Illicit

by Pryce, Madeline

  A barrage of emotion slammed into her, changed with each familiar face she boldly locked onto. Disappointment was clear on almost every one of their faces.

  Her heart sped. This was not the small, private will reading she’d expected. This was a firing squad.

  She searched the onlookers for a clue, something that might tell her what she’d done to deserve this kind of welcome. Sure, she wasn’t leopard, wasn’t particularly close with any of them, but they’d never treated her like this before. When her eyes locked on Mark Grayson, the man Greg had one day wanted her to marry, she learned all she needed to know. Rage simmered in his ice-blue eyes, twisted his aristocratic features into a pained expression of betrayal.

  Peter. Was it really so obvious she’d slept with him?

  She’d spent hours in the shower, scrubbing her skin raw, desperate to erase his brand, desperate to free herself from wanting him again even after his cruel rejection. In one day, Peter had made her become addicted to him. She craved his touch like a drug.

  The Pard’s collective discontent electrified the air, adding to the unease crawling under her skin. Icy wind whispered across her cheeks, doing little to soothe the heat of embarrassment at the knowledge of what she’d done. Across from her, Krystal Priddy touched her swollen belly and glanced down at her thin sweater, her only protection against the cold. All a leopard needed. Her husband tugged her close, as if Eva might taint her in some way. Swallowing, Eva held the lapels of her coat tight around her body, the thick wool setting her further apart from the rest of the Pard.

  All eyes stared at her, the outsider. Greg’s angel. Even Becca, barely eighteen, glared as if Eva had committed a mortal sin. As she stood alone in the crowd, her mind spun one sticky, self-deprecating web after another. Maybe she’d misunderstood her role within the Pard. Maybe she’d been nothing but Greg’s pet, the orphaned brat, his angel. Maybe they way he’d isolated her had been to protect her from the truth all along.

  Emotion welled, pricking the backs of her eyes, and stung her nose. No, damn it. Lifting her chin, she stared right back at the semi-circle of people in front of her who refused to avert their eyes. The Alpha’s adopted daughter had once commanded respect. Never before had the Pard openly held her gaze. She refused to look down, refused to be ashamed that her brown eyes did not match the leopards’ clear, sparkling blues, proof they were true Pard.

  Proudly, Eva took her spot between her uncle and the empty stone chair, a painful reminder of Greg’s absence. James leaned close. She braced for his stinging verbal blow, his “I told you so.”

  “I was afraid he killed you,” he whispered with a note of sarcasm, brushing his shoulder with hers. “I’m glad to see you’re more or less in one piece.”

  Was he glad? He sure as hell didn’t seem it. She looked up, his six-foot frame towering over her. The hard edges rimming his face were not a comfort. “Big girl, remember?”

  Ice darkened his eyes. He lifted his hand, touching it to her bruised cheek. “Still think you made the right choice acceptin’ that drink?”

  She pulled away. “I’m fine with my choice.”

  James caught her arm, drew her close and pressed his cheek against her marred one. “Actions have consequences,” he said, coarse whiskers scratching her frozen skin. Her senses pricked with apprehension and she forced herself to hold steady. “If you’d refused him, he would have left and things would have fallen into place.” He pulled away, his cold, accusatory eyes stabbing into her injured heart. “I can’t protect you, Eva. None of us can.”

  She wouldn’t cry, not in front of any of them. “Don’t bother, then. I can protect myself.”

  His gaze narrowed on her face. “Can you?”

  Swallowing back the tears, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She opened her lids, turned to meet the gaze of each person in the circle. None of their petty disappointment would detract from why they’d come to the clearing. Today, this was her place, her purpose, the one truth she could count on. She was responsible for Greg’s life now that he was dead. She shoved aside everything that would detract from that goal—her place in the Pard, Grady’s punishment, even Peter’s rejection—and clung to the one task her father had asked of her.

  She reached into her jacket for the sealed envelope she’d brought. This was the reason she was here. “If we can shelve the murderous looks for a moment, I’d like to carry out my father’s last wish.”

