The Hunt: Complete Edition

by Anne Marsh

  “Do you think he’ll really bring Lore to the tea garden?” She chews on her lower lip, mangling the tender flesh. Inside me, the Cat shifts, scenting blood.

  “I’ll find out at midnight, won’t I?”

  “You’ll find out?”

  “Yeah, you’ll be waiting here, safe and sound.”

  “No.” She doesn’t even bother looking at me. “My sister. My job. I go with you.”

  “Why can’t you let me help you?” Flesh smacks flesh and I look down in some surprise at the bright sting of pain blossoming in my hand. I’ve just slammed one fist into my other palm.

  “I’m just not used to having help.” She stands and paces across the room.

  “You don’t trust me.” It is as plain as the nose on my face and I don’t need the senses of my Cat to pick out the distrust emanating from her.

  “Sure I do.” And isn’t that about as unconvincing an answer as I’ve ever heard?

  “You do?”

  “Sure.” She paces back to the bed. Flopping down on it, she draws up her knees and wraps her arms protectively around them.

  “We’re mates.” I keep my voice calm. “Mates look out for one another.” And I look forward to the day she will look out for me, although I am not holding my breath. “Why won’t you trust me? Is it because of Lierr? Because he’s the one who convinced you that all males are untrustworthy pricks who you should kick around and belittle?”

  She looks up, meeting my eyes.

  “No,” she says.

  I am sick and tired of one-word answers. “No,” I agree. “So who did teach you that little life lesson? Or did you just make it up on your own?” I don’t wait for her to answer. If I do, the Cat is going to burst free and show her precisely how mates treat one another. That is not a good idea right now.

  “No,” she bursts out. “Lierr didn’t teach me that lesson. He didn’t have to. I’d already learned it a dozen times by the time he plucked me from the tea gardens and informed me that, in all his benevolent goodness, he’d decided to make a project of me. I knew what he was and what he’d want from me—and I went with him anyway. No surprises there.”

  I brush a strand of cinnamon hair back from her face. “You knew.”

  “Yeah, I knew.”

  “And you decided to let him use you so you could use him.”

  “Yeah. So you don’t have to pity me or feed me this I-understand-your-pain crap. It was a business arrangement. I don’t trust anyone.”

  “Other than your sister?” I watch her carefully, silently begging Pick me, too.

  “Not even her.” She shrugs. “Not really. Love her, yes, but she’ll do what she needs to do to survive and I can respect that.”

  “I need you to trust me,” I growl. “That’s part of being a mate. Our females have to trust us, have to know that even if we change, we will not harm them.”

  I reach out and take her face between my hands. “You’ve seen my Cat. Are you afraid of it?”

  Miu sits silently on the bed, gazing up at me. Holding her breath.

  Is she frightened? I scent the air, pulling the warm, delicious tendrils of scent deep inside me. Female musk. Soap. Just a whiff of anger.

  But no fear. The Cat growls with satisfaction. She can hold her own.

  The mattress whispers pleasantly as she shifts toward me slightly.

  “Touch me,” I demand, feeling the change beginning.

  Would she do it? Does she dare?

  Coming up on her knees, she lays a small hand on my shoulder, where the skin flickers between its familiar golden color and the thick, furred pelt of the Cat.

  “Like this?” she asks, her voice breathy.

  She was afraid of the Cat in the tunnel. I remember this. But she was also excited. Eyes narrowing, I swing my gaze to meet hers. “Will you lie down with my Cat, Miu?” My voice is a low, deep rasp. I don’t want to disgust her, make her fear me, but I can’t hide who—or what—I am any longer. If she stays with me now, she accepts the male and she accepts the Cat.

  Both of us.

  The Cat chuffs, a low, feral hiss of sound. My nails curve, lengthen—and the fabric of the bedclothes parts.

  Protect. Pounce. The conflicting urges threaten to pull me apart.

  Her eyes examine my face, watching as my Guardian form is subsumed by the Cat. “Yes,” she whispers.

  Yes. I am afraid to admit the satisfaction that one word gives me. The visceral jolt of liquid pleasure makes my cock thicken and strain toward my mate.

