by AJ Hampton
Everything circled back to one single thought. He shouldn’t have left her. The fact he’d checked every room, and analyzed the stray smells in and around the house, was only a small comfort. Despite her claim she could defend herself, she was still fragile. Unease rippled through him.
The same instincts that had driven him to leave Montana and return home now urged him to turn around and find Eva. He forced himself forward, stepping over fallen branches. Searching for anything out of the ordinary, he made another sweep of the perimeter.
He tested the air. The hair at his nape prickled with the scent of leopard. David and James. He’d ordered David to watch her, his presence made sense. But why James? Had the older man been checking on Eva since Greg’s death, trying to keep her safe? The scent was strong, fresh. His feline took notice, eased its relentless insistence on returning to the house.
Kicking off boots and jeans, he pulled his sweater over his head. The shift was seamless. On all fours, he shook his head and huffed, twin streams of air passing from his nostrils. Smells came at him, stronger in this form. He followed the older feline’s scent, nose pressed to the cold, snowy ground. Stopping, he looked up at the familiar 4x4 parked at the access road. His tail twitched.
Closer. He crossed an icy creek, easily navigating a path up a steep embankment. Paws sank into snow as he circled the vehicle, sniffing for any signs James remained close by. A stack of neatly folded clothes lay on the seat, a man preparing for something. It was obvious he’d undressed slowly and carefully before his shift. Peter narrowed his eyes and looked back on the path he’d taken to get to this point, pictured the scent trail.
A straight shot to Eva’s house.
If the old man’s destination was Eva’s, then why park so far away? Why... His body stiffened. Thought trailed off and everything clicked into place. The son of a bitch had parked in the woods so he wouldn’t be seen, knowing Peter would check the perimeter before leaving. Knowing sooner or later Peter would leave. James, sturdy and caring, a figure in the background, had been present through it all. He’d been at the crime scene when Eva found Greg’s body, before the cops had shown up. Wouldn’t have been hard to cover up any tracks.
James had also been in Eva’s house, alone. Surely, the old man knew about Greg’s habit of writing in his journal. Had James written SF in the book and hoped he and Eva would check it out? Perhaps if they hadn’t come up with it themselves, his uncle would have suggested it to them? Fuck. He had led them right where he wanted them, to the hunting cabin, to Grady’s planted scent.
How many times had Eva mentioned that James needed to see her? For days he’d tried to get her alone.
Fury uncurled inside him, hazed his surroundings in shades of red. Massive paws ate the distance through the forest as he ducked and dodged low-lying branches. Still, it wasn’t quick enough. Every minute that passed could be Eva’s last. Twenty minutes already wasted because he’d been pussy-footing in the woods. James had called Grady, had known exactly where he and Eva would be. Had his uncle banked on Grady arresting him and letting Eva go, unprotected?
Fuck.
The house came into view. The sprawling structure was quiet and dark. Ominous. He threw his massive body against the back door, wood splintering upon impact. Paws skidded on wooden floors. The heady odor of Eva’s fear hit him, closely followed by the stench of blood and then of James.
He shifted mid sprint, human feet flying up the stairs three at a time. He burst through her closed bedroom door, tried to prepare himself for what he might find. His heart stopped. In the center of the neatly made bed was a piece of white folded paper. Pain ripped through his chest, forced a ferocious scream from his throat. Rage exploded with every step closer to the bed.
He snatched the note from on top of the coverlet, James’ scent rich on the fibers. “If you want her, come and get her. SF.”
In his balled fist, paper crinkled. Instinct took hold, the feral part of him unleashing with a force he’d seen only once before. Thirty years ago when his father had ripped into the hunter who’d killed his mother. Claws tore from Peter’s fingers, fur ripped through skin. Bones popped. Unlike any shift before, the man didn’t go into the background of his subconscious. Leopard and human merged into a lethal combination of raw power. Darkness invaded, tarnishing his soul with stains that wouldn’t come clean.
