Panther (Prime Prowlers Book 1)

by Kelsey Vance

  "Then it must have been that cowboy creep," Nali says. "He might have tracked you, too, or followed our team when they went after you."

  "And now he has the Madstone," I say.

  "Great guess, Sherlock." Nali's sarcasm bites, even from hundreds of miles away. "So what do you plan to do about it?"

  "We can't let him keep it," I say. "Who knows what a guy like that will do."

  "But you don't know where he is, or how to find him."

  She's right. But I'm betting that Eisuke Sori could help us track him down.

  "We may have a friend who can help with that," I say, casting a glance at Ryden. He groans and falls back onto the bed. Clearly he's not Eisuke's biggest fan.

  "Listen," I say. "We have to go, but I wanted to let you know that I'm okay, in case you were—in case you missed me."

  "Missed you? Ha! I've had the place all to myself. It's been fab." There's a brittle edge to her tone, an overwrought hardness that could crack with the wrong bit of pressure.

  "I'm glad you're okay, Nali. Please be careful. You might want to think about leaving the Patronage."

  "I've worked too hard to get here, Cilla. I can't leave now. They'd wipe some of my memories, and I'd have to start my career path all over again, from nothing. I can't afford that."

  "Isn't there another magical organization you could transfer to?" says Ryden.

  I shake my head. "Maybe overseas, but here in the U.S., you're not allowed to switch societies, even if your memories are adjusted. It's a matter of loyalty and security for each organization."

  "Go ahead and tell the shifter how everything works, why don't you?" scoffs Nali. "Seriously, Cilla? How can you stand it, knowing you're basically screwing an animal?"

  "He's not an animal!" I snap. "He has—man parts. We don't do anything like that when he's in panther form."

  "Whatever. Your kink isn't my business. In fact, you aren't my business anymore, okay? Thanks to you, I've had to spend every spare minute sucking up to the Sages, trying to prove that I'm still loyal, still worth their time, trying to convince them to put me on another team. So you know what, Cilla? Don't call here again."

  The line goes dead.

  I set the phone back in its cradle, shaken. "She doesn't mean it. She'll come around. She always does after we fight." But I don't believe the words. Nali may be glad I'm alive, but she'll have no qualms about cutting me off like a diseased branch on the trunk of her life's ambitions. The crack in our years-long friendship is a full-blown split now. Conflicted though it was, our relationship was the thing that carried me through college, when I had no one.

  And now I'm adrift again, except for Ryden—and I seem to be pulling him out to sea with me. I've taken him from his home, his job, his family, the security of his former life. It's unhealthy. He can't be my life raft, and I can't be his downfall.

  "Stop it," he says.

  "Stop what?"

  "Whatever you're thinking. I can see your face getting sadder by the minute, and I don't like it."

  I curl my fingers around my knees. "I'm no good for you. I'm pulling you away from your family, from the life you should have."

  He scoffs. "I've barely seen my family these past few years. We video chat occasionally, do the Christmas thing once a year, but otherwise, we've all got our own lives. And I like my job, but it's just a job. I can get another somewhere else."

  "But you have friends. A place where you belong. Things of your own." A pang twitches through my heart at the thought of my personal possessions. I don't have much, but what I have was carefully chosen—was mine. Nali will probably break it all or give it away. I can't tell her where to send my things, even if she were willing to mail them to me.

  "Yeah, I have stuff." Ryden throws himself backward onto the bed. "And friends. But things have been awkward since my ex, Hannah, married one of my good buddies from college. It's weird now, hanging out with the group."

  I lie down beside him on my stomach. "You had a group?"

  "Yeah. We'd go out, mess around, drink. Karaoke, bar crawls, dancing, bowling—whatever, lame or not, we did it all." He smiles, his face softening at the memories. "But you know, we can find a new crowd to hang with."

  "I don't know." I study my fingernails. "People don't usually like me."

  "Probably because you shy away like a deer in the forest. Or like a wild dog. You snap at them and run before they can get close."

  It's unnerving that he understands me so well, when we've known each other such a short time. "Did you just compare me to a wild dog?"

