Fame

by Destiny Blaine

  * * * *

  Ariela accepted Lane’s hand and led him into the master suite. As they strolled toward the bed, her heart pounded in her chest, ticking out an uneven beat as if to warn her.

  This wasn’t right. Her feelings were real and she knew better than to question them, but at the same time, she yearned for Jagger, Sanchez, and Leon. With their approval, maybe then she could take Lane to her bed and enjoy the experience all the more.

  As if he’d read her mind, he tilted her chin to his and stared into her eyes. “You belong to me, Ariela. Once we consummate our relationship, you’ll understand more about the connection we’ll have. I’ll nurture you. I’ll commit to you. There will never be an episode where you’ll walk in and find me with another woman, a woman I’ll find attractive, because it won’t be possible for me to think of anyone in a sexual way, a carnal and explicit manner.

  “You and I will become one. You’ll know my thoughts. I’ll understand yours as well.”

  Ariela’s breath caught in her chest. She couldn’t deny the fact that she liked the idea of playing around in Lane’s head. At the same time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted anyone to delve inside her mind and rumble around in her brain.

  Lane brushed a kiss across her lips and her entire body came alive. It wasn’t arousal as much as true awareness. It was as if the blanket of lust had been lifted and a sheen of pure desire replaced the animal’s needs, the lioness-shifter’s demands, with a yearning even more profound than what she’d felt before. Yet it was a different longing, one she easily compared to what her girlfriends in college once explained.

  She felt like a virgin, a true innocent, in Lane’s presence.

  Ariela fought to swallow her apprehension—yet she suspected that when Lane stripped her clothes away from her body, her intentions would be so pure, so honorable. She wouldn’t expect him to fuck away her carnal frustrations, the explicit nature of the mandated act her kind required. Oh no, she wanted Lane to take her in his arms and hold her, make love to her in a fashion she wasn’t even sure she could contemplate, because she’d never really enjoyed a tender-sweet lovemaking experience.

  When she went to bed with her mates, they fucked like savages and mated like the beasts that lived within them. In fact, since Sanchez had come into their lives, they’d often mated in their animal forms.

  Her skin heated as Lane cupped her nape and drew her to him. Peppering her mouth with soft, sweet and succulent pecks, he eased his way into their first real kiss, gently taking her mouth as if he considered their first kiss a true experience, a gateway to a more substantial relationship. His tongue pressed between the seam of her lips and she welcomed him with a kiss of her own, but refused to lead. Perhaps it wasn’t necessarily refusal but acceptance.

  Lane wasn’t a man who gave a woman control and Ariela succumbed to pleasure by delighting in the knowledge. Lane would lead. He would teach. He would give and take, but he would bring about each act in his own way and on his own timetable.

  Sighing into their kiss, Ariela closed her eyes and enjoyed their moment, but it was short-lived. A loud buzzing resounded and Ariela jerked with instant understanding.

  “Jagger,” she whispered, breaking their kiss.

  Lane growled, “The damn man is intuitive.”

  “No,” she said, rushing to the living room and retrieving her purse. Scouring the contents for her cell, she added, “We have two lines programmed for our phones. This one is the emergency number. Something’s wrong.”

  Chapter Eight

  Shoc Matheson, like his brother, was an evil man in appearance. His ugliness marred his flesh almost as much as the embedded scars in his arms.

  Barlo, his brother, used to tell Sanchez, “Beauty is skin deep.” Perhaps the old adage was true, but the same couldn’t be said of the ugliness in the world. The revolting man before them was despicable at his very core. His wickedness went way beyond his exterior, and coated the repulsive beast from the inside out.

  Jagger kept his right hand under the desk and Sanchez could only hope Jagger was able to send Ariela a warning. He watched both men for actions. Noting the jerking movements from Jagger, he breathed a sigh of relief when he slowly nodded, first at Leon and then at Sanchez.

  Ariela had been warned.

  “What do you want, Shoc?” Jagger asked.

  “I’m here for my true mate,” Shoc replied. “I expressed to your CFO my desire to make an offer on Sanchez. She tells me you’re uninterested.”

  “That was you?” Leon asked.

  Shoc grinned. “Who else would pay top dollar for a used-up lion? Use your head, old wizard.”

  Leon balled his fists.

  Shoc glared at his tightly drawn hands. “Go ahead. Make a move. I dare you.”

  Jagger cleared his throat as if to warn his old friend and Leon settled down, relaxing his shoulders. Shoc had already demonstrated his strength. None of them had the power to overthrow him, and the one ally they had was nowhere to be found.

  “As your former assistant informed you, I’m willing to take Ariela off your hands at a steeper price.”

  “I don’t think price was discussed,” Jagger said, clearly trying to buy them some time.

  “And I’m smart enough to know there’s no price placed on a mate’s head.”

  “Ariela is my mate,” Jagger said, a dark screen of danger slipping over his eyes. “I’ll die for her.”

  “I can certainly make that happen,” Shoc said.

