In Japan, the Pride lived by tradition. It was valued there, important. Change was slow and carefully considered. They were very advanced in business and investments, but the Pride itself respected the past and learned from it before rushing into the future. America was different in every possible way. She liked some of the youthful enthusiasm in this Pride, but she didn’t agree with their impatient drive to change the world.
“Man, you’re insane!” Two identical men came barreling into the room, one of them colliding with the doorjamb. Both of them laughed, one a boisterous, booming guffaw while the other chuckled softly. The louder one was Diego, she reminded herself, and the other was Ric. Everyone in the Panther world knew the Cruz twins were half-wild. And they shared everything from their jobs as the Pride’s legal counsel to their love of extreme sports to their mate, Isabel.
“I’m not crazy, I’m creative.” Diego flashed a wicked smile and waved at the room before dropping into his seat. “Just ask my mate.”
“She’s my mate, too, idiot.” Ric rolled his eyes and heaved a long-suffering sigh. “He’s always been the slow one.”
“You’re the one who couldn’t keep up when we were snowboarding in Tahoe last weekend.” Diego thrust his fingers through his hair. “Dude, I love fresh powder. There’s nothing better—except a fresh blowjob.”
Ciri choked on the wine she’d sipped. The blunt way the Cruzes discussed sex never failed to startle her.
Andrea snorted. “So, what makes you creative and not crazy, baby brother? Because I’m only seeing the crazy side tonight.”
Diego arched an eyebrow. “Just something I want Ric to help me do to Isabel tonight. She’ll love it.”
“Say no more.” Miguel held up a staying hand. “Really. Say no more.”
It had never happened that three Panthers were mated in a permanent ménage, and some didn’t think it was possible, but Ciri had met the twins’ mate and liked her immensely. She’d become the only person in San Francisco whom Ciri could even begin to call her friend.
Unfortunately, Isabel wasn’t there yet. Neither was Tomas. So there was no one to cling to when Antonio and Solana Cruz walked into the room. Ciri fought the need to rise and bow to the leaders—the larger-than-life rulers of shifters on an entire continent. She’d found that such formality was unwelcome here, which would have been a sign of serious disrespect in Tokyo.
“What’s for dinner tonight, does anyone know? I’m famished.” Antonio’s grin showed the kind of charisma that Americans would have attributed to John F. Kennedy. It invited the kind of intimacy that would never be acceptable to the Asian Pride leader. Antonio was known for his progressive politics, so much so that in more conservative circles, he was considered a bit extreme.
“Duck à l’orange, sir. Or so Isabel said at tea.” Ciri quickly swallowed more wine when every eye in the room swung toward her. A blush rose to her cheeks. She hated being the center of attention. Give her a quiet corner and a computer to design her graphic artwork and she would be happy.
“Sounds delicious.” Solana glided toward the table and let Antonio seat her beside him. She wore blue jeans, a tank top, and ropes of pearls. Somehow, she pulled it off.
Solana and Ciri had gotten off on the wrong foot, and little warmth had developed between them since. A few bumbles when Ciri first arrived had branded her as a conservative elitist, which wasn’t true. What was right in Japan was always wrong here.
“Did I miss anything?” Tomas strode in, a man on a mission, with purpose. The sentiment reflected him perfectly. He bent to kiss her cheek before sliding his big body into the chair beside her. His shoulder and thigh brushed hers, crowding into her space, always touching her. Larger than life, just like the Cruzes. As she supposed any Pride leader or heir should be. How she matched him, she didn’t know, but fate had decided it was so.
“The summit is coming together nicely. I talked to the European Pride and the African Pride today. The European leader is reluctant to come if Cesar Benhassi will be here.” Antonio settled back in his chair, stroking his fingers down his chin.
Diego growled. “We’re allied with Benhassi, and he’s a good leader. The European Pride can kiss my ass—any issues between those Prides is Europe’s fault.”
