1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Twelve

by Alexandra Ivy

  How long had he been out?

  How long had she been sitting there, watching him.

  Eyes narrowed, he stared at her. “How did you—” he began.

  Her full mouth kicked up at the corners. “You think Raphael would send an amateur?” That smile widened. “The best tracker in the Wildlands, pretty boy.”

  Pretty boy… He didn’t think he liked that. Especially coming from her. “And now that you’ve found me—?”

  “And captured you,” she added.

  “And got me naked.”

  She shrugged. “Just making it a little harder for you to escape.”

  Oh, female, you’re definitely making it harder…

  He arched a brow at her. “How do you plan to get me out of here?”

  “If I told you that—”

  “You’d have to kill me?”

  Her smile grew momentarily genuine. “No. But I would have to knock you out again.”

  It was his turn to smile. “Oh, kitten, that’ll never happen. I promise you.”

  Instead of responding with one of her signature biting quips, she stood up and went over to the side of the bed. Her eyes moved down his body. Slowly. Irritatingly slowly. Pausing only when she reached his groin, then only waiting until his cock twitched and swelled slightly before dragging them upward.

  What. The. Hell…

  Maybe he’d underestimated this one.

  Standing so close, yet not close enough to touch—or be touched. Heat assaulted him, and his hands formed fists once more. What was her plan? To torture him before she tried to get him back to the Wildlands? Was this payback for his containment of her in his dressing room?

  “What color is your cat?” she asked, her eyes lifting to meet his. They were a strange blue at the moment. Pale, yet undeniably stormy. They made him anxious. Hungry. For her…for her hands on—

  “Did you hear me, male?” she demanded.

  Barely. His lust was clouding his hearing.

  “I bet you’re dark gray,” she said. “Thick and glossy. I bet…your eyes turn the color of gunmetal when you shift.”

  Shift. The word slammed into his brain, making him slow, falter. What was she saying? Something about his…cat. Its color, its eyes…

  The lust bled from his body, and he captured her gaze with more guarded, serious eyes. Back to reality. “So. Female. What’s the plan here? Are they coming to fetch me instead? Raphael? The Hunters?”

  But she wasn’t done with her inspection or her questions. “How long has it been since you shifted? Do you miss it?” Her tongue slipped out and lapped at her upper lip. “I’ve been in this body less than a day and I’m going crazy. I can’t imagine how you suffer.”

  Less than a day? Goddess, had Raphael sent him a feral Pantera? Was the Suit that big of a prick?

  Stubborn female, meet even more stubborn male. “What time do they get here?” he pushed back. “Shame you needed your posse to help you. That you couldn’t handle it alone. Handle me alone.” His eyes flashed. “Thought you were the best of the best.”

  Her reaction was unexpected, to say the least. Instead of a verbal comeback or a sneer, growl, or snap, she reached for the rope around his left ankle and played with the fringe gently, almost thoughtfully. Then, after a moment, she brushed her fingers over his skin. Just a whisper of her fingers. He hissed. Tried to fight against the heat that gripped his belly and his groin. I’m in control, she seemed to be saying. Oh, yeah, that’s exactly what she was saying—her fingers dragging upward now, over his calf, his knee…

  The lust rushed back like a demon wanting to possess his body. His hard, trembling, hungry body.

  “I’d say I’m handling you pretty well,” she said softly, her fingers moving further, her nails gazing the skin of his thigh.

  Simon growled a curse, his hips lifting without his consent as she paused inches from his now marble-hard erection.

  What the fuck was she playing at? Forget payback. This was something else entirely… Raphael’s desperation? The female’s hatred for him?

  Or worse, her desire?

  The questions died in his mind as she suddenly pulled her hand away and left the bedside for the door.

  Growling, snarling, he struggled against the ropes binding him. His cock hard, his blood desperate for sex, he was in no mood to be gentle or even subtle. “Where the fuck are you going, female?”

  Her hand now wrapping the door handle, she called, “I’ll be back.”

  “Alone?” he demanded.

