Landon unfolded his lanky body from his seat. He nodded to the Pride leader. “I’ll look into it.”
“Thank you. I look forward to your report.”
It was then that it hit Tomas. As much as he trusted Ciri not to lie, he’d had his doubts that her instincts hadn’t played tricks on her. That she’d been stalked, he’d had no problems believing, but he hadn’t been certain there could be a rogue Panther out there. It had seemed more likely that a human had hunted her. But Ciri’s instincts hadn’t been mistaken. A Panther had stalked his wife, threatened her, wanted to hurt her. The fury he’d been fighting since the moment she told him exploded within him. He balled his fingers into fists. He wanted to hunt the shifter down and rip his throat out. He wanted to kick his own ass for having any doubts. Guilt followed on the heels of his anger. He’d all but assured her she’d be called a liar, had sex with her, and then ignored her in favor of his work. He was glad he’d kept her with him, holding her close, but anyone would have needed more comfort than he’d offered, especially his mate.
He had no idea how—or even when—he could make this up to her, but he would try. At the very least, he owed her an apology.
Antonio’s gaze landed on Tomas, and he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that your mate was threatened in my territory. The situation will be rectified as soon as possible.”
Reining in his anger and self-loathing, Tomas nodded formally to the older man. A calmer corner of his mind noted that what should have been a fool’s errand had turned into the possible political quagmire he’d feared. He groaned inwardly at the thought of explaining this to his father. “My thanks. I trust that you’ll do everything in your power to keep this Pride and its visitors safe.”
“I appreciate your faith.”
He nodded to Miguel. “My cousin has great faith in you, and we’ve known each other for many years, Antonio. Of course I trust that you’ll honor your duty.”
There was a hint of surprise in the Pride leader’s gaze, and Tomas wondered if he’d said too much. He was speaking for his Pride now and not simply for himself. With his father constantly checking up on him, he couldn’t afford a misstep.
Antonio returned the formal nod. “Thank you, Tomas.”
The reserved gesture just emphasized what was always bombarding him of late—everything had changed.
It was difficult to deal with just how much things had changed. He could no longer view Antonio as an older friend he looked up to. He could no longer view Miguel as simply his cousin.
Both of these men whom he’d had simple, straightforward relationships with now gave their first allegiance to another Pride. A wide gulf had opened between them.
“Please keep me up to date on anything Landon discovers about these Ruiz men. Or anything else pertinent to what happened with my mate.” Tomas glanced between Antonio, Solana, and Miguel.
“Of course. Please inform Tio Pedro that we’re doing everything in our power to see this resolved.” His cousin held the door open, offering the same courteous nod.
Tomas exited, wandering back to his office, his mind latching onto the interaction with the two older Panthers in order to avoid thinking about his mate. In some ways, it was interesting to have them treat him with more . . . respect wasn’t the right word, because neither man was the type to look down on others, but perhaps it was that they now viewed him as someone whose word carried more weight, who acted as though he had authority.
He supposed they were right. As the heir apparent to the South American Pride, he had to be aware that what he said and did reflected on his people, on his father. His opinions could no longer simply be given lightly. Or passionately, as was his nature. He had to stop and think first.
It was difficult, because he’d once been able to discuss anything with both men, and they’d help form his opinions on many issues. There had been many a night when he’d listened to them debate Panther politics with his grandfather, and many more when he’d been old enough to join in the debates himself. His grandfather had been good about listening to everyone’s point of view and understanding that everyone’s experience could be used to benefit the Pride.
Antonio now used that same philosophy to rule his people, which was refreshing to see, because Tomas knew that the openness would be slowly strangled out of his Pride by his more authoritarian father. There was nothing wrong with how his father ruled, it just wasn’t the approach Tomas would take when he took over. His father operated under the assumption that if the responsibility for the Pride was his, so should the power be his. He wasn’t one to delegate authority. Tomas pressed for more flexibility from his father, though he had doubts about his success.
He had hope in seeing how well Antonio had done with the North American Pride. Esteban Cruz had been far worse than Tomas’s father, but Tomas didn’t have Miguel as his right hand, nor did he have boisterous younger brothers who would help him change the culture of the Pride.
He was totally alone in his political agenda.
His younger sister was quiet and shy, not the type to help enforce his rule. She would do as she was told by their father and she would do the same when Tomas took over. Their mother supported his father in everything, using her charming smile and sharp claws to see that his will was done. But, like Tomas’s sister, his mother did as she was told.
Ciri wasn’t the type to do that. She hated everything to do with power and political strategy—he had a feeling she’d hate every second of being the Pride leader’s mate. It worried him. Something else he had no idea how to deal with. Something else he would have asked his grandfather about. Something else he desperately wished he could consult with Antonio and Miguel about, but the distance between them seemed to widen by the day.
Much like the distance between his mate and himself.
The thought made his gut clench, but he couldn’t hide from it. What had started out so beautifully was quickly devolving into nothing more than a sexual liaison where they lived their lives, ignored each other most of the time, and slept together whenever the urge struck them.
