Panic exploded through him, and he lunged against his bindings, the animal in him wild to escape any cage.
“Shh. Don’t fight it, my mate.”
He caught Ciri’s scent the moment before his gaze found the slim shadow of her in the dark room. “Untie me.”
“No.” She reached out and flipped on the bedside lamp, and he blinked against the sudden glare.
He hissed and turned his face away. “What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t want to be in this room anymore.”
“And I thought you wanted me here.” Her hands cupped his jaw, urging him to face her.
“You were avoiding me tonight after we had sex.” He gave her a pointed glance, daring her to refute him.
She nodded, not running from the argument, which made something loosen inside him. If they couldn’t talk honestly about their problems, then they would never get better, and he admitted to himself that if he couldn’t listen when she did tell him what was wrong, then he wasn’t doing much to help improve their relationship either.
That she was here, that she’d come to him now, and what Miguel had told him about standing her ground against a Pride leader, made more hope than he’d felt in months spread through him. It had hurt to have her run from him tonight, but so much had hurt lately. And he’d hurt her too. They had a lot of ground to make up.
Her fingers stroked along his jaw. “I . . . I heard about what you said to your father. About me. About us.”
“I meant every word.” He met her gaze, let everything show in his. “I swear I’ll work harder.”
Her nose wrinkled. “You work too hard as it is.”
“On our marriage.” He tugged at his bindings, but they held fast. He ignored them. Talking this out with her had all his focus. “I’m going to delegate more work in the Pride. I don’t want to be like my father. I don’t want you to be like my mother, where you give up everything for me and hate me for it in the end.”
“I won’t be like your mother. I’m not going to give up my career for you. It fulfills me, and I refuse to believe that I have to sacrifice that just to facilitate you keeping what fulfills you. Solana still has her business and I’m going to keep mine. I have to. I need my art.”
He nodded, feeling the soft pillowcase rub against his cheek. “Father’s not going to like it, but I’m with you in this fight.”
“Good.” A little smile curled her lips, and she dropped her chin to her chest, her dark hair falling around her shoulders. “That’s good.”
“Yes, it is.” He tried to sit up, to reach for her, and remembered he was bound. He growled and subsided back to the mattress. “We have to support each other, Ciri, or we’ll lose the most important thing, and that’s us. I refuse to have my parents’ marriage.”
“I refuse to have your parents’ marriage, too.” Her fingers tightened on the thin rope she clutched in one hand. “I refuse to become your mother.”
He snorted. “I refuse to become my father.”
“Okay, then.” Her grin widened and she met his gaze. “I can live with that.”
“So can I. We’ve changed a lot and we’ll change a lot more in the future. I don’t know who we’ll be, but I know I want to find out together.” He searched her face as he said it, hoping she felt the same. “I don’t want to be separated.”
“I don’t either.” Her eyes were wide, and her expression was open. “I want us both to have what we need to be happy.”
“I want that too.”
Shaking her head, she sighed. “We should have had this conversation a long time ago.”
He shrugged and the ropes tying his wrists to the headboard went taut. “Maybe we didn’t know how. Maybe we weren’t ready. Maybe the last few weeks have shown us just how much we have to lose if we don’t hold on to each other.”
“I don’t want to lose you. I really don’t, but I don’t want to lose me either.” She pressed the hand holding the rope to her chest.
“I know exactly what you mean.” He couldn’t have said it better himself, how he felt about all of this. He wanted them both to be themselves and still have each other.
She smiled at him. “I knew you would, my mate.”
He’d never loved her more than in this moment. He’d opened his mouth to tell her when her lips closed over his, her tongue sliding in to tease his. His reaction was immediate and powerful, as it always was with his mate. He suckled her lower lip, pulling it between his teeth to bite down softly. She moaned into his mouth and his cock went hard. He pulled away, but his movements were hampered by the bindings.
He rolled his head on the pillow to look at the ropes. Slim and paler than cream, they smelled of something natural. Hemp, maybe. They were twisted in intricate patterns up his arms. His eyebrows arched and surprised sparked within him. “You know shibari?”
She chuckled. “That word just means ‘to bind’ in Japanese. We call this kinbaru.”
“I didn’t know.” He didn’t know if he meant the new vocabulary or the new information about his wife.
Grinning, she bent forward to lick one of his nipples, and he jerked against the bindings in reflex. “As you said, we’re constantly changing, but there is also much we don’t know about each other, much we have yet to learn.”
“Why didn’t you ever do this to me before?”
A flush rose to her cheeks. “My mother sent the ropes to me. They arrived yesterday.”
He tugged at the thin ties again, truly testing his strength against theirs. A human man would have been trapped, but he was no mortal. “I could escape from these.”
“Do you want to escape me?”
He met her gaze, saw a warmth and affection there that he hadn’t seen in months. There was no way he was going to do anything to discourage that. “No. I trust you.”
“Good.” She leaned forward and kissed the mate mark that scored his left pec. “That’s very good.”
A shudder passed through him at the contact with the mark. Lightning forked through his body, and his cock jerked. Her fingers drifted along the ropes on his arms, and suddenly they loosened and he was free.
