Even as the guard darted to the side, his gun became tangled in the falling body of his comrade, knocking it from his hand.
Nael had been hoping for a distraction; what he got was an unarmed guard.
Perfect.
With a low growl, he leaped toward the man, who took one glance at Nael’s glowing eyes and turned to try to run. He was far too slow. With one long leap, Nael was directly behind him, swinging his fist at the side of the man’s head.
He dropped like a sack of rocks, his head hitting the marble floor with a loud thud.
He started to move toward the pair of unconscious humans when he heard a strange buzzing sound. He whirled around, ready to attack, when he noticed that Miranda was reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone.
She still had the blank look on her face, but she lifted the phone to her ear and listened.
Nael growled. Had he been wrong? Had his cat been tricked? Had she been faking this whole time? Was this a goddamn trap?
Not sure what to expect, he squared his shoulders. But instead of the hallway filling with guards, or Benson strolling around the corner, Miranda’s eyes rolled back in her head and she fell to the ground in a dead faint.
Nael raced forward, scooping her off the floor and against his chest.
Suddenly he didn’t care about Christopher Benson, or the asset he was supposed to track down. Nothing mattered but getting Miranda out of there and to the Healers in the Wildlands.
Chapter Ten
Steady.
This rhythm inside of her.
…but where inside?
Something was beating. Strong and clear and safe. She knew this something, yet they had never met.
The something echoed.
Then purred.
But where was it?
There was so much fog, she couldn’t see.
So dense, almost impenetrable.
Give in, came the whisper.
Give in, it uttered to her once again.
No! she cried out to it.
Never!
Just look, it urged. See what is there, what is happening inside of you.
The eyes see…but do I have eyes?
What are eyes?
Let me show you, it whispered softly.
Ah…yes…
IT sees. IT has eyes.
IT will never give in.
IT growls. Beneath, inside, under.
IT awakens.
Even if the flesh that contains IT remains asleep.
Let me rise!
I will protect us if you let me.
No longer IT.
No more fog.
She is me.
I am your cat.
* * *
Despite the private jet he had on standby, it was still early the next morning by the time Nael returned to Louisiana. A human physician he trusted had flown with them, making sure Miranda remained stable.
Stable, but still unconscious.
Something the human doctor didn’t have an answer for.
But Nael did. Benson had done this to her. Somehow. Some way. Maybe an implant during her time as his prisoner. His cat snarled as he paced up and down in front of the hidden cottage at the edge of the Wildlands.
He’d barely gotten Miranda tucked into bed when Raph had arrived with Monique, the Healer who was working with the Six. She was one of the few of his people who were aware that he was still alive and working for the League.
The pushy female Healer, however, had forced him from the cottage just moments after she’d arrived, claiming that Nael’s nervous pacing was making her crazy. He didn’t fully believe her. He suspected she wanted to do her exam of Miranda in private so if she found something that would prove to be a danger to the Pantera, she could warn Raph without Nael’s interference.
The cat growled and scratched at its master’s insides. It wanted out. It was in its home, magic coating the air. It wanted to curl up against Miranda and keep her warm, protect her.
Join the club, feline.
But Nael had to follow protocol. These were dangerous times for his people, and he’d just brought a female over the border who’d had an explosive on her person—while inside the Chinese Embassy.
A wave of Miranda’s lavender scent moved past him on the breeze. It made the cat pace, snarl. And it made its master reckless.
Fuck protocol. He’d give the Healer ten minutes.
Then he was going back in. He wasn’t about to let anyone hurt her.
Even if it meant turning his back on Raph and the League.
Almost as if those potentially treasonous thoughts had conjured the presence of his leader, Raph strolled out of the cottage and moved to stand directly in front of Nael.
“Well?” Nael demanded, his tone fierce.
The golden-haired Pantera looked grim. “Monique believes that the female was under a compulsion spell.” A cloud moved in front of the sun, casting Raph’s face in shadow. “She can still feel the echoes of the black magic.”
“What?” Nael jerked in surprise. Although there was a primal magic in the Wildlands, most humans preferred to pretend it didn’t exist. Only a rare few who could actually harness the magic, and even less who could control it.
“Are we talking about a witch here?”
“A witch’s spell,” Raph corrected. “Monique thinks it had been placed on her at some earlier date and was activated with a trigger word.”
Nael studied his friend. “Trigger word?”
Raph shrugged, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to recall how Monique had explained it to him.
“The spark that would set off the compulsion,” he finally said. “But it needed to be heard by her. An auditory trigger.”
Nael furrowed his brow, considering the possibility. He didn’t know a lot about human magic, but a compulsion spell would certainly explain Miranda’s odd behavior. “So someone followed her to the hotel to say it?”
“Possible,” Raph said. “Or it could have been done with a phone call.”
Nael sucked in a sharp breath. He had a vivid memory of Miranda standing in the hallway of the embassy, pressing her cellphone to her ear before she passed out.
