Payton unconsciously chewed her thumbnail. “I’m not sure.”
He stepped forward, brushing his finger down her cheek. “What are you afraid of?”
She sucked in a deep breath, a thousand butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Blessed Goddess. She felt as nervous and uncertain as an adolescent on her first date.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” she admitted in a breathless voice.
“Give me a chance, Payton.” His fingers cupped her chin, tilting back her head so he could lean down and kiss her with a piercing yearning. “Please.”
She hastily stepped back. It was that or melt into a puddle of need at his feet.
“Okay.”
A rare, heart-stopping smile curved his lips. “Thank you.”
Once again reaching for her hand, Hakan walked up the flagstone path and stepped onto the porch that wrapped around the two-story home that was painted white with green shutters. Then, pulling open the screen door, he led her across the small foyer and into the main living room.
“What do you think?” he asked in soft tones.
Payton blinked, a hand pressed to her racing heart.
It was…perfect. The large stone fireplace where the logs were burning with a cheery fire. The pale lemon walls and ivory, overstuffed furniture. The hand-woven carpet and open-beamed ceiling.
It was warm, and cozy, and everything she’d ever wanted in a home.
“Did you talk to my mother?” she demanded.
He stood at her side, his thumb lazily brushing the inside of her wrist.
“Why?”
“These are my favorite colors.”
He chuckled at the edge of disbelief in her voice. “Do you think anyone knows you better than I do, little one?” he asked. “Let me prove it.”
Payton pressed her lips together, trying to hide her flare of amusement.
There was such eager pride in his voice.
Like a little boy who was trying to impress her with his shiny new toy.
Stepping through the connecting door, Payton’s amusement was replaced by a sense of awe as Hakan flipped on the lights.
Her feet automatically carried forward before she halted in the center of the polished wooden floor and turned in a full circle.
The breath was wrenched from her lungs as she caught sight of the beautiful library Hakan had created.
“This is…” Her feet carried her across the polished wood floor toward the walls that were hidden behind heavy shelves that towered to the ceiling, each of them loaded with leather-bound books.
Lightly her fingers trailed over her childhood favorites: The Secret Garden, Oliver Twist, Pippi Longstocking…
“I know that while you enjoy all your techie toys, you still love to have a real book in your hands,” Hakan murmured.
She pulled out a copy of Treasure Island, carefully opening it.
“First editions?” she breathed in shock, unable to comprehend how much money and time had been devoted to creating this room.
“My mate deserves the best,” he said without hesitation.
Barely resisting the urge to plop herself on the floor and surround herself with the books, she instead moved to the back of the room where a hand-carved mahogany desk was situated with the latest computer system already up and running.
She sent Hakan a startled glance. “You did this?”
“With some wise council from Xavier,” he said with a lift of one shoulder. “He helped me set it up before I came to get you.”
She licked her lips, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s more,” he assured her, taking the book from her hand and setting it aside before he was pulling her through the house and out the back door.
Lanterns were already burning to reveal the perfect replica of her beloved garden. The only difference was the wicker table and chairs set in the center, loaded with candles, a bottle of wine, and silver-covered plates.
“Hakan.” She gave a disbelieving shake of her head. “This is amazing.”
With the grace of a predator, he moved to lift the covers from the plates.
“Lasagna, garlic bread and your favorite wine.”
Her lips parted as she met his smoldering amber gaze, the truth suddenly hitting her.
“You’re wooing me,” she breathed, pleasure racing through her.
He prowled toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he studied her upturned face with a brooding gaze.
“I’ve been wooing you for the past twenty years. You just didn’t know it.”
Wonderment melted the last of her bitterness as she gazed into the harsh male face. No male could spend so much time and effort to please a female unless he truly was devoted to her.
“No more barriers?” she demanded.
Regret darkened the amber eyes. “Never again.”
“And no more assuming you know what’s best for me?”
His lips twitched, the scent of his musk teasing her senses like the finest aphrodisiac.
“I would be too terrified,” he assured her, his voice thickening with the power of his cat. “You’ve grown into a formidable female.”
Her own cat brushed against her inner skin, eager to get out and play with her mate.
Going onto her tiptoes, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a punishing nip.
“Don’t forget it.”
“Will you be mine, Payton?” he rasped. “I want to have you wrapped in my arms when we go to sleep, and standing at my side when we walk through the Wildlands.” He grabbed her hips, pressing her tight against his thickening cock. “I want you to grow round with my young and be angry when I get home late. I want to spoil you, and aggravate you, and love you until I take my last breath.”
Tears flooded her eyes at the words she’d ached to hear for so very, very long.
“Damn you,” she sighed.
He stiffened with genuine concern. “What have I done now?”
“I intended to make you suffer.”
A low growl rumbled in his chest. “Believe me, spending two decades trying to keep my hands off you has been sheer torture.”
“Hmm.”
He suddenly lowered his head, nipping a path of kisses down the curve of her neck.
“Say yes.”
“Hakan.” Her hands landed on his broad chest, lightning bolts of pleasure streaking through her. “I can’t think when you’re doing that.”
