Dedication
For all the people who love me, support me, and generally put up with me when I’m in deadline hell. You know who you are.
Chapter One
Strong male hands slid up Cleo’s back to curl over her shoulders and pull her down, seating her fully on a long, thick cock. He was so big the stretch of it almost hurt, but she craved more, wanted him deeper, harder, faster. More. She closed her eyes and threw her head back, reveling in the sheer carnal bliss of a man’s hands on her skin, his cock filling her. The muscles in her thighs flexed as she lifted and lowered herself on his pulsing dick.
God, it was so good. So perfect. So sweet. Nothing had ever been this good before in her entire life.
She knew it was a dream, so she let herself enjoy it. The fantasy called to the primitive lioness within her, and her fangs slid out as his hot scent flooded her nostrils, sank into her blood. Her nipples peaked tight, and she wanted his mouth there.
A smile curled her lips as her dream answered her unvoiced desires. His mouth closed over the taut crest of her breast and sucked strongly. Pinpricks erupted down her arms, and she shuddered at the sensation. Her fingers lifted to slide into the short silk of his dark hair. His wide palms cupped her hips, working her on his cock. She was so hot, so damp. Her wetness slipped down the insides of her thighs, and their flesh slapped together in the silent room.
“More,” she pleaded.
He growled low in his throat, the sound of a dangerous feline caged. “Yes. I’ll give it to you, angel.”
Something about the voice tugged at her memory, but he rolled his hips beneath her, changing the angle of his deep penetration. She was swept away on the sensations rocketing through her body.
Her breath sobbed out, and they moved together towards orgasm, thrusting, grinding. Skin slipping against naked, sweaty skin.
“Yes, yes, yes.” Something in this man called to her very soul. Mate. Her other half. Perfectly matched to her. A phantom possessing her dreams.
Desperation whipped through her. She was close, very close. She licked the salty sweat from his shoulder, sucking his essence into her mouth, tasting his flesh. His lips opened over her collarbone. She felt his fangs prick her skin. It was the only warning she had before he growled, buried the sharp points into her and sucked at the bite. Her pussy contracted hard as she rocketed over into sudden orgasm. Her own fangs sank deep into his shoulder, mimicking the carnal possession of her dream lover.
They’d marked each other. Mate marked.
“Mine.” His deep rumble was the last thing she heard before she collapsed, orgasm still rippling through her system.
So perfect. Too perfect to be real.
A small groan pulled her from deep sleep. Was that her voice? Her head pounded with fierce purpose, and her mouth felt as if she’d stuffed it with cotton before she went to bed.
The groan sounded again. And it wasn’t coming from her throat. She sucked in a breath and caught a whiff of familiar scent. His scent.
Oh. Shit.
She sat up fast. Mistake. Her mind spun from the alcohol she’d consumed the night before. Those last four Jack Daniels shots must have done it. Or was it six? She’d meant to toast to making good on her escape from her ex-fiancé, and she’d gone a little overboard.
Obviously.
Pulling in a deep breath, she assured herself it couldn’t get much worse than it already was, and if she hurried she might get out of here without him catching her. The coward’s way out perhaps, but she’d never met a man who relished a hung over woman in the morning. This was her first one night stand—and her last—but she couldn’t imagine it being much different from her other interactions with men.
Including Trevor.
She shuddered in disgust at the mere thought of her ex. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she was grateful that for once they were free of bruises, free of the marks of his abuse. The incredible healing abilities of a werelioness made them fade quickly, but Trevor had always made certain she was never without. Yes, he always provided for her. A bitter smile twisted her lips.
Every werekind species could trace its existence back to a benevolent deity. For lions, it was the Egyptian god Aker. For the leopards who ruled the western half of the United States—and that all lions pledged fealty to—it was the Greek goddess Artemis who blessed the sons of King Leonidas of Sparta. For werebears like Trevor, it went back to the Native American legend of Rhpisunt, a chief’s daughter who married a bear and birthed halfling twin sons. The thought reminded Cleo too much of how close she’d come to marrying Trevor, and she shivered.
Her fingers clenched on her biceps. Thank God, she’d gotten the job at Refuge. The resort was more than a thousand miles from Trevor and his hard fists. She’d never have to deal with that again. Not from any man. Her spine straightened. She’d had the strength to leave him, and she wasn’t looking back. Her only regret was staying with him so long, but they’d gotten engaged when she was nineteen. Too young to know any better—to know that the cruel things he said to her weren’t what she deserved. Too naïve to realize that the hateful words would escalate to physical abuse.
Using slow, deliberate motions that wouldn’t set off the pounding in her head, she slid her legs over the side of the bed. The smoothness of the Egyptian cotton sheets on her skin made her shiver as a flood of memories flashed back from the night before. Her imagination must have been filling in some details because no man was that good in bed. She sighed, her mind dragging her away from the mystery man of the night before and back to one particular man—Trevor. She’d kept putting the date off for their marriage—not until she finished college, until they had some money saved up, until, until, until.
She might have stayed, might have married him, mated with him, but she’d found out she was pregnant. The thought of allowing Trevor near a child was revolting. No way in hell would she raise her baby in that environment. So she’d put out quiet feelers for jobs. With a degree in public relations, she could go anywhere in the werekind community or vanish into the normal human population.