It would have been easy for Miranda to have been infected with the spell during her time in Benson’s lab. After that, he would have had all the time he needed to choose the perfect date, as well as preparing the backpack and ensuring that Miranda could pass through the security. Once he’d been ready, all he had to do was lure the unsuspecting Miranda to Washington, D.C., and make his phone call with the trigger word.
Then…boom.
Black rage rushed over him. Goddess, he wanted to see the bastard dead. “Is she okay?” Nael’s words came out in a rush. “Is she awake?”
“She’s still unconscious.” Raph’s expression remained grim.
“What the fuck’s wrong, Raph? What aren’t you telling me?”
The older male glanced toward the cottage before returning his attention to Nael.
“Screw this.” Nael tried to rush him, get past him to the door. But Raphael stopped him cold.
“She has that same strange echo of power as the others.”
“What?” The breath was jerked from Nael’s lungs. No…it wasn’t possible. They’d discovered the odd dormant pulse of power in the very first asset that had been discovered by Cerviel. And then again when Elyon had returned with her asset.
He stared hard at Raph, his brain firing rapidly. They didn’t know what the pulse meant, but they were certain it had something to do with Benson and his fucked-up lab experiments.
Now Nael realized he’d been blind. Completely and utterly and stupidly blind. He’d been so convinced that the asset would be locked in a cage. Or hidden in a cellar. That’s how they’d found the first two assets.
He’d never considered the possibility that she might have chains on her that he couldn’t see. A black magic that had compelled her to perform an unspeakable act of terror.
“She was the ass
et,” he breathed. “Oh, shit.”
“Yes.”
He started pacing again, his cat nearly screaming to be released. “Benson primed her to set off the bomb.”
“It would appear so.”
“But why the Chinese Embassy?”
Raph shrugged. “The reception would have been filled with dignitaries from around the world. If Benson could have killed them, and then pinned the blame on the Pantera, it could have created even more difficulties for us.”
The mere thought was enough to make Nael shudder in horror. The explosion. The mangled dignitaries. The headlines screaming that the beast-men were responsible…
“Hell, it might have caused the war we’ve been trying to avoid,” he rasped.
Raph nodded. “Exactly.”
Nael was struck by a sudden thought. “But if they had plans for her, why would she be on the list we intercepted? We’re assuming that it’s places or people that aren’t meant to be destroyed.”
“Remember, she wasn’t on the list. China House was.”
“True.”
“Still, I’m sure they intended to destroy her after she’d completed her mission,” Raph said. “That way she couldn’t talk if she was captured.”
“Or she wasn’t supposed to plant the bomb at all. It was going to remain on her, and…” Fury and disgust and terror flooded him. “Maybe that was the destruction they meant.”
A blinding, desperately overwhelming need to be close to her, to hold her in his arms, blasted through Nael. Clenching his fists, he headed toward the cabin.
Raph muttered a curse. “We’re not done here.”
“I am. For now, anyway. I need to see my female.”
“Your female?” Raph repeated in a tight voice. “What the fuck is happening—”
“I’m mated now, boss,” Nael interrupted, his determined strides never faltering. “That’s what’s happening.”
He never looked back. Never would again. Inside that cottage was his future, and he was going to make damn sure she knew it.
His mate…
Two words had never felt so right.
Chapter Eleven
Strong, warm fingers stroked her cheek.
And the soft sound of a male voice calling her name tickled at her mind.
Pressing out of the thick darkness that was holding her hostage, Miranda forced her heavy lashes to lift. Warm light assaulted her eyes, but in quick time his lean, compellingly male face moved in front of it.
“My Miranda,” he said, his voice so soothing and affectionate she couldn’t help but smile.
Nael.
“Sweetlove,” he murmured, his fingers gently tucking her hair behind her ear. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
Welcome back? She frowned slightly, her gaze moving over his shoulder to take in the window, the open beamed ceiling, and the solid wood furniture. She knew she was lying on a comfortable bed, but she didn’t have a clue where she was. Or how she’d gotten there.
But at least she was with Nael. In that, she knew she was safe.
“What happened?” she uttered, her throat dry.
“What do you remember?” His eyes glowed, and his mouth was grim, as if he was struggling with some intense emotion.
Miranda’s head hurt something awful, and it was an effort to try to think. “I was in the hotel room,” she finally said. “I was getting ready to go shopping for that dress.”
“And then?” he prodded.
She shook her head. “Nothing.” Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that wasn’t true. She remembered the feel of something vibrating in her pocket, and pulling out her cellphone. “Wait. I got a phone call. And then everything was just…gone. I was gone.”
“You were under a spell.”
“Like, from a witch or something?” She blinked, then blinked again.
He smiled gently as he took her hand, kissed the palm and, in concise detail, revealed what had happened after she’d blacked out.
When he was done, Miranda was sitting up in the bed, just staring at him, her mouth agape, her mind reeling. How could it be? How could what he’d just told her be true? And yet…it made so much sense. Benson’s malevolence knew no bounds.
“Are you alright?” Nael asked, breaking into her thoughts.
Her gaze lifted. “Are you really telling me that I’m the asset?”
