Amy was pretty sure she’d been walking for hours. Maybe days. She’d started with trudging from one plane to another, and now from one opulent room to the next. An endless series of spaces draped in silk with touches of glittering gold.

From the corner of her eye, she studied the man beside her in his starched maroon uniform and wondered how long it’d taken him to learn his way around the sprawling palace. Months? Years? The question teased the tip of her tongue, but she managed to suppress the urge. Mostly.

Amy allowed herself to be distracted by her surroundings, the uniformed man leading her into a breezeway that lined a massive swimming pool, complete with Arabic archways and multi-colored lanterns.

“I imagine you’ve seen many palaces in your travels,” her escort’s rumbling voice cut through her thoughts.

She swung her attention to him, lips parting with her surprise. Until now, she’d assumed he was mute. After all, he hadn’t even bothered to greet her when she’d arrived. He’d simply taken her doctor’s bag and motioned for her to follow him. Not a word spoken until this moment. And it wasn’t like she was familiar with Adikar’s customs. For all she knew, cutting out the tongues of their servants was the norm in the secretive kingdom of Adikar?

“Uh,” she cleared her throat and finally found her voice. “Yes, my job has taken me to some amazing places, but I’ve ever been anywhere so magnificent.”

And Amy had traveled a lot. As the pre-eminent shifter doctor—despite her humanity—she’d seen the inside of stunning Turkish bath houses, luxury skyscrapers in Dubai, and centuries-old castles in Europe. Yet none had left her feeling so… small. Between the soaring, arched ceilings and the stunning murals of mighty panther battles, Amy was a speck of sand in the sea of the impressive expanse.

Her escort grunted but otherwise remained silent. Okay then. Apparently, the pleasantries were over for the time being. Amy rubbed her dry, tired eyes and fought to put one foot in front of another. She followed him as they made yet another turn into a dark corridor. Deep shadows crowded the corridor and she imagined there were panther shifters hiding in those darkened corners, just waiting to pounce.

“This is where I leave you,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry? What?” Amy blinked up at him.

“The remainder of royal family will be arriving soon, and I must help the staff prepare. The king and queen await you.”

“But I don’t—” Amy didn’t get a chance to finish her objection. Not when the man dropped her bag at her feet, turned on his heel and disappeared through one of the many twists and turns that had brought her to that point. “Dammit,” she grumbled.

Amy groaned and looked back to the long hall, noting the doors that lined the hallway. She blinked into the darkness, willing her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting so she could make out which of the six doors in the hall seemed most likely to lead to the queen’s chambers.

She wondered if no one had told the guy that Amy was human. Did he expect her to put her nose to the tile and sniff out the royal family?

“Guess I could play eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” she huffed.

If the royal family had been desperate enough to send for Amy, one would have assumed they’d make sure she found her way to her patient. After all, it was the country’s heir on the line here. God forbid the doctor should actually be able to help.

Raising her finger, she counted off the doors, murmuring the childhood rhyme to herself as she went. Everything was going great too. At least until she got to “catch a tiger.” That was the moment bright yellow and decidedly feline eyes flashed at the end of the hall.

She stopped in the middle of the rhyme and squinted in an attempt to see through the darkness. She rubbed her eyes again and then looked up to find the yellow eyes had been joined by another pair which flashed a vivid green.

Ah, shit. Mentioning tigers in a panther compound probably wasn’t the greatest idea.

She suppressed the jolt of fear that speared her chest. One of the reasons she’d survived as a human doctor in a shifter world was because she avoided her patients when they were on four feet. When their animal sides had control and their human halves took a little nap.

Amy’s lips parted as she searched for the right words—hell, any words—that might prevent her from becoming kitty kibble. For some reason, she was pretty sure, “Here, kitty kitty,” wasn’t going to cut it. Before she could even catch her breath, much less scream at the top of her lungs, the beasts leapt forward, shadows in an already dark hall. She slapped her hands over her eyes. Whatever her fate was going to be, she didn’t want to see it coming. She didn’t need to see gleaming fangs just before they chomped her head and caved in her skull. She’d take a hard pass on that right there.