Dragging in a breath, she caught the familiar scent of Refuge. So, wherever here was, it was on the exclusive werekind resort. She wasn’t sure which was worse—if she’d slept with a fellow employee or if she’d slept with a guest. Standing, she tiptoed to the bathroom to splash water on her face. She hoped his hearing wasn’t as sharp as hers. Every drop of water that hit the basin boomed like an atomic bomb in her ears, but she couldn’t walk around where anyone could see her with smudged make-up and wild sex hair. She refused to let herself look in the mirror as she shut off the faucet and went to gather her clothes from where they were scattered on the floor.
It was the extensive security of Refuge that convinced her to take the job, and that the Leonidas family who owned the resort had a fierce reputation for protecting their own. That they were also the rulers of all cat-shifter species didn’t hurt. A small Southwestern-style bungalow came with the position, so she could live on the grounds. She’d only been here a week, and already she loved it. Something about the place had put her at ease from the moment she stepped on the arid desert property with stark mountains rising in the distance. She felt safe here, and it was a feeling that she hadn’t experienced in so long it caught her off guard. She couldn’t resist. The Leonidases needn’t know why she came to Arizona so long as she did her job as the new public relations officer well. And she would.
Her eyes slid closed, and she fought a moan while the last horrible memories of Trevor paraded through her mind. She often woke up in the dead of night with nightmares of it.
She’d flown out to Refuge six w
eeks ago for her interview with the Leonidases: Nico, Adrian, Zander and his very pregnant wife, Lyra. There was another brother, Jason, but he lived in the south somewhere… She forgot where. She’d have to look it up in case anyone ever asked. It was her job to always have the answers and deliver them with a smile. Even if the last thing she wanted to do was smile.
Swallowing hard, she laid a hand over her flat belly.
When she’d returned from her interview, it was to the hard blows of Trevor’s fists. He’d found out somehow. He knew. Cold washed through her body in tingling waves. Nausea clenched her throat. The memories wouldn’t stop. Trevor backing her into a corner, his fists coming down on her again and again. His werebear strength overpowering her as it always did.
No escape. She couldn’t get away. Not then.
Not even from the memories now.
Collapsing to the floor and hunching over, trying to protect the child growing within her womb. His boot drawing back to kick her. Blood pouring down her thighs to coat the floor in a dark, sticky pool. The blackness of unconsciousness taking her away. The feeling of gratefulness… so grateful to escape for even a brief moment the knowledge that she had failed to save her child. Failed.
She’d spent a week in a werekind clinic, telling the same lies that she had always told before to protect Trevor. He was sorry. He was always sorry after he hurt her, but this time she just felt numb, dead like the baby she’d lost. Hollow. A call had come in on her cell phone from Zander Leonidas asking her to come to the Refuge. Most of the conversation she couldn’t remember. Most of the hospital stay had been a blissful, blank nothingness.
Trevor would have been wild with rage when he found she’d slipped from her hospital bed and disappeared. She didn’t envy the nurses, but she didn’t regret it. They had hospital security to protect them from him, and she had no one but herself. She had nothing left. Nothing but the job offer in Arizona, so she’d clung to that to get her through.
Her gaze landed on the man in the bed, jerking her back to the present. She stooped to gather her clothes in her hands, holding them to her breasts. Who was he? She wanted to get out of there, but she needed to know what his face looked like in case he remembered more than she did and they ran into each other later. God, how humiliating.
Padding on silent cat’s feet, she clutched her clothes close to cover her nudity, and bent to look at him.
Horror exploded in her veins. She knew him. Adrian Leonidas. The leader of the Leonidas family, ruler of all leopards, all cats. Her new boss. No that wasn’t quite right, Zander ran the resort, and she answered to him. He answered to Adrian. What had she done? She needed to get out of here. He’d smell her on his sheets and have a damn good idea of what happened last night, but a good idea was a whole lot different than being confronted with your naked employee. She backed away slowly. She’d dress in the living room and hope like hell no one saw her leaving.
Then Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries pierced the silence of the room, and Adrian bolted upright in bed.
Shit.
Chapter Two
Adrian’s eyes cracked open in the harsh morning sunlight. A naked woman stood frozen at the end of his bed, her eyes held a hint of panic as her gaze darted between him, his ringing cell phone and the door. She was obviously trying to sneak out, her clothes in her arms. He dragged in a breath, trying to catch her scent, trying to remember what she might be doing in his bedroom. His nostrils flooded with the smell of her and him and sex. Memories flooded his mind from the night before.
Jesus, he hadn’t—
He wouldn’t have—
His gaze dropped to her collarbone as his hand lifted to his shoulder. An electric shock passed straight from the mark on his skin to his cock.
“Shit.”
Her amber eyes widened as she followed his movement. Her hands fumbled her clothes, and she stroked her fingers over her collarbone. He groaned low, possession gripping his gut at the sight of his mark on her creamy flesh. His mate mark.
“Shit,” she breathed.
