Shadow’s Edge np-1

by J. T. Geissinger

  But Jenna had no appetite for food.

  It wasn’t the eleven-hour flight from Los Angeles on Leander’s private jet that was bothering her. That had been an introduction to the kind of luxury Jenna had never been exposed to: burled walnut tables and desks, lamb’s-ear soft leather seats in tones of chocolate and beige, a huge flat-screen television mounted above the sofa. Even the carpet below her feet was beautiful; plush and thick and the color of desert sands.

  The open and elegantly appointed interior of the cabin mimicked the great room of the most comfortable, luxurious manor. They even had a butler.

  It was the hour drive south to Hampshire from the Heathrow Airport that worried her.

  Leander hadn’t spoken a word to her since they boarded the plane, except to say the butler was available for anything she might need. Then he’d retreated to the far corner of the cabin and spent the entire flight reading, his face stony whenever she snuck a glance.

  It shouldn’t have bothered her. It didn’t bother her. Only now all four of them would be driving to Sommerley together, in the same car. She’d be forced to talk to him, forced to sit next to him, possibly.

  She’d be captive to his scent. To his proximity. To her smothered, agonizing desire.

  She stretched in her chair and looked away from the window just as the captain came over the loudspeaker to say they’d be arriving in London momentarily and should buckle their seatbelts and remain seated for the rest of the flight.

  Damn. She’d been just about to jump up and pace. Again.

  Morgan looked at her from under her lashes and returned the spoonful of uneaten caviar to the crystal bowl. “Relax,” she murmured, the barest of whispers. “Once we get to Sommerley you won’t have to be so close to him. You’ll have your own quarters. The place is really quite enormous—you may not see him for days at time.”

  She sent her a slow, knowing smile and winked.

  Jenna felt the blood climb into her cheeks. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Morgan pushed away the platter that held the bowl of caviar, the buttered toast points, and an iced glass of vodka and began gathering her things from the open seat next to her: black cashmere overcoat, patent leather Kelly bag, a stack of glossy fashion magazines.

  “I mean he told us why you agreed to come with us. And what you required from him to do so.”

  She couldn’t think of anything pithy to say in response. “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh,” Morgan mocked her gently, a smile warming her face. “And I completely understand. He can be a royal pain in the—”

  She cut herself off and glanced over to where Leander was sitting. He leisurely turned a page of his book and ignored them both. Her voice dropped even lower. “Although I can’t say that Christian was at all bothered by that news.”

  Now Morgan shot a glance toward Christian, who reclined with his arms folded over his chest on the leather sofa across the cabin. He was staring at the ceiling, unblinking, his big body tense as a plank. Every so often, a muscle would flex in his jaw, but that was all. Watching him, Morgan’s smile faded just a bit.

  Jenna’s gaze darted to Leander. His hand had stilled on the page.

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” Jenna murmured, her gaze still on Leander’s face. “About how big Sommerley is, I mean. That will make it easier for everyone, I’m sure.”

  Leander gave no indication he heard her. He continued to stare at the book in his lap. Then one finger began to tap a steady, silent rhythm against the back cover.

  Jenna realized that if she wanted to keep something from him, she’d have to start passing notes.

  “So how does this work?” Jenna turned her head away to stare once again at the dark landscape rising up to meet them. A suburb now, lighted houses and tiny cars moving over rain-swept streets. “All the Ikati live in one big house together, like a commune?”

  Morgan’s derisive laugh made Jenna look over.

  “Oh, please.” She made a face, just a dainty curl of her upper lip. She glanced at Leander then went on in a lighter tone. “Sommerley is just like any other small town, except it’s more...hidden away. I like to pretend it’s an exclusive resort, like an island retreat only a privileged few can visit.” She smiled, almost melancholy. “Which, I suppose, it is. There’s the main square and schools and shops and everything else you would expect in a town. It’s also vast dark forests and rolling green hills and a sky that goes on forever.”