  Her uncle’s heavy hand stilled her arm, kept her from breaking the seal. “You know the rules. We can’t start the meeting without the Alpha’s permission.”

  Confused, she looked at him. Was this a joke? As far as she understood, the death of one Alpha signaled a new leader to take his place. Greg’s death should have activated the gene in the next eligible Alpha, James. The oldest and most influential, he’d held the Pard together after Greg’s murder. None among them would fill her father’s shoes better. “Wouldn’t that be you?” she said.

  Heat pricked the back of her neck, her only warning. “Who?” she gasped. A hard, masculine body pressed against her from behind and sent her senses reeling.

  “No, Angel.” Peter’s deep voice vibrated against her ear, sent a shiver down to the tips of her toes. “I’m the Alpha.”

  As he turned to stand in front of her, he trailed his finger across her neck, only stopping when he pressed under her chin and lifted, forcing her to meet his gaze. In the darkness his hair looked black, his eyes fathomless. Stubble shadowed his muscular jaw, made him look dangerously sexy.

  For an embarrassingly long moment, she stared. Couldn’t breathe. Possession gleamed in his dark gaze, the look sending her heart racing. Try as she might, she couldn’t calm the staccato beat.

  Peter strolled past her, confidence and power in every silent stride. His eyes swept the semi-circle of leopards, pausing on each person until they reluctantly dropped their gaze to the ground in submission. As if satisfied, he turned to address her. One side of his wicked mouth curled into a seductive smile, identical to the one he’d used when he’d asked her to drink with him.

  Ignoring Peter, and his damn smile, she turned to James. “Why is he here?”

  Peter’s long legs ate up the distance between them in a matter of steps. His smile dissolved and his face took on a punishing hardness, the same look of displeasure he’d gotten right before he’d thrust inside her virgin ass. Only this time, she didn’t think she would enjoy the punishment.

  His voice was a harsh growl. “I’m here because this is where I belong, unlike you, Angel.”

  The already frayed threads holding her together unraveled at the truth of his words, made worse because he was the one who said them. This was not the playful, aloof stranger she remembered from last night or this morning, the one who did everything he could to keep her from liking him. This one she liked even less. His jaw tensed, one quick bulge of clenching muscle before he faced the gathering crowd.

  “For those of you who seemed to have forgotten my existence, I’ll refresh you. I’m Peter Marx, son of Gregory Marx, great grandson of Timothy Marx, and the rightful Alpha of this Pard.”

  Eva made a noise in the back of her throat. One hand covered her mouth, the other pressed against her lower stomach to staunch the ache within.

  “Hi, I’m Peter. I’m a complete and utter asshole.”

  “What did you say your last name was?” “I didn’t.”

  “You’re a helluva fuck - P.M.”

  Her chest tightened under the crushing realization and she couldn’t breathe. What had she done?

  Her stranger looked down at her with a calculated gleam of pleasure in his eyes, as if he’d been waiting a lifetime for her reaction. He stepped close. His cold words fanned her anger and crushed her heart. “That’s right. You get it now, don’t you?”

  She heard Peter speak, but couldn’t fully process the words. Pain blossomed inside her chest and expanded to her lungs. Greg had a son. Why had he never told her? So many things made sense now. T
he locked bedroom Greg visited almost every night after he thought she was asleep. The drawer in his office he casually checked to make sure it was secure when she walked into his study.

  James stepped forward, pulled her back when she might have done something stupid. She wanted to kill him, didn’t care she’d have to do it in front of a dozen people. “Leave her alone, Peter. You’ve made your point.”

  Peter bared his teeth, a ferocious sound erupting from his chest. Power danced in the air, a hot roiling energy that had those around her dropping to their knees.

  One finger at a time, James’ hold on her arm loosened, and then fell away. Her uncle bowed his head. The strain of his submission showed in his tightly held shoulders and balled fists.

  She turned hot, angry eyes on Peter, the man she’d let into her body. “What point is he talking about?”