  She didn’t answer him. Just turned out the light and left the room. Just as he’d done to her a few hours earlier.

  Chapter Five

  Tryst paced the kitchen floor. Shit, shit, shit. She was going full rogue here. The mission was to bring the male in. Done. Period. And it would’ve been so easy. Drugged, in the car, snoring away—next stop, Wildlands.

  Instead, she’d stripped him, tied him to the bed and gone over every inch of him. Each scar, the waves of muscle on his belly, the tattoos on his scalp… After an hour, she’d thought better of it, caged her curiosity, not to mention her lust, and started to untie him. But then he’d said something. In his drugged sleep. Something that had made her both delay her plans and stay out of communication with Parish and Raphael. Neither one knew she had the male in her custody. She’d meant to contact them after securing him, hadn’t wanted them to know she’d fucked up and allowed him to get away.

  But those words had arrowed straight to her soul. Gutted her. Made her pine—not pity. Because if it was true…everything inside her—everything that snarled and stalked and loved the feel of the bayou sun on her belly—demanded that she help him… Fix him…

  Fuck him.

  The impulsive thought came out of nowhere and crashed into her brain—not to mention other warm, cavernous spaces as well. She was Pantera, belonged in the most savage parts of the Wildlands. She mated with those in their fur as well as out. She was as close to puma as—

  Her breath hitched as she was suddenly yanked back and slammed against— Was that a brick wall or a male chest?

  “How long ago did you call them, female?” Simon growled near her ear.

  Her body seized with heat and adrenaline. Where had her instincts, her sense of smell… Where had it all gone?

  “Answer me,” he demanded, pulling her even tighter against him. Against his naked body.

  Tryst snarled at the sensations coursing through her, at the unmitigated need that coiled in her belly. “Impossible,” she uttered with lusty menace. “I tied those ropes—”

  “Not tight enough, kitten,” he said, cutting her off, punctuating his words by pressing his lips to the shell of her ear.

  Her breathing went shallow, yet she continued to fight. “Didn’t think to throw on some clothes before coming out here?” she said, feeling his erect cock nestled between her ass cheeks.

  “I assumed you liked me this way,” he whispered on a soft laugh. Making her shiver. Making her nipples tighten. Such a strange, yet not unwelcome feeling in human form.

  “What is your name, female?” he demanded.

  Heat was building inside her. Her lips felt dry. Her sex, wet. “Jane,” she forced.

  He growled at the lie.

  “Sally,” she said through gritted teeth. She couldn’t give in to this. To him. To herself.

  “Try again.”

  “Fine,” she rasped. “It’s Bitch.”

  In one swift movement, she sent her head back into his jaw. The sound of bone hitting bone electrified her. Simon grunted in pain and released her slightly. But it was enough for her to whirl around and try to get in another shot. This time with her fist. But the male’s reflexes hadn’t suffered being out of the Wildlands. Lower lip cut and bleeding, stormy blue eyes raging with ire, his grip on her only tightened further. And his growl…it was fierce and sharp, like a blade.

  Crushed against his chest now, her breathing labored, she stared up at him.

  “Name,” he snarled.


  Fine. What did it matter anyway? He’d find it out eventually. Chin jacked up, she said in a clear voice, “Tryst.”

  Nostrils flaring, his eyes never left hers. He was staring, assessing—reading. “Yes. There it is.” His tongue darted out and lapped at the blood on his lip. “Now, Tryst, what game are you playing? Why was I naked and tied to my bed? Why aren’t I crossing the border right now in one of the cars Jean-Baptiste no doubt loaned you, still fast asleep from the knockout you served me? Why isn’t Parish smashing down my door this very second?”

  “Takes time,” she lied quickly. “Besides, he’s not that fast when he’s out of his cat form.”

  “Female,” he warned. “You better tell me the truth.” He lowered his head, studied her mouth, then lifted his eyes to hers. They were dark and narrowed. “You haven’t told anyone where we are, have you?”