Waving his wineglass in an expansive arc, Tomas jumped into the conversation. “The point of the summit is to have representatives from all Prides, to hash out issues, and to open up new avenues for trade in other continents.”
Solana popped an appetizer into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Europe may abstain from the summit altogether.”
“That would be foolish of them. They’d be cutting their nose to spite their face.” Tomas looked at Antonio. “It would also look bad for the summit if you couldn’t get everyone to be here. You cannot allow this to happen.”
And the conversation only got more opinionated from there. Isabel led a few Panthers in with serving trays, dinner was devoured, and the argument continued with each member of the family weighing in. Tomas’s eyes sparkled, his hands slicing through the air as he made his points. He was truly in his element in these political discussions. Only Isabel and Ciri remained silent, focusing on their meals rather than the deliberations. It was part of why they got along so well. They were both quiet people who grew up as regular Pride members—neither of them was comfortable making decisions that affected their entire world.
Only Isabel wasn’t mated to a future leader, so she could remain in the background to some extent. Ciri knew her time was running out. The moment they returned to South America, she’d be expected to take a hand in ruling, and she dreaded it. Her muscles tensed as the conversation grew louder, as opinions grew fiercer. This environment was not how business was conducted in Japan, where respect was paramount, and criticisms were voiced gently and indirectly. On every level, she didn’t fit here.
“What do you think, Ciri?” Tomas’s voice interrupted her musings, and she glanced up to meet his gaze. This was his way of trying to push her into participating in politics the way he did. She didn’t mind discussing these kinds of topics with him in private, but this was as public as one could get. Silence engulfed the room as they waited for her response.
She felt every inch of color drain out of her face. The Panther in her wanted to snarl at being backed into a corner, but she’d spent her entire life having peacekeeping drilled into her. Confrontation wasn’t in her nature. She liked tranquility in her life. Why was that so wrong?
Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. The bottom dropped out of her stomach and bile rose in her throat. She feared the duck might come back up again. “I—I don’t think you can have a global summit without every continent on the globe represented.”
There, that was gentle enough, and it was a reiteration of what Tomas had said, wasn’t it? Or had he changed his mind when she wasn’t paying attention? Her stomach pitched and she swallowed hard.
“You see?” Her mate whipped around to face Diego. “One more on my side.”
Relief exploded inside her. She hadn’t said the wrong thing this time. Surreptitiously, she wiped her clammy palms on her legs. Her claws scraped against the silk fabric, and she hadn’t even realized they’d slid forward. She ran her tongue across her teeth to make sure she hadn’t bared her fangs at anyone, but the sharp canines weren’t in evidence. Thank goodness.
This was why she despised these family dinners. Everyone else engaged in a lively dialogue and debated matters in Panther politics, and she got to watch her mate’s passionate nature in action. He thrived on these issues, advocating for his opinion, and everyone else seemed to feel the same way. But she’d found out quickly enough that her own more traditional understanding of Prides was not welcome at their liberal meeting of minds, so she kept her own counsel unless forced to speak.
Her first week here, they’d been arguing about whether they should take in a Panther who was mated to a human, much like another couple who currently lived in the Pride, and Ciri had reacted
with horror. Humans and non-shifters were not allowed in Prides.
Except in this one.
When she’d said it, the sentiment had fallen into a horrible, awkward silence as Ciri realized that Solana had once been thought to be a non-shifter, a Panther unable to assume cat form, and thus unable to breed or form a full mate bond. Ciri had forgotten because the other woman had recently borne a child and therefore was not a non-shifter.
Non-shifters were considered a curse to most Prides and were destined to be outcasts. Except in this Pride. Panthers who were unfortunate enough to be mated to humans were expected to leave the Pride, but still maintain the secrets of their race, even to their mates. It was considered essential for the greater good of all Panthers. Except in this Pride. Anywhere else in the world, people would have agreed with her wholeheartedly. Except in this Pride. She’d tried to apologize for her rudeness to Solana, but the damage was done. After that Ciri never willingly spoke up again.