  Her eyes drop to my cock and then fly back to my face. “We’re in this together. I trust you, and you let me go along to meet Lierr. You up for that, Cat?”

  I am. I use the raw heat of my huge Cat’s body to back her against the headboard.

  What sends me over the edge is the faint, unmistakable sound of bells as she slowly strips off her clothes.

  Then she looks at me. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  Part Six

  CLAIM

  MIU

  The wet heat of Jafar’s rough tongue strokes my neck, the hard press of his body making me glad that I’m already on the bed. Less distance to fall, because my damned Cat turns my knees to jelly. When he slides his tongue over my breast, exploring, I choke on a moan. He tastes me and I crave his touch on some fundamental, primitive level of my being, his urgency beckoning to me. No matter what form he takes, he wants me, and that’s an aphrodisiac unlike any.

  “Kitty,” I breathe, surrendering to his ministrations. With erotic efficiency he licks me, bringing me to the edge of orgasm again and again. I feel his thick fur between my thighs, rubbing my most sensitive spots with delicious friction.

  And then he changes back, taking on his Guardian form with liquid rapidity. Thick fur shifts and becomes skin, vanishing as he presses his face against my throat, inhaling.

  I want this. Want him and only him.

  “Mine.” Grasping his hair in both hands, I swing his face up until his eyes are level with mine. When he growls, I smile. “Mine,” I repeat. “You keep saying we’re mates. Fine. I’m good with it. But it works both ways, kitty. You’re mine. Got it?”

  He nods curtly.

  “Yeah,” he rasps. One hard hand threads through my hair, holding me in place for his kiss. The other hand—I shudder—strokes down my shoulder with authoritative firmness, over the rounded curve of my belly. No finesse and I want none. Just primitive possession. “Mine,” he growls, his fingers tangling in the fine threads of the gold chain he’s locked around my waist, plucking at the links until they tug at the bells stabbing the very core of me.

  The bells are a lush fullness, sliding slickly through the swollen, wet folds of my sex. A teasing weight, smooth and heated by my own skin. A caress I’m aware of every moment of the day. Heqet, he may as well brand me. I can’t escape from the memories of his arms, his lips, his touch.

  Worse yet, I don’t want to escape.

  I love him, the bastard.

  A sharp tug of the chain sends the bells jolting upward, blazing an electric path of sensation through my sex. The bells rub at my clitoris and I gasp, flashes of electric light exploding behind my closed lids. “Mine,” he emphasizes.

  Yeah, I get that.

  This works both ways. If he takes me, I take him. Clearly, he needs a reminder. I wrap both hands around his heavy erection. “And this is mine. We’re perfectly clear. So get on with it.”

  Much to my satisfaction, he does. And as he strokes me to shuddering orgasm, I’m not entirely sure whether it’s man or Cat who claims me.

  JAFAR

  Did I hurt her? Locked deep inside me, the Cat protests. The Cat certainly has no intentions of hurting the female I cradle in my arms. No. The Cat adores our female. Only wants to be close, close, close.

  It doesn’t matter. I have no right to do this to her.

  I know better than to take any female when the transformation threatens me. Pulling out of her soft body, I examine her face for signs of distress.
/>   Her eyelids flutter and she stares up at me.

  “Your Cat came out,” she says quietly.

  I still, waiting for the anger. The disgust.

  “He’s as playful as you,” she says, to my surprise. Then she smiles and I almost fall over from the shock of it. “And I think he likes me.”

  I know my Cat does.

  “Let me go to Shympolsk for you, lover,” I say, settling back into our old argument. At least that argument is familiar ground. I know what her objections are there. “Let me look after this one thing for you.”

  She is shaking her head before I’ve finished. And then she stands my world on its head with one simple question.

  “Are you crazy?” She swats away the hand that feathers erotic patterns over her shoulders and the upward slope of her breasts. “No. We’re partners. We settled that.”

  I spoon behind her, my body curled around hers.

  MIU

  “Let me be close to you,” he whispers, and I’m lost.

