by Leo, Rosanna
A mighty roar shook him from his bizarre reverie. Anton looked up, only to see his father tearing Baranyi’s throat apart. Shame and horror filled his being, and he vomited on the floor of the cage.
His parent completed the murderous activity as efficiently as an accountant filling out tax forms. He raised his head, wiped his stained mouth, and aimed his cruel gaze at his son. “This is your fault, Anton. See what you made me do? Ponder your sins, my son.”
With that, he exited the cage once more, locking him inside with Tana Baranyi’s carcass.
Chapter 7
Due to the attacks on the island, all regular events had been canceled. No more bonfire nights, no fish fries. Anton knew it almost killed Marci to make the decision, but she told him she couldn’t in all good conscience hold fun, frivolous events while women were being assaulted. The priority was to find the culprit. Any festivities would have to wait.
The police had been recalled and now operated under a heightened protocol. Working with resort security, they had set up undercover officers all over the property, posing as outdoorsmen and guests. Even Anton wasn’t sure who was whom anymore.
Several guests had left early and Marci was clearly doing all she could to keep others from canceling. Luckily, news hadn’t spread too far, but everyone knew incidents such as these could easily destroy the Ursa Lodge’s good reputation.
Some staff members had called in sick for a couple of days in a row, and Anton fretted as he watched Marci working overtime trying to find replacements. Many employees worked double shifts. Waitresses did the work of maids. Electricians took on landscaping jobs. Everyone did their part to ensure the lodge stayed open.
It had been two days since Charlotte’s attack and Anton had barely seen Marci. His tiger cried out for her, plaguing him, and all he wanted to do was draw her near and make sure she wasn’t stressing herself into an early grave.
He wanted to kiss and taste her again. Quite desperately. Her kiss had done things to him, had opened him up to a vibrant world, and he wanted to drown in its colors and scents. The sweet honey of her pussy called to him, making him want to lose himself in her, to sink deep inside her and soak her up. He needed to bury his face in her hair while he drove his throbbing cock into her fragrant core, and drank up all the beauty that was her body and spirit.
The wonder on her gorgeous face when he’d kissed her continued to haunt him, and he found himself unable to sleep each night. What was he thinking? He couldn’t think, couldn’t sleep, and when he did, his memories taunted him with savage images from his family life and that damned cage.
During another of these torturous nighttime sessions, he got out of bed around three a.m., tired of trying to sleep. He threw on a T-shirt and a pair of old jeans. After slipping into his worn, leather boots, he decided to go for a walk around the lodge and clear his head.
As he headed into the reception area, Anton was struck by how quiet the lodge was at night. Of course, most people were sleeping, but it still seemed incredibly tranquil, with a sense of peace he hadn’t seen since before April’s attack. The quiet suited him too. He’d seen enough unrest and fighting in Budapest to not want to relive the experience. He was quite happy to enjoy the stillness now.
Swallowing remembered pain, he considered the haven Ryland Snow had created here on Gemini Island. Before the attacks had begun, it had felt like a good place for people like him, comfortable and accepting. Given the tumultuous nature of many shifters’ lives, he couldn’t blame them for wanting a peaceful escape. It wasn’t always easy erupting into a ball of menacing fur and controlling the emotions that came with such a transformation. God only knew, he’d rebelled in his time as a teenager.
Was it really possible a hormonal teen orchestrated the attacks on the girls? He sincerely hoped not, but knew it was plausible. He might not buy it, but it was certainly in the realm of possibility.
He passed the reception desk and nodded to the clerk manning it. “Quiet night.”
The clerk, a male wolf shifter, grinned. “Thank God for that.”
Only then did Anton notice Marci’s office light shone from the crack at her doorway. “Is she still working?”
The clerk’s eyes widened. “Has been nonstop. I don’t even think she’s eaten much today. I brought her a sandwich and a coffee at eight p.m. and haven’t seen her since. We had two more maids call in sick. They’re afraid to come to work. This business has Marci running around like a lynx with its head cut off.” The man grimaced at his morbid metaphor.
