The Panther's Rival

by Emilia Hartley

  Amara followed his gaze. “Classy, huh?” she scoffed, filling a mug with beer. She turned the cup with an expert hand, keeping the foam to a minimum, and slid it down the bar to Ole. “I keep telling Mitch that one’s only going to end badly, but he refuses to listen to me.”

  Nova raised a brow. “You don’t approve?”

  “It’s not that,” she said, pursing her lips. “I just think Zoe is, well, Zoe. She’s a mess. And Mitchell could do so much better.” Stopping, she thought about it for a moment. “Okay, so maybe it is that.”

  “Sounds like you’re jealous.”

  “Hardly,” she replied with a laugh. “Another?” He nodded, taking the shot she handed him.

  Nova knew he was pushing his luck, being this close to her, but he couldn’t help it. After ten years, he could still see her lying there on the pavement, blood gushing from her neck. He had hoped that after he made sure she was safe that he would be able to leave her alone, yet he had found himself drawn to her over the years. His visits to her home had become more and more frequent, even though he tried telling himself he was just keeping her safe. He even found himself thinking about her when he was out on patrol. Or in a Council Meeting with his pack.

  He kept trying to tell himself that if he could just see her in person, talk to her as himself, that he could get over his infatuation with her. So far, no such luck.

  “So, Cowboy,” she asked, leaning against the bar, “do you have a name to go with that grin? Or are you the strong silent type who’s just going to sit and stare at me?”

  “Well, it’s working so well for me,” he said, tapping his fingers slowly on the bar, “why mess with success?” Her laugh was loud and boisterous, and he couldn’t help but want to hear it again. Snickering to himself, he held out a hand. “My name is Nova.”

  Taking his outstretched hand, she shook it. “Amara. Have you been in town long?”

  “I live a few miles out of Strathford, on my family’s estate.” Sort of.

  The door opened again, and Nova’s blood froze in his veins. The man who walked in was tall, and broad shouldered. His hair was a rich, chestnut brown against his deeply tanned skin. He had an angular face with a sharp brow and tawny eyes. Snow dotted the shoulders of his leather jacket, his grin was fierce and cruel when he spotted Nova.

  Kal.

  Nova’s expression turned hard and stony as he watched the heir to the Valley Clan weave his way through the tables. Anger rose to the surface, and Nova clenched his fist. What the hell was Kal doing there? He shouldn’t even be in town, much less in this bar.

  Kal leered at Nova as he sat down next to him. “Didn’t think you’d bother showing your face, Lowery,” he said, snaking Nova’s shot and downing it. Without a word, Amara filled another and handed it to Nova. The look on her face was carefully blank.

  “It’s my town, Vann, in case you don’t remember. The border is twenty miles in the other direction.” Nova’s smile at Amara was quick and charming, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. He wondered if she noticed. “You know, in case you wanted to get the hell over it.”

  Kal chuckled to himself for a moment, his shrewd gaze not missing a thing. He lowered his voice. “You sure watch this one a lot,” he murmured, barely nodding his head at the bartender. Luckily, she was serving a patron a few feet away. “Why is that, I wonder.”

  Nova’s demeanor went hard as stone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he couldn’t help the way his gaze darted to her face and back again. It was just for a split second, but it was enough.

  Grinning, Kal leaned forward, keeping his voice near a whisper. “Oh, I think you do. I think you’ve had a thing for this pretty little bartender for a while now. The only question now is, why?” He raised a brow. “I mean, she is attractive I guess. For a human. Dark hair, tiny frame, tight body. Ripe little prize for any man to win, I suppose. But a mate? My, my. What would your brother think? He is your Alpha now, is he not? Now that Daddy’s gone. Do you think he would approve of you fraternizing with the sheep you watch?”

  Closing his eyes, Kal sniffed the air as Amara walked by. “She does smell am—“ His voice trailed off as his eyes opened wide, and he gaped at Nova. “No. She isn’t.” Catching the flash of fear from his adversary, Kal rubbed his hands together, glee lighting his face. “Well aren’t you just an old hound? She isn’t just some girl, is she? She’s the girl. The one that got away from both of us.” He sniffed again. “Mmm, and Lowery, does she smell delicious or what? Tell me you’re getting some action from her.”