  He winces. "Can I rewind and say wolf? Wolves are sexier, right?"

  "I'll allow it."

  "All I'm saying is, give people a chance to not disappoint you. I get that you've been hurt. I have too. But if we slap the same label on everyone, we'll never find the good folks, the people worth knowing."

  "Panther wisdom," I say, tracing his bicep and his shoulder. My fingers travel to his chest, nails scraping over his nipple through the T-shirt, and he sucks in a quick breath—so of course I do it again. And then I lean over him, tilt his jaw up, and kiss the strong lines of his throat, down to his collarbone. He lies perfectly still, but I feel the tension in him, coiling, tightening—the predator, ready to pounce.

  "Let go," I whisper against his ear. "Let go for me."

  "What if you don't like it?"

  "I'm a wolf, remember?" I graze my teeth over his earlobe. "There's a little wild animal in me too, I think. Maybe, with you, I can learn to let it out."

  He moves like a cobra striking, like a cheetah leaping on its prey. In half a second I'm under him, my clothes clutched and torn aside, my mouth overwhelmed by his lips and tongue. In one smooth movement, he stands, lifting me bodily with him, and I hook my legs around his waist as he carries me to the wall and pushes me against it. I whimper, squeezing him closer, and his answering growl thrums through his chest and throat into my mouth.

  But I'm not about to be the passive recipient here. Gathering my magic, I push him away, holding him at bay with a continuous pulse until I've stripped off the rest of my clothes. He fights the magic, trying to reach me, and I give him a wicked smile.

  "Come on," I say. "Come and get me."

  "You sexy little devil," he hisses, and he launches himself at me even as I let the energy disperse. He nearly crushes me with the force of his leap, but catlike he turns at the last second, catching my waist and drawing me down to the floor with him. Quickly I gravity-bind his body to the earth, a selective maneuver that makes his limbs too heavy to move, while mine are immune to the increased force.

  "Damn you," he snarls.

  "These are your panther moves? I'm not impressed so far." I straddle his hips and lower myself over his chest till we're face to face, my hair falling on either side of his cheeks. "I thought the shifter would have more to bring to the table."

  He writhes under me, his arms bulging as he tries to break free. "You're not playing fair."

  I'm tiring already from the effort of keeping him bound. It's too bad, because I'm not done playing yet. But I'd better release him now, before I wear myself out.

  The instant I withdraw my power, he springs up, lifting me again as if I weigh nothing. My back crashes against the wall, and I gasp at the surge of his muscles under that smooth skin, the curves and planes of his back beneath my fingers as he thrusts inside and moves me with him. This time it's harder, faster than it's ever been—a roller-coaster rocketing upward to its explosive peak and then streaking down, down, a stomach-thrilling descent.

  Ryden's eyes blaze into mine the whole time, his jaw set, gripping my waist and back, pinning me forcefully, almost painfully, but not quite. When he lets go, he roars with a primal ferocity that sends me over the edge again—and then he smothers my answering cry with his mouth.

  For a minute we stay there, frozen against the wall, panting, molded together, flesh and sweat and scent and skin.

  Then, keeping me pressed to his chest, he carries me to th
e bed and we lie spent and satisfied, my leg arched over his shin, his hand resting on my thigh.

  It was different this time. Soul-deep, and brutally open. Everything bared—who we are, what we can do. I wasn't thinking about how my body looked or moved, how he was perceiving me, or whether my emotions in the moment were reliable. I just was. I existed, wholly myself and wholly his.

  I roll onto my stomach so I can look at him. He smiles lazily at me, the comfortable smile of complete happiness.

  "I love you." I say it slowly, with every bit of my soul bound up in the words.

  He answers just as passionately. "And I adore you."

  "Are you trying to one-up me?" I smirk.

  "Just trying to keep it real." He grins back, brushing my hair away from my face.

  I catch his fingers and kiss them, admiring their thickness, shape, and strength. "I love your hands."

  "Yours are so small," he says, threading his own through mine. "But you do such powerful things with them. And wicked things." He tucks my fingertip between his lips for a second, and I shiver with delight.