Anton bit the inside of his mouth, and his protective tendencies overcame him in a punishing wave. She would work herself to death. He would put a stop to it. “I would like to check on her.”
“Be my guest.” The man returned to staring at the empty lobby with a suspicious eye.
Her door was closed, so Anton gave it a gentle rap. No one responded. Curious, he turned the knob and found it unlocked. He opened the door slowly and looked around the edge.
Marci’s head was on her desk and her arms were splayed out in front of her. One hand still clutched a pen. Next to her were two empty bags of chocolate candy with labels saying “Maltesers.” Also decorating the blotter were several empty coffee cups. Her head rested on several sheets of paper, and there was pen ink on her cheek from where she’d rubbed her face.
Her body had obviously submitted to the rest it needed, and he’d never seen anyone in such a deep sleep.
He frowned and his tiger issued a warning growl. Neither of them liked the fact Marci was working herself to the bone over this travesty. She needed to sleep. She needed to eat. But right now, she really needed to sleep, and not at a wooden desk.
“Marci,” he said, touching her rolled-up sleeve. “Kitten, wake up.”
She mumbled something unclear. And then she made bubbles. Anton smiled as an unfamiliar feeling cut through his core. He grabbed a tissue from her desk and gave her lips a gentle swipe.
His tiger inspired his cock to launch an assault in his pants. Both animal and dick seemed to like her lips a lot. Of course, he’d tasted them and couldn’t forget their allure. Staring at her, reeling from the force of an attraction that hit him like a gale-force wind, he brought the wet tissue to his nose and inhaled. He had to squeeze his eyes shut against the power of her scent on him. He tossed the tissue away, launching it into the nearby trash can, and exhaled deeply a few times to rid himself of her delicious perfume.
It was no good. Every time he was in her presence, it clung to him like paprika on a piece of moist meat.
Shaking his head, steeling himself, he walked around to her side of the desk and pulled out her chair. As he did, he slid his arms under her limp body and picked her up. Her head rolled back against his shoulder, and he gripped the underside of her womanly thighs. Even though she had sensible dress pants on, he could feel her heat and struggled against the lure of her skin.
He realized in that moment he’d do a lot to be able to see more of her skin.
Ignoring the now-frantic pacing of his tiger, he deposited Marci on the leather couch in the office. She stretched out her long legs, very much as a cat would, and threw her arms up over her head. As she did, her blouse came untucked and rode up her belly.
Its magnetic force almost made Anton fall over. The skin there was soft and pale, as if it had never seen the light of day. He stared at the exposed skin and took a few steps back so he wouldn’t touch her.
Father in Heaven, forgive me. I want to touch her. He ran a hand over his mouth, suddenly parched and dry.
He perched himself on the couch opposite, and kept his gaze glued to her. He had no choice. Each small squirming motion had him under her spell. And even though she still slept, her movements proved as seductive as those of the serpent offering the apple to Eve.
Suddenly she jolted, and he expected her to wake up. However, she uttered the keening noise of a lynx in heat, a high-pitched, agonized wail. And then, to his simultaneous horror and delight, Marci rolled over an
d presented her ass to him. She got up on her knees, poked her round bottom in the air and waved it in his direction, just as a wild lynx might do.
“Baszd meg!” he uttered, ready to fall to his knees. “Oh, fuck.”
He wanted nothing more than to rip her pants off, her panties with them, and bury his face in that wiggling ass. Was this woman sent to earth to torment him? Had he done something unforgivable in a previous life he had to suffer for now? Or was God just playing with him, taunting him with what he could not have?
This was the punishment for his crimes in this life. God had shown him mercy for a time, but had finally decided to fuck with him.
He could not have her. Even if she weren’t his boss. After what had happened with Mariska back in Budapest, he simply did not trust himself to be with another woman. God only knew his experiences had led to his heart being torn right from his body. He’d promised himself he’d stay away from the tempting creatures and not commit any more sins.
But this creature was more tempting than others.
