by Em Ashcroft
“I’d rather she hadn’t faced them at all.” He bit off his words. “Sorry. I don’t have any right to say that.”
“Yes you do.” He felt more like family than her family. They’d lost their parents ten years ago, but their other relatives kept their distance. “Please, don’t stop.”
Taking her other hand, he swung her to face him. “Then let me say that you’re worth twice of your sister. You have more intelligence, more life, and much more beauty than she does. You, ma chérie. Are worth it.”
Biting off her impulse to say “Worth what?” she smiled and thanked him, as her mama had said she should. If he thought she was worth something, then she would be rude to disagree.
“Come on. Dance, eat, and show yourself. But don’t think you’re staying there all night.”
Before she could think up a suitable reply, he led the way upstairs to the ballroom.
The Goldclaws must have lived in style back in the day. The ballroom wasn’t a large room labeled as that for show. It really was a ballroom. It had a beautifully sprung parquet floor and a carpeted outer area where tables and chairs were scattered in elegant display. At the end, a small platform formed a low stage, where the guests of honor sat. That would have meant Ladonna and her new husband, but she was still single and Chester was still at large.
Currently a long table staffed by three waiters was groaning with snacks. The ballroom had its own bar, and staff was already hard at work there.
Ignoring the attention they were garnering, Renaud tucked her hand under his arm and led her to the bar. “What would you like to drink?”
“I-I don’t know. White wine?”
Whatever he ordered didn’t come out of a bottle of house wine. It was delicious. Renaud took brandy and toasted her. “Brandy and white wine is a match made in heaven,” he informed her.
A swish of silk told Thea her sister was approaching. “Where have you been?” She spared Renaud a glance then turned her attention back to Thea. The change in her features, from flirtatious to hard and demanding, couldn’t have been more pointed. “I’ve been calling you for hours!”
Guiltily, Thea patted the little purse that hung from her elbow. The spa had kept her more practical black purse and her street clothes for her to collect later and left her with this. Her concern for Blade had persuaded her to keep the phone. “I knew you were being looked after.” For the first time in her life, she’d put her sister’s calls on voicemail.
“How? Where have you been?”
“Into Goldclaw, then I had lunch, then I went to the spa.” When she said it aloud, she realized how self-indulgent her day had been.
“You selfish—” With unusual self-control, Ladonna bit back whatever epithet she was about to use. “I thought you were sorting this out.”
Renaud took part in the conversation. “That’s what you paid us to do. We pride ourselves on our ability to cope with any situation. Your sister needed some rest. The news upset her, and then the state of her gown had to be dealt with.”
“And that’s another thing. I wanted all my bridesmaids in their gowns. Where’s yours?”
Thea shot Renaud a warning glance. He was not to rile Ladonna. “It was beyond repair. For some reason it was a couple of sizes too small, and I’m afraid it didn’t last. Renata dealt with it for me. She took it in exchange for the dress I’m wearing.” She wouldn’t mention the other clothes.
“She did?” Ladonna’s jaw dropped. “That has to be some good designer. It fits real well.” She winked. “Maybe I can borrow it sometime. Of course, I’d have to add a belt or something, but it would look good on me.”
“It might,” Thea said, “but I’m keeping this one.”
Renaud tilted his glass in a silent toast.
Emboldened, Thea continued. “And the business is ours, Ladonna. You have as much responsibility as I do.”
“But it was my wedding!”
“Exactly. And you had a narrow escape.”
Ladonna viewed her through slanted eyes, her arms folded, her head on one side. “So did you.”
If that was meant to be devastating, it missed its mark. “I did. And he did ask me to run away with him. That must have been when he got cold feet. I would have been nuts to accept him. I told him to pull himself together and turn up at the altar. Which he didn’t.”
“No.” For a moment, Ladonna sounded wistful. “But I’m still mad at you for dumping your bridesmaid gown. You might have to use it again before too long.” She swept an assessing glance around the room. “I’ve turned down half this room to stay faithful to Chester.”
