Ciri’s heart slammed into her ribs. Ruiz. One of the two rogue brothers who still posed a threat to Panthers in North America. Without thinking, she picked up her skirts and strode into the leader’s office. She didn’t knock, she just pushed her way in.
“What about the Ruizes? What happened?” Her cheeks heated as the people in the room turned to stare at her. Normally, she’d have run from being the center of attention, especially when that attention came from leaders of a Pride. Antonio and Solana, Miguel, and Diego and Ric all turned to stare at her.
Landon cleared his throat, tugging at his tie as if it were strangling him. “I’ll . . . I’ll start at the beginning. Juan Ruiz was arrested for petty theft this afternoon. He subsequently escaped while they were transferring him to county lockup.”
Everyone in the room drew a sharp, collective breath. Miguel gave voice to all their fears. “Did he reveal—”
“No. He overpowered a guard and escaped while being transported, but there was nothing in the attack to indicate he was anything other than human. The Pride’s secrets are still safe.” Landon let out a breath, but his gaze kept straying to Ciri as if he thought she might explode.
She folded her arms. “For now.”
He nodded. “Yes, for now.”
“What do we do?”
“I’m not certain.” Antonio answered her rather than the human. “Panthers aren’t above the laws of humans. In fact, we try to obey the laws in order to go unnoticed. Normally, I would try to arrange for this to be taken care of quietly, but he’s no longer a member of this Pride.”
Ric swirled the liquid around in his champagne glass. He, like every other man in the room, wore a tuxedo in honor of the ball. “He could expose us.”
“Any one of us could expose our race,” Miguel replied. “He knows what would happen to him if he tried.”
“He’s outcast, imprisoned, and grief-maddened. What does he have to lose?” Ric shrugged. “He’d definitely screw over the Cruzes if he exposed himself.”
Diego growled, “He’d screw over every Panther on Earth.”
Straightening the floaty layers of skirt on her gown, Solana groaned. “Every other Panther on Earth refused to take his family in after he was cast out of this Pride. No one wanted a disloyal family sullying their name.”
Antonio pinched the bridge of his nose. “That thought hadn’t escaped me.”
Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Ciri said what no one else would. “You know what you should do, what every other Pride leader would already have done. As long as there’s a rebel loose, this is a risk that will plague you. If your Pride is the one to leak our secret, you’ll be held responsible. It won’t matter that he’s an outcast, and you know it. They’ll say you should have killed him then, and hold you liable anyway.”
“I know.”
Though Antonio’s jaw clenched and she knew she should shut her mouth, Ciri pressed her point. If this had been taken care of when these men were cast out, she and Isabel wouldn’t have been mauled. There would be no threat. Maybe she wasn’t the most powerful person in the room, but she was the most conservative, and they needed to hear the other side of this argument. She amazed herself with her boldness, but being attacked had shown her there were a lot more important things than worrying about making everyone happy. “You cannot afford to have the other Prides turn against you. One outcast’s life is not worth your entire Pride’s safety.”
A muscle in the Pride leader’s jaw began to twitch. “I know this, and I’ll think about it. You’re not an impartial judge of this situation considering what Roberto Ruiz did to you.”
“No, I’m not impartial, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” She nodded and swept out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Her pulse pounded and she felt a little lightheaded, but it wasn’t bad. She swiped her damp palms down her gown as reaction set in. It was good to stand up for herself and give voice to her opinion. She snorted, remembering the stunned looks on everyone’s faces while she’d faced down a Pride leader.
“Ahem.” Eva cleared her throat to get Ciri’s attention. “The Asian Pride’s ambassador just arrived.”
Goito Fukuda was an unassuming man. He walked into the mansion, bowed politely to Eva and offered a deeper, longer bow to Ciri. It took her a moment to remember why a man so much older than her, who’d known her her entire life, would give her so respectful a gesture. Just in time, she caught herself from bowing too deeply in return. Socially, she outranked Mr. Fukuda now. She was in a leading family, and while he was head of a very influential family in the Asian Pride, he was not in line for leadership.
