Predator's Refuge (Gemini Island Shifters, Book 3)

by Leo, Rosanna

  Marci stood still, eyeing her best friend, and blinked feverishly. For a moment, she wove on her feet, and he wanted to reach out for her. However, she surprised him by inhaling deeply, shaking her head, and crouching by Charlotte. He joined her.

  The sound of crashing through the trees made them all look up. Bart raced into the clearing, a walkie-talkie in his clawed hand, his eyes wild. He took in the scene, paled, and threw himself down on Charlotte’s other side. “Charles. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.”

  Marci ran a hand over the woman’s hair and bit her trembling lower lip. “Charlotte, what happened?”

  She touched a weak hand to Marci’s arm. “He attacked me from behind.”

  “Who did?”

  “I don’t know.” She began to cough.

  Bart quickly retrieved a bottle of water from his pack and dribbled some into her mouth. “Shh, don’t talk.”

  She swallowed in acknowledgment. “It’s okay.” She turned her head to look at Marci. “I felt like going for a morning hike. I know I should have stayed near the lodge…”

  “Yes, you should have,” Bart all but shouted.

  Marci shot him a calming look and interjected, red in the face from her own horror. “Why would you head out alone? Have you forgotten what happened to April?”

  “She’s a bunny rabbit,” Charlotte scoffed. “I’m a fucking wolf! I figured I’d be okay.” She grimaced. “Ow. This wound feels like shit from the devil’s ass.” She sat up a little, and Bart moved immediately behind her to support her shoulders. “Anyway, I heard the snarl of a great cat. Before I could turn around or shift, this massive weight was on me, and I felt his jaws circling the back of my neck. I reached back and clawed at him, but he was really strong.”

  Killian eyed Anton with suspicion. “A great cat, huh?”

  He refused to dignify his comment. Other cats dwelled on the island. Hell, Killian was one himself, to say nothing of all the lynx and mountain lion shifters. Why, even Connor in security was a mountain lion. And by his pissed-off stance, Connor wasn’t pleased with Killian’s comment either.

  Marci grabbed the water bottle from Bart and offered another drink to Charlotte. “You don’t have to talk anymore right now. We’re going to find who did this to you, sweetie, and I’m going to personally rip his balls off.” She inspected the wound, her chest rising and falling with a sigh. “I think you’re already starting to heal, but we should get you back to the clinic and wash you up.”

  Bart had her in his arms in a flash. “I’ll take her.”

  Anton spied water in Marci’s eyes, but she somehow kept it at bay. “Be careful with her, Bart.” She watched as he took her to a waiting Jeep. Anton followed her as she regrouped with Connor, Lloyd, and Killian. “What the hell is happening here?”

  Connor was the first to respond. “I still agree with the police. I think we have a teen shifter who gets sexed-up and overexcited. We have a lot of kids here who still don’t have control over their instincts.” He nodded at Anton. “What about that kid Shawn? You’ve been talking to him. He looks frustrated enough to do something like this, and he’s a mountain lion.”

  Anton stayed silent on the topic of Shawn. He didn’t know what to think.

  Killian stared at him. “Looks more like a tiger attack to me.”

  Anton sniffed. “If you’re insinuating that I did this, you can put your head back up your ass.”

  “I’m not insinuating anything.”

  “Guys,” Marci interrupted. “This isn’t helping.” She turned to Connor. “You really think this is some sort of hormonal explosion?”

  Before Connor could reply, Anton stepped forward. “That’s crap. Whoever did this to Charlotte and April knows exactly what he is doing.”

  “And what makes you think so, Sherlock?” Killian demanded.

  Anton opened his arms to indicate the scene of the crime. “Look around. None of the bushes are disturbed. There’s no tattered clothing on the ground. Nothing to indicate a shifter exploded in anger or lust. This was a planned attack. Someone stalked her and waited for the right opportunity to pounce. My guess is if he hadn’t been interrupted, the attack would have been much worse. He lunged from behind so she couldn’t see him. A coward did this.”

  “But—” began Connor.