  An emotion she recognized flashed in his abnormally dark eyes. He belonged no more than she did. “I’m Alpha. This Pard, and everything in it, is mine. You’re mine.” He brushed a knuckle down the side of her cheek, a caress she slapped away. He caught her wrist, pulled her into his body. Her stomach dipped. Pressing his lips to her ear, he drew the lobe into the heat of his mouth, sucked. She fought, and failed to hide a tremor. “Did you really think a shower would erase my claim over you? Everyone here can smell that you belong to me, that it’s my seed inside you. I fucked you. Bled you. Hell, it’s possible I could have knocked you up.”

  Her hand moved with deliberate speed and strength. The slap rang out, the force of the blow throwing his face to the side. Around them, the group gasped in horror.

  Her sting of regret was immediate.

  She would have done more damage if she had balled her fist.

  * * * * *

  Peter thrust his hand into Eva’s golden curls, tightened until she cried out. The sound hit him hard. This was the only way to protect her. The sight of her standing apart from everyone else in the Pard got to him. It made him think of the bar. While they’d garnered some curious looks, no one had tried to stop him, a stranger, from leaving with her. He’d asked the around at the cabin, found out all kinds of useful information.

  Greg had done everything he could, including schooling her himself until she’d been sixteen, to keep her separated from everyone else. Her isolation was proof of Greg’s selfishness. Copper trickled into his mouth, brought him back to the here and now. He turned his head, spit, the red saliva staining the crusty snow. Eva packed one hell of a punch, even with her palm. A growl rumbled through his chest, half anger, half appreciation. Pushing on his shoulder, Eva steeled her spine and stood stubbornly straight. He narrowed his eyes, moved his hand to the front of her throat.

  Pushing, he forced her onto her knees in the wet snow, her coat gaping open. Full, firm breasts pressed against her dark blue sweater, tempting him. Delicate fingers dug into his wrist, a poor attempt to free herself.

  Against his strength, she was helpless. She looked up at him, murder in her gaze.

  Out from the circle, someone rose and stepped forward. “Let her go.”

  Peter looked up, smiled, a sardonic twist of the lips. Well, well. How time changed people. The last time he’d seen Mark Grayson, they’d been fifteen. He’d given the snobby blond a bloody nose. No longer a boy, Mark held his chin high and his gaze level. He’d gained some weight, mostly muscle through the chest and arms, but he was still scrawny, still short compared to Peter’s hulking frame.

  Uncurling his free hand, Peter flashed five razor-sharp claws. He glanced down at the sound of Eva’s whimper, remembered the feel of those claws against her hips, the bite of pleasure they’d brought her in the midst of a powerful orgasm. No one would take her from him. No one. Wasn’t that what this little show was all about? He wanted to be Alpha as much he wanted a root canal. But, if he wanted to protect the woman at his feet, everyone in front of him needed to know he was in charge. That included Eva.

  “Step back in line or I’ll take your threat as challenge. Eva deserves her punishment. No one strikes an Alpha without reprimand. She is either in this Pard, or out of it.”

  The Pard shifted in agitation, their disappointment and betrayal a black fog roiling overhead. Within, their leopards paced, too restless to cower as Peter had hoped. James had obviously primed the group before he gotten there. Why would the elder, someone who seemed to care so deeply for her, set Eva up for an ambush?

  In front of him, Mark’s hands balled into fists and hatred filled his eyes. Possession surged from the lesser cat, spoke of a claim Peter had not known about. Was this asshole Eva’s boyfriend? Had Greg’s death marked Eva as fair game? Her scent didn’t linger on his skin. He hadn’t picked up any other feline on Eva besides James. The leopard inside Peter curled his teeth, merged itself with him until feline canines lengthened. His thoughts festered and rage built. Just how many men were pissing in Eva’s pool?

  A growl left his chest, the sound echoing across the clearing. Mark cast eyes to the ground, but didn’t step back, didn’t kneel. His annoying resistance earned him a point.

  “She isn’t a shifter, you’ll kill her. I don’t challenge your dominance,” Mark said. “But I won’t let you hurt her, not any more than you already have. The smell of her blood lingers on your skin.”

  “What’s a little blood between lovers? She is tougher than she looks, but I suppose none of you would know that, would you? Greg kept her off-limits.”