“Konnichiwa, Mr. Fukuda. Welcome to North America.”
“Many thanks, Mrs. Montoya.” He bowed again. “Konnichiwa.”
“Shall we?” She gestured toward the ballroom, where light and laughter spilled out into the foyer. No one had come out of Antonio’s office yet, and she forced herself not to worry about what they might be discussing. She’d said what she needed to say. The final decision wasn’t hers.
Goito nodded and they fell into step beside each other. “Your parents send their regards.”
A pang of longing went through her that they weren’t here to give those regards themselves. She’d avoided their calls for the last week—there was no way they would understand what had happened with Roberto Ruiz. Or with Tomas. Her mother had sent a package to help spice up her marriage with Tomas, and thinking about the contents still made Ciri blush. Sadly, that part of their mating had needed no help. It was everything else that was wrong. “Thank you for passing the message along. I miss them very much. And home.”
Goito made a sympathetic noise. “I can imagine that this Pride den would be a very different place than ours. Too loose with the rules we all live by, too liberal. Our leader is not pleased.”
She stiffened a little at the criticism. It wasn’t like her people to be so blunt, but Antonio had ruffled more than a few feathers with some of his policies. “It’s been a challenging transition.”
They paused just inside the doors of the ballroom. Goito’s gaze narrowed on something to their left, his nostrils flaring a bit. His face flattened in disapproval. “Is that the human or the non-shifter?”
She followed his gaze to see who he was looking at. Well, at least one person had left Antonio’s office. “The human, Landon. He’s in charge of the security here.”
Goito sniffed, his voice lowering to an irate hiss. “It goes against all laws of the Prides. Humans. Non-shifters. It upsets the balance of things. It causes problems when there is no need. We have our rules in place for a reason. Cruz has no right to endanger us all.”
A spurt of anger blasted through her, and the heat of her reaction surprised her. “Please do not upset yourself, Mr. Fukuda. You know Antonio may do what he wishes in his territory. The human and non-shifter have not caused harm.”
“Yet.” A muscle ticked in his jaw.
She tried to think of all the sides to the argument, scrambled to consider how Tomas would want her to deal with this. In the end, she just gave her true reaction. As upset as she was about Antonio’s nonaction with regard to the Ruizes, there were many areas where she could find no fault in his leadership. “I’ve found Antonio to be a good man. He is very different, yes, but he is beloved by his people.”
Goito looked at her as if she’d sprouted horns and a forked tail. “You seem unwell, Mrs. Montoya. This place is not good for you.” He bowed to her. “Please excuse me.”
She bowed automatically in return but found that her hands were shaking in rage. She didn’t bother pushing aside the reaction. She was tired of pretending she didn’t feel what she felt. Her confrontation with Antonio and her unexpected anger at Goito’s comments made it finally hit her exactly how much she had changed since she’d come here. A few months ago she would have agreed with Goito wholeheartedly, but now . . . she knew these people better. They were people now, not just concepts, abstracts. It wasn
’t as simple as that.
Her focus was no longer on remaining harmonious and maintaining the status quo.
Roberto’s unprovoked attack, her fight for her life, her terror for Isabel, all made her see that she should be more interested in doing the right thing than doing the peaceful thing. It was a new dichotomy for her—considering the greater good for all Panthers, but also accounting for the needs of individuals. There had to be a balance between those two things. Japan was too concerned with the greater good, America too focused on individual comforts. Somewhere in between was where she thought the right line should be drawn.
She snorted at herself. Here she was, involving herself in politics not once, but twice in the same night. But she couldn’t stand aside and pretend none of it involved her. It would never be her interest or passion, but it definitely impacted her life when a leader acted or chose not to act. The change in attitude would please her father-in-law, but she wasn’t so sure about Tomas. She doubted that she could be the kind of wife he wanted, and perhaps it was best to leave things as they were. It hurt to acknowledge that, but they were still so very different, and she couldn’t live her life as he wanted her to—devoid of her art and her career, waiting for him to notice he had a mate.