  Nova sat on the stool, as still as he could, willing himself to stay calm as his heart began to race and his blood boiled. The only outward sign that Kal Vann’s words had even gotten to him was his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

  Kal noticed.

  He chuckled. “You’re not. Well, that’s your loss, Lowery. Do you mind if I do?” Kal patted Nova on the shoulder. It took everything he had for Nova not to break his hand at the joint. “Once I get her home, I think I’d like to tear into that sweet skin again. You know. Finish what I started.”

  Nova snapped. Before he could think about it or tell himself no, Nova was off the stool, sending it crashing to the ground behind him. He had Kal thrown against the bar, his forearm pressed against the other man’s throat. One clawed hand sank through shirt and skin like it was nothing as he tore into the fleshy part of Kal’s stomach, feeling the skin begin to knit back together as his body began to shift around Nova’s paw.

  “Don’t you touch her,” Nova growled through gritted teeth, so low he was sure no one else could hear him. Kal merely grinned, though his face was tight with pain. “I’m not fucking kidding, Vann.” His voice held as much power as it did warning. “Stay away from her.”

  “Hey!” From down the bar, Mitch was heading their way.

  Nova retracted his claws before anybody could see. No point scaring anyone into thinking he was the real-life Wolverine.

  Kal scrambled out from under him, a mixture of hate and fear writhing on his face. “This isn’t over, Lowery,” he snarled, backing away toward the door. Nova wasn’t sure which one he’d hurt more: Kal’s abs or his pride. By the door, the big bouncer stood up, ready to stop another incident before it started. Kal shrugged off the man’s hand as he attempted to pull him through the door and out of the bar. “You better watch your back, Nova. I always finish what I start.” Nova followed his gaze to Amara, trepidation dripping down his spine. Kal smirked. “That’s a promise.” Then he disappeared out the door.

  Chapter 6

  Amara stood, frozen behind the bar, as the man walked out. She hadn’t liked him from the moment he walked in, as handsome as he may be, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. There was just something…skeevy about the man; maybe even something familiar. She shivered.

  Nova bent down and picked up the stool. He cast her an apologetic glance. “Sorry about that,” he said quietly, his voice rough and thick. Whatever had just happened, it was clear he wasn’t quite through it yet.

  She handed Nova a glass of water, satisfied when he took a large gulp. “I thought you might need to cool down, handsome. That looked like it got pretty heated.” Nova just nodded.

  From across the room, Amara spotted her boss headed their way. He looked irate.

  “What the hell was that, man?” Mitch exclaimed, storming over to Nova. Amara suppressed a groan. Mitch had a way of blowing everything out of proportion. Sure, the policy was no fighting in the bar, but it hadn’t really been much of a fight. More like Nova was putting the other guy in his place. “You can’t pick a fight like that in my bar!” Mitch’s face was red as an apple. He glared at Nova. “You need to leave.”

  “Mitchell,” Amara protested, crossing her arms over her chest.

  He just shook his head. “Now.”

  Irritated, she rolled her eyes.

  “That’s okay, Amara,” Nova said, completely calm. He set a handful of bills on the bar. Even with just a cur
sory glance, she could tell he had left her a substantial tip. Points for him.

  Nova stuck out his hand to Mitch in apology. “Sorry, man. There’s bad blood between me and Kal, always has been. He just tends to get under my skin. But you’re right. I never should have let him get to me here. This is your bar. I meant no disrespect.”

  Surprised, Mitch regarded him with caution before taking Nova’s hand. “Fine,” he said grudgingly. “I won’t ban you from the bar entirely. But for tonight…”

  Nova held up his hands in surrender. Looked like he wasn’t even going to argue. “Understood.” He glanced at Amara. A slow, easy grin crept across his face. Almost like a cat that had just spotted its prey. His dark eyes flashed with amusement. “It was nice meeting you, Amara,” he said, and there was so much heat in his stare that she wasn’t surprised to feel herself blush. “It truly was the highlight of my night. I hope to see you again soon.”