  She tossed a lock of dark hair over her shoulder and looked out the window. “I’ve been told it’s one of the most beautiful places in the world, but...” She shrugged, and her sad smile faded, leaving her face pale and somber. “I really wouldn’t know. I’ve got very little to compare it to.”

  A sigh escaped her lips. “Anyway, everyone lives in their own homes, just like humans, except we have a lot more space. We’re not exactly pack animals, we need our own territories. The Alpha lives on the main estate with Christian and their sister, Daria—”

  “The Alpha,” Jenna interrupted, eyebrows arched. “That’s what you call Leander?”

  Morgan regarded her with a look of cool, green-eyed amusement. “That’s what he is, Jenna.”

  Ah, yes. It was sometimes very hard to believe that underneath that elegant, refined exterior beat the heart of a beast, a creature of vapor and fangs and stone-cold sorcery. She glanced over once again, forgetting for a moment her vow of indifference, and simply admired him.

  “So he’s...the leader, then. He’s in charge?”

  Morgan flicked an electric green gaze over Jenna. “Of course. You couldn’t tell?”

  “And exactly how many of you...of us...are there? Why England? I mean, aren’t panthers from tropical forests?”

  “Originally, we were, yes. Africa, the legend goes, though panthers can survive in any forested area with plenty of prey. I’m not privy to all the particulars because I’m a—” She checked herself and made a small, helpless gesture with her hand. “I never paid much attention to the tribe elders and their creation stories.”

  Somehow Jenna didn’t believe that. “But why aren’t the Ikati everywhere then? Why are you three the only other ones I’ve ever met? Beside my father, I mean.”

  A shadow of something Jenna couldn’t identify crossed Morgan’s lovely face. “Because unlike humans who breed like rabbits, many of the Ikati are infertile. Most of them, in fact. And it’s getting worse with every generation. Less than a half dozen colonies exist now, scattered throughout the globe. Nepal, Canada, Brazil, and Sommerley.”

  “And Leander is Alpha of all of them?”

  She smiled, amused. “I’m sure he wishes he were. But no, each colony is held together by an Alpha and an Assembly of their most powerful tribesmen.” Her smile deepened. “I would say tribespeople, but as far as I know, I’m the only woman to ever serve on an Assembly.”

  “And no one knows about any of it,” Jenna marveled. “You live right out in the open and no one can tell you’re different.”

  Morgan’s smile vanished. “Not in the open. Never in the open. We can’t.”

  “Why not? Wouldn’t it be easier, or better? Just to be...out, as they say?”

  Morgan tilted her head and gazed at Jenna. Her eyes glittered in the dim cabin light. “It must be nice to believe human nature would be anything but cruel toward something so different from itself.”

  Jenna felt vaguely insulted. “You never know. You might be surprised at how kind people can be. There’s a few bad eggs, sure, but overall—”

  “For all your worldly ways, I’m afraid you’re more than a little naive,” she interrupted quietly. “There is nothing the human mind despises more than diversity, no matter what you’re led to believe. You are either the same, or you are Other.” Her voice went flat. “And being Other equals being the enemy.”

  Jenna thought about all the nice people she’d known in her life, albeit none of them for very long. “I find that hard to believe.”

  Morgan slanted
her a look, gently scornful and sad. “You’ll just have to take my word on this one.”

  A jolt as the plane touched down. Morgan’s hand flew to her throat.

  Jenna frowned over at her. “What is it?”

  She shook her head a little and swallowed, then waved her hand in the air, a dismissive gesture. “I hate flying. I feel so out of control—you can’t see anything.”

  “Really? God, I love it,” Jenna replied. “We moved around so much as a kid I used to think we owned our own airplane. I’d always ask for the seat next to the window so I could look out at the clouds and pretend I was alone, flying free on the wind. My father used to tell me I had the soul of a bird.”