“Doing what?” His teeth sank into the flesh where her neck met her shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. “This?”
She clutched at his T-shirt, sheer bliss flowing through her like molten lava.
“Unfair,” she moaned.
He used his tongue to ease the tiny wound. “Then say yes,” he commanded.
“Yes.”
There was a tension-charged pause, as if Hakan couldn’t quite believe he was hearing her right. Then, with an explosion of movement, Payton found herself swept off her feet and carried back into the house.
“Thank the Goddess,” he muttered as he headed toward a staircase that led to the upper floor.
“What about dinner?” Payton teased even as she wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled against his chest.
Her hunger had nothing to do with lasagna.
He lifted her up to brand her lips with a kiss that made her toes curl and her core clench with raw, joyous anticipation.
He spoke against her lips. “You can consider me the appetizer.”
“I do want to lick you from top to bottom,” she repeated his words back to him, her claws already extended as she sliced her mating mark down the length of his back. “With several long stops in between.”
He stumbled on the stairs, nearly falling on his face.
“Holy shit, Payton.”
She offered him a wicked smile, fiercely pleased by the stunned expression on her mate’s face.
“I think there might be more than one way to make you suffe
r.”
EPILOGUE
Hiss opened his eyes, not surprised to discover he was strapped to a gurney.
Fuck.
He’d known when he escaped with the well-dressed Englishman that it was a trap. Still, he’d been willing to take the chance that he could discover the truth of his family before he died.
But minutes after sneaking out of the Wildlands the bastard had injected him with pure malachite, knocking him unconscious.
He had a few weird-ass memories of being icy cold, followed by the unmistakable stench of smoke, but he’d been floating in and out of a black, clinging fog so he couldn’t be sure if it had been real or a figment of his imagination.
Now at last his body had burned through the malachite and he could take in his surroundings with a clear brain.
It was dark. And musty. Like a basement or cellar.
No, wait.
His eyes adjusted enough that he could see the long cabinets with stainless steel counters, along with the sort of equipment that went with a medical lab.
Not a hospital…the place looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in the past decade.
Maybe an old government facility.
Straining against the chains that bound him to the gurney, Hiss abruptly stilled as he caught the sound of a door opening.
“Who’s there?” he snarled, his gaze searching the darkness. “Dammit, you promised me answers, you cowardly bastard.”
The soft sound of a woman’s voice came from one of the tall, metal cabinets.
“Shh.”
Hiss scowled, trying to lift his head off the gurney. Was this another trick?
“Show yourself,” he commanded.
“No, do not look in this direction,” the mystery woman commanded, cracking the door of the cabinet just far enough to reveal a slender female form.
“Why not?”
“You’re on camera.”
Hiss’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling, easily locating the blinking red light in the far corner.
“Yeah, that’s no big newsflash,” he said.
“I don’t want them to realize I’ve found you,” she whispered.
On the point of telling her to go to hell, Hiss caught an unmistakable scent.
The female was Pantera.
God. Damn.
“Are you another prisoner?” he rasped, jerking his head so his gaze was fixed on the ceiling.
There was no way in hell he was going to endanger her by allowing his guards to realize anyone had entered the lab.
“Yes.”
The voice was textured with an unbearable sadness that made Hiss’s gut twist in response.
Christ. He’d never heard such grief.
“You’re Pantera,” he said, his voice softening.
There was a long pause before he heard her give a soft sob. “Oh, I’m so much more than that, Hiss.”
Hiss stiffened, his instincts on full alert. “You know me?”
“Only in my heart.”
An icy chill of premonition inched down Hiss’s spine. “Who the hell are you?”
“Your mother.”
SÉVERIN
By
Laura Wright
CHAPTER 1
The cool night air pulsed in and out of Taylor’s lungs. Her muscles threatened to seize. Rain pelted her skin like tiny bullets. The ground beneath her feet was thick with mud and brush.
And yet she ran.
She ran faster than she’d ever run before—faster than she believed herself capable of. Maybe it was the drive to keep breathing another day—to keep at bay that one person who wanted to extinguish her breath. Or maybe it was to finally know the feeling of being safe again.
The bayou terrain was exactly what she’d expected: thick foliage, stands of cypress, wildlife around every corner—their eyes a glowing pulse with every blink. But it was far more difficult to maneuver. She’d dressed appropriately, in boots, jeans, tank and an all-weather light jacket. But the rain was growing heavier by the second, the sky darker, and her compass had stopped working five minutes ago. All she could do was keep going, hope she was crossing the border—pray that Edgar and his ‘friends’ hadn’t followed when she’d snuck out the back of the quaint La Pierre bed and breakfast she’d been staying at.
The bed and breakfast her ex had tracked her to.
“Shit!” she cried as her foot sank into a large bog of brown sludge that smelled faintly of rotting eggs.
Please let me be close, she begged, easing her foot out gingerly so she didn’t lose her boot or twist her ankle.
Then, heart beating so fast it was painful, she took off again. Running, pushing herself, faster and faster, deeper and deeper into the lush, green wildness until she came to the shoreline of the bayou. She stopped, put her hands on her thighs to catch her breath and glanced back. Just a couple of seconds, just a couple blinks. She couldn’t afford any more than that. But there was nothing. No lights. No sounds but the rain and brackish water to her right.