Needing an outlet, he raked claws through silk sheets, shredding deep grooves into the thick mattress beneath. Still it wasn’t enough. He picked up the ruined bed, hurled it across the room. Books spilled from shelves, trinkets fell to the ground, shattered. Panting, hot air streamed from his nose. One thought circled. When he was through with James, the man wouldn’t have an inch of flesh left on his body.
Nothing would ever be the same after tonight. Eva was his mate. His. If he lost her, he’d lose a part of himself. Until now, he hadn’t understood the depth of his father’s hatred and anger. The well ran deep with boiling fury. Fists clenching, he snarled, the sound not doing justice to the mindless need for vengeance ripping at him. As Greg had torn into the hunter’s flesh, Peter would do the same to James. Turning from the bedroom, he raced down the stairs and barreled out the front door. James had no concept of the beast he’d just unleashed. He threw himself forward, paws barely touching the ground as he disappeared into the forest.
He wouldn’t lose Eva the same way his father had lost his mother.
* * * * *
Eva came awake slowly, the radiating pain at the back of her skull second to the churning in her stomach. Her world teetered down, up, down, up, as if she were drifting over something bumpy. She moaned, wished the jostling would stop, wished she could curl into a ball to help ease the sickness. Saliva pooled in her mouth, forcing her to either swallow or heave.
“We’re almost there, Eva girl, don’t you worry.”
The blood in her veins froze, chilling her to the core. James. The spinning of her head came to an abrupt stop at her last memory. Her uncle knocking her to the floor, slamming her skull against the hard ground, pressing his arm against her throat until spots danced across the harsh lines of his face.
He’d killed Greg and Becca.
She opened her eyes, found herself cradled against the hard wall of his chest. He stroked a rough hand through her hair, his callused palm snagging in her curls. It was the same way he’d comforted her after she’d discovered Greg’s dead body. The body he’d left for her. Vomit curdled in her stomach.
The stinging cold ripped through her thin cotton shirt, and her surroundings came into focus. She was outside. Trees. Snow. A clearing. A familiar single-story log and stone structure.
The hunting cabin.
How long had she been passed out? Heavy boot steps clomped up bowed wooden steps, echoing over the creaking porch. Panic cleared the lingering fog in her brain. She struggled. Tried to but she couldn’t move. What had he done to her?
“Wha...” she croaked, found the act of speech required something she no longer possessed.
“Don’t try and talk,” James cooed, holding her tighter. “I gave you a sedative I got from the clinic to help you relax. I’ll take care of you Eva, I promise, but don’t make me hurt you again. I don’t like to see you in pain.”
“Why are you doing this?” she managed.
Hot tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, the only warmth against her numbed skin.
One handed, James pulled open the heavy door to the cabin she’d spent her summers in. Hinges creaked, a sound that would never again bring comfort. Dark and cold, the air inside tasted musky. The living room came and went, the forest-green couch she passed conjuring mocking memories. She recalled when she’d been twelve and had sprained her ankle. Much like he carried her now, James had set her down on the sofa, carefully removed her shoes and socks.
All hope his intentions were innocent vanished when James brought her into the bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind him, a heavy sound that pounded her ears.
Something th
udded to the bedroom floor, a duffel bag, she saw when James set her in the middle of the bed. Paralyzed, she could do nothing but watch him step back and look down at her as if she were his entire world. Under his affection, a perverse desire lurked.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked again, her words clearer this time.
His hands rose to the first button on his thick flannel shirt. Cotton parted. Another button. A glimpse of white hair and a pale chest. He was wearing Greg’s clothes, the ones stashed behind the house. Had he been lying in wait for Peter to leave her alone? Her stomach clenched.
“Peter ruined everything.” His jaw clenched, sending a ripple of energy through the room. Another button. “I was forced into action.”
“How?” If only she could keep him talking.
“Greg stole Jenny from me, did you know that? She was mine. Was going to marry me. When our father died and Greg took control of the Pard... Well, I found out Jenny wasn’t as pure as she claimed. She was pregnant.”
“With Peter,” she guessed.
Her finger twitched. The first spasms of life gave her a surge of hope. She concentrated on her hand, forced it to move again.
