Prowl the Night

by Crystal Jordan

  Ric cocked his wrist to look at his watch. “Antonio will be out of his meeting with the Australian delegate soon. He’ll be in to greet you shortly.”

  It was the longest speech either of them had made since she’d met them at the airport. Either their reputation for being gregarious was wildly exaggerated or they didn’t think she was worth the effort to be polite. She was fairly certain she knew which option was the correct one.

  A small commotion sounded from a side door to the office. That would be Antonio, she assumed. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, preparing to meet the Pride leader who had the greatest reason to dislike her, just for being a Garcia.

  The door swung open and a man walked through who looked enough like the twins that there was no doubt about his identity. Teresa rose from her seat and offered a formal nod befitting a Pride leader.

  “Hola, Antonio.” She offered him a hand to shake, made sure her grip was firm. She was grateful he didn’t try to show off his machismo by squeezing her hand hard enough to break it. He wouldn’t have been the first Panther male to try, and she refused to back down and start flinching and crying from the pain. They’d have to try a lot harder than that.

  Instead, Antonio’s demeanor matched hers, brisk and professional, with no unnecessary power plays or shows of dominance. It made her suspicious. Felines were well-known for playing such games, and she had no idea if he was just toying with her before he struck. She had to stay on her toes and keep her guard up.

  “It’s good to meet you, Teresa. Have a seat.” He arched his eyebrows at his younger brothers. “I think we can take it from here, gentlemen.”

  Diego opened his mouth to protest, but Antonio held up his hand. The twins frowned, but obeyed and exited in short order. She drew in a deep breath, ignored the knot of anxiety in her chest, and assumed a relaxed pose in her chair. It wasn’t entirely natural, but she could fake it well enough that no one who didn’t know her would be able to tell.

  Antonio sat behind his wide wooden desk. He examined her for a moment, tapping his fingers against an ink blotter. “I don’t think I need to tell you that the success of this summit is important to me.”

  In other words, if she hadn’t come to play well with the other kids on the playground, then she could go home. She settled back and crossed her legs. “I’ll be blunt, sir, if you don’t mind.”

  His brows rose, surprise crossing his face. He waved his hand. “I prefer it.”

  “Good.” Of course, she’d heard that about him, and she’d done her homework on how to deal with every person who was scheduled to attend this summit. She’d made certain to meet all of them while on her tour of the Prides, learned what made them tick. She was the new kid on the block, and on many levels she was working at a disadvantage. The only thing she hadn’t anticipated was actually finding a mate. She hadn’t seen Rafe coming. She stuffed that thought away, and the shiver of awareness it caused. That was a problem for another time. “I’m here to play a part in what I believe could shape the Panther world for decades to come. I’m not going to cause problems—in fact, I think this summit is a brilliant idea.”

  “Thank you.” He narrowed his gaze as if reassessing her. Good, she wanted to keep people on their toes. He blew out a breath. “I’m honestly surprised your father allowed anyone from his Pride to come here.”

  She folded her hands in her lap. “I support my father’s leadership and policies, but my views are somewhat different on certain issues.”

  Namely, anything that had to do with the African or North American Prides. Discomfort twisted inside her when she thought about why the bad blood had developed between her Pride and theirs. She didn’t like to think about that time or of what had become of her brother. She hadn’t been present at the event, but it had changed her life forever.

  Because now she was living the life that should have belonged to Enrique. She quashed the thought, stuffing it deep down inside of her soul. Dwelling on what couldn’t be changed was pointless. Best to focus on what was in front of her.

  Antonio watched her silently, and she forced herself not to fidget, to meet his gaze as if she were his equal rather than some second-rate leading-family lackey. He steepled his fingers together under his chin. “Most of the delegates are a bit older than you are.”

  “Experienced, you mean.”

  A small smile curved his lips. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

  “It was me or it was no one.” She could only hope she did well enough that “no one” wasn’t the better option.

  “Cesar Benhassi is representing his own Pride. He didn’t send a delegate.” His gaze pinned her in place, his intent stare one that only a feline could manage.

  “The African Pride was the first stop on my tour of the various dens.” She shrugged delicately. “It seemed sensible, as it’s the closest geographically to Spain.”

  She’d also done it to make a political statement about her intention to end the tensions between her Pride and any other. Her movements were always watched, analyzed, and she knew it. They had been when she’d just been Fernando Garcia’s second child, and even more intensely now that she was his heir. So, she’d used that to her advantage.

  “I see.” And it was obvious Antonio did see exactly what she’d done. A glint of what might have been respect sparked to life in his gaze. “Well, you missed the ball last night, but the major negotiations don’t begin until sundown.”

  “I understand, sir.” She’d need to get some sleep today and be in top form. Any misstep could be a disaster for her people, and she felt that knot in her belly twist tighter.

  Panther politics were often vicious and deadly. There had been times when infighting had wiped out Prides completely. Most leaders worked hard to establish a clear line of succession in order to be certain the transfer of power from one generation to the next went smoothly and caused no bloodshed. Even that didn’t always work. At one time, it wasn’t unheard of for a younger child to kill off the heir in order to become leader.

