Illicit

by Pryce, Madeline

  “Oh, God, Peter,” Eva sobbed.

  He couldn’t afford to look at her again, and yet he couldn’t ignore the sounds of her struggles. The creaking mattress and hiccupping breaths painted a picture of her body twisting and turning against the offensive ropes, the image as vivid as if he had stared at her.

  “He’ll kill you,” she said. “Go, please just go.”

  Ignoring Eva’s pleas, Peter’s mouth curved into a deadly smile of anticipation. “You made a big mistake, old man.”

  “This is the way it has to be. I couldn’t let Greg call you home. For the sake of the Pard, for Eva. You’ll only hurt her,” James said, thumb compressing the trigger.

  Peter couldn’t care less about his uncle’s reasoning. He leapt into action, knocking away the gun aimed at his heart. The shot went wide, thudding somewhere behind him. Peter slammed a balled fist to the underside of his enemy’s jaw, the impact forcing the older man’s head back. James stumbled backward, crashing into the wall with a thud.

  Savagery filled Peter. Blood. Pain. Teeth scattered across the floor. He would inflict as much damage as he could before he ripped out James’ throat. Peter’s balled fist snapped out in two left-handed jabs, nose, eye, the force of impact breaking bones. Blood gushed, streaming like a fountain, its scent spurring the beast. Peter’s other fist sailed through the air in a gratifying right hook that smashed into his uncle’s temple with enough strength to punch a hole through a tree trunk.

  Eva yelled something, words he couldn’t hear over his own pounding heartbeat. Eyes fluttering, rolling into the back of his head, James slid limply down the wall. Claws speared from the tips of Peter’s fingers and he carefully wrapped his hand around the older man’s throat, holding him upright before he hit the ground.

  He brought them nose to nose, waited to speak until consciousness returned to his uncle’s eyes. “I will cut every inch of flesh from your body for touching her.”

  Spinning his uncle from the wall, Peter threw the man across the room. James bounced off the wall and landed in a heap on the floor. Satisfaction surged in Peter with every advancing step.

  “Peter, stop,” Eva pleaded.

  Cutting his head to the side, he met her wide-eyed gaze. Fear scented the air and made it impossible to keep a clear head. He would kill James.

  “He touched you. Killed Greg and Becca,” he snarled. “I won’t stop until he’s dead too.”

  Peter forced his gaze from Eva’s. He stalked forward as James rose on unsteady feet, the line of crimson trailing between his eyes a mocking reminder of the bullet hole in his father’s forehead. The crime scene photos were still fresh in his head.

  His uncle spit out a mouthful of blood. “I am not so easily defeated, boy. Leave now and I won’t kill you. I’ll keep Eva safe and happy.”

  Peter threw his head back and laughed. “You arrogant prick. Eva is mine. My mate.” He brought his hands to his chest and stepped closer. “I’ll be damned if I let you or anyone else take her from me. I’m going to enjoy watching you bleed all over this floor, old man.”

  “This Pard is mine, and you won’t take it!” James bellowed, his fingers flexing as if he could force strength back into himself.

  “Not anymore, it isn’t.”

  “We’ll see about that,” his uncle growled. Fists pumping at his sides, James tipped his head back. Veins bulged and muscles clenched. Less than a second later, the feline within him burst free like an explosion.

  Feline eyes the color of ice regarded Peter with the promise of death. Bring it on. Peter released the burden of restraint, letting his leopard have its own revenge. He shifted forms. Teeth bared in a snarl, Peter circled his uncle, closing in tight. They lunged at the same time, the massive bulk of their animals collided. Fangs pierced. Claws ripped through flesh. James, quicker than he would have thought, broke free before he could do any real damage. The other leopard faked left, lurched right and sank canines into Peter’s hindquarter.

  Skin parted under razor-sharp teeth. The pain fueled him, kept him from collapsing to the ground. Peter twisted, slashing claws across his uncle’s side. James released his flank and came at him again and again. They grappled around the bedroom, fur flying and blood spraying. The moment Peter gained the upper hand, James outmaneuvered him. He was strong and smart, nothing like Mark or David had been. Behind him, Eva’s cries grew more frantic, a constant echo in the back of his mind.