Just when she expected to feel fangs piercing her neck and razor-sharp claws tearing her flesh to pieces, she heard something she never expected.

Laughter. Deep, masculine, somehow alluring laughter.

“We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to scare you.” The voice was smooth and silky as the laughter died away.

Amy peeked through her fingers and discovered that the deadly panthers had been replaced by tall, dark, nearly identical men. The one closest to her crossed his arms and grinned at her, the scruff of a three-day-old beard a stark contrast to his perfectly straight, white teeth. The other—who could only be the first man’s brother—crossed his arms too. Though he appeared to be the more serious of the two. He was clean shaven, and his close-cut black hair looked nothing like the wild mop his brother sported.

She dropped her hands in relief. She wasn’t going to be today’s lunch, at least. Except just as relief took hold, she immediately regretted the decision to uncover her eyes. Really it was a combination of “come to mamma” and “eep!” because both men were naked.

Na. Ked. No clothes covered that fine, taut skin. Not a hint of fabric hid their muscled bodies or impressive… attributes.

As a shifter doctor, she’d become accustomed to the species’ penchant for nudity. As a medical professional, she knew the body was little more than an instrument for the mind.

But as a woman…

Her gaze drifted down their long, lithe bodies, the sharp planes of their chests, the abs that looked like undulating sand dunes, the deep Vs that led to…

Amy dug her nails into her palms and dragged her gaze back up to meet their stares. She willed herself to remain cool and professional. On the outside. On the inside, she wondered what they’d taste like. Of course, they both could probably scent her desire, the dampness that pooled between her thighs. Still, she clawed at the shreds of her dignity to hold on to the tiniest scrap.

“You didn’t scare me,” she said as coldly as she could manage.

The scruffier of the two quirked one brow. “We didn’t?”

“No. You didn’t.” She let the lie roll off her tongue. “I’ve worked with all types of shifters. If you think a panther scares me—”

“Then you’d be a smart woman.” The tidy brother’s silky voice soothed her jangled nerves. “And from all my research, I know you’re a very smart woman.”

It was her imagination that he purred the word very. It had to be.

While she’d focused on Mr. Tidy, Mr. Sexy Scruff had stolen the moment to duck into a nearby room. By the time Mr. Tidy finished speaking, his brother had reappeared, clothing in hand. Both brothers made quick work of dressing and she fought the need to whine an objection as inch after glorious inch was covered.

Then Mr. Tidy extended his hand and she reflexively slid her palm against his. Her skin tingled as it caressed his warm grip, and she suppressed the shudders threatening to overtake her.

“I apologize for the… unusual introduction. We were enjoying some time in our fur and didn’t intend to frighten you.” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “My name is Tahvo, the king’s younger brother.” He then gestured to Mr. Sexy Scruff. “This is my twin brother, Shon.”

Amy looked between the men, allowing her hand to linger in Tahvo’s, unwilling to break the connection. “Twins? You look like brothers, but I wouldn’t have pegged you for twins.”

“Thank the gods for small favors,” Shon said as he winked at her, sending trills of delight up her spine and straight to her nipples.

Get a grip!

Jerking her hand out of Tahvo’s, Amy suppressed her attraction to the two men and smiled coolly. “So, you know I’m Dr. Amy Sullivan.”

Tahvo nodded. “We recognize you from your photo.”

“My photo?”

“In a medical journal. I researched you for my brother and sister-in-law. The best of the best, they say.”

Amy was grateful for the dim light so neither of them could see her blush. “I’m happy to help. Now if I could just find my patient…” She raised both eyebrows in question as her voice trailed off.

The men smirked at each other and then Shon nodded to the door directly behind her. She turned and reached for the knob, but before her fingers wrapped around the massive brass orb, strong fingers seized her shoulder. Swiveling back to face the men, she looked from one to the other until Tahvo spoke.

