Prowl the Night

by Crystal Jordan

That he enjoyed touching her was something he’d never hidden. He ran his thumb over the backs of her knuckles, lifting them to his mouth for a kiss. “You have my word.”

  “Good.” She started to pull back. It was time to dress for dinner. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose.

  He squeezed her hand. “I was thinking we could . . . do something together soon. Something you’d like.”

  Tilting her head, she arched her eyebrows. “Like what?”

  “There’s a new exhibit opening at the modern art museum here.” A smile that was almost bashful curled his lips. “You could teach me a little about art, so I could tell the difference between a Monet and a Picasso.”

  It was the first time since he’d become heir that he’d offered to try something that interested her. Could they really find more common ground, as he’d suggested? What might have been hope began to unfurl in her chest. She tried to crush the feeling before it grew, but knew she failed. Hope was a dangerous thing—it could flay you alive if it was dashed. “I’d like that. Just us, together?”

  “Just us.” He bent forward to brush his mouth over hers, the touch gentle.

  The Panther within her purred at its mate’s touch. She suckled his lower lip, letting herself savor the flavor of him. Groaning softly, he swept his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss. She brought her hands up to clutch his shoulders, squeezing her thighs together to stop the ache between them. It was no use. She wanted him, she was wet for him, just that quickly. Her breathing sped, her pulse leaping.

  He pulled back slightly, his lips swollen, his pupils expanding, his lungs bellowing. Lust flushed his high cheekbones, his hands closed over her bare legs, and he pushed the hem of her skirt higher. “I can smell your desire.”

  “We’ll be late for dinner,” she taunted. “You’re shirking your responsibilities, Pride heir.”

  He growled and shoved her skirt up to her waist, his talons shredding her panties. She laughed when he pushed her flat against the mattress. It was moments like this that made everything worth it. If they could make it happen more often, she might be more willing to accept her fate.

  He dropped to his knees beside the bed and hauled her hips to the very edge of the mattress. Excitement writhed like a live thing within her. She gasped when she felt his hot breath brush over her naked sex. More moisture flooded her pussy, and she pressed her thighs wider for him. “Please. I want your mouth on me.”

  A low purr answered her, and the vibrations hit her flesh as his lips closed over her hard clit. Shock passed through her and she arched off the bed. The purr intensified, and he held her down, forcing her to feel everything he wanted her to feel. Reaching down, she pushed her fingers into his hair and held him closer. His tongue slid down to stab into her sex, fucking her with his mouth.

  The effect was electric, and a scream burst from her throat. Orgasm caught her by surprise, her pussy clenching on his thrusting tongue as his rumbling purr drove her beyond ecstasy. Starbursts exploded behind her lids and her fingers tightened in his hair, her inner muscles contracting. She twisted on the soft sheets, her nipples beading and goose bumps breaking down her flesh. She’d never come so fast in her life, the intensity enough to leave her shaking and sobbing.

  “I want you inside me,” she choked. Tugging on his hair, she tried to pull him toward her.

  With a sound like a human volcano erupting, he was on the bed beside her in under a second, moving far faster than any mortal could. He simply ripped their clothing away and threw the garments aside. Then he dragged her underneath him.

  His naked flesh against her made her back bow at the feel of him. Big and hot and perfect. Taking his cock in hand, he guided himself to her opening and thrust deep into her pussy. She moaned and wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him close. Just where she wanted him.

  Dark gaze locking with hers, he let her see how she affected him. His need for her was there, and it made her heart trip. He slid his dick into her, his speed almost too fast, too rough. It only excited her more, made her burn for him. She could feel another orgasm building deep within. Her muscles tightened around his thrusting cock. Close, so close. Climax beckoned, an unstoppable, irresistible force that was more powerful than either of them.

  “Come for me,” he breathed, and she couldn’t refuse him.

  She imploded, her sex fisting on him in rhythmic pulses, and every time he shoved into her set off another wave. The feel of it was so good, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Y tú, Tomas. Come for me.”

