by Tonya Brooks
In a matter of seconds, the offensive smelling shirt and the rest of her clothes had been tossed out the French doors. Although her beautiful body deserved a prolonged perusal, his eyes honed in on the claw marks on her breast as a growl rose in his throat. They were deep enough to scar, and the thought of any imperfection marring her was intolerable.
He'd just have to prevent that from happening.
Sitting on the bed, he leaned over her, and a tantalizing fragrance assailed his nostrils. The stench of puke no longer masked the woman's natural scent, and it was the most delicious aroma he'd ever smelled. Jett pressed his nose to the curve of her neck and breathed in the intoxicating perfume until he was drunk with it.
Saliva pooled in his mouth, and his canines lengthened hungrily. She smelled fucking edible, and he could barely wait to taste her. That thought pried him away from her neck, and he focused his attention on the claw marks. He gently licked her silken flesh, and the taste of her blood was sweeter than the finest wine.
Pure ambrosia.
Without conscious thought he greedily lapped at her flesh, savoring the flavor long after the scratches had completely healed. He would have licked her from head to toe had he not been rudely interrupted by a weak growl and a tiny paw batting the top of his head. Amber eyes glowed as he looked into the face of a pissed off cub.
The little furball had managed to climb atop the bed and was warning him away from the woman. Not a chance in hell of that happening. Now that he had her scent and taste, there was no way that Jett was ever going to leave her alone. Because his cat was certain that the mother of his cub was also his mate.
The question was, how the hell was it possible?
Jett was absolutely positive that he'd never met the woman before. Her delicious scent was too distinctive. Completely unforgettable. Curious, he lifted the hissing cub, buried his nose in the silky fur and inhaled. He easily detected his scent, so the cub was his. Oddly enough, he couldn't detect his mate's scent at all.
Which made no sense whatsoever. The cub should carry a combination of his parent's scents, yet his was the only one present. Which was impossible. But no matter how many times he sniffed, he didn't get even a whiff of his mate's scent from the cub. Or any other scent for that matter. Just his and the cubs.
Confused, he covered his mate with the linens and inhaled her delicious scent again before he carried the cub out of the room. The furball began to claw and yowl as ferociously as his little body could manage when he was separated from his mother. Since his cat was also forcefully rebelling the separation, Jett understood the sentiment.
"I feel ya, little buddy," he commiserated and tucked the cub under his arm like a football. Once inside his office, he put the furball on the floor, and the cub immediately began clawing gouges into the closed door. Sighing wearily, he walked over to his desk, dropped heavily into the chair behind it and closed his eyes.
Wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now, he heard a thud and opened his eyes. The cub had moved on to the window, tried to climb the drapes if the slash marks were any indication, fell and hit the floor. The tenacious little bugger had gotten right back up and was trying it again.
The furball was going to destroy the room if he didn't get him contained. Jett was trying to decide how to do that when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw his brother's name on the screen. Excellent. Maybe Ryker could help him figure this situation out. Or die laughing. Either possibility was just as likely.
Instead of a greeting, he answered with, "I need your help."
"What the hell is that racket?" Ryker de Lyon demanded.
Since his son was currently yowling at the top of his lungs and shredding the Persian rug, it was understandable. "That is the sound of my cub destroying my office," he imparted heavily. Dead silence followed before the other man roared with laughter. Ryker was a lion shifter, so yes, his laughter did sound like a roar.
"Stop laughing dammit," he complained as he watched his cub try to climb the arm of a chair.
"No, no. This is too good," the other man replied in amusement when he was finally able to speak. "Let me enjoy it."
Jett sighed wearily when the furball hit the floor with a thump and a pissed off yowl. "I found my mate, Ryker."
If anything the bastard laughed even harder before choking out, "The Prince of Pussy… domesticated."
"Fuck you," he growled with enough force that the cub paused long enough to look over at him before he squatted and peed on the priceless rug. The little furball was trying to assert dominance by marking the space with his scent. He was going to have to discipline him for showing such a lack of respect for his alpha.
And his father.
Although it might be best to discuss it with his mate first. Though she was human, the woman had been as fiercely protective of their son as any female shifter would have been. She'd shown more concern for the furball than herself while in a catatonic state. Hopefully, that also accounted for her erratic behavior.
"So who's the lucky lady?"
The question dragged Jett back from thoughts of his mate, and he confessed, "I have no idea."
"This is priceless," Ryker said in amusement. "You forgot your mate's name?"
"I've never seen her before she showed up with my cub today," he admitted heavily.
"So the cub isn't yours," the other man deduced.
"No, he's mine," Jett corrected. "He has my scent. The strange thing is, mine is the only scent he carries."
"What the fuck?"
"My point exactly," he agreed. "Have you ever heard of anything like this before?"
"No, but Pier might be able to explain it," he suggested.
Dr. Pierce Montford specialized in werecat physiology. If anyone could explain this situation, it would be him. Whether it made sense to a layman or not was another matter altogether. Pier babbled scientific nonsense like the geek he was. He was also the best shot that Jett had at figuring this out.
"Will you fill him in for me?" He requested. "If I don't get this cub contained I won't have an office left."