  She could feel Mitch’s pointed stare, she knew he was judging her, expecting her to shrug off Nova’s advances. She refused to look at her friend. She didn’t need his disapproval now. What did he know anyway? Instead, she busied her hands by grabbing a towel and wiping off glasses, grateful that the dishwasher had just finished so she would have something to do. The situation was getting more awkward by the second. Amara smiled at Nova, aware that Mitchell was seething. She would deal with him later. There was a good-looking man standing in front of her now. “You, too. You come back and see me now, handsome. Maybe I’ll even let you buy me another drink.” She winked at him.

  Amara let Nova’s rich laughter wash over her as he made his way out the door. Switching to a wet rag, she began to wipe down the bar. Thank goodness it was almost closing. It had been a strange night, and she was exhausted.

  “Seriously, Mara?” Mitch demanded, glaring at her. She hadn’t seen him that angry in quite a while. “That guy?”

  “Why not that guy?” Zoe asked, sidling up alongside Mitch. She slid her hand up and down his arm, letting her fingers play over his skin. Amara suppress a shudder. Zoe wasn’t exactly the type of girl you encouraged your best friend to go out with. Not anymore. “He was hot. Besides, I don’t know what you’re worried about. Amara doesn’t have a chance in hell, anyway.” The smile Zoe gave her was cold and cruel. It was like she enjoyed being mean. Who knows? Maybe it made her feel better about herself.

  Always the same with Zoe, Amara thought, grinding her teeth together. Even her good mood was beginning to sour. She comes in, gets drunk, and hits on whatever guy she has her sights on at the time. It had been that way since the attack, she recalled. Becca had devoted herself to her faith, and was probably the most well-adjusted of the three of them; which was ironic, since she’d been hurt the most. Amara had thrown herself into self-defense, refusing to ever be a victim again, but Zoe had thrown herself at men and alcohol. After a while, the two of them had grown apart. Amara still poured Zoe into bed when she’d had too much to drink, but they never mentioned it, and she did her best to keep it from getting the best of her.

  Until now.

  Looks like this week is Mitch, the poor bastard. She shows the entire town just how easy she is, how she has absolutely no self-respect, then plays it off as if I’m the one who’s undesirable? Ugh. I’ve had enough.

  “You know, Mitchell, you’ve got a lot of nerve, lecturing me about my love interests—or even just the people I’m attracted to—while you have Zoe Hamilton hanging off your arm.” Grabbing her purse, Amara made her way out from behind the bar. “I mean, come on. I know you’re into recycling, but don’t you think this is rather much? There’s only so much use a girl can take before the wear and tear starts to show.” She knew she was being a bitch, but seeing Zoe with Mitch grated on her nerves too much for her to care.

  “I’m done for the night, boss,” she told him, taking her coat from Sam. She thanked him with a light kiss on the cheek. “You two enjoy.” Amara bared her teeth at them in what passed for a smile before pushing through the door and out into the cold, leaving a flabbergasted Mitch and a furious Zoe in her wake.

  Amara was fuming as she let the heavy door slam behind her. She leaned back against the cold stone wall of the building and closed her eyes. She needed to regain her bearings, and fast. It wasn’t like her to lose it the way she just did. That never happened. But there was something in the air tonight, something… off, that was setting her on edge. If only she knew what it was.

  It was one thing for Zoe to attack her like that; it happened all the time. She was used to her frenemy’s barbed comments about her looks, her brains, or her chances with men. They hardly ever had any merit, but still, Zoe liked to spit them out, just to mess with her. Any other time, Amara would have let them roll right off her back, but tonight…she just couldn’t.

  And what really pissed her off was that Mitchell hadn’t even stuck up for her. No, in fact, he had started the whole damn thing. So what if the new hot guy was flirting with her? She’d been plying him full of alcohol all night. He probably would have flirted with anyone if they’d smiled bright enough. And she’d only flirted back because it came with the job.