  He froze over her, his head thrown back, his fangs baring as he hissed. Pumping hot fluids into her pussy, his eyes burned to gold, the Panther so close to the surface, she could see both of them in his face.

  When it was done, he crashed down on top of her, and she cradled him close. She stroked her fingers up and down his sweat-dampened back, smiling when he broke into a rough purr. Her eyes drifted shut, and a matching purr soughed from her throat.

  If only it could always be like this.

  6

  The next day, Ciri popped into Tomas’s office, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “If we hurry, we can get a good two hours in before the museum closes. Do you want to stop for something to eat afterward?”

  Tomas’s eyebrows rose, his palm rising to cover the phone receiver. “Today isn’t going to work for me, sweetheart. I’m going to be in conference calls all night putting the final touches on which Pride representatives are coming to the ball versus those who are staying for the summit.”

  “Of course. Some other day.” A flush of shame raced up her cheeks at how eager she’d been, how hopeful.

  His voice dropped to a low, reassuring rumble. “I will go with you, Ciri. Just not today.”

  “You know, I set aside my work because I was excited to be with you outside the bedroom. I’m sorry you can’t say the same.” Her chin bobbed in a short nod, and she backed out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. If she had to fight with him to spend time with her, it didn’t really mean anything, did it? She forced herself to be calm, to be fair. He hadn’t said he’d go with her today, that was her assumption.

  “Idiot,” she whispered.

  Tears welled in her eyes, and the hope she’d warned herself not to feel shattered around her like glass. This would be her life, alone. Raising children alone, taking care of everything. Alone.

  He would handle the Pride, and she would handle whatever he delegated to her, much as he did now. She’d give up her career to be his political and social helpmeet, just the way his parents had told her the one time she’d met them, and he would never find time to do anything other than screw her.

  At the moment, it felt more like she’d been screwed over by fate in this little mating game.

  She was angry at him and at herself. She knew it wasn’t fair, but that was how she felt. To hell with being serene. She was just tired of being disappointed, tired of not being good enough. There was nothing wrong with her. Her Pride leader had been well pleased with her in Japan. Her politics hadn’t been wrong, her career had been considered a productive money-producer for the Pride. Her quietness, dislike of arguments, and artistic nature had been an asset, not a detraction.

  Spinning on her heel, she stomped down the long hallways to the kitchen, where she found Isabel finishing her shift. “Feel like going for a drive?”

  The blond woman hesitated while pulling off a chef’s coat. “Well, I was going to have coffee with my mates, but if you need something . . .”

  She ground her teeth together, felt her fangs press against the inside of her lips. “I want to go to a new museum exhibit, but no one is allowed to go out alone and Tomas doesn’t have time to go with me.”

  As usual. Her flash of anger crumpled under the sting of rejection. Why had she believed him again? Why had she put faith in him ever having time for her? He never would.

  It was hopeless.

  Depression crashed through her, and she pressed her lips together to keep from
crying. She blinked rapidly, holding back the salty moisture. Focusing on the wall behind Isabel’s shoulder, she fought the suffocating feeling that the room was closing in around her. “I need to get out of here for a little while and no one is allowed to go out alone. Will you come with me?”

  “Sure. Let me grab a sweater and tell my mates where we’re going and why. They have a meeting in an hour, but they’ll have one of Landon’s security guards go with us.” Of course they would. Because her mates gave a damn.

  Unlike Ciri’s mate.

  The look on Ciri’s face haunted Tomas after she’d left, and her words haunted him even more. He hadn’t meant for her to think he would go out with her immediately. He hated that he’d disappointed her, but he didn’t know what to do about it. It was another no-win situation. He’d have to talk to her later, apologize and get this settled between them. He’d meant what he’d said about going with her. He wanted to, he was looking forward to it. A few hours with nothing to worry about but relaxing with his mate would be heaven. It had been so long since he’d truly relaxed that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

  He’d make time for it when this ball and the subsequent peace summit were over. Sighing, he tried to focus on his work. His success was only limited, but he forced himself to sit and continue. This was his duty and no one else could do it.