“We were out of town when Nabila fell ill, and we rushed back as quickly as we could. I hired you because you’re the best of the best, and nothing less will do for our sister.”

Amy frowned. “I thought you were the brothers of King Zafar, not Queen Nabila.”

“We are,” Shon said. “But we love Nabila as if she is our blood sister. If anything were to happen to her…”

He let the subtle threat hang in the air between them. It wasn’t Amy’s first rodeo though, especially with protective family members. Once, an overly distraught sloth shifter in Papua New Guinea actually held a machete to her neck and told her to say goodbye to her head if she didn’t save his unborn son’s life.

Obviously, she did.

“Gentlemen, I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure Nabila gives birth to a perfectly healthy baby. As I’m sure you’re aware, it’s my specialty. My calling, really. That’s why I founded PCA in the first place. My mission statement is in the name—Prenatal Care for All. That includes poor wallabies and wealthy panthers. Now, if you’ll excu—”

Shon stepped forward, all trace of humor gone from his eyes. “Doctor, you know her history. I don’t think she’ll survive another miscarriage. Emotionally at least. Neither will Zafar. He’s had to mourn two sons. He won’t be able to handle a third.”

The distress in the men’s eyes was profound and sincere. They clearly feared for their sister-in-law, who also just happened to be their queen. Amy had learned many techniques for keeping shifters calm in the uncertainty of a prenatal episode and wasn’t afraid to use them.

“I understand, but Nabila and Zafar won’t have to go through that again. We’re all going to walk in there and find out what’s wrong, so she can grow healthy enough to deliver a healthy baby. Sound good?”

Hope flickered in their eyes—which Amy noticed with a start had turned nearly black in their human forms—so she turned and walked through the door.

And into total chaos.

An unsettled woman lay on the bed writhing. A tall man, as dark and handsome as the two behind her, paced by the bed. His hands were buried deep in his thick black tangle of hair, growling and moaning. When he spotted the trio, he rushed toward them. Obviously, King Zafar. Amy barely had time to catch the slightest glimpse of her patient before he shoved his beet-red face into hers and roared.

“Where the hell have you been!” His flashing black eyes shifted from her to her escorts. “What took you so long!”

A scowl furrowed his brow, cutting into a massive brown scar that spanned the width of it. Amy had been met with many reactions over the years—panic often being one of them—but she’d never been accused of dragging her feet when a patient’s life was at risk.

“Zafar,” Tahvo started, but the king cut him off by screaming at Amy again.

“I demand you tell me why you didn’t get here sooner!”

Amy opened her mouth to explain that she’d just traveled for twenty-four hours nonstop, but before she could utter a word, Shon stepped forward. “Brother, you know better than anyone what it takes to travel to our country.”

“And now she is standing here doing nothing!” Zafar snarled.

Nabila moaned, and they all glanced at the woman’s pained expression. Amy didn’t mind taking the brunt of a family’s fear and frustration—it was all part of the job, as far as she was concerned—but if it affected her patient’s well-being, she put her foot down.

“Out,” she snapped out the word, quietly and simply.

All three men turned to face her again, but she stared deeply into King Zafar’s blazing eyes. He glared back.

“Excuse me?” he seethed, black eyes edging toward the yellow of his beast.

“I said, out. Get out. Right now.”

If the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, Amy might have giggled watching the red rise up from the man’s neck all the way to the top of his head. It quite literally looked as if his head would pop right off.

“Over my dead body! If you need to speak with my wife, you’ll do it with me in the room!”

Nabila moaned again, her eyes watching her husband’s every move. Her tension filled the room, and a tense mother-to-be with pre-existing issues carrying a child to term was a very bad thing.

“I need to examine my patient,” Amy explained in that same cool-as-a-cucumber tone. “I can’t do that with three men hovering over my shoulder. I don’t care if you’re royalty. I want you to leave.” She waited a beat and then rolled her eyes and added, “Please.”