Marci moaned in her lynx voice again, demanding his attention, and he turned away. As if to taunt him, she cried out again, this time more loudly. As if her lynx wasn’t having any of his stubbornness.
And somehow, his tiger responded to the smaller cat. It huddled in a corner of his soul, tasting her again through her scent, and getting ready to spring. It would be so easy to mount her this way, with her ass at his disposal. Oh, to be able to fuck her like the animal he was!
But he did not. Instead, wiping at the sweat on his brow every few minutes, Anton stayed in his spot on the couch and waited. Enduring her hungry moans, he managed until early morning. Only then, as dawn broke across the sky, did he finally stand on his shaky feet and walk over to a still groggy Marci. He planted a soft, lingering kiss on her head, and disappeared from the office.
* * * *
The next morning, Marci woke up on the office couch, feeling the same way she imagined an epileptic would after a seizure: confused about her location. She couldn’t recall falling asleep on the couch, but somehow she’d arrived there. No doubt, with the stress of the past few days, she’d done a bit of sleepwalking.
While showering and changing, she contemplated the horrors of the past few days. Seeing April hurt. Seeing her best friend just as hurt. Hearing about Anton’s horrible family history.
Anton.
All at once, her lynx shone a light on her consciousness, forcing her to see what had happened in her office the previous evening. As if watching someone’s tawdry, homemade porn, she was compelled to relive each sex-crazed moment in her mind.
When she got to the part where she presented her ass to him, her heart fell into her shoes. “Oh, my God.” And he’d stayed, clearly to make sure she didn’t go on a nocturnal sex spree all over the resort.
She’d thrust herself at him … like a feral beast. What a disaster. And yet, her lynx paced inside her, its tufted ears back in remonstrance.
What did you expect, denying me a little pleasure? I want my tiger!
By the time she got to work, Marci couldn’t concentrate. Not only was the resort falling apart while in her charge, women were being attacked. To make things worse, Anton had seen her at her basest … twice. And he’d watched over her all night. God only knew what else she’d done. Had she talked in her sleep or passed gas? She wasn’t sure the situation could get any more horrifying. Mortified, a prisoner to the dull stress-induced throbbing behind her eyes, she made herself a coffee, stared at it, and drank nothing.
Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn’t taken a sip. Deciding she needed to know exactly what else had transpired in her office late at night, she abandoned her post and went off in search of Anton.
She found him outside on a quiet stretch of beach by the lake, practicing his fencing technique. He didn’t seem to need practice, and yet he lunged over and over at an invisible foe with steely determination. Most likely to relieve the stress of being treated like a hooker by his boss. His biceps flexing, he thrust the foil forward, grunting as he delivered a make-believe attack. In awe, Marci watched from behind an old maple.
He was dressed only in shorts so tight they might have been boxers. His massive chest glistened with sweat under the unseasonably warm autumn sun. Perspiration made his short hair shine. Each time he lunged at his imaginary foe, his tremendous muscles contracted and released.
Marci’s pussy contracted and released in response, echoing his movements, soaking her panties.
His face, so etched in hard resolve, made her heart skip a beat. Anton Gaspar was amazing to behold even at his contemplative best, but here, like this, he was a rugged thing of beauty. Powerless to look away, she surrendered to his hypnotic influence.
She watched him deliver a few more devastating attacks, ones that didn’t look anything like the polite fencing exhibitions she’d seen on TV, and felt glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of his fury. He grunted his rage with each one, his large arms sailing through the air. After uncomfortable moments, she cleared her throat.
He whipped about to face her. His nostrils flared. “Marci.”
She dragged her gaze from his heaving chest to his face. “Hi. Can we talk?”
He stared at her for a long time and then ran the back of his hand across his moist brow. His movements slow and tentative, he put down his foil and walked toward her. He motioned toward a felled tree trunk. “Please, sit.”