  Well, maybe it had been because she wanted to, Amara admitted. A little bit. But so what? She could have a fun conversation with an attractive man, couldn’t she? Not that they’d talked about much. He really seemed to be more of the strong, silent type. But that wasn’t the point. She’d enjoyed talking to him. There was no law against it. It wasn’t like she was seeing anyone. She rarely even went out on a date. And Mitchell had never been upset about her having a love life before. Not that he had a right to judge.

  Zoe Hamilton. The filthy hypocrite.

  Movement caught Amara’s eye from the shadows. Her fingers itched for the knife strapped to her ankle. Before she could stop it, the wolf attack from ten years before flashed through her mind. Once again, Amara imagined herself flat on her back, sprawled out on the pavement, the russet-colored wolf tearing into her skin. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life.

  Never again.

  Leaning down, she slipped the knife from its sheath, loving the feel of the cool steel against her hand. She let the weight of the blade settle in, enjoying the way it felt both lethal and familiar. The way she held it spoke of a lot of years handling a knife. “Who’s there?” Amara called, her steady voice the only sound in the stillness of the night. No one answered, but she knew someone was there. She could feel it.

  Seconds passed. When the silence continued, Amara shrugged, cursing herself under her breath for not bringing her car, and again for worrying about not bringing her car. As Becca would say, her paranoia was showing.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  How many times was she going to let her fear get the best of her? Yes, her grandfather had been right; there were, in fact, wolves in Strathford, and they were definitely not friendly. Well, not all of them, she conceded, thinking about the black and silver one that followed her around like a shadow. Most of them, however, were vicious. But did that mean she had to stay indoors after the sun went down like her mother? Was she supposed to be forced to spend her nights within the confines of her own home, unable to enjoy her life just because some wolf out there might take it?

  She didn’t think so.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Amara scanned the darkness again, searching for any sign of movement, but there was no one there. Still, she found herself gripping the knife tighter as she picked up the pace. Only two more blocks to go.

  Chapter 7

  As she rounded the last corner, Amara could finally see her apartment building. She thought she would feel relief, but instead, her sense of urgency only strengthened. She began to walk faster.

  From somewhere behind her, a low growl echoed off the street. Amara froze. She knew that growl. She would recognize it anywhere. It was the same growl she heard in her nightmares when the wolf was trying to rip her throat out.

  Terror ripped through her, propelling her forward; faster, faster. Ama
ra broke into a run. Her heartbeat pounded like a war drum against her ribs. The rushing sound of her blood roared in her ears. The pounding of her feet as she charged down the street was nearly deafening.

  But she could still hear the wolf gaining on her. Or were there two?

  Twenty more feet. Fifteen. Five. Up the steps to her door. Frantic now, Amara felt the panic attack coming on, and she dug into her purse for her keys, cursing the fact that she basically lived out of her purse and could never find anything.

  There!

  Victorious, Amara’s fingers clamped around her house keys. She tugged them from her purse and tried to find the right key to insert into the lock, but she couldn’t manage to do it. Her hands were shaking so badly that the bundle of keys on the keyring slipped from her hands and fell into the bushes beside the stoop.

  For one split second, Amara squeezed her eyes shut. The Universe could not be that cruel.

  The wolf’s deadly growl was so close, Amara imagined his muzzle right up against her neck. Slowly, she turned, bringing the knife up in front of her. Right before her mind went blank with shock.

  It was the same wolf. And he was huge, at least twice the size of a normal wolf. Behind him stood a second one, tan. Waiting.

  How? her mind screamed. Did wolves even live that long? Was that even possible? He didn’t look that old, she admitted. Maybe it was a different wolf. No. It was the same one, of that she was certain. But that was impossible. The last time they had met had been a decade earlier. Yet, there he was; the same look of hatred and thirst for blood that she remembered in his tawny brown eyes.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she told them, her voice quaking. Oh, how she wished she could be stronger than she felt. Defiant, Amara dropped down into a fighting stance. “You don’t scare me.”

  The first wolf made a choking noise deep in his throat. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was laughing. Wolves didn’t laugh.

  Amara switched the blade to her other hand and wiped her sweaty palm on the leg of her jeans. Now was not the time to freak out. This is what she had been training for all these years. Revenge.