  "As much as I love this, we should probably go visit Eisuke, and find out where that Duke of Demons took the Madstone."

  He shakes his head. "No."

  "What do you mean, no?"

  "Do you hear yourself, Cilla? That guy tore apart three of the Patronage's top wielders, and you want to go after him, just the two of us? We'll get shredded. I loved my dad, and I respected him, but I'm not about to risk my life to get back his old relic, no matter how powerful it is."

  "But think of what the Duke could do with it, how much death and destruction he could cause."

  "It's not our job to police magical artifacts." But he doesn't look me in the eyes, and I know that the idea of the stone being used for evil bothers him.

  "Your father kept it safe for a reason," I say. "To protect others."

  "He should have drained its power somehow. Then it wouldn't be a problem."

  "Maybe he didn't trust any wielders to help him drain it. Maybe he was afraid the lust for power would be too strong for them to resist." I rise from the bed, pulling on my clothes.

  "And what about you?" He stands as well, walking to the bathroom and snatching a towel to clean himself up. "Are you going to stand there and tell me that you don't want the power for yourself?"

  I glance away from him, biting my lip. "I wouldn't use it for anything terrible."

  "So you do want it." He sighs, bouncing on his heels as he tugs his jeans over his hips. "I thought so."

  "I'll tell you what—if we can get it back, I won't use it. I'll drain most of its power and just keep a little bit, for emergencies."

  He scoffs, shaking his head. "Cilla, I love you. But I don't know if I can trust you with this one. Can you trust yourself?"

  "It's a moot point anyway." I yank the curtains open and slant the blinds so the sunshine streams into the dingy room in golden slivers. "You're right—it's too dangerous to go after the Duke by ourselves. Do you think Daera and Oakland would help us get the Madstone back?"

  "Daera has washed her hands of the whole mess. Oak might help, but I'd never ask him to. He has a wife and kids, Cilla. We can't ask him to risk his life for this."

  "You're right, of course." I chew my fingernails, thinking. "What if Eisuke has things that could give us an edge? Charms, amulets?"

  "Even if he does, he won't give them to us for free. There's going to be a price to pay."

  "I know what he wants." I smirk. "A piece of your fine shifter ass."

  "Shut up. Not happening."

  "Of course not. I would never ask you to prostitute yourself in exchange for magic that could help us defeat the Duke of Demons and retrieve your father's Madstone."

  "Funny, because it sounds like you just did."

  "Ry, I'm kidding."

  "Good, because I'm serious. It's not going to happen."

  "We'll have to offer him something else. I have some money left—maybe that will work."

  "And then?" He's looking at me with gentle seriousness.

  "Then what?"

  "What if we get the Madstone back, and drain it?"

  Heat suffuses my face. "Well then, you and I will have to figure a few things out."

  "Okay, but just to let you know, you're not shaking me off. I'm gonna follow you to the end of the earth, girl."

  Then he grins at me and shuts the bathroom door.

  I'm smiling, and I can't stop. I stare out the window at the dull stretch of heat-hazed parking lot and baking cornfields, wondering how I got this lucky.

  Wondering when things will go horribly wrong.

  -19-

  Dark Horse

  As we roll down the cracked road toward Eisuke's long dirt drive, I peer anxiously at the clouds. They're a deep, threatening gray, charcoal-black at the edges. Near the horizon, several of the thunderheads glow a sickly greenish-purple. I pull my phone out of the glove compartment and snap the battery back in, powering it on and waiting anxiously for the home screen. "Turn on the radio," I tell Ryden.

  He does. There's nothing but static, a country song, and a whiny guy doing a talk radio show.

  The minute my phone syncs up, though, a weather alert comes through. "Tornado watch," I tell Ryden. "They're pretty frequent around here, this time of year."

  "We'll be okay. Eisuke probably has a storm shelter."

  "He does." But I can't stop the warning tingle that washes over my skin again and again, raising hairs and goosebumps in its wake. The forces of nature are in turmoil, and my physical magic is attuned to them. Something bad is coming—I can feel it.