  Mark’s nostrils flared, puffs of hot air melting into the air. Peter had hit a hot spot. The blond stepped forward. “She was promised to me.”

  Peter threw his head back and laughed. “Not on your fucking life.” He looked down at Eva, smoothed the hair he’d fisted and pulled her up to her feet. Sliding a hand around her waist, he pressed their hips together. She pushed at his chest, tried to stomp the inside of his heel. He felt none of it.

  “You’ve been keeping secrets.”

  “Unlike you?” she hissed.

  His cock hardened. A primal response. Maybe he should fuck her here, show Mark and everyone else who she really belonged to. He pressed his mouth against her ear. “You’re mine, Eva, admit it.”

  “No.”

  He stroked her throat, a subtle reminder of last night when she’d been on her knees swallowing his seed. “Shall I tell them about last night? How you begged me to—”

  “Stop,” she demanded.

  He bared his teeth at her order, had to forcefully shove his leopard back into the depths of his soul. “You, along with everyone else in this Pard, will submit.” He forced her head to the side, lowered his mouth to the vulnerable flesh of her throat. His mark was visible on her skin, a comfort he drew on. She was his.

  He licked the bite, made sure to suck and then nip the flesh so the action couldn’t be construed as affectionate. She shuddered against him. However much she hated him, and he was sure she did, her body craved his. He spoke against her throat, low enough so no one else could hear the raw desire in his voice. Lust was a weakness so easily exploited. “I can flip you onto all fours, turn your sweet little ass up in the air and show you what it really means to be dominated by your Alpha. Would you like that? Your tight pussy stretched full of cock in front of all these people? My dick is getting hard just thinking about it.”

  “I hate you,” she gritted.

  He laughed, the sound pure evil. “I told you you would.”

  “Alpha.” This voice was deeper, older than Mark’s. Jeffry Priddy. Like so many of the people he recognized, the man had aged, filled out, started a family. “Eva might not be a leopard, but she is Pard. She’s earned her place here. She doesn’t know all the rules. Greg kept her well protected, but we don’t see anything wrong with you requesting blood payment, as long as she’s unharmed.”

  One of his eyebrows rose in question. We? Since when had Pard life become a democracy?

  “We? Do you speak for the group now, Jeff?”

  He dipped his head farther, “No. Yes. What I’m trying to say
is that none of us will see her hurt, but she shouldn’t have hit you either. In the Pard we value respect above all else.”

  Mark sneered, turned to his friends and family behind him. “Peter never respected anybody in his entire life. He didn’t even bother to tell Eva he was Greg’s son.”

  The idiot never saw him move. Peter let go of Eva and was across the clearing, Mark flat on his back staring up at the thinning, gray clouds. He pressed the heavy sole of his boot against Mark’s neck, applied just enough pressure to cut off the airflow. Looking down at the person who’d once been his closest friend, he sneered.

  “I could teach you a thing or two about respect, asshole. You’re forgetting something. I’m Alpha, always have been. I don’t owe anybody, Greg, Eva, or this Pard, a God damned thing. You want respect, than earn it. In the meantime, shut your fucking mouth, or stand up and fight me.”

  “I accept the punishment, only if you’ll leave Mark alone,” Eva said from behind him.

  Peter didn’t dare break Mark’s gaze, no matter how badly he wanted to glare at her. She had no idea what she was agreeing to. He wanted to protect her, fuck her a few more times, and figure out who killed Greg so Eva would be safe. Then he could go home. It took seventy-three seconds for Mark to lower his eyes.

  Only then did Peter look at Eva. She stood proudly with that sexy lift of her chin he admired; it could even have been his favorite thing about her. That and her ass. Maybe her tits. He shook his head, removed his boot from Mark’s throat, and went to her. She didn’t back down, but stood straighter as if somehow that would gain her a few inches.

  “When you speak, you will address me as Alpha. Say, ‘Fine, Alpha.’”

  Swallowing, she spoke again, her gaze telling him she would kick him in the balls the first chance she could. “Fine, Alpha, I accept the punishment.”

  “Hostile.” He leaned in close, added, “But I like it.”