Feeling more like a timid bird than a feline predator, she inched her way toward the log and sat on the edge. He sat next to her, but not too close, likely afraid she’d maul him. She consoled herself with the memory of him kissing her. Maybe he wasn’t really disgusted. Of course, that was before the ass-waving incident. Wanting to hang her head in shame, Marci looked away. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say.
“You wanted to talk?” he prompted in a voice that sounded as strained as hers. Hoarseness had replaced his normally velvet-deep tones, as if he’d been doing a lot of shouting.
“I…” she began, turning to him. “I think you were right when you said I need help.” She dared to look at him and was presented with his challenging stare. “I feel so … so…”
His jaw ticked. “Pardon me for saying so, but you are under a lot of pressure. And you are hungry … for a man.”
She held his gaze for just a few seconds, and even those short seconds seemed an eternity. Her heavy head finally dropped into her hands. “Oh God, yes. I’m falling apart.”
Anton was in front of her immediately, so fast she never registered his movement. He knelt in front of her and pried her hands off her face. “You are not falling apart, Marci, but you will if you continue to deny your animal what it needs most.”
She blinked and felt tears soak into her eyelashes. “I’m so ashamed of my behavior toward you. Especially at a time like this. I would never have done it if I’d been awake.”
His warm smile made her feel a little better, but only a little. His lips spread open, curling toward his ears, and his eyes crinkled. “Don’t be ashamed. I was very flattered to have a beautiful lynx shake her ass at me.”
“But I’m supposed to be in charge here. Setting an example.” Hang on. Did he say beautiful?
He rubbed one of her hands, moving his fingers in slow circles that were likely meant to be comforting but only felt like a seductive dance in her state. “Give yourself a break. You can’t be everything to everyone. Who is taking care of you?”
“No one.” Why did her voice sound so small? She pulled her hand out of his and wiped her eyes. “But I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”
Anton regarded her with a brow raised, as if he didn’t quite believe her. “Bullshit. We all need someone.”
“And you?”
“That’s different. I’m accustomed to being alone. I’m comfortable alone. It’s the way of the tiger.” He grinned. “Besides, I’m a big, strong man.”
It was her turn to arch a brow. “Right. A
s you say, bullshit.” She smirked. “I suppose your great comfort with being alone is what led you to slice up the air like a fencing demon a second ago?”
He glared at her and pulled away, getting up and pacing in front of her, his muscles flexing like the great cat he was. Marci watched as the side of his ass dimpled under his clingy shorts as he walked, and had to remind herself not to drool over the sight of his massive, bare thighs. A vision hurtled through her consciousness, one of her on her knees before him, nestled between those great thighs. Tugging at his shorts, revealing the treasure within. Her imaginary self reached up and encircled his substantial cock as her mouth watered. She opened her mouth and…
“You look thirsty,” he said, clearly trying to reroute the conversation. He handed her a bottle of water. “Here. Drink.”
Her heart doing a queer vibration in her chest, she reached for the bottle and downed half of it. Anton’s appraising eye was on her the whole time.
“Look,” he continued in his imperious voice. “You didn’t come here to discuss my lack of companionship. You are here because of the demands of your lynx.”
She inhaled deeply and then it all poured out of her. “I’ve been trying to keep it together, trying to run a business for my boss. I want to show him he didn’t make a mistake by putting me in charge. But it’s all gone horribly wrong. My friends and colleagues aren’t safe here, and on top of it all, I appear to be a sex maniac!”
Anton’s quiet laughter landed on her ear and somehow wormed its way into her sex, making everything in her pulse and throb even harder. Her lynx purred. The animal stood on its hind legs, hip jutting out like a horny woman, and extended a sexy claw out toward Anton.
Meow.
“Oh, Anton. I need to go away,” she whispered, more horrified with each passing second. “Far, far away from you. You’re not safe around me.”
“Marci, forgive me for asking, but why don’t you just have sex with … someone?”
Why indeed? Killian had offered. In fact, he’d offered again just a day ago, and she’d turned him down again. It was all because she and her lynx only wanted one man, the one who was so obviously wrong for her. And she was afraid to ask him. “Because … I’m a chicken.”