James pulled the two halves of his open shirt apart, unthreading his arms through the sleeves, slowly undressing.
The flannel dropped to the floor, a loud sound in the silence.
“They were together behind my back for months,” James said. “In this cabin, actually. This very bed. They betrayed me.”
A wave of dizziness rolled over her. She gulped, nearly choking on her next words. “Is that why you shot Greg, here, in the woods? Because he betrayed you?”
James shook his head, unfolded a leather belt from its metal buckle. Ice filled his eyes, turned the man she thought she knew so well into a stranger. “No.”
“Why then?” She swallowed again, tiny stabs of tingling pain racing up her legs. The pain had never felt so good. A few more minutes was all she needed.
“He wouldn’t let me have you. So I killed him,” he said simply. His zipper rasped, denim parted.
“Have me...?”
“I petitioned to have you as my mate.” Stepping close to the bed, he kneeled on the mattress. He cupped her cheek and she forced herself not to move. “I can provide for you, Eva. Take care of you the way a man is supposed to take care of a woman.” The tender grip changed, tightened. “But Greg wouldn’t even consider it. He didn’t even want to give you to Mark. He wanted to keep you to himself. Last week he’d changed his mind. He decided Mark wasn’t strong enough to protect you. He planned to call Peter home,” his lips curled into a sneer, “for ‘his son to take his rightful place among the leopards.’”
Her mouth would have dropped open if James hadn’t pressed his palm against her lips. She struggled for breath, to fight the rising panic. He reached beside him, lifted a thickly braided strand of rope.
Oh god.
“I couldn’t let some stranger have you. You see, I was a broken man after Jenny. I hated him with my entire heart, couldn’t stand to look at my brother, or to take orders from him, but I had no choice. You obeyed or you got your throat ripped out. And then, you came into our lives and changed everything. You gave me strength, Eva. I waited for the right moment, waited until I could have everything I’d ever wanted. The Pard. A family. A child of my own.”
Her stomach pitched. A child. Peter said she’d been fertile. Had everyone else in the Pard known too?
The rope thudded to the bed next to her head. With the hand not covering her mouth, James unlaced one boot, then the other. Heavy rubber soles thudded to the ground. She trembled, tried to scoot away from what she knew was coming. James held her down, forcing her still, and she struggled to draw in enough air through her nose.
“You were ready for a mate and Greg was just going to give you away. Peter didn’t deserve you. I knew if I wanted the Pard I was going to have to take it. So I did. I shot my brother, watched him bleed to death. Without any other leader, the leopards would turn to me. They did turn to me.”
One finger at a time, James released her mouth. Gasping, she sucked in mouthfuls of oxygen. He pulled her arms up, over her head. Hot tears trailed from the corners of her eyes.
“Why leave the notes? Why kill Becca?”
Regret flashed, but didn’t stop the abrasive scratching of twine wrapping around her wrists and attaching them to the headboard. “I only wanted to scare you a little so you’d come to me on your own. I didn’t want to kill Becca...but she saw me at the clinic, kept asking question after question. No one was supposed to be there. Being an Alpha means you have to make tough choices. So I did what I needed to do. I made it quick, painless.”
Anger drove the blood through her veins quicker. He’d made it quick. Rage spurred life into her limbs, and she pulled at the ropes imprisoning her.
“You betrayed the Pard. No one will forgive you after that,” she said, her voice low and feral, not one she recognized.
He stroked her cheek, rubbing his thumb across her lower lip. “I’m the one in control now, they do what I say.”
Eva opened her mouth, drew his finger inside and bit down as hard as she could. Blood stung her tongue and James reared back. In the same instant, an explosion of sound crashed from the front of the cabin. Her breath quickened. The thunderous din of her heartbeat drowned all other noises except the pounding of feet.
Half a second later, something banged against the closed bedroom door. Wood bowed and then shattered. Through the dust, the only thing she saw was glowing emerald eyes. Rage, feral and untamed, encompassed the creature in front of her, half man, half leopard, the force of it electrifying the air.