  Marci stepped toward him. “I think Anton’s right. Charlotte was followed out here. It’s just a shame she didn’t see what sort of cat did this to her. We need to call the police again.”

  Anton offered her a grateful grin. It felt good to have her take his side. Too good.

  As Connor stepped aside to call the police, Anton turned to her. “Did you see the way her clothing was ripped?”

  “Yes. Her yoga pants were torn.”

  He nodded. “Exactly. I think, if things had progressed, this might have become a rape.”

  Her fretful gaze flew away from him in dread. Even Killian ceased his grumbling, illustrating his concern.

  “This is horrible,” she whispered. “I need to fix this.”

  Anton laid a hand on her arm, wanting to comfort her. Hell, he wanted to drag her into his clutches and never let go. Suddenly he felt the need to spirit her away from the island altogether. Seeing Marci’s friend injured was altogether too disconcerting. It hit too close to home.

  Clearly not ready to give up the fight, Killian spoke up. “Doesn’t anyone else care that this has all the hallmarks of a tiger attack?”

  Anton turned to him, clenching his fists. “Care to elaborate?”

  Killian shrugged. “Tigers are known for attacking from behind. They often drag a carcass into the brush.” His golden brow arched. “I think the police should question all the tigers on the island. Oh, wait. There’s only one.”

  Anton held back from hitting him. He knew in his soul that he would one day let his fist crack against Killian’s skull and that it would feel awesome. “Actually,” he replied calmly, “we now have two. My brother Gabi just arrived. And you can question us all you want. Although a different breed of cat could still have done this. Tigers aren’t the only ones who attack using this method. Personally, I think we should question all the cats on the island. You included.”

  Killian’s low laugh was laced with dismal promise.

  “Stop it,” Marci warned. “Both of you. Empty threats and accusations won’t get us anywhere.” She shook her head and looked over at the Jeep. “I have to call Charlotte’s parents. I can’t believe I have to tell another set of parents their daughter was hurt here.”

  Both he and Killian offered to speak to Charlotte’s family on her behalf.

  “No,” Marci said, standing up straight. “It’s my responsibility.” With one look back at Anton, she marched to the Jeep and got in.

  He jogged over as the ignition was started. “Marci, wait.”

  She looked over, her eyes so sad, but inner strength shining through.

  Anton fought the urge to kiss her soft lips and take her away from everything, despite all the self-restraint he was taught at Pannonhalma. Shit, those bloody monks were definitely delusional and clearly needed a good, long fuck. “Cicuskám, I’m sorry.”

  She said nothing as the Jeep rolled away, just reached an arm behind Charlotte and pulled her wounded friend toward her.

  * * * *

  Late that night in the resort’s clinic, Marci adjusted Charlotte’s pillow for the umpteenth time, and then reminded herself she was already fast asleep and needed no bed linen adjustments. She smoothed a hand over Charlotte’s brow and then let her hands fall to her lap. Feeling the need to fidget, Marci picked at her already raw cuticles.

  She knew she should let her friend rest and find her own bed, but was too keyed up. Besides, she’d promised Bart she’d sit with her. He’d wanted to do so himself but had decided he could best serve her by “rooting out the slimy shit” who’d attacked her. After she’d made him swear he wouldn’t carry out some crazed vendetta around the resort, Bart had taken off with Connor to look for clues near the crime
scene.

  Someone had viciously attacked her best friend and pangs of guilt and anger rolled through her gut, making her want to lash out.

  Who could do this? Why?

  The clinic door creaked open and she looked up from her lap. Anton poked his head around the corner. Her chest swelled, and an instant warmth radiated throughout her body. The feeling grew stronger each time she saw him, and yet still managed to wind her and surprise her. He smiled. As her gaze followed the upturn of his lips, the emotion riding her threw her for a loop.

  She was so glad to see him. His very presence elicited warring symptoms inside her. She relaxed around him now, could feel the soft fall of her tense shoulder blades, and yet her heart raced with anxiety and need.

