Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 188

Chapter 188: The Princess and the Paw-blem

The Morning After

The sun rose over the Beast Empire, but for Rajah, the Tiger General, the day started with a headache.

It wasn’t a hangover. Rajah didn’t get hangovers. His metabolism was too efficient.

No, this headache was named Feelings.

He sat in the War Room of the Tiger Sector Headquarters (which was technically just a very large tent filled with maps and weapons). He was trying to plan the perimeter defense for the new Unity Academy.

But he kept getting distracted.

He looked at the map. Instead of seeing supply lines, he saw Leonora in that blue dress she wore at the wedding.

He looked at his sword. He remembered how she had laughed when he tried to teach her how to hold it, her hand smaller but surprisingly strong over his.

"Gah!" Rajah slammed his fist on the table. "Focus, soldier! You are a Warlord! You conquer lands! You do not swoon over Lionesses!"

"Dad?"

Rajah jumped. Arjun was standing in the tent entrance, holding a wooden practice sword and wearing a very serious expression.

"Report!" Rajah barked, trying to look busy.

"Mom—I mean, Princess Leonora—is outside," Arjun said. He hesitated. "She says she wants to ’kidnap’ you."

Rajah blinked. "Kidnap? Is she armed?"

"She has a picnic basket," Arjun noted gravely. "And she is wearing the yellow sundress. Threat level: Critical."

Rajah groaned and put his head in his hands. "Tell her I am busy. Tell her I am fighting a dragon."

"She knows there are no dragons, Dad," Arjun sighed, sounding like the adult in the room. "Just go. You’ve been staring at that map for three hours and haven’t drawn a single line."

Rajah walked out of the tent. He tried to look intimidating. He puffed out his chest, adjusted his shoulder pauldron, and scowled.

It didn’t work.

Leonora was waiting by the riverbank. She wasn’t wearing armor or royal robes. She was wearing a simple yellow dress that showed off her golden skin and the muscle in her arms. Her hair was loose, blowing in the wind like a lion’s mane.

She looked... soft. And dangerous.

"General," Leonora smiled, holding up a basket. "Surrender. You are coming with me."

"I have duties, Princess," Rajah grunted, crossing his arms. "The Academy security protocols won’t write themselves."

"The Academy doesn’t open for a month," Leonora countered, stepping closer. She smelled like sunflowers and hot sand. "And you have been avoiding me since the wedding."

"I have not been avoiding you," Rajah lied badly. "I have been... strategically repositioning myself."

Leonora rolled her eyes. She reached out and grabbed his wrist. Her grip was firm.

"You are a terrible liar, Stripes. Now come on. I made spicy chicken."

Rajah’s ears twitched. "Spicy chicken?"

"And mango lassi."

Rajah sighed. He was a simple man.

"Fine. I surrender. But only because of the chicken."

They walked to a quiet spot near the Twin Waterfalls. It was beautiful, peaceful, and completely devoid of other people.

Rajah hated it.

Silence meant talking. Talking meant feelings. Feelings meant vulnerability. And vulnerability was not in the Tiger Warlord Handbook.

They sat on a checkered blanket. Leonora unpacked the food. She had actually cooked it herself—roasted chicken with chili glaze, saffron rice, and cold mango drinks.

Rajah took a bite of the chicken. His eyes watered.

"It burns," Rajah choked out happily. "It’s perfect."

"I asked Primrose for the recipe," Leonora admitted, watching him eat. "She said the way to a Tiger’s heart is through capsaicin."

Rajah froze mid-chew. "Primrose talks too much."

"She also said you like poetry," Leonora teased.

Rajah turned bright red. "Slander! Lies! I read... tactical manuals! In rhyme! Sometimes!"

Leonora laughed. It was a warm, throaty sound that made Rajah’s tail thump against the grass involuntarily.

"Relax, Rajah," Leonora said softly. She leaned back on her hands, looking at the waterfall. "I’m not here to interrogate you. I just... I wanted to see you. Without the armor."

Rajah looked at her. He saw the way the sunlight hit her eyes—golden brown, like aged whiskey. He saw the small scar on her chin from when they fought side-by-side in the desert.

"Why?" Rajah asked, his voice rough. "I am a blunt instrument, Leonora. I break things. You are... you are the Lion Princess. You deserve a diplomat. Or a scholar. Someone who can discuss art without threatening to punch the canvas."

Leonora looked at him. Her smile faded, replaced by something intense.

"I’ve had diplomats," she said. "They were boring. They agreed with everything I said. They treated me like a porcelain doll."

She reached out and touched the scar on Rajah’s cheek—a claw mark from a Void Beast.

"You don’t treat me like a doll," Leonora whispered. "You gave me a sword. You let me fight. You looked at me covered in mud and blood and called me ’Warrior’."

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