Passion's Prey tss-3

by A. C. Arthur

  This time his growl was loud enough that she must have heard him, because she looked from the dresser where the phone was to X. He didn’t speak and neither did she.

  Chapter 11

  “So she’s a shadow,” Sabar said thoughtfully.

  He was sitting at the long spit-shined oak table Bianca had purchased and moved into his dining room. They were in his brownstone in DC, the one he’d been slowly renovating since their first town house was burned to the ground by Rome and his cohorts. After Bianca’s arrival a month and a half ago, the decoration of the house had taken on a new urgency. It appeared that after living in a mansion-size dwelling in western Africa, she’d found a new hobby in decorating. Or as Darel would say, she had a knack for spending Sabar’s money. Darel needed to learn some respect where Bianca was concerned, and Sabar was just about ready to force-feed him a healthy helping of it. But right now he wanted to know what had gone down last night and why his second-in-charge was in his face telling him things he definitely did not want to hear.

  “She’s a shadow,” Darel replied.

  He sat in one of the high-backed chairs that Sabar had forgotten the name of. He wasn’t eating, was barely looking at Sabar. The Rogue had been acting weird since they’d fought those shadows on the highway; everything about him seemed a bit different than before. Even his hair seemed longer, more unruly, his facial features rougher, his skin just a shade darker. But that was his issue; Sabar had more important things to occupy his mind with.

  “And this shifter that’s looking for her, you know more about him?”

  “He’s definitely not from the Gungi. His accent’s different. And he looks weird. I can’t say if he’s a Lormenia or a Croesteriia, but he sounds like he’s from that region and he’s got cat in him.”

  By that region Sabar knew that Darel was referring to the Etinosa, the small but burgeoning village emerging on the outskirts of the Sierra Leone rain forest in western Africa. The assumption could be true, or it could be a clever trick by the newcomer. Sabar would like to believe the latter.

  “And he wants her?” he asked trying to remain focused on the here and now.

  Darel nodded. “Says she’s his companheiro.”

  Sabar scooped a forkful of eggs into his mouth and chewed, even though it was nearing five o’clock in the afternoon. He’d had a late morning in bed and now his hunger had just peaked. The cook had prepared what he’d asked for, no questions asked. Sabar wished everyone around him was that obedient. “Interesting,” he mumbled.

  “He was pissed she got away, too. I mean, we wanted to get that Faction dude, but he was zapping out about losing the female.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I gave him the keys to Hanson’s place. Figured you’d want to keep a close eye on him until we find out what his real deal is.”

  Sabar nodded. “Good move. Put him in the club, give him a job, and watch his ass like a hawk.”

  “In the club? You serious? You want him working with us?”

  “I want him under my thumb. So when he makes a move I’ll be there to bust his ass.”

  “That’s not the one you need to be watching that way,” Darel mumbled.

  Sabar was out of his chair in a flash, his face close up to Darel’s. “What did you just say?”

  To his credit, and this is why Sabar really liked this shifter, Darel didn’t flinch, he didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe out of the way. He simply stared back at Sabar. Which on the one hand was something to be proud of, and on the other …

  “I think you need to keep an eye on Bianca,” Darel told him matter-of-factly.

  “Bianca’s my female” was Sabar’s retort as he backed away from the table. “What’s your problem with her?”

  “My problem is how she showed up out of the blue. Where’s Boden? Did he just let her go? What does she really want, Sabar?” Darel asked, the tension in his voice evident. Hell, his muscles had even bunched at the shoulders like this crazy shifter thought he was going to take a swing at him. Time to remind him who was in charge here.

  “She wants me!” he yelled.

  Darel nodded.

  “And what else?”

  Sabar didn’t answer, just flexed his fingers, claws already breaking through the skin as his cat was ready for a fight. He didn’t want to kill Darel, didn’t even want to consider the thought. But knew that if that was what needed to go down, it would. Disrespect was not something he planned to deal with lightly.