“Would you kneel on the bed for me? I want to do this right.” Her gaze met his, and he saw the questions there. Would he really trust her with this? Would a man born to lead be willing to give her all the power?
He pushed himself upright, shifting around until they were on their knees facing each other. “What should I do now?”
“Just stay there.” She stretched up to kiss the side of his neck, to nip his flesh with her fangs. He shuddered, but didn’t grab her and roll her under him as he wanted to. Whatever game she had in mind, he was going to play.
She draped the rope around the back of his neck, letting the ends dangle down his chest. Moving around him and behind him, she formed a variety of knots that made the rope crisscross over his chest, between his shoulder blades, around his waist, and between his legs. She drew his wrists behind him and tied them at the small of his back. It felt odd, but the scent of her, the feel of her hands on his flesh made him purr.
There were times when she brushed against his cock, and he knew it was deliberate. He was so hard, so ready, he felt beads of pre-cum rolling down the length of his shaft, but every second that passed cranked his anticipation up a notch.
She let one finger trail after a drop of fluid. “You’re very hard, my mate.”
“You’re touching me.” His chuckle was a rusty sound. “Of course I’m hard.”
Humming in her throat, she swirled that fingertip around the head of his cock. “I like that. And I hope you’ll like this.”
And then she began tightening the ropes.
He hissed as the bindings began to rub over his skin, exerting pressure on his cock, the bindings biting in to separate his balls and pull his buttocks apart. The blood was effectively trapped in his dick, which flushed a deep red the tighter she drew the ropes.
Every movement of the bindings pushed him closer to the edge, and he feare
d he’d come before this game was anywhere near done. God, he’d never been so hot in his life. The ropes slid over the mate mark on his chest and he choked on a breath.
Sweat broke out on his forehead and every thought fled his mind. There was nothing in the world except his mate, the ropes, and the lust that consumed his body in living flames. The binding grew so taut he could barely breathe, and the pressure on his cock made groans wrench from his throat.
She pushed him onto his side, and his shoulder bounced hard against the mattress as he landed. Her fingers curled in the ropes on his chest, holding him close as she wrapped her thigh over his hip. He thrust forward as best he could, and she met him halfway, seating herself on his cock.
Dios.
Her gaze met his and never left. They were together in this, just as they promised. Connected. Mates. It was the most amazing thing he’d ever known.
The feel of her silky flesh sliding against his, the utter perfection of her heat squeezing tight around his cock, made the Panther within snarl and claw for freedom. His fangs bared and he groaned each time she sealed her pussy to the base of his cock. Every second sharpened to a clarity that would be seared into his memory for the rest of his days—her dark eyes flickering to gold, her fangs as deadly as his, moans spilling from her throat.
“Tomas.” She gasped his name, the sound a rush of air in his ear.
“Ciri.” He had to grit his teeth to keep from coming. All he could smell, feel, and taste was her. “God, you feel good.”
She gripped the ropes tighter, pulled him closer. Her slim body arched, took him deep—deeper than he’d been before. “Yes.”
And still they held each other’s gazes, neither willing to release this precious link.
His hands fisted behind him and he struggled to move his body in the harsh bindings. He ground his hips against her, angling himself in the way he knew made her scream.
“Tomas, Tomas!” Her fangs scored his flesh as she bit down on his shoulder. The pain sharpened his pleasure until he thought he might die.
Her inner muscles clenched on his cock, milking him. He gave up on any hope of control, slamming into a wave of orgasm and letting it drag him under. The bite of the ropes only accentuated his pleasure; that he could barely move, barely breathe, just made it more intense. His come exploded out of him, jetting into her lovely body. The only word he could form was the one that meant the most to him. “Ciri!”
Just her name. That was all. That was everything.
They lay together, gasping, shuddering as they came down from the high. Her gaze never left his, and he saw every emotion on her face. She hid nothing from him, there was no pretense, no reserve. Just his Ciri. Sweet woman and ferocious predator all in one package that balanced his own nature to perfection.
After the sweat had cooled on their bodies, their breathing and heart rates had returned to normal, he winced as his muscles began to cramp in their bound position.
He chuckled again at the rare gift that was his wife, the unexpected fire beneath the cool exterior. “What other secrets have you been keeping from me? I hope they’re all this good.”
“I can only think of one.” She leaned back, cupped his face between her palms, and met his gaze. “I love you.”
He could see it in her eyes, could feel it in her touch, and it was heart-stopping in its intensity. “I love you, too.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she smiled the smile that had stolen his soul the very first day. “Good.”
“Good.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Can you untie me now?”
She purred, her midnight eyes sparkling with joy. She ran a finger down one of the ropes. “Perhaps I should do this to you every time I want to get your undivided attention.”
“I like that idea.” He watched her eyes flash with feral gold light, and sensed how much she enjoyed his ready acceptance. Her talons sliced through the bindings, and gooseflesh broke down his limbs as his muscles relaxed in one great rush. He grinned at her. “Perhaps you should teach me the knotting techniques so I can return the favor.”