  Now, things were typically more civilized, or at least less bloody. But even in the last century, they had all had a clear view of exactly what happened when the transfer of power didn’t go smoothly. The African Pride leader had died without an heir, after killing off those who contested his authority, and when he passed, every member who had even the slightest claim to leadership made a bid for power. The result had devolved into civil war, killing most of the Pride and sending the survivors fleeing for asylum in other Prides.

  It had only been in the last six months that Benhassi had re-formed the nucleus of the African Pride, and he’d had to negotiate in order to get his claim recognized by the other Pride leaders. He’d had to convince those who had once been in the Pride to come back, to lure their children away from the other Prides.

  A short knock sounded on the double doors behind her, and she fought a groan as Rafe’s scent intensified. She could sense him in the mansion, and she’d been steadfastly trying not to think about him and what they’d done together in her suite. How she was going to sleep in there without going mad with the memories, she didn’t know.

  “Antonio, Teresa.” Rafe came in balancing a tray on one palm. He slid it onto the desk that dominated the room. “I talked Isabel into letting me bring you some sustenance.”

  Isabel. The woman Teresa’s brother had attacked. The woman now mated into the leading family of this Pride. Teresa had grown up in the same Pride with her. They’d both grown up in the same Pride as Antonio’s wife, Solana, but Teresa had never been close with the older girls. Neither of them had been well-served by the Spanish Pride, Teresa admitted, and in Isabel’s case, she bore part of the blame. Relief washed through her that she didn’t have to deal with that on top of everything else today. She would need to eventually, but not now.

  “You should try the cinnamon buns. I’m sure after all the energy you’ve expended today, you could use the sugar boost.” Rafe’s smile held just a hint of wickedness when
he handed her a plate with a huge bun smothered in white icing. “You know, from the long flight.”

  “You flew in from Egypt,” she pointed out. “That’s not a short trip.”

  “Well, I’d love a cinnamon bun, too. Thanks for the invitation.”

  Antonio rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide a grin when Rafe snagged an extra coffee mug off the wooden sidebar and served himself along with everyone else.

  “Thanks, Rafe.” Antonio’s gaze flicked between the two of them. “The twins mentioned you met our roving goodwill ambassador at the airport.”

  Rafe chuckled, and even the sound of it was warm and inviting. Some part of her relaxed in a way that hadn’t unwound since she’d left his side. She didn’t like to admit it, but it was reassuring to have someone there with her. Rafe gestured with the hand holding his coffee. “Hardly. I leave the politics to others and just focus on my job. Travel writing is the best of all worlds. I trot around the globe and then I get to tell stories about it.”

  “Sometimes exaggerated stories.” Antonio sipped his drink. “And they always leave out the part where you occasionally shift into a cat.”

  “A little artistic license to fine-tune my narrative. It’s a necessary evil.” Rafe shrugged, the good humor in his expression inviting everyone to let go of any tension and just enjoy the moment. She had a feeling that was how he operated on most days. She was curious to find out if she was right, and scolded herself for wondering about him at all. They’d had sex, that was all. Panthers were highly sensual beings, so this was hardly a first for either of them. She didn’t want to be mated, so the best idea would be to go no further than she had already. If they never marked each other, they could still live apart. If they never claimed each other, this was no more than a simple affair. They could avoid the madness that came from losing a marked mate.

  The Panther inside her shrieked in denial at the very concept. Mate. The instinct clamored again, demanding she acknowledge what her mind didn’t want.

  Antonio shook his head at Rafe. “And they say you write nonfiction.”

  “I just tell the story as I saw it.” He popped a piece of the pastry into his mouth. “That is nonfiction.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” The Pride leader flapped his hand. “The truth, but not the whole truth.”

  “Coming from a politician, that admonishment is rich.” Rafe stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “The problem with travel writing is you have to frame the story in an engaging way. If I gave the whole truth, right up to and including what I have for breakfast each day, I’d bore the crap out of myself . . . and my readers. Only so much detail needs to be in there, just the parts that are important to the one incident I’m talking about. Plus, I can use those other details in different pieces. One trip can give me fodder for a half a dozen stories.”

  “Fascinating.” The word was out of her mouth before she thought better of it. But it was fascinating. This man’s life was just so far outside her realm of experience. He had a point in that politicians did frame the truth—or bald-faced lies—to suit their own ends, but other than that, their jobs were nothing alike. She disliked writing anything longer than a brief or memo, and she certainly had no desire to do it for a living, but his ability to travel on a whim was enviable. Even before she’d been heir, she’d had no such freedoms. She’d even gone to university in Barcelona instead of another city in Europe in order to remain close to the den.

  Rafe’s gaze moved over her face. “I’d be happy to tell you anything you want to know about me.”

  She flinched, looking away. There was no way she could offer him the same promise. Anything he wanted to know? No. There were family secrets that had the power to make her heart wrench in her chest. Things no one who wasn’t a Garcia should know.

  And no matter how loudly her instincts howled at her, those secrets were what would keep her from mating with anyone.

  Ever.