No, it was best to let things lie. No matter how much it pained her.
8
She was slowly going mad.
After he’d entered the ballroom, Tomas had claimed her for a dance and then didn’t leave her side, his hand on her shoulder, sliding down to the small of her back. She’d once loved how much he touched her, but now? It would drive her insane if she had to take much more. She hadn’t had him in more than a week, and Panthers didn’t do well without their mates. It wasn’t until now that she’d understood exactly how true that was.
Her body was more than ready for what her mind and heart knew she’d be better off without. She sensed him in the suite beside her every day, which kept her from truly losing her grip on reality, but even that slight distance was starting to wear on her.
It hurt. It hurt so much, she didn’t know how she’d stand it.
And her hormones didn’t care about her feelings, about logic or right or wrong. All her instincts told her was that her mate was beside her, touching her, and she should reach out and take what she craved. The internal demand clamored louder and louder as the evening wore on, as her nerves tattered and frayed.
“I’ve heard your parents brought your niece with them.” Cesar Benhassi smiled at Tomas.
He nodded. “Yes, they did. Marisol wanted to visit with Miguel and Andrea, and my mother decided to indulge her. No one can resist my niece.”
“She’s a sweet girl,” Ciri added. It was the most coherent thought she could manage. Marisol was a little tornado, a charming, vibrant force of nature that left everyone reeling in her wake. She was the one member of Tomas’s family that Ciri had liked on sight.
Tomas’s arm settled around her waist, drawing her close until their sides pressed together. She could feel the heat and hardness of him, and she nearly crawled out of her skin with the desire pounding through her. Every inch of her felt sensitized, readying itself for his claiming. Her skin felt flushed, her sex dampening, her nipples tightening to points that she didn’t even have to glance down to know were plainly visible in this dress.
She squeezed her thighs together to quell the ache that built there, but the movement only increased her agony. A tremor passed through her body when his long fingers began to stroke her waist. Her sex clenched hard, so needy, so ready to be filled by him. It had been so long, days since she’d had her mate. The Panther within clawed for dominance, and her breathing hitched as she struggled for some semblance of control. It was so much harder now than it had been.
His fingers drifted in slow, warm circles up her ribs, and she broke. She flashed a brilliant smile at the people they were talking to. “Will you all excuse me for a moment?”
A few of the Panthers cast her knowing looks. No doubt they could smell how turned on she was, but that would only play toward them thinking everything was fine between Ciri and Tomas. It wasn’t.
Turning on her heel, she picked up her long skirt and fled to one of the bathrooms off the ballroom. She shoved her way inside and braced her shaking hands on the edge of the vanity, dropping her chin to her chest. Sucking in deep, slow breaths, she wrestled her hormones before they forced her to seek out her mate.
She couldn’t go on like this. She just couldn’t. His scent called to her like a Lorelei, undeniably the most erotic thing she’d ever smelled. One whiff and she was shaking like an addict in need of a fix. Her claws scraped against the marble vanity as she struggled to stay where she was and not give in to the heat ripping through her.
“Ciri.”
When she glanced up in the mirror, she could see him behind her. He was here. God, he was here and she was lost. She couldn’t fight it anymore. “I forgot to lock the door.”
“I know.” His nostrils flared and she knew he’d caught the scent of her lust. His eyes glowed a shimmering gold, the Panther in him as apparent as the cat in her. He’d been as unable to resist following her as she was unable to resist him now. “I’ve tried to stay away from you the way you asked, I really have, but I want you. You’re my mate. I can’t help it. I’m sorry.”
The heartbreak on his face wrenched at her soul. A sob caught in her throat even as she reached for him. She shouldn’t do this. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but the Panther in her ruled the woman just then. Instincts weren’t fair, they just were.