  Darel seemed oblivious to Sabar’s train of thought as he continued. “Think about this: We’re trying to build something here. Our product is popular, so our territory is growing. We’re working on those fake-ass politicians to get something big set up with the weapons dealing. We’re about to be a huge force in this city and across this damn nation. And Bianca shows up just in time to reap the benefits.”

  “I hear what you’re saying,” he said, only because Darel had been his trusted confidant for a while now. And Darel never let him down, ever. He knew what to do and he did it without question. Sabar respected him and wanted to keep their working relationship intact. But in this, where Bianca was concerned, there was no middle ground.

  Sabar stood from his chair and leaned over the table so that his face was kissing distance away from Darel’s, his breath a breeze across the man’s ashen face.

  “But she’s my female. I don’t give a damn about what happened across the seas years ago. I don’t fucking care where Boden is or if his head’s still up his ass. I’m running this shit here and that’s all that matters. You,” he said, his voice raising slightly as he pointed at Darel, “don’t say a fucking word to or against Bianca. Don’t even look at her cross-eyed or I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to you one by one. These terms are not negotiable.”

  He sat down then, picking up his fork and eating another bite of eggs.

  After a few seconds of silence Darel stood. “I’m going to check on Hanson and the new shipment. I’ll take the new guy with me and get him set up for tonight.”

  “And if that shadow bitch shows up, tie her ass up and bring her to me. I’ll decide if Mr. New-Shifter-in-Town gets her or not.”

  “Whatever you say, boss,” was Darel’s retort.

  If Sabar weren’t so busy finishing off his meal and thinking about a hot-ass shifter he could sink his length into, or maybe even enjoy right alongside Bianca, he would have heard the sarcasm in Darel’s tone. He would have known that he might just need to watch his back with his second-in-command.

  * * *

  With every breath he took, pain ripped another slither of his heart. After almost five years there should be nothing left. If he keeled over and died right here, on the balcony of this substandard dwelling in this dirty and overcrowded city, they’d cut him open and see an organ the size of a penny no longer thumping, no longer living.

  Pathetic, that’s exactly what Rolando was. He’d convinced himself of that as he’d finally, after spending endless days, months, looking for her in the Gungi, dragged his ass back across the country. His home was and would always be India, in the depths of the Lachli village of the rain forest where he’d been born. It wasn’t until eight years ago that he’d left the Lachli to join another group of shifters in their exploration of new territory for their kind. That venture had taken him to the Sierra Leone rain forest in Africa, where a small village of shifters had just begun to live. Then he’d ended up in the Gungi.

  And he’d found Caprise.

  He’d heard of companheiros, as the Topètenia called them. His life mate, that’s what he knew she was from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. From that moment on she’d been all he could think about.

  Years later, nothing had changed.

  Rolando wanted her back. He wanted his mate. No, he needed her, more than he needed to breathe or to live for that matter. The instructions from his commander had been clear in the heavily accented English they both spoke.

  “End this mindless search for
the female. Get another one to slake your needs. We have bigger, better things to worry about.”

  That’s precisely what he’d said to Rolando, two months ago. That very night Rolando had left the forest heading to the United States, where he’d had a gut feeling his beloved had returned.

  And he’d been right. She was here and she was more beautiful than ever.

  He had waited the allotted time those other shifters had instructed and still he’d missed her. At first that thought angered him, but now he was calm again. He was close to Caprise and she knew. Oh, yes, now she knew just how close.

  His entire body tightened, his cat growling, as his tongue extended to lick his human lips. Closure was what the humans called what he sought. The exact name for it didn’t matter to Rolando. All that mattered was they would soon be together again. For however long revenge would take.

  On his hip the cell phone, the one called Darel had given him last night, rang. He wanted to keep tabs on him; Rolando could relate. And he’d accepted it. For now.

  “Yes?”

  “Meet me at the club at eight. Don’t be late.”

  “Right” was Rolando’s only reply. He didn’t want to go to that damn club unless Caprise was going to be there.