He nodded, watching her intently.
“I’m the one you were looking for?”
His expression softened. “Honestly, Sweetlove, I think you’re the one I’ve always been looking for. The one I never believed existed.” He leaned in then and kissed her. One sweet, gentle kiss on the mouth that calmed her instantly.
“And now that I’ve found you,” he continued, kissing her cheek, then the tip of her nose. “I’ll never let you go. No one is ever going to hurt you like—”
“Benson?” she said tightly. “He killed my sister. I guess it should come as no surprise he’d try and kill me too.”
His nostrils flared with fury. “I swear to the goddess I will see him die slow and begging for what he’s done to you, my mate.”
Miranda’s breath caught at his words. Or the one word… “Mate? What is that?”
He pulled back a few inches, all anger gone. His eyes lit with male satisfaction. “It’s our way, the Pantera’s way of claiming our life partner. The one we are made for.”
Miranda’s heart swelled. Never did she think a male like this one—honorable, handsome, intelligent and brave—would want to claim her, love her. After living in that cage, she’d always thought of herself as damaged goods.
“You really think we’re made for each other?” she asked, then held her breath for the answer.
Nael’s smile was as bright as the sun. “No, Miranda. I don’t think that, I know it. Like I know my cat. Like I know this is my home, and that rain is wet, and that life is nothing,” he leaned down and kissed her, then whispered against her lips, “if you’re not beside me every day and every night.”
Tears pricked her eyes and fell. But this time they were happy tears. Nael lapped at her cheeks, then kissed her again as he called her his Sweetlove. His lips were soft as they worked hers, but as his arms went around her, drawing her close, all thoughts melted away, and her body started to warm and tingle.
“God, I want you,” she whispered, then gave his lower lip a quick nibble.
“I want you too,” he said on a groan before releasing her. “But you’ve been through so much. You need to rest.”
She pouted. “Boring. I want to be with my mate.”
He chuckled. “There will be time for that. I promise. More time than you can imagine.” He winked at her. “Hell, you’ll probably get sick of me.”
“Impossible.” She reached out and touched his face.
Something shimmered in his gaze, a sensual flash. “Well…perhaps there’s a way you can regain your strength.”
“I don’t want to sleep, Nael. I’m not tired.”
“Not talking about sleep.”
Her brows lifted. “I’m intrigued.”
“Trust me?”
“Always,” she said with complete conviction, and a smile. “Mate.”
* * *
“You did say you’d always trust me, Miranda,” Nael chided good-naturedly from the water’s edge.
The bayou was calm and lazy behind him, and the day was warm and meant for lovers.
Miranda stood about fifteen feet away, up a slight slope and beneath a massive Cypress tree. The afternoon sun was breaking through the leaves and branches above her, lighting her skin. She looked so beautiful, her long dark hair moving in the breeze.
“I just don’t think it’s in there, Nael,” she said, sounding worried. “In me.”
“She’s there, Sweetlove,” he called. “I’ve seen her. When we made love the first time, and when you were unconscious.”
“When I was uncon…” She stopped talking, her face a mask of confusion. And
then, she looked up at him. “I thought that was a dream.”
He laughed. “See? She’s shown herself to you already.” He gestured around. “This is her home. She wants to be released.” He stepped back farther. It was always best to keep ones distance during a virgin shift. Especially if the two parties had already bonded in their human form.
Miranda bit her lip. “What if I can’t make it happen, can’t let her out? I don’t want you to be disappointed. Maybe you won’t even be attracted to me without—”
“Stop.” The word came out on a growl. Nael hadn’t summoned it. His cat had.
“The beast doesn’t like when you talk that way,” he said, eyeing her fiercely. “Listen, this doesn’t have to happen now. This isn’t a show, Miranda. There’s no pressure.” He released a breath. “It’s a warm day. How about a swim?”
She glanced at the water. “I don’t have a suit.”
He grinned widely. “Perfect.”
The tension eased from her face and she returned his smile. “Okay.”
Nael yanked off his shoes, then pulled off his clothes and tossed them on the bank. When he glanced up again, his chest went tight and his cock stirred with hunger.
His mate was nude, her cheeks flushed, her dark hair falling over her shoulders, just covering her nipples. Desire threatened to crush him, and a growl hummed in his throat. He was about to run at her, pick her up in his arms and take her against the Cypress.
But what he saw next stopped him cold.
She was trembling. Her legs, her arms, her lips.
“Miranda?”
She stared at him, her eyes wide. Then she gasped and cried out.
Before his eyes, it happened. The transformation. A beautiful, shocking sight to behold. One limb at a time altering, expanding, sprouting fur. Until a stark-white puma with flashing purple eyes stood beneath the Cypress.
It grinned down at him.
“Fuck me,” Nael uttered, his cock turning to granite as his own cat thrashed at his insides. Goddess, he’d be sore later.
A snarl rent the air, and the white cat took off. It bounded down the slope, leapt over a rock, then sailed into the air and came down hard on top of him.
He slammed to the ground, the air rushing from his lungs.
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