  Anton walked in and took up a spot next to her. Turning toward Charlotte, he eyed her neck and breathed in and out. “She’s looking much better already.” He turned back to her and frowned. “But you’re looking worse.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know what I mean. You need sleep. Let me walk you home.”

  “No. I’ll stay.”

  “You’re no help to Charlotte as a zombie. Give yourself a break, Marci.” He pulled up a chair next to her and sat. Playfully, he bumped his knee against hers, making wonderful chills roll up her leg and up her spine.

  She dragged her bottom lip into her mouth and gnawed with fervor. Staring at Charlotte, she whispered, “I’ve known her since we were toddlers. We went to school together, talked about boys, griped about teachers together. She’s never been anything other than completely honest with me, and I know I can tell her anything and she won’t judge me.” An old recollection popped into her head and she laughed. “At one point during high school, some of the other shifter girls bullied me because my lynx hadn’t appeared yet. One day when they were giving me a hassle, Charlotte burst onto the scene as her wolf. Big and snarling, with every hair standing on end. After one look at my bestie’s big, bad doggy, they never bothered me again.”

  “She’s a good friend to you.”

  She turned to him and blinked a tear away. “And now it’s my turn to be a good friend to her. I want to stay until she wakes up. I don’t want her waking up alone.”

  “She’s not in a coma, cicuskám. She’s just resting.”

  “Still.”

  He moved his chair closer to hers. “Then I’ll stay with you.”

  “You don’t have—”

  He arched a brow at her, cutting her off. She smiled, knowing better than to argue with his princely eyebrow.

  “What about you?” she asked. “Who’s your best friend?”

  Anton gave her a very queer look in response. He opened his mouth, contemplating the question, but said nothing for a moment. “I’m not avoiding your question,” he finally said. “I just haven’t had the same kinds of friends that you have.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, I’ve had advisors, teachers and court-sanctioned playmates, but I wouldn’t really call them friends. My father tended to keep my brothers and me somewhat isolated, except for the times he sent us to boarding school. I never really hit it off with anyone at school. If there’s anyone to whom I would confide, it was usually Gabi.” He grinned. “He’s the one who knows where all the bodies are buried.”

  Once again, his gallows humor startled and saddened her. “Okay. Then what did you do for fun?”

  “I usually disappeared into my music. I’d spend hours in my quarters listening to everything from Liszt to Metallica.”

  It was her turn to smile. “What an eclectic selection.”

  He regarded her from the side, narrowing his eyes. “Are you making fun of my musical tastes, lynx?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am, tiger.”

  He breathed in, turned his chair so he could face her, and gave her a long stare that had her thighs quivering in anticipation. Staring at her lips, Anton murmured, “What kind of music do you like then?”

  She grew hot in the face and knew she must be blushing. “Actually, I don’t care for much modern music. I like the old crooners. Bing Crosby. Nat King Cole. Oh, and I could listen to Rosemary Clooney for days on end.”

  “You surprise me in many ways, you know that? You are a very different from other girls your age.”

  The heat from her face tingled down her neck and chest under his frank appraisal. “I’m not a girl, Anton.”

  His gaze fell from her mouth down to her shoulders and caressed the round curve of her breasts. As he slowly made his way back up to her face, she saw his fists clench, so hard he must have left fingernail impressions on his palms. “Yes, I had noticed.”

  The clinic door swung open and Bart marched in, his face pale and focused on Charlotte’s unmoving figure. “Has she woken up again? Has she asked for … anyone?”

  Marci swallowed and tried to ignore the heat and the uncomfortable moisture between her legs. “Um, no. She’s sound asleep.”

  Bart let out a breath and stood at the other side of the bed. He picked up one of Charlotte’s limp hands and played with her baby finger. After a moment, he put it down. “I got her parents settled in one of the cabins but they’re headed over. Why don’t you go get some rest, Marce? I’ll stay with her.”

  Anton stood and pulled her to a standing position. Grateful for his strength, she let him, conscious of the tight knots in all her muscles. Somehow, without her knowledge, she’d become exhausted. “You’ll tell her I was here?”