Worse, she’d embarrassed her mate and he’d had to explain to her that when she spoke before she considered all sides of the situation, she could cause problems for his entire Pride.
It was a responsibility she didn’t want, and while she might learn to make peace with it someday, it was never something she would have asked for.
2
She was being stalked.
A shiver of awareness went up her spine. Ciri froze in place just outside the door of a small boutique, one predator sensing another. The fading sunlight made it more difficult to see, but her acute feline eyesight pierced the gloom. The last thing she wanted was to be caught unawares in foreign territory. In Tokyo she’d have the advantage over her hunter. San Francisco wasn’t her city, and that meant she was in much graver danger.
Kuso!
Every curse word in all three of the languages she knew ran through her mind. Not that it would help her out of this situation. She inhaled slowly, trying to sort through the crowd of human smells, food, car exhaust, and the strange moist scent of eucalyptus that infused the city’s air. She wanted his scent, wanted to know her stalker’s essence. The Panther inside her clawed for the freedom to hunt, to kill, but she caged it as she must in the presence of humans. To reveal one’s nature to the general population was to bring a death sentence down on one’s head.
Bitterness shot through her. If she hadn’t disliked this city before, she certainly did now. Her mate was supposed to be here with her, but instead she was alone, as she always seemed to be now that she was on the wrong continent. She’d thought mating meant she’d never feel alone again, but something had called Tomas away from this outing they were supposed to take together, which meant she was playing fetch for him as if she were his assistant rather than his wife. Then again, something always called him away.
And now it might get her killed.
Her heart leapt when she saw a flash of dark hair surfacing from the crowded street. That was him. She knew it—she felt it in her bones.
A Panther. Large and male. Her senses screamed at her to run, and she spun on her heel to dart into the throng of people shopping in Union Square.
She sincerely doubted that she’d outrun him, but the oppressive feel of his rage closed around her. He was getting closer.
Turning a corner, she broke into a swift trot, squeezing between people to try to get some distance from her pursuer. Her narrow skirt hampered her movements as she swept down the sidewalk, her hands shaking at her sides, a cold sweat beginning to bead her face. She’d have no fear of a human, but this was a shifter who wanted to hurt her. The tinge of his madness coated her tongue with its rancid flavor.
There was no one to help her, no one to ask for aid. Calling anyone on her cell phone would only slow her down . . . and anyone who answered would be far too late. Instead, she pushed herself harder, trying not to pour on so much speed that the people around her noticed she was moving far too quickly for a human woman. Reining in the need to run was the hardest instinct she’d ever had to fight.
Glancing back, she saw that same flash of dark hair and tanned skin before he disappeared into the crowd again. He was closer than he had been before, and bigger than she’d thought. Her stomach clenched, adrenaline flooding her veins. Faster. Oh, God. How much faster could she go without giving herself away?
Her breath rasped in her tortured throat, her lungs burning as she panted for air. Some distant part of her brain recognized that this was more from panic than exertion, but he was gaining on her. She would be caught in the horrible maelstrom of hate that poured from him. Her belly turned and it was all she could do not to gag, to bend over and vomit. Only the knowledge that it would slow her down stopped her from giving in to the overwhelming urge.
Whipping around another corner on an unfamiliar street in this godawful city, she slammed into a large Panther male. She hissed, struggling madly against his iron-hard grip.
“Ciri, what’s wrong?” The big hands on her shoulders shook her almost gently. “Ciri?”
She fought against her own feral nature, barely kept her claws sheathed. A snarl ripped from her as she looked her captor in the face.
A wave of shock hit her as she realized it was the Pride’s non-shifter. She recoiled automatically and he let her go, lifting his hands in a supplicating gesture. “Are you all right?”
His smell was different. Clean and sane. The stink of madness dissipated, leaving her standing there shaking and sweating. She sucked in a calm breath, trying to regain some modicum of her self-control. “I’m fine.”