  She paused, the memory of her father triggering the bitter taste of salt in her mouth. The taste of tears. “I always wanted to be a falcon,” she murmured. “Then I could just fly away and leave the world behind, all its secrets and misery.”

  From the corner of her eye, Jenna saw Leander’s head come up and tilt in their direction.

  “Well, it’s only my second time on an airplane,” Morgan said, leaning over to grab a small bag at her feet. “I’ll be glad when I can get my feet back on the ground.” She sat up and kept her eyes averted. Jenna sensed it was deliberate.

  “Let me guess. Your first time was the flight out to L.A.”

  Morgan’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I don’t really get out much,” she said, her voice shaded with quiet sarcasm.

  The plane shuddered to a stop. In one swift movement, Leander unbuckled his seat belt and leapt to his feet. He moved silently through the airy corridor of the cabin toward the front of the plane and disappeared behind the galley wall.

  “You can stop boring holes into the fuselage with your eyes now, Christian.” Morgan looked toward where he lay stretched out at the front of the cabin. She stood and gathered her coat and handbag. “We’re here.”

  He turned his head and gave Jenna a long, searching look before standing. It was the same look she often saw Leander give her, and it made her flush in exactly the same way. She looked away quickly and concentrated on unfastening her seat belt and gathering her things.

  She needn’t have worried about the car. By the time she, Morgan, and Christian made their way down the jet’s lowered steps to the wet tarmac below under enormous black umbrellas held aloft by the butler and one of the crew, Leander had been whisked away in one of the two sleek black limousines that waited just steps away.

  “Ass,” Morgan muttered under her breath as she watched the smudged red taillights of his car disappear into the night. Tires slicked back rain in a spray that caught the light and turned it to a shower of rainbow crystals.

  Jenna pretended to ignore the compression she felt within her chest as she watched his car speed away. She drew a deep breath, letting the dark, unfamiliar scent of wet peat, heather, and moss settle over her skin, permeate her nose. It was at once cool and inviting, familiar and alien.

  “Well,” Christian said, standing just behind her. “All the more room for the three of us.”

  He snapped his fingers and flashed a quick, hesitant smile at Jenna as a uniformed driver jumped out of the car. The driver rushed around to their side and opened the heavy black door of the limousine, then stood at attention, stoic and unblinking, not meeting any of their eyes.

  Christian gestured to the open door, his eyes penetrating. “My dear lady,” he murmured. “After you.”

  Leander had called ahead to make sure he would have a car to himself. He guessed he would need a quick escape after eleven hours confined in a small space—luxurious though it was—wrapped in her scent and the quiet, pleasing sound of her voice.

  He’d been absolutely right.

  He rubbed a tired hand over his face and let his head fall back against the cushioned headrest of the sedan. God, his head ached. Staying in one place for that length of time, willing himself to remain motionless against every instinct that raged within him had produced a throbbing vise around his skull that inched very near a migraine.

  He wasn’t used to sitting still. He wasn’t used to being denied what he wanted.

  He watched the night flash by in patches of muted color and light, blurred with the sheen of rain and the speed at which the driver was taking the narrow roads, and wondered what it was about Jenna he found so compelling. So intoxicating.

  Naturally there had been other women. Scores of them, if truth be told. His youth had been spent in study and sports and the rubric of the tribe’s tradition, but there had been plenty of time to steal away into the woods with some fetching young thing, plenty of time to explore.

  And explore he did.

  For the son of the Alpha, one day to be named Alpha himself, there was no shortage of willing partners. Beautiful creatures with burnished skin and brazen eyes, beckoning him shamelessly with mouthed invitations across candlelit rooms, propositioning him with words and eyes and slender-limbed bodies. He knew all the best pockets of the woods, all the darkest corners with the softest grass in which to roll.

  But for all their wiles and beauty, none of those lusty panther girls of his youth had ever moved him beyond a youthful excitation. He had yet to fall in love.

  He’d watched his parents for clues. Theirs had been a happy union. After thirty-five years of marriage, they still held hands, still kissed and gave each other warm and lingering looks.