This woman, this stranger, was now his mate. The thought rocketed through him, hitting him with the subtle force of a sledgehammer. How had he let this happen? He was a man who controlled everyone and everything, especially himself and his women. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to make what his instincts told him fit with what his mind knew.
“Who the hell are you?” His anger was more directed at himself than her, but her flinch told him she’d taken his tone as a direct hit. He bit back another curse.
He’d let a situation slip from his control. And he’d seen in his older brother, Jason, what that kind of weakness, what letting a woman get under his skin, could do to a man. How the hell had this happened? And with a stranger.
Her face looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her. She wasn’t a guest. Of that he was certain, so how did he know her?
She swallowed and straightened. Her clothes shifted as she did, and he got a peek at one rosy nipple before she covered herself once more. A damn shame. He wanted to see more. And his body clamored an immediate agreement, his cock rising.
He had the distinct memory of what her skin tasted like on his tongue, and he craved more. A bone deep addiction.
“Cleo Nemean,” she whispered.
He knew that name. He wracked his fogging brain, waiting for the synapses to connect in coherent thought.
Damn, but he needed coffee. And about ten aspirin. It had been a long time since he’d had so much to drink. He’d already had one too many by the time he’d seen her across the bar and approached her. He’d offered to buy her a drink and one had turned into…a lot. The rest was an alcohol soaked blur.
He narrowed his eyes on her face. Wide amber eyes dominated a face framed in a smooth mane of golden waves. She wasn’t stunning or even beautiful, but something about her drew him to her. Her look was quiet, coolly enchanting. But it was her eyes that caught him. Haunted, pained, secretive. The whole package made him want to explore what was hidden from first glance.
She wouldn’t be here unless she was werekind or mated to werekind. He winced. Well, now she was mated to werekind, and the prick of her fangs in his shoulder made her a shifter of some kind. “You’re a…”
Blinking, she tilted her head to the side. Confusion filtered through her gaze for a moment before she grinned. “Lion.”
The smile kicked him in the gut, hard. God, she was lovely. And his.
He swallowed. What should a man say to his mate?
Hell if he knew.
He jerked a thumb at his chest. “Leopard.”
The grin bloomed into a charming smile. “I know, Mr. Leonidas.”
That was it. He knew her now. He groaned, and the sound made hammers pound in his head.
What the hell had he done? He’d gone and mated with an employee. As the CEO of all Leonidas business interests and ruler of the leopard species—among others—he kept strict non-fraternization standards for himself with the staff and guests. Dalliances with either type of woman was a bad idea. He blew out a long breath. “The new head of PR.”
“Yes, sir.” Her spine snapped straight.
He’d been away on business for the week she’d been here. Zander had called to let him know she arrived, but that’s all he knew. Damn it. How had he let it go so far last night? It wasn’t like him.
“I’ll just…” Her voice trailed off, and she tilted her head toward the bedroom door. She turned as though to make good her escape, and rage flowed through his veins. Possession unlike he’d ever known fisted in his belly.
His mate.
He wanted her back in bed with him, wanted to memorize every detail of her lush body, wanted it with a fierceness he’d never known before.
Mate.
Everything in him screamed for her, this woman he knew nothing of. Lust, possession, and…something sweeter twisted tight in his chest. He tried to cut it off, to distance himself, to regain control. And failed.
; “Wait!” he snapped. His anger was unreasonable. He knew it, but it didn’t seem to make a bit of difference in how he reacted.
She wavered in front of him, flinching at his harsh tone. Some emotion he couldn’t identify flowed through her amber gaze before a professional mask slipped over her features. “Yes, sir?”
Another wave of anger rolled over him that she could keep her calm when he could not. Damn it. “Adrian. You’ll call me Adrian.”
Her chin bobbed down in a quick nod, and a small dart of fear flashed through her eyes. If he hadn’t been staring at her so intently, he would have missed it. What was she afraid of? Him? He hadn’t made a move toward her.
Was she afraid he’d have Zander fire her? He held back a snort. As if he’d let her go so easily. No matter how little he knew of her, she belonged to him now. His. She’d simply have to get used to it.
Dragging a hand down his face, he rubbed the back of his neck.
What a mess.
He hauled himself out of bed, and her gaze slid to his cock, which twitched and stiffened in response to her attention. He let a slow, hot smile curve his lips. She wasn’t as immune as she was pretending. Excellent. He barely contained a purr.
“See something you like, Cleo?”
Her gaze jerked up to meet his, and a wild blush tinted her cheeks. “I, um, have to get to work. Right now.”
“Have dinner with me. Six o’clock in the lounge.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t expect an argument. No one but his siblings ever argued with him.
Her brows rose in response, she swallowed, and her gaze dipped to his erect cock again before glancing away. “I—yes, sir—Adrian.”
Turning, she bolted from the room. Within moments, his front door slammed shut behind her.
He forced himself not to go after her. He would see her later. It would do, for the moment. He needed to regroup, to regain some control. He wasn’t the kind of man to let it slip through his fingers. Losing it would make him weak, make him vulnerable, and he couldn’t allow that. Not ever.
Fleeting Passions: Forbidden Passions, Book 3 Page 1