She might throw up on his hiking boots, but she was unharmed and that was all he really needed to know. It was odd to see him up close. She forced herself to focus on this man rather than the one who’d chased her. Anything to hold the horror at bay for a few minutes.
She stared up at the sandy-haired man. A non-shifter. A cursed cat. Until Antonio Cruz came to power, no self-respecting Pride would admit they’d fostered such a freak of nature. She cringed inwardly at the cruel thought, but the superstition was deeply ingrained in the shifter culture.
“Benedicto.” His name finally came to her, and she winced after she’d blurted it out.
His smile was wry. “Just Ben.”
She noted that he didn’t offer his hand to shake. Guilt twisted through her that she was so uncomfortable around a young man whose timely appearance might have saved her life. A lifetime of training made her scuttle backward when he stepped toward her. She couldn’t help it.
The glint in his bright blue eyes was more amused than offended and he moved to give her a wide berth. Stepping to the cement curb, he opened the door to a large Jeep. “Can I offer you a ride home?”
A flush of embarrassment heated her cheeks at his courtesy. It contrasted starkly with her own rudeness. Thrusting her arm toward him, she offered him a hand that trembled. “Thank you for your help.”
Surprise reflected in his gaze and he stared down at her hand for a moment as if he were uncertain what to do with it. Then he reached out, squeezed her fingers for a split second, and withdrew. He cleared his throat and motioned for her to get in the vehicle. “Shall we?”
“Yes, please.” Anything to get away from here. Hiking up her pencil skirt as best she could, she managed a graceless hop up into the passenger seat. Pulling on her seatbelt, she settled against the leather upholstery and laid her purse neatly on her lap. She fumbled for something to say to this non-shifter, something that had nothing to do with her stalker or the scent of terror that saturated her clothing in sweat. “This is Ricardo and Diego’s Jeep, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Ric said I could borrow it.” Ben wheeled the Jeep away from the curb and wended his way into traffic. “The twins are in meetings all night.”
Like most cats, Panthers were nocturnal, their days beginning just before dusk. Ciri had been up early to get to the shop before it closed. The last of the sunshine disappeared, and streetlights began to wink on. The farther they went from Union Square, the more her shoulders relaxed. The feeli
ng of being watched faded and she sighed in relief. “Meetings. I’m sure they’ll love that.”
Ben chuckled. “The twins don’t like much that cages them, but their work is important.”
“Of course.” Ciri drew in a shaky breath and let it ease out. Her heart stopped pounding, and she finally got the shaking in her limbs under control. Exhaustion slammed into her as the adrenaline rush crashed. She sagged against the seat, wanting nothing more than to be back in Japan, in her own bed, and curled up in sleep. But that wasn’t to be. She was stuck here in this strange country and this strange Pride, with a mate who became more a stranger every day. She stuffed away the sad thought, trying to accept her fate. It was an ongoing struggle, but it was for the best. Even her parents agreed when she called to talk to them every week. Acceptance, harmony, peace—that was paramount.
“May I ask why you were running?” The question was quiet and undemanding, which seemed to be characteristic of the man himself. Then again, a non-shifter would have learned young to keep his head down and try to blend in.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction. “Someone was following me.”
Instead of brushing her off, he nodded. “I didn’t sense anyone, but you seemed scared. I imagine my appearance changed their mind about your viability as a target.”
“I suppose so.” A sigh escaped her. He hadn’t sensed anything. She had no idea how sharp a non-shifter’s senses would be. As good as a full shifter’s or not? Would anyone else believe her if no one could back up what she said? She hadn’t managed to make friends with many Panthers here. There was no way the leaders would trust her word. Worry gnawed at her, and she just wanted to escape all of it and be somewhere safe. Somewhere thousands of miles from here.
“Did you see what they looked like?”
She shook her head. “He was tall with dark hair. Other than that, I just sensed him. He was . . . angry.”
Prowl the Night Page 2