  But she’d left with someone he’d later learned was another shifter, one with some type of rank here in the States. He wasn’t sure she’d come back to the club, not if they suspected danger, which if she left with another shifter through a damn window they probably had.

  Still, it wasn’t Rolando’s goal to piss off anyone here. He just wanted his female. So for now, he’d accept the orders given by the angry-ass shifter they called Darel.

  * * *

  Darel snapped the phone closed and tossed it on the table in his apartment. He walked to the wall in his dining room and removed a picture of some sort of dogs fighting. His walls were painted a dingy green color that had appealed to him on some dismal level. Nothing in Darel’s childhood had ever been clean and pure. He embraced that fact and had long ago decided to live his adult life in the same manner.

  The house his parents had was a shithole, a two-bedroom jail in the dirtiest part of Brooklyn, New York, they could find. His best friends would have been rats and roaches if he hadn’t come into his shift early and scared the bejesus out of those suckers with his sharp fangs and vicious roar. Cats and dogs roaming the neighborhood without a real home or a bath also rubbed him the wrong way, and they met a hellacious end sooner rather than later. His father was a cruel bastard, so it stood to reason Darel would turn out the same way. As for his siblings, he’d never paid too much attention to the younger brother and sister who had been cursed to be born into that household. The one he had paid a lot of attention to was his mother. He’d listened to everything Elora said, hanging on her every word as if it were the gospel, as she’d called it. But year after year, time after time, when she’d preached to him about honesty and integrity paying off in the end, Darel had begun to suspect the untruth.

  They never moved up, never had any more than the scraps they’d always had. And his father grew angrier and more violent with each passing moment. Darel never asked what the guy’s problem was, never really cared. All he knew was what he saw. And what he saw was the brutality inflicted on his mother, whether verbal or physical. What he knew was the answer, beyond honesty and integrity, was payback. His father had been his first shifter kill, and it had been a glorious one at that. He still remembered the scent of his blood as it ran down his jaws, dripping onto the floor. His teeth still tingled with the thought of sinking into the thinning, putrid flesh of the man’s neck. He’d approached him from behind and bit into his neck with enough force that it broke on contact. The other ripping and shredding he’d done was for his mother. He deserved every minute of the torture.

  The next day he’d left that awful house, left his father’s shredded and bloodied body on the floor in the bedroom while his mother’s lay in the kitchen completely bled out after his father’s brutal attack on her, and never looked back. Ever.

  For more than fifteen years Darel had been working with Sabar. At first it had been here and there, Sabar visiting him on the streets of New York at intervals. Darel had never asked questions. Even when Sabar had come back one time with scabbed-over scars that looked like they’d come from a whip all over his body, Darel had remained silent. He’d respected Sabar because there was an air about the shifter, a total fuck-you attitude that Darel shared. He believed one day they’d be partners in whatever mischief they could come up with. And that dream was coming true.

  Except now, that bitch was here.

  With the remote in his hand he switched the ON button and spoke clearly through the intercom. “I’m ready.”

  Through a ten-by-five slit in the wall he watched what was taking place in the bedroom. Yeah, he could just get his ass up out of the chair and go in there to see them, but he preferred to be in his own space during this time. It had taken him a while to figure out what worked best for him, what gave the most satisfaction at the appropriate time, and so far this was it.

  The male, a shifter who worked at the club, was just buff enough. His honey-toned skin looked like a succulent piece of candy. Darel’s tongue extended of its own accord in an attempt to lift the male’s scent from the air and taste it. He was naked, his buttocks taut and muscled, biceps flexing as he stood over the female. His dick was long and thick and had the bulk of the pubic hair shaved down to a neat trim. Darel was meticulous when it came to body hair.