  Bart offered her a kind smile. “She knows you were here.” He turned to Anton. “Do me a favor. Take this woman to her cabin and make sure you tuck her into bed for me, okay?”

  Marci and Anton stared at each other, and she didn’t know which one of them had a redder face. “You heard the man, Marci,” he said softly.

  As dawn touched the sky with its salmon and rose-colored fingers, they exited the clinic. Neither of them said a word on the short walk back to her cabin. At the door, he asked for her keys and she handed them over without a question. Anton unlocked her door, walked in, and looked around the entire cabin, making sure no one was in there.

  Marci waited on bated breath, sure this was the moment they finally gave in to their warped desires and had sex. And she’d never been more scared and more excited about anything in her life. Her lynx hopped inside her like a jackrabbit.

  After checking to make sure all her windows were locked, Anton turned to her. Her lips parted and her lynx uttered a silent cry for him. He cupped her cheek, let out the mother of all sighs, and walked to the door.

  Baffled, she followed his steps. What happened to the sex? Didn’t he want it?

  He turned to her as he opened it. “Good night, Marci. Sleep well.”

  No. Unable to speak, her disappointment seared and stung her. She didn’t want him to leave, but did she really want him to stay? He didn’t seem to want to stay. As she fought the urge to run to the door and slam it in front of him, locking him in, she struggled for words to say, but couldn’t think of anything coherent.

  He didn’t say another word and exited the room. She stumbled toward the door and locked it behind him. She dared to look out the small window facing the walkway.

  Each of his steps away from her seemed to make her head pound harder and harder. Her throat became thick with the need to cry, and she struggled with the desire to beg him to turn back.

  She didn’t.

  And as she watched Anton walk away, her heart so heavy, she felt as cold and tired as an old woman breathing her last. He turned once to look back at her window. She caught her breath, hoping.

  But he merely turned away again and disappeared into the woods.

  * * * *

  Father entered the cage and locked it behind him. From his corner inside his disciplinary prison, Anton watched and gauged his parent’s mood. He knew his father wasn’t happy. During their last “training session,” he’d demanded Anton fight back against Istvan, and once again, he’d refused.

  “You sadden me, boy
,” the Grand Prince uttered as he turned to him. “I have given you so many opportunities, and you consistently throw them back in my face. I might as well kill you and appoint Istvan heir. You are a disgrace to our family name.”

  Anton, now sixteen and fueled by teenage rage, had grown tired of his training. “My family is a disgrace.”

  The Grand Prince’s nostrils flared with indignation. He flew to him and punched him in the face, displaying no regret over battering his son. He’d done it so many times he didn’t even flinch at his own actions. “You deviant pussy. Shame on you.”

  Anton fell to the ground, cradling his jaw. As he knelt, his tiger urging him to get up and fight, he examined his choices. He’d had a couple of sizable growth spurts lately, and now stood as tall as Father. His tiger had become just as bulky as his father’s pest-ridden beast. Could he best him? He wasn’t sure, but it would feel good trying.

  Before he could arrive at a decision, Father strode to the cage door, unlocked it, and exited. Anton breathed a sigh of relief. However, within seconds, his father returned, clutching a smaller man by the scruff of the neck. Anton recognized the man. Tana Baranyi, a wolf shifter from their town.

  “This man,” Father announced, “has not paid his tribute to me. I offer him my protection, and he gives me nothing in return.” He stared at Anton. “Kill him.”

  Baranyi gawked first at Anton, and then at his father. “I’ve learned the error of my ways, Grand Prince. I swear. I’ll pay you double.”

  “Too late. Anton, dispose of this rubbish.” He tossed him to the floor.

  He stared at the quaking man, willing him to understand how sorry he was. “No, Father,” he whispered. “I won’t.”

  “If you don’t, I’ll do it myself anyway.”

  “Please, Father…”

  Before he could finish his plea, the Grand Prince shifted and his red designer shirt shredded and tattered. Anton looked at the crimson ribbons on the floor, transfixed by how much the pieces of fabric resembled the bloodstains that would soon follow.