“You go, girl,” Thea said and turned back to the bar, indicating to the waiter that she was ready for another glass. In fact, she was beginning to enjoy herself. Her sister’s bravado was punchy, but it was coming across as desperate.
“I’ve not danced with you yet.” Ladonna opened her hand over Renaud’s lapel.
“No, you have not. I don’t dance very much.”
“A drink, then?” Oh, now she was sounding desperate.
The waiter silently pushed a fresh glass of wine over the bar. Renaud handed it to Ladonna. “There you go.”
Thankfully she didn’t knock it back. Perhaps she sensed that Renaud wasn’t into drunks.
Thea had witnessed this scene so many times before, and she was tired of it. The minute a man showed an interest in Thea, Ladonna showed up and put on her flirt. It had gotten so bad Thea kept men away from her, but Ladonna always found them out. Normally Thea didn’t care. She called it “The Ladonna test.” If they took the bait, Thea walked away. If they could be distracted so easily, she wasn’t interested, or so she told herself.
This time she cared. This man was worth fighting for. “You can’t dance?”
Immediately he turned his full attention to her. “I didn’t say that. Are you a judge? Because then I would be far too afraid to offer to take you on the floor.”
“Oh, Thea doesn’t dance! She has two left feet.”
Renaud kept all his attention on Thea. With a slight smile, she said, “I dance. When I’m allowed to.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Nothing.”
When he held out his arms, she went into them as if she’d done it a thousand times before. He turned her, and they slid onto the dance floor. The music changed abruptly to something sultry, an old Marvin Gaye number from her mother’s favorite album. She’d agonized over that song in the seclusion of her room when she felt ignored and overlooked. The words were pure sex, the tempo slow enough for them to sway to it.
“Good words, hmm?” He moved closer and brushed his erect cock against her. Another man might have ground himself against her. There were men on the dance floor doing exactly that with women, but Renaud kept a discreet distance, except for that once. They didn’t need any more. She burned for him.
“I could stay here tonight dancing with you, but there are other things we could be doing.”
“We should stay.”
He spared a glance around. “The party is going well. The staff did a great job, and I will remind Sikander to keep an eye on everything. There is food, booze, and enough guests to make the event a success. I have no doubt your sister will be loaded into bed with or without a friend to keep her company later on this evening. I kept her sober long enough to make it here. Now she’s on her own.” He met her gaze. “Let’s get out of here. Are you hungry?”
“No. They gave me something to eat in the spa.” But she appreciated him thinking about it.
“Okay then.” As the song came to an end, he steered her toward the exit. When it finished, he guided her off the floor and, without pausing, through the door.
With his hand resting around her waist, he guided her to the private elevator. As they stepped inside, she heard her sister’s voice. “Where are you going?”
The doors slid closed, and the elevator took them upstairs.
“Do you want to go back?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good.” Bending his head, he brought their mouths together, delivering such a sweet, gentle kiss that she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed.
The elevator doors opened, and as if in a dream, she walked with him into the apartment. Once in the main living space, he turned her to face him. “I want to take you to bed. You enchant me, Thea. Know that I am not a playboy, and unlike my breed partner, I am looking for someone permanent in my life. You might not be the one, but I want you to remain open to that possibility.”
Although his words weren’t lover-like, she appreciated his honesty. “My life is in New York. The business is there, my house is there. I’ve worked for years to cultivate the kind of contacts I need. I don’t know if I could start again somewhere else.”
His eyes were intense, as if he could see right into her soul. Perhaps because of their particularly bright shade of blue, something she’d only ever seen before in a cat. Which, now that she came to think about it, was appropriate. Not that she was thinking much at all.
“I want you, too.”
This was shaping up to be the vacation of a lifetime. She might as well embrace it.
Renaud needed no more invitation. He drew her closer, his hands on her elbows, then touched his lips to her forehead. “You deserve a bed.”