  Goddess, he could read her well. Too well. And she was not just a closed book, but a locked one. Or believed herself to be. Maybe that was why Raph wanted him. What other talents did he have? Her belly stirred at the question.

  His chin lifted. “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you if you tell me why you continually refuse to go back to the Wildlands.” She arched one eyebrow. “What are you avoiding there? What made you leave? Or who?”

  He looked stunned by her words, but his grip on her never lessened. “You first.”

  “Hell no.”

  “Don’t trust me, female?”

  Her lips twitched. “Is that a serious question?”

  His jaw was working hard now, tightening. The movement was doing something to her. He was doing something to her. His lip was still bleeding and she wanted to swipe at it with her tongue. She wanted to taste him, feel the softness of his lips. What the fuck was wrong with her? She didn’t react this way to anyone—not in her cat form or out of it. She wasn’t capable of it. Refused it. She’d made the vow long ago—no one was going to control her…ever. Not her feelings, her needs, her hungers. She took. She demanded. Gave, too, but only because it granted her pleasure.

  “Goddess, female,” Simon uttered. “Stop whatever it is you’re doing before I…”

  Her eyes lifted to meet his. A raging sea under gray clouds. “What?”

  “You want to fuck me.”

  She swallowed. “Probably.”

  “You don’t deny it?” he said on a soft growl.

  “Why should I?”

  His face was a mask of confusion and lust as he tried to figure her out.

  “It’s true,” she continued, her body weary of the fight, yet it hummed with a strange, new need. “I’m curious. I’m aroused. I’m—”

  “Honest,” he finished for her.

  She slipped her hand around his waist and palmed his ass. Then squeezed. Perfect. Tight. Fingers sinking into the muscular flesh until she heard him groan. Her eyes clung to his. “You’ve been out of the Wildlands and living with coy humans too long, male. Always having to pretend they don’t want what they want. What their bodies crave.” Growling at herself, her needs, him, she released him. “Doesn’t mean I’ll do anything about it though.”

  “I’d call that doing something.” He ground himself against her and hissed. “It’s sure as fuck done something to me.”

  She tried to slow her pulse, tried to ignore the wetness between her legs. “Just wanted to see if a deserter like you has lost the muscle of a Pantera male.”

  “And?” he said mockingly, knowing full well that both his cock and his body were a solid wall.

  Hell, if it was possible, he was even more toned and hard then the Hunters she worked with daily. “Are you going to let me go?” she asked him. “Or do I need to bloody your nose this time?”

  “You sure you want that, Tryst?” he asked, his eyes filled with lusty humor now.

  She grabbed his waist and thrust herself back. This time, he didn’t hold her. This time, he let her go. Five feet away or so. Just far enough to see what was right in front of her. She gasped, couldn’t help it, then promptly hated herself for it. The male’s erect cock...it was...huge. Long and thick and proud, and if on display would be the desire of any true puma female.

  She licked her lips.

  “Hungry, Tryst?”

  She forced her eyes up, though they didn’t want to. “I could eat.”

  He grinned, his nostrils flaring. “Well, this is certainly an interesting situation. Can’t say I’ve ever been in one like it.” He raised a brow. “You eat meat, I assume?”

  Her lips twitched. This male… So tempting. “Always.”

  He nodded casually, though every inch of him was on alert, ready to pounce. But then, like a switch being turned off, something happened…in his eyes, his expression. All playful, sexual humor was gone.

  “I’m going to throw on some jeans,” he said, his voice heavily controlled. “I’ll be back. Make us some dinner. We should talk. Find out why I’m still here and not on my way to the Wildlands.”

  Not sure I can or want to answer that question, she mused, watching him walk away. Oh, hot fucking damn, what a view. She’d never felt desire like this. And the worst bit? For the first time since she’d crossed the border into the human world, she didn’t miss her cat.

  * * * *

  Simon watched her lift the glass to her lips. She had a gorgeous mouth. Heavy, dark pink. No straw-thin model could even come close to the lean-muscled strength and fierce sexuality of a Pantera female. But this one took that notion to an entirely different level.