  The female knew this. She wasn’t a shifter, but one of the girls who danced at the club. Her pubic hair was completely shaved off so that her mound looked like a glossed piece of meat. He could never remember her real name and hadn’t really tried, but her stage name was Raven. She had long black hair, falling in deep curls down her back. Her tits were bigger than Darel’s fists and heavy as they hung from her chest like overfilled balloons. Her skin was an olive complexion that went surprisingly well with the darkness of her hair and the somber dusky blue of her eyes. She had an ass that jiggled when touched. Cheeks that made Darel want to bury his face inside and never come up for air. She was fine and she knew it, worked it like a pimp did his whores.

  Darel’s dick was already rock-hard. He released his length from his pants and made himself comfortable.

  Raven went right to her knees, taking the male’s length so far into her mouth Darel half expected to see it burst from between her breasts. They’d turned to the side so he could see everything, from the male’s ass cheeks hollowing out as he pumped into her mouth to Raven’s cheeks doing the same in-and-out dance as she held on to that long rod. The male wrapped Raven’s hair around his wrists then pulled on all that mass until she groaned over his shaft. Darel’s eyes focused on the wet shaft, watched the bulbous head swell and begin to drip with desire. Raven’s masterful tongue scooped the white bead quickly.

  “Enough!” Darel yelled through the intercom minutes later, and they quickly broke apart.

  The male bent Raven over the back of a chair, spreading her cheeks wide enough for Darel to see. Still, Darel sat up in his chair, moving his face closer to the slit in the wall. His dick was in his hand, palm moving on the up-and-down stroke that had him gasping for more air.

  “More,” he spoke again and sighed as the male stretched her butt cheeks open wider.

  Darel could see her anal entry clearly, could imagine the feel of that tight passage, and growled.

  “Now!” was his next directive.

  Without preamble the male positioned himself behind Raven and thrust his length into her anus. She yelled so loud the first wave of release hit Darel and his dick jerked in his hand, spurts of come dripping down to his wrists. As the male pumped hard and fast into her, Raven’s knuckles turned white as she held on to the back of that chair while Darel pumped his cock faster, harder.

  The shifter came with a roar of his own, a slight shifting of his spinal cord, and a jerk of his taut buttocks. Raven�
��s body convulsed as her release took over and Darel growled, his teeth pressing into his bottom lip until they drew blood. His dick exploded with come.

  “Go home” was Darel’s final instruction as he stood and walked to his bathroom, where he’d work on the hard-on that was once again emerging.

  Chapter 12

  “Nick’s pissed,” Caprise said from her seat across from X as she clicked off her cell phone.

  They were aboard the private jet owned now by the Stateside Assembly via Reynolds & Delgado, PA. From what Kalina had told Caprise, they were working to make the Stateside Assembly a corporate infrastructure that would supply aid to all Shadows in the United States and in the Gungi. The shifter democracy was taking shape right before her eyes, and Caprise wondered if her parents were somewhere in their corporeal state doing the happy dance.

  “Nick is always pissed about something” was X’s droll reply.

  She had no idea when she’d changed her mind or when it actually seemed like a good idea to go on this impromptu trip with X, of all people. But Caprise had decided and when she did, she’d quickly packed a bag and had Seth drive her to wherever X was leaving from. He hadn’t seemed too surprised to see her, which had almost made her turn back. But that would be running—and wasn’t she growing tired of that course of action?

  These chairs were beyond comfortable as she sat back, adjusting the seat belt so that it wasn’t cutting off circulation at her waist. The smell of leather wafted up her nostrils as she let her head lie back against the comfortable console. Looking around she thought of only one word: luxury. And since the jet was originally purchased by Rome, she thought nothing of it. He was the leader of the Stateside Assembly, a Topètenia of the highest ranking and a damn good lawyer. He had the looks, the money, and now the phenomenal woman by his side to make him legendary in both the human and the shifter worlds.

  Her brother was his best friend and hadn’t fallen too far from that same genetic pool of dangerously handsome and a top-notch Shadow warrior. It was no wonder Nick was Rome’s right hand. Then Ary had come along and fit like another piece to the amazingly broad puzzle that formed the Shadow Shifters. She was a curandero, a healer, and had made herself right at home in Havenway’s medical center, which she ran with intelligence and efficiency.