They went upstairs, to the other room on that floor. He opened the door and extended his arm. “Après tu, mademoiselle.”
She stepped inside.
Blade liked a den—his room was in dark colors, snug, a place to roost after a hard day. But Renaud liked fresh and open. Apart from the midnight blue carpet underfoot, the other colors were whites, ivories, with mid-greens, the shade of grass and leaves. “Oh!”
“Oh good or oh bad?”
“Good.” She liked this as much as Blade’s room, but in a different way. Neither were what she would choose for herself, but she would enjoy either of them in the right circumstances. And this was right.
Turning, she almost collided with him, but that was okay, too, since he folded his arms around her and took her mouth in a long kiss. He enjoyed her, and she did it right back to him, taking her cue to experience what was happening between them. Slowly, sensuously. She and Blade fucked in a frenzy of impossible desire, but this was different again.
His mouth lifted from hers in a barely perceptible breath of air. “You taste good.”
“So do you.”
“I want to learn everything about us. How we fit together, and what we can do. If I don’t have you for long, I’ll make sure you never forget me. I will never forget you.”
He stepped back, holding her hands away from her sides. “You should wear ball gowns all the time. You are so beautiful. Now turn around.”
As she did so, his fingers went unerringly to the short back zipper. Once undone, the gown slithered off her, settling in a swishing pool on the floor. He growled low, an animal sound. “My tiger wants to play. Would you like to see him?”
Would she? “Is he safe?”
His laugh, low and amused, was all human. “No tiger is ever completely safe. But he won’t hurt you.”
She swallowed. Dare she?
Fuck, she dared. “Yes.”
“Go sit on the bed.”
Dressed only in a pink silk thong, which was already soaked with her arousal, and a pair of lacy thigh-highs, she stepped out of her shoes and did as he told her.
He kept his gaze on her as he stripped. Not hastily, but not like a stripper, either. He tossed his fancy tux and the vest away then undid the bow at his neck. He let it fall to either side of his collar before unfastening the buttons of the crisp, white shirt one by one, revealing a slice of his chest with every second that passed.
Thea licked her suddenly dry lips. He paused, watching her tongue emerge, sweep over her flesh, and then retreat.
“I love your breasts, but I will torture myself with looking at them before I touch and taste them. So pink and pretty, so beautifully lush.”
Pausing, he slipped the gold links through the cuffs before dropping them to join the rest of his discarded clothes. He let the shirt and tie slide away.
Oh wow. His chest bore clusters of dark curls, coyly teasing at his nipples, and fuck, he was ripped. She enjoyed watching as he unbuttoned his fly, unzipped, and toed off his shoes before stripping his pants, underwear, and socks off in two swift, efficient movements.
He straightened. She swallowed.
His cock was huge, standing stiffly to attention. He made no attempt to conceal or minimize it but propped his hands on his hips and let her look. Were all shape-shifters built like this?
Je ne sais quoi. I do not know all shape-shifters. But thank you. That slight French accent she found so sexy was still there when he spoke to her telepathically.
He was already in her mind. And she didn’t object, didn’t feel it as an intrusion. It felt natural, as matters should be. Already she reached for him as he wrapped her mind in warmth. Desire pulsed strongly, more like a fact of life, a state of being, than an urgent need that had to be instantly fulfilled.
Need for him surged through her, swept her away. Pressing her legs together brought her little relief.
“No, don’t do that. Open your legs. Let my cat get your scent.”
A ripple flowed over him, as if a river had risen from the carpet and come to life, but instead of covering him in blue, he burned. Golds and oranges covered his skin, alternating with dark brown, nearly black ripples as he dropped to the carpet on all fours, paws padding toward her.
Thea wasn’t afraid. She was fascinated. He brushed past her, the way a cat would walk around a human’s legs then turned and came back, twining around her before lifting his head.
His eyes were still blue. She’d never seen a tiger with blue eyes. Instinctively she reached out a hand, but snatched it back.