He groaned and dragged her into his arms. His lips met hers and the taste of him was so wonderful she thought she’d die. She hated herself for how much she craved him, how she’d never rid herself of this addiction, but the cat writhed in mating heat, uncaring of the woman’s emotions.
The dichotomy would break her, the war within herself too fundamental for her to survive the internal battle.
Tears welled in her eyes, even as she clutched at him, her body screeching in bone-deep recognition. Her fingers slid into the rich silk of his hair, holding him close as their tongues dueled. Her fangs nipped at his flesh, and she tasted blood. It only called to the feral cat, ripping away what was left of the woman’s hesitation.
Too late. Too late for doubts, for hesitation. All she could do was turn herself over to pure, driving instinct. His big body pressed to hers, the heat of him searing through her thin dress. She twisted to get closer, to gain the contact she needed. His hands gathered her skirt up and he wrenched his mouth from hers long enough to pull her gown over her head and toss it across the end of the vanity.
Then he turned her around, leaned her forward, and set her hands where they’d been when he found her. The marble had cooled and the chill of the stone on her flesh sent shivers racing through her.
“Tomas,” she gasped.
She heard the jingle of his belt and the rasp of his zipper, then she felt the hot press of his cock between her thighs.
“Spread,” he ordered, his tone guttural and barely human. Exhilaration twisting through her, she obeyed. His hand roughly bent her farther forward and the head of his cock pushed for entrance within her.
She hissed, her fangs punching through her gums when he shoved deep in one stroke. It hurt. A lot. But it also felt so good after so long, that hot connection with her mate. The cat inside her purred with satisfaction, and Ciri choked on a cry of utter need as Tomas began thrusting within her.
Setting his hands over hers, he held her in place for his possession. There was no escaping, not from him and not from herself. Her hair fell into her face as she bowed her head forward, taking his thrusts and pushing her hips back to give him more access.
“Faster.” It was little more than a snarl, and she teetered right on the edge of shifting, a loss of control that she’d never faced as an adult. But this was her mate, a man who called to every part of her animalistic soul.
His mouth open over the back of her neck, h
is fangs digging in to the exact spot he had marked her all those months ago. He had taken her from behind then, too, and she’d known it was the most perfect moment of her life. A sob caught in her throat, her breathing hitching as the woman’s pain burst through the Panther’s craving.
Flicking his tongue over the sensitive mate mark made her legs shake and threaten to give out from under her. He sucked the flesh hard. It was as if electricity shot through her body, making her arch in shocked reflex. Her sex clenched tight on his pounding cock, and they both groaned. Her claws scraped against the vanity top as she twisted in his arms. But he held her tight, his arms imprisoning her, his hands pinning her down.
“Make me come. I need to come. Please, please, please,” she begged shamelessly. She couldn’t take much more without imploding with the conflict that tore her apart inside.
A low, rumbling growl told her how close he was to losing his grip on the Panther. The thought excited her far more than it should. He bucked his hips, driving deep inside her. Her pussy flexed around his cock each time he entered her, and she could feel orgasm building and building. Her anticipation made her pant for breath.
His scent filled her lungs, and beads of sweat gathered at her temples. The carnal sound of their skin slapping together, his heavy breath rushing against the damp skin at her nape made the sensations intensify. The heightened senses of her feline side caught every detail, from the smells and sounds to the taste of sex on the air.
Shoving deep, he ground his pelvis against her and the angle was just right. It was too much for her to handle. She exploded, her sex fisting on his cock, milking him in waves that made her fight against his hold on her. His arms tightened around her, forcing her to feel it, to endure the overwhelming pleasure that pounded through her.
She glanced up, seeing the feral cat more than the woman in the reflection before her. Her eyes burned to pure gold, and as her mouth opened in a silent scream, her fangs gleamed in the overhead light.
Prowl the Night Page 10