"Sure thing… Dad," the lion shifter agreed with a laugh.
"Dick," he complained and ended the call.
A look around his destroyed office assured Jett of one thing. He was going to need help tending to the furball until his mate awoke. No way in hell could he deal with this on his own. At least not without some serious discipline that he was sure his mate would have a fit over. It was time to call in his pride.
God help him, the shit was about to hit the fan.
***
"What the hell have you done?" Vivica demanded and looked horrified.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Nessa snarled in outrage.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Cecily teased in genuine amusement.
"I don't understand," Sasha admitted in confusion.
"How could you?" Jolene wailed brokenly and burst into tears.
Fan, meet shit.
Since he refused to allow any of his pride to bear his children, their reaction to his announcement that he had a cub was pretty much what he'd expected. Jett had been one of his father's many offspring, and when the old man had found his mate, she'd jealously demanded that he send the cubs and their mothers away.
He had no intention of ever putting his own flesh and blood in the same untenable position. So he gave them a minute to vent, knowing from experience that it was for the best even if it did give him a headache. When he'd had all he could take of their caterwauling, he scowled and said sternly, "Enough."
"Who is she?" Vivica wanted to know.
"I don't have a clue," he admitted. "I've never laid eyes on her before today."
"You've laid more than eyes on her if she had your cub," Nessa accused.
"Meaning you've laid her," Cecily grinned.
Jett bared his teeth and growled, "I don't know who she is or how she has my cub so stop bitching and start helping."
"What do you want us to do
?" Sasha queried with a frown.
"Someone needs to tend to the cub. He won't stop crying," he complained and completely understood why his mate had been exhausted. Their cub was a handful to deal with.
"I'll do it," Jolene sniffed miserably and dried her tears with her hands.
Jett led them into the storage room and over to the chest style deep freezer. The cub yowled at him plaintively and bared his tiny teeth. He would have returned the gesture if he hadn't been shoved unceremoniously aside. Jolene reached down into the chest and scooped the cub into her arms in a protective gesture.
"You put him in the freezer?" The sweetest and most gentle natured of his pride practically snarled as she turned on Jett with fire in her tawny eyes.
"It was unplugged," he defended himself. "I even removed the lid and put blankets on the bottom to make it soft."
"Jesus Christ, Jett, you can't put a cub in a deep freezer," Vivica insisted.
"I needed him contained," he pointed out. "He destroyed my office trying to get to his mother."
"Which is exactly where he should be," Nessa confirmed. "Why isn't the lazy bitch tending to him?"
That ignited Jett's temper, and he snarled in his don't-fuck-with-me alpha tone they knew better than to argue with, "You will show his mother the respect that my mate deserves."
Five shocked expressions met his before the women lowered their heads and obediently agreed, "Yes, Alpha."
"She fainted from exhaustion because she hasn't slept in days," he explained in a more civil tone. "I need you to tend to the cub so she can get some rest."
"Of course we will," Sasha confirmed in her usual cheerful, vapid manner as she smiled up at him in adoration.
"Right. We always clean up your messes," Nessa bit out.
Yeah. They were never going to let him live this one down. There was a huge difference in asking them to help him get rid of a clinging woman and tending to his cub. Huge fucking difference. He was an ass for even suggesting it. "I'm sorry, pride," Jett admitted in resignation. "If I had a clue what to do with the furball I wouldn't have asked you to help."
"No, we're sorry," Vivica admitted and looked ashamed of her behavior. "Caring for your cub is an honor, Jett."
"Especially after all you've done for us," Nessa agreed apologetically.
"We're happy to help any way we can," Cecily assured him.
"And he's so stinking cute," Sasha interjected.
"Thank you, pride. I appreciate it," he said in relief.
"The cub is hungry," Jolene announced as she tried to soothe the crying infant. "Where's his bottle?"
"She had a ton of baby stuff in the car," Jett admitted.
"I'll bring it in," Sasha offered.
The women filed out of the room, and he scowled at the inoffensive deep freezer. Jett had thought it was the perfect solution and wasn't sure what it was about the thing that had gotten his pride so riled up. The cub had been securely contained in something he couldn't claw his way out of, and he'd even made sure it was comfortable.
Judging from their reactions, it had been a bad idea of epic proportions and proved he didn't have the first clue how to raise a cub. This being a dad thing was obviously going to take some serious effort on his part and a lot of help from his mate. Thank God she didn't know that he'd put the cub in the freezer.
If she did, she'd probably skin him alive.
CHAPTER TWO
Aylese woke slowly and winced as she stretched. Her body ached all over. Her head felt stuffed full of cotton, and her nose was sore. That could only mean one thing. Something had caused her allergy to flare up. Ugh. Wondering how she'd come into contact with cat fur, she sat up and swung her legs off the side of the bed.
"Ah-choo!"
The first order of business was to take an antihistamine, and then a nice hot shower should handle the rest. Bare feet touched something smooth and slick instead of soft and padded. Cracking one bleary eye open, she looked down and saw hardwood instead of the carpeting that covered her bedroom floor.