Peter snarled, lips lifting to expose sharp canines. The low hiss emanating from his throat promised death. He rose onto two legs in a wide, powerful stance, his massive bulk blocking the doorframe. In this new form, he was taller and wider, a true force of nature. Fur rippled from skin not quite thick enough to hide the definition of sinewy muscle. His gaze, hot, furious, possessive, ran over the ropes around her wrists before settling on her face. Their eyes met and the entire world narrowed down to him and her.
He’d come for her.
She never heard the first bang, not really, only saw Peter jerk back from the impact of something hitting his chest. Time slowed.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Three quick, distinct gunshots echoed over the sickening thud, thud, thud, of steel into flesh.
“Peter,” she screamed, time spinning forward.
James stepped forward, into her line of sight, the gun in his hand unwaveringly aimed at Peter’s heart. A sob tore free. Her heart shattered. Peter lurched forward as James pulled the trigger. Bang.
“No!”
Peter collapsed to the ground, the impact a shockwave she felt in the pit of her soul.
Chapter Sixteen
Peter hit the ground hard. Knees, elbows, and then forearms. He hardly felt the jarring impact, not when the sound of Eva’s heart-rending scream pierced the air. Searing pain stole his breath, blackened his vision, threatened to consume him. His jerking muscles demanded he curl into a ball on the floor, as if the fetal position would protect his vital organs from the burrowing ammunition ripping through him.
Fuck that bullshit.
The steel bullets in his chest and shoulder were merely flesh wounds. The image of his mate tied to the bed, tears streaming down her face, James looming over her, spurred him into action. It was going to take a lot more than a gun to keep him from protecting her. He wouldn’t fail her, not again.
Adrenaline pumped in his veins, carrying away the pain. The rumbling howl he let loose vibrated the air. He raised his head from the ground, met James’ arctic eyes and snarled. Muscles shifted, bones popped. Receding fur rippled, washed over him as if he’d been injected with morphine. He was too pissed to feel anything except numb.
Teeth clenching, he pushed from the ground. Blood, hot and sticky, ran down his chest. He twisted his head from side to side, cracked hi
s knuckles to loosen the tension holding him rigid. When this was over, he’d see James’ body ripped into ribbons.
“Oh, God, Peter,” Eva sobbed.
He couldn’t afford to look at her again, and yet he couldn’t ignore the sounds of her struggles. The creaking mattress and hiccupping breaths painted a picture of her body twisting and turning against the offensive ropes, the image as vivid as if he had stared at her.
“He’ll kill you,” she said. “Go, please just go.”
Ignoring Eva’s pleas, Peter’s mouth curved into a deadly smile of anticipation. “You made a big mistake, old man.”
“This is the way it has to be. I couldn’t let Greg call you home. For the sake of the Pard, for Eva. You’ll only hurt her,” James said, thumb compressing the trigger.
Peter couldn’t care less about his uncle’s reasoning. He leapt into action, knocking away the gun aimed at his heart. The shot went wide, thudding somewhere behind him. Peter slammed a balled fist to the underside of his enemy’s jaw, the impact forcing the older man’s head back. James stumbled backward, crashing into the wall with a thud.
Savagery filled Peter. Blood. Pain. Teeth scattered across the floor. He would inflict as much damage as he could before he ripped out James’ throat. Peter’s balled fist snapped out in two left-handed jabs, nose, eye, the force of impact breaking bones. Blood gushed, streaming like a fountain, its scent spurring the beast. Peter’s other fist sailed through the air in a gratifying right hook that smashed into his uncle’s temple with enough strength to punch a hole through a tree trunk.
Eva yelled something, words he couldn’t hear over his own pounding heartbeat. Eyes fluttering, rolling into the back of his head, James slid limply down the wall. Claws speared from the tips of Peter’s fingers and he carefully wrapped his hand around the older man’s throat, holding him upright before he hit the ground.
He brought them nose to nose, waited to speak until consciousness returned to his uncle’s eyes. “I will cut every inch of flesh from your body for touching her.”