He knew matings weren’t guaranteed to be happy, knew couples who had marriages exactly like that and were perfectly content with it. Perhaps he should be also. Perhaps that was another role he needed to learn how to fit. Antonio and Miguel’s matings seemed more . . . open and caring, but they weren’t Tomas and they weren’t married to Ciri.
He sighed, exhausted by the endless round of concerns that never seemed to have a solution. What more could he do? He tried to set a good example for his people, serve them well, do everything Ciri needed him to do, and it never seemed to be enough.
Perhaps that was the truth. He wasn’t enough. He couldn’t have what he craved because he wasn’t enough to hold on to it. He’d never live up to his grandfather or Antonio as Pride leaders or as husbands.
It was thoughts like this that made him want to give up, to throw up his hands and walk away. Why did he beat his head against the wall? It would be easier to simply stand aside as heir. Doubtless his sister would be the perfect heir for his father. She’d never disagree with him, do exactly as he wanted.
But then what would happen when she became leader herself? Would it be fair to do that to her, to his Pride? Would she know how to maneuver amid the treacherous dealings of the Panther Prides? No. Because he had been raised to do this. He was the one who loved this. The strategizing, the guessing games, the challenge. He just wished he wasn’t so damn alone in all of this.
And none of it helped him deal with Ciri’s stalker and his boorish behavior this evening.
4
God, he was tired. He could sleep for a month and still not feel rested.
Tomas carried a tray of food up the main staircase and down the hall to his suite. He didn’t feel like dealing with other people right now, and he hoped Ciri felt the same. Then again, if she had her way most of the time, she’d eat in the kitchens with the regular Pride members rather than the formal dining room with the leading fa
mily.
Tonight, the food was a peace offering. He usually wanted to hash things out between them, get the disagreement out in the open and deal with it, but that wasn’t her way. If she were like him, she’d have yelled at him for picking up the phone instead of being there for her. The problem was, he had too many priorities pulling at him, and all of them demanded first place. That was no excuse for his behavior toward her tonight, and he needed to apologize for not protecting her, for doubting her. That was hardly the way to encourage open communication between them.
He nudged the door open with his shoulder and paused to watch her. It struck him how much she’d made the suite hers since they’d moved here. The energy of the place was always soothing to him. The walls were a pale green, and he thought the wallpaper was silk, but she’d added touches of art, of Asia, to the place. A painting of stark, bare branches transitioned to budding pink cherry blossoms. A set of woodblock prints. A small tray held a rock garden, with sand raked in patterns around smooth black stones. She sat on a large leather sofa that reflected his taste more than hers. Hunched over her laptop, her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked. After a few moments, she started, her gaze flying to meet his. “Is something wrong?”
“Why would anything be wrong?” He arched an eyebrow.
She pressed a few buttons on her computer and set it aside. “You’ve been standing there for a while, haven’t you?”
“Your instincts didn’t warn you?” He asked it even though he knew the answer. He was her mate, so her instincts wouldn’t alert her to any danger with him. He would never harm her. She shrugged and looked away. He sighed, stepped into the room, and kicked the door closed behind him. “I spoke to them.”
“You did?” Her eyes went wide, and he could see the momentary shock before a shy smile curved her lips. “You told them what happened today?”
Dios, the smile hit him like nothing else could. It was the same smile she’d given him the first time he’d seen her, curled up with her laptop, creating one of her designs.
He’d never seen anything lovelier.
Her hair parted simply in the middle, falling in an inky sheet just past her shoulders that framed her heart-shaped face. Her small nose and full lips did nothing to distract from the exotic beauty of her dark eyes. They’d captured him immediately, drawn him in and never let go.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I did. They’ve had some troubles with an outcast family in the past, but those people had left the city. They’re looking into when and why the outcasts might have returned.”
“I hope they can find out.” Her grin bloomed into the most open expression that he’d seen in weeks. “I’m glad you told them.”
“I’m sorry I thought anyone would doubt you. I should have given more care to your needs. I’ll try to do better in the future.”
“Thank you.” She tilted her head to the side, but her smile remained in place.
He wanted to hold on to this so badly, and he was sure he’d do something else that might push her away. “I—I brought dinner, if you’d like to join me.”
“No family dinner tonight?” The hopeful tinge to her voice sent a reflexive shaft of impatience through him. Was she never going to accept her place as a member of the leading families? That wouldn’t change, no matter how she avoided it.
Suppressing the urge to start one of their endless arguments, he decided to ignore her stubbornness for the time being. That would definitely kill this receptive mood she was in, and after the day she’d had and the way he’d treated her, she deserved to have her way. He set the tray on the low coffee table and sat in the middle of the couch. “I thought we could eat in here, unless you’re working on a commission.”
“I am, but it can wait.” She straightened her legs from where she had them tucked beneath her, but didn’t move closer. “I’m ahead of schedule.”
“Oh. Good.” When had it become so awkward to have a simple conversation? Could they sound more stilted? She was friendlier with complete strangers.