  “You’re not drinking,” he observed.

  Her eyes held his. No answer.

  He laughed softly. “Spiking booze is your thing, female. Not mine.”

  She continued to stare at him across the small dining table, just off the living room, her long red hair gently blowing across her shoulders in the cross breeze of the ocean out the floor-to-ceiling glass doors behind him.

  “Trust me,” he said. “If I wanted out of here, away from you, it would’ve happened hours ago. Like after I chewed through those ropes.”

  The wine came away from her lips and her eyes narrowed. “Not possible.”

  Grinning, he reached for her glass, then gave her his. “You don’t know me, Tryst. Anything about me. What I’m capable of.”

  “I know you’re a Suit,” she countered.

  “Was,” he corrected. “A hundred years ago.” Or so it feels like.

  “I know you were the youngest Suit they’d ever let go out into the field.”

  He inhaled sharply. “I was an ambitious little fucker.” Desperate to prove myself. Desperate for anyone to see my worth.

  “Your family was okay with that?” she asked. “You taking off, working with grown Pantera, barely out of cubhood?”

  The word sizzled inside him, heating his blood. Family. But he crushed the feeling instantly. Just as he had for decades. As he always would. “They were thrilled.” To get rid of me. To not have to look at me.

  “Lucky,” she said, taking a sip of the wine. “My parents are overly involved in my life. They pretty much think I’m the weirdest Pantera ever.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I live in my puma most of the time. Don’t go to visit them very often. I like being by myself.” She held up her fork. “See. Weird.”

  “Doesn’t sound weird to me.”

  She laughed. “What does it sound like?”

  Heaven. He pointed at her plate. “How’s the steak. Bloody enough for you?”

  “It’s damn good, pretty boy.” She regarded him. “Now, answer the question—what does it sound like?”

  Stubborn. He leaned in. “That maybe you don’t play well with others.”

  She laughed again and pointed her fork at him. “You know, if you weren’t a deserter, I might like you.” She stabbed a thick, juicy piece and stuffed it into her mouth.

  “And if you weren’t an annoying, persistent, and slightly scary Hunter who refused to face the reality that she isn’t getting her man this ti
me around, I might like you.”

  “Oh, darlin’,” she drawled. “I’m getting my man. I am so getting my man.”

  It was his turn to laugh. A real, hearty, Pantera male laugh. From the gut. And possibly even from the heart. It was a rare sound, coming from him. But this female…she was rare, and she seemed to call it forth. This female, who was only here to capture and return him to the one place on earth he refused to go.

  “So, that first job you took,” she asked, ripping a piece of bread in half. “Was it your last?”

  “No.”

  When he didn’t explain further, she cocked her head to the side. “Come on. Sharing is caring, male.”

  “Eat your potatoes. I mashed those bad boys myself.”

  “Look, you don’t have to tell me why you walked away, just tell me…when?”

  He put his fork down. She was relentless. “Four years in.”

  “And you never went back?”

  “No.”

  “Not even to see your family?”

  The question grated on the iron he’d erected around his heart. “What’s with you and family?” he growled.

  “I don’t know. Seems like a normal question.”

  Of course it was. For anyone but him—and for anyone but them. She wasn’t his date. Someone to share with and confide in, as if he did that anyway. This was a second out of time, wrong, right, impossible. His appetite gone, he pushed back his chair and stood up. Without words, he offered her his hand.

  She stared at it. “What’s this all about?”

  “I like this song, okay?”

  She glanced around. “Is there music playing?”

  His lips twitched. “You don’t hear it?” Without waiting for an answer, he reached for her and pulled her from her chair and into his arms.

  She didn’t try and resist him, but she was taken by surprise at first. Her eyes clinging to his, she slowly placed her arm on his shoulder, her fingers resting lightly at the nape of his neck. The sensation of closeness, of her against him in such a normal, real manner made his gut tighten. Made other parts of him tighten as well.

  One auburn eyebrow lifted and she asked, “Is it the ocean? Is that your music?”