Touch me. Please.
Tentatively she extended her arm again and lowered her palm, little by little, onto the top of his broad head. Warmth met her, and a low sound emerged from his throat. Almost purring.
She explored. Under the coarse top layer of fur, she found a softer, downier layer. She dug in, letting her nails discover his skin. He blinked, slowly, and if a tiger could smile, that was what he did. This is who I am.
You’re so beautiful.
Nudging closer, he pushed his face under her breasts, his cold, damp nose making her squeal in shock. Tigers couldn’t laugh, either, but she felt his laughter in her mind. Sweeping to one side, he let his whole body touch her as he slinked past, from shoulders to flank to the tip of his tail. Behind his head, his ears had flashes of white. She could examine him all day. Who had the chance to be this close to something as huge, as wondrous, as this creature? Breedmates are truly blessed.
They are, but so are the breed partners who claim them.
He flowed back to man, standing upright once more. “I expected sparks or flashes of lightning.”
Grinning, he walked toward her. “If that happened, Goldclaw would be a storm zone. It is what we are, that is all.” His cock bobbed in front of her face. Before she could touch it and bring it to her mouth, he bent and pushed her shoulders. She lay back on the bed.
His burning gaze swept over her. Casually, as if he did it all the time, he extended a claw from the forefinger of one hand and slashed either side of her thong. She didn’t feel a thing, even though the digit was razor-sharp. Gently, he drew it over her skin then retracted it, leaving a normal male finger. He continued to stroke her, as if petting a shy kitty.
Bending, he licked her nipple and, while she was still gasping from the contact, pulled it into his mouth. His tongue curled around the tip as he curved his hand over the other, claiming it, massaging it slowly. His body rubbed hers, skin-to-skin, prickly sensations swirling up her body and making her squirm under his touch. Already she was unbearably sensitized, and they had only just started to explore each other.
He spread his hand over her hip, caressing down to her thigh, then eased hi
s big body to one side so he could claim her pussy. After tugging the tiny tuft of hair she left at the top, he eased his fingers down and between, sliding into her wet heat. He released her nipple, resting his chin on the valley between her breasts.
“My tiger loves your scent. So do I. I’m going to eat you out. But not until I’ve fucked you.”
Shivers racked her as he lifted off her and opened a drawer in the nightstand, coming out with a foil packet.
Her eyes widened. “I thought you couldn’t pass anything on or get me pregnant? That’s what Blade told me.” Was he telling the truth?
“That’s true, bébé, but if I fuck you bareback so soon after him, there’s a chance we could bond. Or you could get pregnant. Remember that it takes sperm from two shape-shifters to impregnate a woman?”
Oh, right. Swallowing, she nodded. “I forgot that part.”
Swiftly, he sheathed himself then turned his attention back to her. His eyes burned with need. “But I want to take you like that. Badly. I will not, but you should know that.”
Yes, and she wanted it, too. It would be stupid to do that, but her instincts craved the sensation of him between her thighs, pumping his cum into her.
A girl couldn’t have everything. Not all at once, anyhow.
Instead of coming back to her, he climbed onto the bed and sat up, holding his arms out to her. Needing no more encouragement, she went to him, spreading her knees on either side of his powerful legs, the hair rousing the sensitive skin on her inner thighs. He curved his hands around her waist and, as if she weighed nothing at all, lifted her over him. Her cunt hovered over his damp, reddened cock. She ached for him, her body screaming for her to take him.
“Do it,” she whispered. “Please, do it.”
He brought her down but controlled his entry so that she felt every inch. And there were a lot of inches. Her soft, silky flesh unfurled to accept him, to claim him for her own.
Despite his size, he entered her slowly, carefully. Her pussy opened around his cock softly, with an inevitability that seemed fated, as if they were always meant to be here and do this. As if nothing was more important.
Worlds could collide around them and they would still be linked like this, locked together.