King Zafar looked positively apoplectic. “How dare you speak to me—”

That was the not-so-proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

“OUT!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, her yell eclipsing the king’s.

The echo ricocheted around the spacious room as all three men gaped at her. King Zafar sputtered at her audacity while his brothers’ eyes gleamed with something akin to approval. Amy stood stock-still, pointing at the door, with her eyes locked on the ceiling. Tahvo and Shon bustled their protesting brother from the room, quietly closing the door behind them.

Amy turned to the queen and smiled serenely. “That’s better, don’t you think?”

Nabila smiled weakly and nodded. Alarm shot through Amy at the poor woman’s hazy eyes. Maybe she was dehydrated. Unlikely that thirst was her only issue, but a glass of water in this hot climate couldn’t hurt. A pitcher of water, a tea pot, two glasses and a cup sat on a tray next on the queen’s bedside table. She’d clearly had some of the tea, which was good, but nothing compared to the healing powers of pure, crisp water. Pouring some in a glass, Amy approached the bed.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but I don’t think you really need that kind of drama right now. I’m Dr. Sullivan, but you’re welcome to call me Amy. I’m here to make sure you and your beautiful baby get healthy again.”

Nabila shifted her body in the bed until she leaned against the headboard, pillows supporting her back. Before speaking, she allowed Amy to help her take a nice long drink from the glass. The queen’s pale, sallow skin soon flushed with a hint of health. The improvement in her appearance after just a sip gave Amy hope.

“Please call me Nabila. Thank you so much for coming at such short notice. We are all so grateful.”

The king had a funny way of showing it, Amy thought, but she smiled anyway.

As she checked Nabila’s vitals with practiced ease, Amy spoke gently. “I understand your previous miscarriages were in the beginning of your third trimester. Is that right?”

Nabila nodded, a soul-shattering sadness in her warm brown eyes. “I thought since I’d made it to the eighth month this time, I would be in the clear. But then the cramping started the other day—” Her voice caught, and she dropped her eyes to her protruding belly.

Amy set about her examination, allowing the woman time to collect herself and her thoughts. Finally, Nabila spoke again.

“Dr. Sullivan, I really only have one request.”

“What’s that?” Amy pulled her stethoscope from her bag and warmed the cold metal diaphragm against her hand before placing it on Nabila’s chest.

“Whatever happens… Should you have to make a choice…” The queen swiped the tears from her cheek. “Just make sure this baby survives. That’s all I want.”

Amy held her reaction in check and finished listening to Nabila’s strong, if elevated, heartbeat. Pulling the tips of her stethoscope from her ears, she smiled and squeezed the queen’s hand. “Nabila, I have no intention of losing either one of you. You’re both going to be just fine.”

The worry in Nabila’s eyes softened but didn’t disappear completely. Understandable, considering her history, and that tore at Amy’s heart.

Amy donned her stethoscope once more and focused on continuing her exam. She opened Nabila’s robe enough to expose her taut tummy and placed the stethoscope on it. She had to move it a few times before she finally heard the telltale whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of a baby’s heartbeat. But instead of the fast, steady rhythm she’d hoped for, what reached her ears was barely a flicker. As if the baby barely clung to life.

Smiling to cover her unease, Amy cleared her throat and replaced the queen’s robe across her expansive stomach. “Now tell me the truth, Nabila. Has King Zafar been keeping you from sleeping with all his fretting?”

Nabila smiled sheepishly but didn’t say the words aloud.

“Thought so. Our first order of business is sleep. In the morning we’ll run the tests we need to get things sorted out. Just relax, Nabila. I’m here and I’m not going to let anything bad happen.”

Nabila nodded and snuggled deeply into the silk sheets, falling into a deep slumber almost instantly. Amy turned back toward the door before allowing her forced smile to fall away.