  A brief knock sounded on his door, breaking his somewhat dubious concentration. He glanced up to see the butler come in carrying a tray. “Hello, Eva.”

  “Tomas.” She nodded, gracing him with a contained smile. There was a wariness in her eyes every time she was around him that he didn’t like, but that he could unfortunately understand.

  Eva had joined the North American Pride shortly after Tomas had arrived. She’d been raised in Brazil, like he had. She was about six or seven years younger than he was, so they’d never been close, but his grandfather had found it charming to have a female butler and had allowed her to follow in her uncle’s footsteps in that position. Tomas had found her excellent at her work, despite her relatively young age.

  He doubted his father had been as amused at having a young woman in the traditionally male role. It hadn’t surprised Tomas at all to find that she’d decided to abandon her post in South America and to make a place for herself somewhere else. It had surprised him even less that she’d chosen the most liberal of all the Prides. Antonio rarely put fetters on his people, limiting them in what they were inclined toward, so long as it didn’t endanger the Pride.

  Tomas agreed with that philosophy. Then again, they’d both been schooled under his grandfather, so it wasn’t unexpected that they shared some of the same views. His parents’ outlook was much more conservative, and Tomas hoped that didn’t drive away all the members who might be less traditional.

  It worried him, but it worried him more that he’d have to live under his father’s rule for decades. He’d never do anything to drive a wedge into the Pride, and that meant biding his time on all things political, lobbying for that which he was passionate about, and swallowing the bitter pill if he couldn’t convince his father to agree with him. He knew that wasn’t entirely fair. His father wasn’t a bad man, he was just a Pride leader whose viewpoint was different than Tomas’s. It was difficult, but hardly impossible.

  “How are you settling in here, Eva?”

  Her body tightened and her gaze sharpened to alertness. “Fine, sir. Thank you for asking.” She set the tray on the side of his desk. It was piled with sandwiches and a traditional gourd filled with tea called mate. “You worked through lunch, so you probably needed a more substantial tea.”

  “My thanks.” His stomach rumbled loudly, and he plucked up the hollowed gourd, drawing on the polished metal straw. The strong herbal flavor burst over his tongue, and the calming, pleasant taste that he’d grown up with had a relaxing effect. He motioned Eva into a chair and offered her the gourd.

  It was customary to share mate, so she perched on the edge of the seat and accepted the offering, taking a drink of the tea. “I had Isabel order mate from a shop I know in Rio Grande do Sul. Miguel seemed happy to have some in the house.”

  “As he should be. Thank you for taking care of us.”

  She tilted her head, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “That’s my job.”

  “You are excellent at it.”

  A startled look crossed her pretty features. “I . . . muito obrigado.”

  He grinned when she broke into Portuguese. It was rare to see her discomfited. “It’s only the truth.”

  Rising to her feet, she handed the mate gourd back to him. Sadness reflected in her gaze before she glanced away. “I wish your father had agreed. He didn’t care to have someone so young in charge of the household staff. I couldn’t stay in Brazil.”

  Not to mention that she was a woman. Tomas didn’t bring it up, but his heart squeezed in sympathy. He knew exactly what it was like to have his father think him inadequate for a job.

  “I’m sorry.” He wished he could offer some assurance to the woman that she wouldn’t always be estranged from her homeland, but he couldn’t. To do so would invite a rift in the Pride that he wouldn’t stand for. Gathering followers to himself to undermine his father could lead to the kind of disaster that had decimated the African Pride a few decades before. No. They would all have to live with his father’s rule, and it wasn’t as if there was no one who agreed with him. His mother and her family had always been a powerful conservative force within the Pride, and they would appreciate the freer rein they now had. Politics went in waves, whether one was dealing with a human situation or the more feline version of things.