  Something had made her sad.

  Rafe could sense her lowering mood, but he didn’t know what had caused it. And he wasn’t in a position to be able to ask outright. Frustration crawled through him that he couldn’t delve deeper, faster. Patience was usually one of his strong suits, knowing a good story would come to him if he could school himself to wait. But he didn’t want to do that with Teresa. He found himself wanting to pounce, to take and claim and ask questions later.

  It was nothing like him, and that worried him.

  What worried him more was the forceful reminder of exactly who and what she was when he’d walked in and seen her coolly eyeing Antonio Cruz. The man had the charisma of John F. Kennedy and the iron will it would take to overhaul the world as they knew it. He was a force of nature, and seeing her with him brought home exactly the kind of person he was dealing with.

  The cell phone he had clipped to his belt began vibrating, and he set down his coffee so he could turn it off. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.” Antonio motioned with the curl of cinnamon bun he held in his hand.

  Rafe flashed an apologetic grin and glanced down. The number belonged to one of his editors. Damn. “And now I’m even sorrier, because I need to take this call.”

  “Interruptions are the name of the game in our line of work, Rafe.” The Pride leader shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Hello, Kevin.” Stepping outside the office door, Rafe closed it behind him.

  “Santiago, good. I’m glad I caught you.” The man’s characteristic clipped New York accent broadcasted loudly through the receiver. “I had a last-minute cancellation, and I need someone to cover a travel writing conference for the magazine.”

  “Where?” He asked it out of sheer curiosity—he couldn’t help himself.

  “Barcelona.”

  It took all he had not to laugh. Normally, he’d be all over this kind of assignment, but everything he wanted in Spain was right here in San Francisco. “Sorry, Kevin. You know I’m taking some time off to stay at home.”

  “Yeah, I figured.” The human sighed. “Couldn’t hurt to ask, though, right?”

  “Nope, not at all.” He shook his head at the irony of the situation. “Thanks for thinking of me, Kevin. Sorry I couldn’t come through for you this time.”

  “Enjoy your vacation. Or whatever you call it.” Kevin chuckled, and Rafe grinned. Most people traveled to go on vacation, and Rafe went home.

  Even then, he had to wonder if this place was really home. He hadn’t lived there full-time in close to two decades, and he doubted he’d return as often as he did if it weren’t for Ben being here. Was this really where Rafe belonged? Perhaps. Perhaps not. This thing with Teresa pointed toward the latter. Would that shake the restlessness that had plagued him for so long? Or would it cost him far more than he could afford to give up?

  He didn’t know, and he was too tired to figure it out. The fatigue that meeting his mate had held at bay caught up with him in a painful rush.

  “Talk to you later, Kevin.” He flipped the phone closed and turned to reenter Antonio’s office only to find Teresa exiting.

  She looked as haggard as he felt. Unlike him, she had to attend the summit that started at dusk, while he could sleep in. He attached his phone to his belt. “Hey, what are you up to?”

  “Apparently, I passed inspection.” She spread her hands. “I called my father when we were taxiing on the runway after I landed, but I should probably update him about how things went with Antonio.” The prospect seemed to exhaust her, and her shoulders sagged for a moment before she pulled herself up and lifted her chin.

  He hummed in his throat and walked with her as she headed up the stairs. “You could probably use sleep more than anything else. I’d imagine you’re dealing with some killer jet lag.”

  “I can sleep as soon as I’m done.”

  They reached the door to her room and he stopped to look down at her. “How long do you think the call will take?”

  The skin around her mouth tightened. “An hour. Maybe more.”r />
  He shook his head. “That’s no good. You need to be rested for tonight. Everyone who’ll be there besides Antonio is already asleep. You’re going to need your A-game with these Panther delegates. The ones I’ve met are man-eaters.”

  She rubbed a hand over her forehead, the motion both weary and annoyed. “I know that.”

  “I’ll worry about you if you don’t go to bed soon.” He had no idea if that would affect her at all, but it didn’t hurt to try. It wasn’t even a lie. He would worry about her. Just leaving her alone to face Antonio—a man he trusted—had worried him. These were some heavy hitters she was dealing with, and she didn’t seem like the type to take her duties lightly. In fact, from what he’d seen, she was far too serious. He’d like to see her laugh more, but this was no laughing matter. Panthers made human politicians look like amateurs in their games of cat and mouse.

  “I—I don’t know what to say.” Her expression softened, and she blushed a little, rubbing a finger over the bridge of her nose.

  “You can say you’ll wait to call until after you’ve gotten at least six hours of sleep. Or as long as you can.”

  “I really should call.”

  Just as he’d suspected. She had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. He narrowed his gaze at her. If sympathy didn’t work, glib sarcasm was always a good fallback.

  “Well, you can use me as an excuse for why you didn’t call a second time to let them know you’re fine.” He grinned at her when she lowered her hand to give him an incredulous look.

  “You think we should be sleeping together?” She shook her head. “I told you I don’t want—”

  “And I heard you.” He steered her into her suite, through the sitting room to the bedroom. “I’m talking about getting some sleep, not marking each other.”