Keep going. Just keep going.
They had a town. She’d read about it. They had leaders, one who was purported to be kind and fair. God, it was a long shot. But that’s the chance you had to take when you were pretty much out of chances.
She was about to continue on when the breath was suddenly ripped from her body and she felt herself falling to the ground. Her butt hit wet earth with a loud thud, and she reached out for something to grab on to. But there was nothing. What…? Gritting her teeth against the pain, she glanced up, and the breath left her body in a rush.
Holy shit! An animal!
A puma?
No, a Pantera!
Is this really what they look like? No drawing could do them justice. It was huge! And no more than three feet away, hackles raised, paws the size of dinner plates. She stared, both panicked and awestruck. Even with the rain falling, she could see its thick, golden fur.
“I’m sorry,” she began stupidly, as if she’d just bumped into a pedestrian on the streets of New Orleans. “I’m…I…”
Nothing else stumbled from her tongue because deadly silver eyes were pinned on her—a cat ready to spring.
Ready to attack.
She had to say something. Speak up. Not lie here ready to be dinner. God… But what? What did she tell it? That her ex-boyfriend was stalking her? That he was determined to either have her again or make sure no one else did? That she was terrified and desperate? That she had no one. That she thought—maybe foolishly, but here she was—this magical place called the Wildlands could protect her?
The cat started toward her, a slow, calculated progression, head bent, nostrils flared. Her heart kicked and her fingers dug into the wet ground. She hardly felt the rain pounding on her head and shoulders. Had she been prepared for this? Meeting up with a wild cat who could kill her as easily as Edgar had threatened to do? Was that her choice? Claws and teeth…they came in so many different packages.
She gasped, drew back as it approached. It was massive, its eyes so beautiful, yet so feral. She could feel its hot breath on her face. Her muscles flinched, ready to propel herself backward. Ready to run. But her mind refused those calls. Fear had ruled her for so long now. Every move she made. The state was a constant in her life. She’d made it here, to her destination. Now she had to do everything she could to stay.
It loomed over her, its nostrils flaring slightly as it took in her scent. She wondered what it smelled. A poor little frightened human, not worth its time or its taste buds? Taylor knew what she scented: wet fur, wet earth and something else… Something she’d never taken into her lungs before—but she swore was almost floral.
It leaned in a few inches.
Bracing herself to feel the sharp sting of claws or teeth, Taylor held its gaze. Whatever you think you see or smell, I’m not afraid. She gritted her teeth. I know what true fear feels like and this isn’t it. Anticipation, anxiety…yes. But not fear.
Its head dropped then, to her legs, and it slowly started to sn
iff her. First her thighs, then between her legs—Christ!—then her belly, up her chest to her neck. Finally, it lifted its head again and those silver eyes pinned her where she sat.
She nodded. “Yes, I’m human,” she rasped. “But I’m not here to hurt anyone.”
It cocked its head to the side, studying her.
“The opposite, actually,” she continued, rain pelting her face and mouth as she spoke. “I’m trying to get away from someone. He’s a really bad…man. Dangerous. I…” Her throat closed up for a moment and she cleared it. “I need help.”
Taylor had no idea what the cat understood or didn’t. But when it leaned in, stopping only inches from her face, panting, its warm breath a heartbeat against her skin, she knew if she was going to die she’d rather have it be here, beneath the feral hunger of an animal instead of under the thumb of a calculated, insecure sociopath.
But the gold puma didn’t kill her.
Instead, it ran its pink tongue from her chin to her forehead. Then over her right ear. Then across her neck.
As she sat there, ass-deep in muck, the strangest feelings rushed over and through her. Panic was still there, yes. In the back of her mind, warning her to jump up and run. But there was something else too…below the surface of that panic…something that hummed with knowing or awareness. And when she glanced up once again to meet those silver eyes, she swore the cat felt it too.
“Please. Can you take me to your town?” she asked, her voice unrecognizable to her. Breathy, strained. “To someone called Raphael?”
The moment she said the name she knew it was a mistake. The cat jerked backward, pawed the ground, then bared its impressive set of teeth. Oh shit. What was the problem? Was Raphael a bad guy? Was she going from one bad guy to another?
She pushed to her feet and tried to get her bearings. She was soaking wet, and, as night descended fully, getting colder. The cat remained where it was, watching her, eyes fierce.
“My name is Taylor, I…” Oh, god. Yeah, tell it your name. Like that’s going to do something.
A growl unlike anything she’d ever heard before erupted in the rain-scented air, and the cat leapt at her and landed a foot away in a puddle of dirty water. Taylor cried out from the splash and the attack and jumped back. But it didn’t stay where it was. It leapt again. Then pounced. What the hell? Taylor dropped back. Again it bounded at her. Again, she stumbled back. But when it did it a fourth time, she suddenly realized it wasn’t trying to attack her at all. It was pushing her back toward the border. It was trying to get her to run away. Get out of the Wildlands.
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