Opening both eyes, she looked slowly around the room, her eyes growing wider by the second. This was not her bedroom, so whose bed was she in? A hazy image of piercing amber eyes, black hair and a neatly trimmed beard teased her memory. Broad shoulders, a muscular chest and long legs also came to mind.
Oh. Shit.
What had she done?
The fact that she was naked beneath the covers gave her a pretty good idea. And freaked her completely out. Because the last thing she remembered was… the baby! She was delivering Justis to his father. And then she had planned to have herself committed. Since this wasn't a padded room, she obviously wasn't in a nut house.
Scooting off the bed, she grabbed the bathrobe laid neatly across the foot and shoved her arms into it. She tied the belt around her waist and raked both hands through her hair. The first thing she needed to do was make sure that Justis was all right and then she intended to slap his father's handsome face.
She left the bedroom to go in search of the insufferable ass who'd stolen her clothes. And her nephew. Judging by the length of the hallway, she realized that the house was massive and sounded as if it were filled with people. Following the noise, she peered around a corner into what appeared to be a lounge area.
Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes grew round. Elegantly attired men mingled with scantily clad women. The distinctive design of the barely there faux fur costumes complete with swishing tails could only mean one thing. She was in a world famous gentleman's club known as the Pussycat Palace.
God have mercy she really was insane!
"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," a masculine voice cajoled. Startled, she noticed an older man staring back at her with an amused expression. "I haven't seen you before. You must be new."
"Eek!" Aylese squeaked in horror before turning tail and running back down the hallway to her room. She slammed the door shut and twisted the lock into place. Heart hammering, she wondered what the hell she'd gotten herself into. Correction. What her sister had gotten her into. She was going to kill Harper for this.
But first, she needed to find her car, grab her suitcase and put on some decent clothes. Once that was accomplished she planned to march right back inside and demand to see her nephew. Easing the French door open, she slipped into the night and made her way across the dimly lit pool deck as silent as a cat burglar.
Bare toes touched soft grass, and she scurried toward the shadowy bushes ahead. Aylese hadn't paid any attention to her surroundings when she'd arrived. She'd just followed the other car through the gate until it had stopped. Whether or not she'd actually rear-ended him a time or two was still unclear.
In any event, she'd left her car in the driveway which she felt fairly safe to assume would be located at the front of the house. Since a pool should be at the rear, all she had to do was walk around the house to find her car. Easy peasy. At least it would be under normal circumstances. Like, you know, if she were sane.
"Ah-choo!"
She froze in place when a low, rumbling growl echoed from the darkness ahead. Oh, shoot. She'd foolishly believed this nightmare couldn't get any worse, but it had. Because there were guard dogs on the property. Just what she needed. Not willing to be mauled on top of everything else, she began to ease backward.
Better to be embarrassed at being caught half-dressed than chewed on by an overzealous canine guarding his turf. She had only gone a few feet when a pair of amber eyes suddenly appeared in the shadows. Aylese froze in place and stared in astonishment as a massive black beast stepped into the moonlight.
Heart in her throat, she shook her head in denial. It wasn't real. She was just hallucinating again. There was no way that she was actually staring at a jaguar. This was all a figment of her insanity, and the best thing she could do was ignore it. At least that was what she told herself until it began stalking her.
Like prey.
At that point, all she wanted to do was run.
And scream very loudly.
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Aylese knew the last thing she should do when confronted by a predator was run, but her fight or flight reflexes were demanding that she do something. Climbing a palm tree wouldn't help because cats could climb too. That only left the pool as an avenue of escape since cats hated water. Unfortunately, she hated it more.
Maybe she could scare it away. She waved her hands in its direction and commanded shakily, "Shoo." Much to her eternal horror, the cat didn't run away. It almost looked like it was smiling at her. A big toothy I'm gonna eat you grin. And it made the strangest chuffing sound. Like laughter.
Yep. She was definitely insane.
Aylese realized that her options were severely limited. She could do nothing and be eaten by a wild animal. Jump into the pool and drown. Or run like hell. She chose option three. At least that way she stood a chance of surviving the encounter. She took a slow step backward, her eyes never leaving the beast.
Like the predator it was, the jaguar crouched low and sprang forward. A scream lodged in her throat as she whirled around and ran headlong into a solid wall of muscle. She would have fallen if strong hands hadn't come up to grab her. Terrified, she looked up into a pair of golden eyes.
"Aylese," the man said in surprise.
She had never been so happy to see another human being as she was the big, blonde, devilishly handsome man. Aylese climbed Ryker de Lyon like a tree, buried her face in his neck, and screamed like a banshee. A bone-chilling roar filled the night, ratcheting her terror level up to the nth degree.
She heard Ryker growl something as he tried to pull her off of himself. The answering snarl came from too close just before she was thrown through the air. Drawing air into her lungs for another scream, her body angled downward, and she hit the water with a splash. Panic engulfed her as she sank like a rock.
Oh, shoot. She was going to drown after all.
***
Ryker de Lyon didn't know what shocked him more. Finding Aylese Delacort at the Pussycat Palace or seeing his brother stalking her around the pool deck in his jaguar form. Although he'd envisioned having the stunningly beautiful woman wrapped around himself a time or twelve, this was not what he'd had in mind.