Her breath caught, her nipples peaked tight where they pressed against his chest, and the smell of her damp arousal flooded his nose. “I . . . could be convinced.”
“Convincing people is what I do.” He grinned at her, but the expression faded. There were still things he hadn’t said to her. Things he needed to ask her, so he just let the biggest question out. “Do you want me to step down as heir?”
He didn’t know who he’d be if he wasn’t a politician, but he’d figure it out. If he didn’t have Ciri, he had nothing of real value. He would be half-dead, his soul ripped in two. For the first time since his avô died, he felt like he had his priorities straight.
A wry smile curved his lips. “Though it may not matter, since my father could be asking for my resignation after our conversation tonight.”
“No, you will not resign. You love this; you’re good at it. I wouldn’t ask you to give up a part of yourself for me, and I won’t give up myself for you.” She pressed her hands to his chest. “We’re in this together, remember?”
“But you hate this. You’d hate the life you’d live with me as a Pride leader’s mate.”
She pulled in a slow breath, her brows drawing together in consideration. “I’d hate living your mother’s life, yes. But I’m not her and I never will be. I’d also hate living in a Pride as liberal as this one. I won’t do things the way your mother does, or Solana does, or the way any other leader’s mate does. I’ll do them my way. Just as you’ll do things your way. You don’t intend to lead the same way that Pedro or Antonio leads, do you?”
“No. I won’t. I don’t agree with either of them on everything.”
“Well, then.” Her shoulder lifted in a shrug. “We’ll make our own way. You’re going to have a fight on your hands with your father, but I’ll be by your side the whole way. Just like you’ll be by my side. It’s going to be rough, but we can do this. I know we can.”
“I love you.” More honest words had never come from his lips. It was the most fundamental truth of his life.
“I love you, too, Tomas. I always have. I always will. We’ll work the rest out.”
“Yes, we will.” No one would ever fit him as well as she did, in and out of the bedroom. She was his balance, and he was grateful, so very grateful, that he had realized it before he’d lost her entirely. It staggered him that she’d been willing to give him another chance, that she had enough faith in him to come to him tonight. Her quiet courage and simple strength were traits he would never take for granted again.
As she’d said, they had so much to learn about themselves and each other, and now they had the time to do that. To savor each other, to build their relationship as they should have from the very beginning. He would always regret the time they’d lost, but they had now, they had today. They had every day for as long as they lived.
It was more than enough, no matter what other changes the future might hold for them.
They had each other.
WANT ME
1
He had blood on his boots.
Exhaustion threatened to crush Rafe under its weight. He hadn’t even noticed the rusty stains splattering over his shoes and up the legs of his pants until he’d gotten up to shuffle off the flight from Cairo.
Then again, he’d damn near missed his connection in New York, so he’d been sprinting through the airport to make it. Or running as fast as a human could. Even dead on his feet, a Panther could go a lot faster than any mortal. He’d passed out in his seat before they’d even backed away from the JFK terminal, which might be why he hadn’t seen the gore on his clothes.
Luckily, the guys he was meeting wouldn’t care. In fact, Ric and Diego would think it was awesome and want details of his latest adventure. A wry smile twisted his lips. If anyone was up for an adventure, it was the Cruz twins.
“Excuse me,” an older man said politely as he elbowed Rafe in the gut.
“Don’t worry about it.” It was all he could do not to snarl at him.
This assignment had been grueling. One of those times when nothing went right. It happened, but this time it had grated on Rafe’s nerves so much that he’d come close to losing his cool with a panhandling teen the day before. Normally, he was more amused than anything else with the ploys the kids used, but not lately. He was just . . . tired. Tired of not having roots, tired of not having family, tired of going from one place to the next and never having any permanency at all.
Sure, he was a member of the North American Panther Pride. He could stay there forever and never leave again if that was what he wanted, but it wasn’t. As a travel journalist, he’d been everywhere at least once and lived to write about it. He’d gotten caught in riots, pinned down in war zones, stranded in the desert, and lost at sea. He’d seen all Seven Wonders of the World, hiked through rainforests with pygmies, ridden camels with Bedouin tribes, and seen sunrises on mountaintops that would make God Himself weep from the beauty of it.
It had been one hell of a life so far, and he’d loved every minute of it, but something had been riding him lately. A restlessness he couldn’t understand. It used to be he got antsy staying in one place too long, and now the constant travel frayed his nerves. He’d cut his last trip short to come back to the Pride for a while. Some instinct told him he needed to be there, though he couldn’t put his finger on why. Maybe staying put for a month or two would do him good. It couldn’t hurt, and might let him shake whatever it was that was eating at him. He could catch up with old friends, get some writing done and thus make his editors happy at the same time.
He wove his way through the crowded airport, leaving the old man far behind. The smell and sound of so many people were an assault to keen Panther senses. The overhead speaker blared security warnings, and it was something he’d seen and experienced so many times it battered at his fatigued mind.
Hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder, he rode the escalator down to the luggage claim where he would meet the twins.
Prowl the Night Page 12