  Tomas wanted a strong Pride when he became the leader, so he had to cultivate a healthy environment of communication and compromise. He might have to duke it out with his father to make that happen, but that was a private matter between them, not one that he would ever allow Pride members to become involved in. It was what his people needed, and he had always told himself that he would do what he had to, even if it meant working day and night as he had been. He’d thought he owed nothing less than his best to his grandfather’s memory.

  But if Eva still wanted to return to Brazil when he came to power, he’d welcome her with open arms. Her family had been with his Pride for generations, and it made his soul ache that she felt she was unwelcome in her own home.

  However, if he gave in to what Antonio thought, if he gave Ciri what she seemed to need, he’d never be able to help people in South America. People like Eva. He’d never come to power. Instead, his sister would. But the idea hadn’t stopped nagging at him since the older man had brought it up. If he never saw that disappointed look on his mate’s face again, it would be too soon.

  The door closed silently behind Eva as she strode out. She didn’t say good-bye, but there really wasn’t anything to say, was there?

  7

  By the time Ciri sensed him, it was too late.

  They’d left the museum and were walking toward a small café, passing by an alley, when he reached out and rammed his fist into the back of their guard’s skull. The rogue Panther had already grabbed Isabel before the guard went down in a silent heap. A scream locked in Ciri’s throat, terror freezing her in place. He slammed Isabel against the brick wall, and her head made a sickening thud when it contacted with the side of the building. Blood turned her golden hair a rusty red. She was down, unconscious like their guard, and Ciri faced their attacker alone.

  He was on her before she could react, and she knew death had come for her.

  The reek of insanity swamped her, clogging her nose until she thought she’d gag on the stink. His claws shredded her, ripping through cloth and flesh. There was pain, so much pain, so much blood.

  She felt something deep inside her snap, some inner wall giving way. The Panther came to the fore, and all of her predatory instincts kicked in. Every sense she had intensified, scent and sight locking on the man before her. She had never let the feline have so much control, bu
t it was that or die. Her heart hammered, lungs bellowing. She snarled a warning as he came at her. She fought hard, fangs and claws bared, slashing at his eyes, his throat. Deadly blows if he didn’t block them quickly enough. She gave no mercy—it was kill or be killed. But he was too big, too fast. There was no way she’d win against a fullgrown Panther male.

  His fist slammed into her face, and she felt the reverberation through her skull, her head snapping to the side, the tendons in her neck screaming in protest. Blood gushed from her mouth and nose, so much that she couldn’t breathe through the flood of it. She coughed, vomiting up the crimson fluid.

  Then she was falling, slamming against the pavement. It was over now, she was lost. He’d kill her, this man she didn’t know.

  But death never came.

  Instead, the sounds of fists on flesh continued, but she couldn’t feel anything. A Panther’s scream rent the air, sending chills down her spine. Heaving herself onto her side, she tried to see what was happening.

  One eye was too swollen to blink, but she tried. She lifted a hand to swipe the blood and tears from her vision. Two of the fingers were bent at odd angles. Broken.

  She wavered where she propped herself up when she saw the two tall males fighting. The madman hissed. “She’s mine. My prey. You cannot have her.”

  “I won’t let you do this, Roberto.”

  Roberto. That was his name. Her mind clung to that detail as if it were the most important thing in the world.

  “How will you stop me, little brother?”

  Her rescuer didn’t answer. He simply drew his fist back and slammed it into his brother’s face. Roberto went down, unconscious before he hit the ground next to her.

  She felt herself lifted from the cold pavement and into strong arms, cradled against a warm chest. For a moment, she thought it was her mate, but his scent was wrong. Her instincts told her he was safe, and that was all she required.

  “Tell . . . Tomas . . .”

  “Oh, no.” His voice was as warm as his body. “You can tell Tomas yourself. Hold on and I’ll take you to him. You and your friends are going to be all right.”