  Ryden shudders suddenly, violently, and for a second I see his panther form in the driver's seat. I grip the wheel—but he's back the next second, choking. He shoves the car into park and leaps out.

  I spring out after him as he shakes and heaves, bent over by the roadside. The air outside the car is prickly and stale. Too still. Not a breath of wind.

  "You smell that?" Ryden gasps, tugging off his shirt.

  "I smell something."

  "You're right, a tornado is coming." He pulls off his pants, too. "Electrical changes, pressure changes—my cat can feel it. We need to find shelter right now."

  "Why are you taking your clothes off?"

  "I don't think I'm going to be able to stop the transformation, and I don't want to have to buy another pair of jeans."

  "All right." I pick up his clothes. "Get back in the car. I'll drive."

  He changes before I finish speaking, and the panther starts pacing, glossy black fur standing on end. He screams, a hoarse, unearthly sound that only adds to the weirdness of everything. I look around, across the eerily frozen sweep of tawny cornfields. A few trees and a silo are the only things that break the monotony of the darkening landscape, but I know that Eisuke's place has to be close. It's in a shallow dip of the land, set far back off this road.

  I open the back door and smack the panther's haunch. "Get in."

  His lips curl and his eyes look positively wicked as he snarls at me, but he obeys, draping himself across the back seat.

  Slamming the door, I circle the car and jump into the driver's side, hitting the gas so hard the car jerks forward and my teeth clack together. The panther lurches on the back seat and yowls his displeasure.

  "Sorry." I speed ahead, eyeing the ugly coiling clouds to our right. As I watch, a long tunnel of cloud snakes down from the storm, a thin witch-like finger poking toward the earth. I hold my breath. It looks far away, but not far enough to make me feel safe.

  My heart is throbbing in my chest, and my breath is spasmodic. My foot presses down the gas pedal, lower, lower. Ryden growls in protest—a warning.

  "I have to," I say through gritted teeth. "It's either die in a car accident or die from the tornado."

  I'm going so fast that I almost miss Eisuke's driveway. I wrench the wheel and turn in, gravel spewing from the car's wheels. We grind down the drive, headed straight for Eisuke'
s farmhouse.

  There are two cars here. I only remember Eisuke having one—a beat-up, olive-green Volkswagen Beetle. The new car in the drive is lipstick-red, startling against the dull landscape.

  I pull up a few yards from the farmhouse's front door and jump out. The panther rises, pressing his muzzle against the window and silently snarling until I open the door for him.

  "Wait," I say, holding out my hand, and he hesitates, his enormous bulk a comforting presence at my side. I lay my fingers between his ears and he rumbles low in his throat. "Something's wrong."

  Eisuke should be running out to greet us, robe flapping, waving for us to get into the storm cellar. Unless he's already there, sheltering against the oncoming whirl of sucking wind. I can see the funnel across the fields, wandering with nature's usual deadly aimlessness, but inching ever closer.

  The door of the farmhouse opens, and I step forward, words of relief on my tongue.

  But instead, a silent scream echoes in my mind, a terrified warning before everything that I feel disappears.

  The person descending the steps of the farmhouse is my mother.

  She's not beautiful, my mother. I'm the last person to condemn a curvy figure—I'm more curvy than model-thin, myself—but my mother is obese beyond the point of health, her nose a tiny blob between huge shiny cheeks, her eyes squished between pouches of fat. Her thinning, greasy hair is scraped across her skull, pulled into a tight ponytail. Her lips stretch in a smile as she approaches us across the gravel.

  I draw back, my senses crackling with the aura of her power—but I'm not afraid. Instead, I'm overwhelmed with peace and joy at her presence.

  "Prissy," she croons. "Prissy darling, come to Mama."

  My heart nearly bursts with love for her, with regret and guilt for ever leaving her. Everything I want, my forever happiness, lies with her alone. She will take care of me. She loves me like no one else ever could.

  "Mama." I struggle, torn between the love bursting inside me and the sense that she doesn't belong here. "Mama, why are you here?"