel the Groomfight?”

  “Cancel?”

  “You know…send everyone home? Tell them the prince got married while he was—uh—abroad, and there’s no point to it, and thanks for coming, and then they can go.”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” Anne commented. “But I imagine there is a deeply ingrained cultural—”

  “Cancel means to say you will be a host and then not be a host?” Sekal looked as horrified as Rica had ever seen him, and since the king had been having a rough week, that was pretty bad. “To invite people—females—from across the land, and then when they arrive after a long journey, say there will be no fight, that they came for nothing, and they must go home without even the honor of open combat?”

  “Okay, okay, calm down, Sekal.” Lois flapped her hands at him. “Your pills? See, I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Nothing in my new life is easy.”

  “I’m sorry we’re such a burden,” Anne said.

  “I never thought about how difficult all this must be for you,” Rica added.

  “Aw, bite me, both of you. You’re the sisters-in-law from hell, I swear. Nope, the only thing for it is for Rica to go down there and kick some major ass. All the ass, in fact.” Lois looked a little anxious. “You’ve got a plan, right, Rica? Or at least a gun? Right? You’re not just going down there for the sake of pride to get your ass kicked? There’s a plan?”

  “It will be fine,” Rica assured her, which was a bit of a lie—she had no idea if it would be fine or not. But she would try. She would be her father’s daughter and give it everything she had.

  And she would be her mother’s daughter as well.

  “Where’s Shakar? I mean, I know he’s not exactly thrilled about this—”

  “Oh, he’ll be along,” Lois said cheerfully. “He’s tied up right now.”

  Rica frowned. “You mean in a meeting? A prince thing? Well, if it keeps his mind off—”

  “No, I mean tied up. With rope. Except these guys don’t use rope, it’s like some kind of living—never mind.”

  “Maybe you’d better start over.”

  “Okay. Damon and Maltese were up at first light and set a trap, literally set a trap, and I guess he’s been trying to get out of it so he can stop you from taking his medicine. Or something like that.” Lois cocked her head, listening. “Oh, okay. He’s almost out. They’re all in their puma forms—you’ve seen Shakar’s big cat, right? Right. Well, your mom could probably do it, too.”

  “If your mother could do it,” Anne began, “isn’t it possible that—”

  “Hello, talking here!”

  “There are times when I loathe you,” Anne told her, “so much.”

  “Anyway, your disgraced sweetie will be here any second. Just in time to introduce himself to the crowd.” Lois moved to the window and peeked out. “How many women would you say are down there, anyway? Boy, just think, all of ’em want to have hot monkey love with Shakar.”

  “How could they want him?” Anne exclaimed, also taking a peek. “They don’t even know him.”

  “Oh, honey, you’ve never seen a picture of Prince William, have you? Never mind. Rica knows what I’m talking about.”

  “Who?” Rica asked.

  “You know. Pr—”

  “Rica.” The king stepped into the room. “It is time. Are you ready?”

  “Sure. Let’s get it over with.” She tried to smile and, after a moment, succeeded. “Once I get down there and in the middle of it, I won’t be nervous anymore.”

  “That is how it is,” the king assured her. “If you cannot flee, you must fight, and if you must fight, your dread departs.”

  “Someone should cross-stitch that on a pillow,” Lois said.

  “I’ll get right on that,” she replied, and allowed him to lead her to the lower level.

  To the Groomfight.

  Chapter 12

  “It is an honor for me to see how many of you wish to participate,” the king was saying…Lois couldn’t believe how much Sekal was droning. Get on with it, Chrissake. Rica was probably a nervous wreck, ready to spew even if she didn’t have morning sickness. “It is an honor,” King Droney McDrone continued, “in light of this, our newest celebration, the Groomfight.”

  “I hope nobody on this balcony is thinking this is my fault,” Lois said sharply.

  “Oh no, why would we think that? It’s not like you planted the idea in his head after the thing with Damon. Don’t let your elastic conscience give you a moment of trouble,” her mom said, in that deadly sweet/sarcastic tone Lois knew so well.

  “—our son, the good Prince Shakar!”

  Cheers. Waves. Feminine shrieks. It was like a Beatles reunion down there.

  “I protest this and insist that all you good ladies immediately—whgggllllfff!”

  “Whoops, he’s down again.” Lois observed Damon and Maltese tackle their youngest brother, bearing him momentarily out of sight. She had a glimpse of Shakar’s foot flying up and then disappearing as he was borne off of his chair. “Poor guy. He really needs to just accept what’s going on.”

  “Yes, dear, you’re the exact right person to give that particular piece of advice for this particular occasion.”

  “Mooooommmmmm…” It’s just as unacceptable to throttle your mom here as it is back home. It’s just as unacceptable to throttle your mom here as it is back home. It’s just—“Whoops, here we go.” Looked like things were (finally) starting up down below.

  There was already a line forming on the opposite end of the arena; man, those chickies were itching to take a crack at Rica. There was an awful lot of whispering and meaningful
looks, too. Lois wondered if the gossip—that Shakar was already married, so take it easy on the little woman—might backfire: There’s the ho that stole our man.

  She heard a crash from Shakar’s general direction—nuts, she’d thought all the breakables had been removed from the general area. She didn’t bother to look; she kept her eyes on the arena floor, where—there! The first challenger had transformed into…it looked like a small leopard, all spotty and sleek and, frankly, more than a match for Rica with her two legs and bare, vulnerable skin.

  “Barbaric,” was Anne’s comment. “And not just the fighting. She doesn’t seem to mind being unclothed in front of all these people. I guess that’s something. I know I couldn’t do it.”

  “Being naked is the least of her problems,” Lois said, eyeing the competition.

  “I agree. At least give her a weapon. Possibly six.”

  “Seems like there’s a plan, though,” Lois said. “Sekal’s a little too relaxed, get me?”

  “Mmmm.”

  Sekal was saying something—probably “Please don’t kill my daughter-in-law”—but she lost it in the roar of the crowd. The little leopard started circling Rica, almost lazily.

  And then…

  “What on God’s earth?” Anne gasped, but of course, they weren’t on God’s earth, this was another place entirely, and Rica…

  Rica was a panther. A large, muscular, sleek panther of deepest black, a panther who left prints in the sand that were far, far bigger than Lois’s hand, a panther whose muscles moved like velvet beneath the fur. Lois caught movement out of the corner of her eye and saw Damon, Maltese, and Shakar, all with their arms wrapped around each other (awwwww), all gaping at the enormous jungle animal Rica had become. She was…she was so…she was…