He lifted the lids from the two plates and set them aside. From the corner of his eye, he saw her hesitate, then tentatively scoot over to sit next to him. “Isabel made Beef Wellington tonight.”
“She’s an amazing chef.” Ciri reached for her plate and began to eat with delicate feline movements.
He pushed aside a bowl of fresh strawberries and picked up a bottle of wine. Pouring a generous portion for both of them, he handed her a glass. They could definitely use it. He took a deep swallow of his, let the mellow flavor of the red wine settle on his palate. It combined well with the meal. A sigh of contentment filtered out of him and he relaxed back into the soft leather sofa. “This is delicious.”
“Mmmhmm.” Ciri sniffed the wine, gave it an experimental taste. Her actions were so catlike, he had to grin.
“You’re so beautiful.” The words were out before he could stop them.
She stilled and stared at him for a moment, her expression quizzical. “Um . . . thank you?”
Was it really so strange for him to compliment her? He thought about it and winced inwardly. Yes, it was. Just as her complimenting his work with the summit had been unusual. Anymore, they argued, they had sex, or they ignored each other to avoid the other two options. Moments like this were rare, but moments like this had always been rare in his family. He didn’t remember spending much time with his father—he was always working for the betterment of the Pride. His mother saw to the children’s needs, and she made everyone’s lives comfortable.
As usual, he had no idea what the hell he was doing. He was just throwing himself into it, and falling flat on his face. He thought he knew what he wanted, he just didn’t know if he and Ciri could get to that. They were more like his parents than his cousin and Andrea.
“You’re welcome.” He reached for the wine, realizing his silence had made the moment even more awkward. “I think we need more of this.”
“Yes, please.” Handing him her glass, she let him fill it to the brim.
Throughout dinner, they managed to kill the bottle, and chatted in spurts about inconsequential things. It was nice. He enjoyed spending time with her—there just never seemed to be enough of it to spare for things he enjoyed doing. It was always spent on whatever his duties dictated, but he liked his work too, so it had never bothered him before his marriage.
“Will you be going back down to the office after this?” She shifted her head on the sofa to look at him.
He plucked a strawberry from the bowl they’d situated between them. Taking a bite, he let the juices, sweet pulp, and seeds roll over his tongue. “Probably. I have some more paperwork to handle before I can call it a day.”
“You need an assistant.”
“My father doesn’t have one.” No, his father managed to take care of everything on his own. He expected Tomas to be able to do the same. So did Tomas. If he couldn’t equal his father in work ethic and productivity, how could he consider himself fit to be the next leader? He had as much to prove to himself as he did to anyone else.
Her gaze went from his hand to the bowl between them. “Oh, you took the last strawberry. I love them.”
“You can have the rest.” He proffered what remained of the fruit.
Leaning toward him, she licked his lower lip. “Perhaps we can share.”
His body reacted before his mind did, his cock hardening until it ached.
Dios, this was twice in one day that she’d come to him instead of him reaching for her. A tiny part of his mind warned him that earlier had been about her fear and right now was about the amount of wine they’d both consumed, but his instincts cared nothing for the man’s rationality. His mate wanted him, and he craved her as he would nothing else in his life.
Taking the last bite of strawberry between his teeth, he offered her the fruit. She melded her lips to his, and the fruit dissolved in their mouths. He didn’t know which was sweeter—the strawberry or her. He knew which he wanted more. Her. Always her. He all
but inhaled her, sliding his tongue between her lips and taking her taste into his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her into his lap, arranging her legs until she straddled his thighs.
The soft feel of her sex against his made him feel as though he’d explode out of his skin. He loved touching her; he could never get enough of it.
His claws shredded the cotton of her shirt. He wanted his hands on her skin. Now. Retracting his talons, he caressed her back, flicked open her bra, and ripped the garments away.
Then her breasts were free and he buried his face between them to inhale the scent of her. So lush and exotic and uniquely Ciri. His mate.
Turning his head, he licked one nipple, teased it until it puckered to a tight point. Little moans spilled from her, and she slid her hands into his hair to try to guide his lips to her breast. He chuckled and pulled the nipple into his mouth, sucking strongly. Her back bowed and she cried out. “Tomas!”
He purred, loving the sound of his name on her lips, the sharp passion that edged her voice. It was moments like this that made him recognize why they were mates—when there was nothing but the raw connection between them, the Panthers shedding the trappings of civility, the synergy was perfect. They fit each other.
Her claws scraped against his scalp when he released the nipple and blew a cool stream of air on the tight tip. She twisted in his arms, her sex grinding down on his. He turned his head to take in her other nipple and she made a frantic noise that drove him to the edge of madness.
Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he wanted her pants gone. He wanted her naked in his arms. Shoving her to her feet, he had her stripped out of the rest of her clothing in a few seconds. The firm feel of her ass in his hands when he skimmed her panties off made him shake with lust. Yes, he wanted her this way. He ripped open his pants to free his dick. Spinning her around, he brought her back down on his lap so that she straddled him again, but faced away from him.
“Wh-what are you doing, Tomas?” She gasped and braced her hands on his knees.
Prowl the Night Page 5