  The moment is ineffably sweet, a bright blossom in the very dark air of the room, a softening of the edge of bright fear that I keep carefully tucked away. The fear that I won’t escape from Lierr. Wrapped in a cocoon of night dark and Guardian mazhyk, I hear only the soft slide of fabric and the shifting of our bodies.

  He lies behind me, lifting me to my side and wrapping himself around me. His thick erection strokes gently at the tight seam of my thighs for long minutes. Just the velvety soft tip of his penis moving deliciously, as the lazy excitement builds. Cream slips from my body.

  He parts my thighs with his knee. The broad head of his erection separates the lips of my pussy, sliding in slowly as he fills and stretches me.

  “You feel so good,” I whisper. “Move now.”

  And he does, in long, slow, luscious strokes that suggest we have all the time in the world. “Like this?” He pushes in deeply, pulling back with a delicious friction that makes me want to grab his body and pull it back to mine. Hard.

  Instead of answering, I reach down to cup the heavy weight of his testicles, savoring the heat of them. The position is awkward but rewarding. I caress the tender skin stretched between his balls and his perineum where’s he taut with excitement. He is beautiful and, in this moment, mine.

  He reaches around to pet my clit, tugging gently. We come together in long, slow shudders. This time, he’s silent and the sex is slow and sweet and close. It’s as if I’m becoming one being with my Cat, and I hope my instincts are not misguided.

  JAFAR

  Later Miu settles herself at a table in the tea garden just before midnight. She objected strenuously to her role as the distraction that will keep Lierr from noticing my own presence, but, as I pointed out, there really isn’t much choice. The thief master is unlikely to hand over her sister unless he sees both Miu and the necklace.

  The seconds tick by with agonizing slowness as we wait. And then, across the garden, I spot him. Dark, ageless, and uncannily good-looking, Lierr steps closer, moving into the circle of light cast by the candle on Miu’s table.

  “Why, Miu,” he says softly, “I almost think you’re not pleased to see me.”

  “Your damn necklace just about got me killed,” she complains. Not to mention mated, I think. For life and with a Guardian. We still argue over that particular point, although I have no intention of losing.

  “I never promised easy,” he says lightly, and she looks up.

  “This makes us quits,” she warns. She won’t hand anything over until he agrees—again—to the terms of their contract. As far as she knows, or so she told me, she is the first thief in a decade to complete the terms of her contract. She won’t let him suck her into another hundred thefts because she failed to close all the loopholes before she handed over the goods. She’s definitely worried that Lierr will figure out some clever way of binding her to him right after he releases her. I won’t let that happen to her though.

  Lierr controls her through the markings on her forearm. Somehow, he’s been able to send unimaginable pain—as well as simple discomfort, so nice to know he has a sliding scale—to whatever portion of her anatomy he decides to assault. That particular hold he maintains over her breaks. Now. I have every intention of killing him when Miu finishes her business.

  “Remove the mark,” she orders, knowing he will expect that to be her first demand, “and then I’ll hand over your necklace and be on my way. You can play dress-up with it on your own time.”

  He smiles softly. “I do need you to hand over the necklace, Miu, but that’s not all I’m going to need.”

  “Take off the mark,” she repeats. “And then let me see my sister.”

  “You opened a Doorway.” He shrugs lazily. “Yes, I know about your mysterious arrival in Shympolsk. I have eyes everywhere in the city. And besides, how else could you have traveled here from the Valley in so little time?”

  “So you know I can control the necklace.” She examines the thick shadows behind Lierr where I am hidden. She has to pull off her part in our scheme. Get Lierr to hand over Lore before actually giving him the necklace.

  But he’s moved silently closer to her. “Let’s complete our deal, love. You give me the necklace.” He holds out his hand, palm up. “I release your delightful sister.”

  He nods his head toward one of the rooms where girls entertain customers. His bodyguards surge forward, dragging a reluctant Lore with them. Lore is minimally clad, her hands tied, and all of her glorious curves on display. Even from where I stand, I can see Lore’s eyes, and it is obvious her sister is spitting mad. The bodyguards holding her are doing their damnedest not to look down at all the lush flesh on display, which is an interesting display of restraint. “I’m not sure you’re returning her in one piece, Lierr.”