  It was the way with their kind. They were monogamous. They mated for life. Once wedding vows were exchanged in the tiny red-brick chapel at Sommerley, nothing could separate man and wife. No affairs, no divorce, no midlife crisis plagued the Ikati.

  Only death separated them.

  In a way, his parents had been lucky. Horrible though the accident was, they’d gone together. He thought his father would have had the worst of it, if he’d been the one to survive the crash without his mother. Leander pictured him wandering the empty halls of Sommerley, lost as a child, sobbing into his teacup.

  They’d been inseparable in life. Somehow it seemed fitting they were inseparable in death.

  He passed a hand over his throbbing head and urged the driver to go faster. He wanted to be back in his own bed tonight. He needed sleep, a good sleep. He was wrung dry from the constant ache of desire Jenna aroused in him, an ache that grew sharp as a blade when she was near and dulled to a chronic buzz of discontent when she was not.

  She was lithe and rash and strong, lovely beyond description, reckless and valiant yet full of a vulnerability that moved him. She was obstinate and clever, she was heat and fire and cool, feminine mystery, she tasted of wild roses and rain, but she was not his.

  Nor, as she had so clearly demonstrated, did she want to be.

  His head dropped back against the headrest once more. He pressed his fingertips into the hollows of his eyes and let out a long breath.

  When they finally pulled to a smooth stop before the massive, scrolled iron gates at the bottom of the long drive that led up to Sommerley, Leander’s hopes for a good night’s sleep were dashed.

  A small square of fabric was posted above the stone pillar on the left, whipping hard in the wind.

  It was a red flag. The Assembly’s sign for danger.

  11

  Jenna found the button on the armrest that operated the tinted black window. The smell of sodden grass and rain-cleansed country night invaded the warm, dimly lit interior of the limousine as the window silently retracted. She leaned out to stare in wonder at the ten-foot hewn stone walls, the bank of security cameras, the razor-sharp barbed wire artfully concealed beyond the gates by the grove of ficus trees, their gleaming dark foliage trimmed to precisely the right height.

  “It looks like a fortress,” she said, awed. The rough stone walls fell away from the main gate in either direction for as far as the eye could see, fading into murk as they marched away from the floodlights. “What are you trying to keep out?”

  “The world and all its secrets and misery,” Christian replied softly, his voice a lan
guid caress from the front of the sedan.

  He reclined, long legs sprawled casually before him, against the seat behind the driver. He faced her and Morgan, who sat together on the long, leather seat at the rear. The smoked glass window between the main compartment and the driver was rolled up, flaring into a dark corona around Christian’s head as it caught the lamplight from the windows and reflected it back.

  His face was swathed in shadow, but the sheen of his perfect, white teeth glinted as he smiled. Even through the darkness, she felt the particular heat of his stare and felt a twinge of panic. Was she insane for coming here? Were these Ikati going to eat her alive? But then she was distracted by Morgan, muttering under her breath beside her.

  “It’s more like what we’re trying to keep in.” She shifted her weight on the seat next to Jenna and crossed her slender arms over her chest.

  Jenna frowned. The closer to Sommerley, the more morose Morgan grew. She snuck a peek at Morgan, who stared out the other window, stiff and pale-faced, her lips pursed.

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “You’ll see,” Morgan replied ominously, still looking away.

  A squawk of static from outside startled her. The driver spoke into a microphone box mounted on a slender post beside the driveway. The static cleared to a tinny voice then an electronic clink as the iron gates were automatically unlocked.

  The gates swung slowly inward past the stone gatehouse, its black windows staring out like empty eyes. The limousine rolled forward.

  Sommerley manor was as she remembered from the images snatched from Leander’s mind, only it loomed far more vast and intimidating now that she was standing on the white gravel of the circular drive, oblivious to the liveried servant—Ikati, she sensed, like the driver—who stood slightly bent at the waist as he held the door open behind her.