  If he lost this fight, James would take her whether she agreed or not. Not on his fucking life.

  An unexpected image filled his mind as he remembered Eva stretched out beneath him, gazing into her eyes, bodies gliding against each other, their hands locked in an intimate embrace. He was thrusting into her as she lifted, tenderly pressing her lips to his, meeting him where he was. He’d claimed her body slowly, thoroughly, with the gentleness she deserved. In turn, Eva had claimed his heart.

  Fucking Christ. He loved her. The knowledge made him even more determined to defeat James. He couldn’t lose, if for nothing else than to keep Eva from spending the rest of her life with his cruel words hanging in the air: “There is no us.”

  James lunged at him. Peter’s back hit the ground and the moment the other feline closed in for the kill, Peter rolled, switching positions so James was on the bottom. Teeth closed around fur and flesh. The claws tearing at him were nothing but an annoyance. He pinned the cat to the ground, bit his throat, and shook his head from side to side. Blood exploded on his tongue. Wanting more, Peter growled and locked his jaw, tearing deeper, not letting go until the feline beneath him stilled and the blood running into his mouth stopped.

  Peter chuffed, slowly backing away from the motionless cat. James’s fur receded, skin emerging as his uncle reverted to a man in death. Peter turned his head, seeking Eva, needing to make sure she was still there, still okay. She lay on the bed, her face white and her mouth parted in horrified silence.

  Shifting forms took the last of his energy, and he limped toward her. Blood gushed from his flayed flesh, a blanket of wet heat.

  “Are you hurt?” he growled in a fierce whisper, clumsily struggling with the ropes around her wrists.

  His gaze raked over her prone body, searching for signs of trauma, something he could do now that the threat was gone.

  “Untie me,” she whispered, her lower lip quivering, her eyes filling with tears.

  The bindings loosened, and the moment she was free, Eva threw herself into his arms. He hissed at the impact, and despite the agony of having her touch his open wounds, he clutched her tight. He’d crawl naked over hot coals to get to her. His fingers dug into the fabric of her thin shirt, holding her to him, ensuring she wouldn’t go anywhere. He pressed his nose to her neck, inhaled her sweet honey scent.

  She was safe. She was his.

  Eva drew him back from her throat and cupped his cheeks. She searched his eyes, whispered, “You’re hurting. Let me heal you.”

  Shaking his head, his hand slid up her spine until he cupped the back of her head. He brought her forward, slammed his mouth against hers for a desperate kiss. She opened for him, the warmth of her tongue more soothing than anything else she could have given him. Her hands glided down his neck, moved over his shoulders to cup the muscles there. Heat surged from her palms and he tore from her lips on a gasp.

  Light flared, a flash he saw for only a moment before it barreled into his flesh. His skin tightened, the sensation drawing a ragged sound from him. As the bullets in his flesh reversed direction, pain tore through him. He gritted his teeth, clutched his angel and watched what little color was left in her cheeks vanish as she healed him. She would not harm herself for his sake.

  “You have to stop,” he said, gripping her hands, forcing them off his skin.

  “No.” She wrestled, fought to press palms against wounded flesh, a new wave of tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “I’m not finished.”

  “Enough, Eva,” he demanded, holding her an arm’s length away.

 
She shook her head as a ragged sob tore free. Her entire body trembled. “I thought he was going to kill you.” The last remnants of her strength left. As in the clearing, the bones in her body seemed to dissolve. Her eyes closed and she sagged forward, falling into the arms he opened for her.

  Her lips, soft and moist, pressed against his throat, a gesture that felt more right than anything else in his entire life had. His heart cracked open. He cradled her trembling body closer.

  “I love you, Peter,” she whispered, her last words before she went completely still.

  He stroked her hair, leaned in close to press his lips gently against the side of her head. His angel. “I love you too.”

  * * * * *

  The wind whipped, blowing the wings of Eva’s long coat around her thighs. Despite the thick gloves encasing her hands, the heat of Peter’s fingers laced with hers warmed her chilled body. Through the falling snow and the curls dancing in front of her eyes, she looked up at him. Peter stood tall and proud, an Alpha staring straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the Pard who’d assembled in the clearing at his command.