  “She’ll be fine.” At his signal, the guards force her sister into a carriage that has pulled up just outside the garden.

  “And they’re taking her to—?”

  “To wherever she wants to be taken.” He smiles coldly down at her. “That’s my end of the bargain kept, love. Now yours.”

  She hesitates, and I can practically hear her debating whether or not we can pull this off—or whether it would be better for her to put her trust in Lierr.

  “Miu,” Lierr says and warning fills his voice. The dark markings on her forearm glow a warning red. Blood red. “We can do this simply.” He doesn’t voice the other half of his threat. He doesn’t have to. Pain pierces her forearm and she inhales sharply.

  A warning.

  A reminder.

  MIU

  I have no choice but to carry out my end of the scheme Jafar and I worked out. Lierr plans to use the necklace for some nefarious purpose of his own, and I’ve long since come to agree with my Cat that the necklace is better off—safer—deep in the catacombs where it can be well guarded.

  I reach up and remove the circlet, slapping the still-cool metal down on the table before me.

  “Take it,” I say.

  “My thanks.” His fingers close around mine and heat roars up my arm.

  He speaks the ritual spell, a set of unbinding words in an unfamiliar tongue. I fight not to stagger at the power rushing along my arm, through my body from where we’re connected. The tea garden wavers and I almost fall until Lierr pulls me up against his hard body. Funny, I think dimly. I hadn’t really been convinced that Lierr had those urges.

  The power shifts and I look up. Something happens to Lierr. Something grotesque. As the power ripples outward from the necklace, Lierr’s face cracks, melting before my eyes. The features rearrange themselves and the handsome face grows harder.

  “Surprise,” he whispers softly. “Although I did think you’d figured it out earlier.”

  Dumbly I stare up at him. Lierr’s new face is harsher, starker, and unabashedly saturnine. He still has the same liquid eyes, though now they blaze with an unfamiliar violet light.

  “Contract’s complete,” I say.

  “Not quite.” Re
gret flashes in his eyes, which means I am so, so screwed.

  “One hundred thefts,” I counter, hiding my fear. “Done. Delivered. Over.”

  “Well, yes,” he says. Regret colors his voice. “But now I need something else from you. Something that has nothing to do with our oh-so-convenient contract.”

  Lierr puts his arm around my shoulders, immobilizing me against his much larger body. He pushes my hair away from my throat, fastening the necklace back in place. The familiar weight settles against my skin.

  “No.” I put up a show of objecting. Lierr knows me well, knows I’d never go along with his demand willingly. Act convincingly, and he won’t guess that Jafar and I planned this. Once the Doorway opens, Jafar will leap out of hiding. There will be no time for Lierr’s guards to react. Lierr, Jafar, and I will step through the Doorway, right into the temple. At least, that’s what we hope.

  “Yes, love.” He bends his head to my ear. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid I need a moon daemon to make the necklace work for me. You see, when I still had my poor Pho, she never had any problem whatsoever with the damn thing. Opened Doorways like a dream. She and I could move anywhere we wanted.”

  He was partners with Jafar’s Ifrit?

  “Pho insisted, of course, that she wear the necklace, and I was perfectly willing to let her. The necklace was crafted for female power and, though I could force it to do my bidding, I would have run the danger of shattering the stone. So I let Pho wear it and I just made sure I kept close tabs on her. Very close tabs.” A small, dark smile curls his lips. “Call the moon, Miu. Open the Doorway. It’s time I went home.”

  “Home?” This is not part of the plan.

  Lierr runs a hand down my side, and I yank at his hold. “I’ve spent the last four decades suppressing my natural appetites, making do with backstreet whores and tea-garden girls. I’m trying to remind myself that sex isn’t important and that I don’t need just a little taste of you. If I’ve waited this long, I can wait just a little bit longer. Once you transport me back to Qaf, I’ll be able to satisfy every urge.”

  I need to keep him talking, give Jafar time to move closer unnoticed. Since Lierr’s favorite topic of conversation is himself, I ask the obvious question. “Why?”