  She gazed at the red and orange flames reaching high into the air. Smoke curled, an acrid, sickening scent. The fire morphed, licking over the blackened shell of a body lying in the center of the leopards’ most sacred spot. James’ body.

  Nothing, not even a tic in Peter’s jaw or a shadow of guilt in his eyes, hinted at the fight that had taken place only hours before.

  Her stomach roiled and she stepped closer to Peter. “You don’t think we should call Grady?” she asked.

  “No, this is the way it has to be. The Pard deserves their justice. They deserve to watch James’ body wither into dust. This is our way, Eva. The Graysons need this closure. I’ll handle Grady.” He turned to her, his large palm lifting to cup the side of her face. “Go home, Eva, you don’t need to see this.” He stroked her cheek, a tender brushing of fingers that gave her hope. “You need more rest, you didn’t sleep long enough.”

  She shook her head, tried not to read into the depth of emotions swirling in his green eyes. Only a few hours had passed since he’d come for her in the hunting cabin. The knowledge that he’d killed for her a heavy weight on her heart. So much death.

  She swallowed. They hadn’t had a chance to talk yet, and this was hardly the place, but she had to know. There was one thing she needed to ask Peter, something that threatened to shatter her heart.

  She steeled her nerve. “Are you leaving after this…” she searched for the right word, “funeral?”

  Silence stretched between them. The seconds ticked by, each one crushing her a little more. Holding her breath, waiting for his answer, her chest tightened.

  Finally Peter shook his head, the hand on her face sliding into her hair. She blew out a shaky breath and wondered if it were possible for one’s heart to beat out of one’s chest. He drew her close, lifting her to the tips of her toes. Slowly, he pressed his mouth against hers. “Don’t you know by now I can’t leave?”

  Her throat tightened, guilt invading. Had she trapped him? This wasn’t the life she wanted. She pushed away, looked up at him and fought not to cry. “Can’t? Because the leopard is bound to me? You have no choice.” Nodding, she stepped back. “I won’t force you to be with me.”

  A rumbling left his chest. His grip tightened and any distance she’d managed vanished. “You silly girl. You think I give a shit about what the leopard has decided? I can’t leave because I love you. Me, the man. Not the leopard. I won’t ask you to come back to Montana with me. I’ll sell the company. Your purpose is here, in this shitty town with the clinic you and Greg built. You’ve got a gift, Eva, and the Pard needs an Alpha. Who else is going to do it? Mark?” He scoffed. “He’s a pussy.”

  Happiness surged inside. The swift intensity of relief left her breathless and dizzy. She rose, pressed her mouth against his. “Say it again.”

  He tilted his head and in one conquering sweep of his tongue, he claimed her mouth. Pulling back, he nipped her bottom lip. “Mark is a pussy.”

  For the first time in what felt like forever, she laughed. “Not that.”

  Peter smiled, drew a thumb down her chin. His hand closed around her throat, gripped. Her heart sped. Their gazes locked and he leaned in close. He brushed his nose against hers, angled, but didn’t press their lips together. When she lifted to kiss him, he leaned just out of reach. Only when she stilled did he come to her.

  His warm breath caressed her lips, filled her with an undefined happiness.

  “I love you, Eva Marx,” he said, his words sealing their fates and their hearts.

  She’d never be alone again.

  The End

  Other Madeline Pryce Books

  Succumb to the DARK! Try the USA Today Recommended series...

  Dark Cravings, Book 1 - 4 stars from RT Magazine!

  Dark Innocence, Book 1.5 - 5 stars + "Top Pick" book at Night Owl Reviews

  Dark Secrets, Book 2 - 5 stars + "Top Pick" book at Night Owl Reviews

  Want something darker? Try USA Today recommended Crimson Sins, a 5-star "TOP PICK" book at Night Owl Reviews!

  Other Stand Alone Books

  Wicked Magic

  Claiming Ecstasy

  To contact Madeline, send an email to madelinepryce@gmail.com