  “What do you want, Matheson?” Leon asked, apparently wiser than Jagger. Their predicament could worsen at any time if Jagger provoked him.

  “I’ll make this easy. You have only one choice. You will give me both Sanchez and Ariela.” He turned to Sanchez and mouthed, “He will die.” He faced Jagger again. “And she will end up in my bed.”

  Jagger hoisted his body over the desk without a moment spared. Before Shoc could propel his arm behind his back and throw a bolt of shocking power into Jagger’s form, Jagger tackled him and pinned his arms above his head. “I don’t know what you are or who you think you can be when you’re among shifters like us, but let me make one point clear.” He slammed Shoc’s arms against the recently polished wood floors. “You will never have Ariela. You won’t use Sanchez for the example you want to make in Las Vegas. You will never harm anyone under our protection.”

  “Ha! Ha! Ha!” Shoc barked out his exaggerated laughter. At the same time, a mask of deception fell over his face. Dave Dux’s face appeared before them, scarred and beaten, just the epitome of kindness now marred with bruises and cuts. In Dave’s voice, Shoc said, “How much do you want to bet on that, Jagger ole boy?”

  Clearly taken aback, Jagger let him go and crawled backward as if he’d seen a ghost. Sanchez inched forward, suspecting the invisible chute over him had disintegrated, but every which way he turned, he bumped into the glass he couldn’t see.

  “Get out of there, Jagger!” Sanchez screamed, waving his hand in front of his body. He’d been held captive by Barlo for many months. He’d studied him. He’d learned from him. Barlo was an evil man, but next to his brother, he looked like an angel.

  Shoc was the epitome of pure evil and his presence there meant he was ready to carry out some master plan. Again, Sanchez yelled, “You need to get out of here and protect Ariela, Jagger! Go!”

  Jagger and Leon looked at him as if they couldn’t hear him. Shoc slowly turned around and shot him a sinister grin. “The pure hell of this curse is just that, my friend. They can’t hear you, but I can. You can hear them, but what you hear and see won’t help them at all, because when the time comes and they need you, you’ll be unable to save them—just as my brother was unable to save himself from you.”

  Again, Shoc flashed his faces of deception, showing a number of them in one quick display—Barlo, Dave, Ariela, and even Jagger appeared before him. Then, Shoc reclaimed his own persona.

  “Dave is a good man,” Jagger said
, apparently back to buying time.

  “He’s a weak man.” Shoc swung his leg back and delivered a swift kick to Jagger’s gut.

  “Argh!” Jagger screamed, doubling over in agony.

  Leon tried to leave the sofa but quickly caught another powerful jolt as Shoc swung his arm around and used it as a weapon, hurling a ball of what looked like stainless steel into Leon’s middle. Now trapped, Leon wiggled one way or another but couldn’t move.

  Shoc knelt beside Jagger. “That CFO of yours is something to watch. Now that’s a woman with some brass balls. She enjoyed witnessing your blackjack dealer as he took his beating. Poor old Dave. You should’ve heard him begging for his life.” Shoc smiled. “And Melinda? Oh, she was so easy to manipulate. She was one hundred percent certain of Dave’s involvement. Even when your security officers questioned her about the accuracy of the tapes, she showed extraordinary leadership potential. She never backed down in her quest for retribution.” Shoc puckered his lips in an exaggerated expression. After a moment, he nodded and added, “Come to think of it, she might have killed him if she hadn’t feared losing her job.” He slapped Jagger’s cheek a couple of times. “That little hellcat has her eyes on your prize.”

  As if the prize in question reminded him of the beating he’d begun, he lifted his leg again. With squelching delivery, he met Jagger’s groin.

  “Fuck!” Jagger screamed.

  Shoc laughed. “Interesting choice of words because by the time I’m through with you, even your mate’s desperation will not help you there. Your fucking days are pretty much over.”

  * * * *

  “We have to go help him.” Ariela was halfway down the hallway by the time Lane caught up to her.

  Pushing her against the back of the elevator as soon as they entered the lift, Lane said, “There’s a price on the line here, Ariela. If you don’t let me handle Shoc, you’ll pay or they’ll pay. And it may be with your lives.”

  “Tell me how to help them,” she whispered, understanding he was the only hope her mates might have.

  Lane framed her face. “What would you do for them, lover?”

  “I’m not your lover,” she whispered, yet in her heart of hearts, she already knew the truth. Lane Livingston belonged to her. She was already his woman, his mate, and yet all they’d shared was one romantic kiss.

  “Don’t insult me, Ariela,” he said, dragging his knuckles across her jaw and down her neck before resting his forefinger at the top of her cleavage. “Do you really believe I couldn’t prove you a liar right here, right in this very moment?”

  They were on the fourteenth floor, descending lower when Lane slammed his hand against the red emergency button. The elevator came to an abrupt halt.

  “Please don’t do this. Shoc could hurt them.”

  “We have time,” Lane said, flipping his jacket over his shoulder and folding the cuff of his sleeve up to his mid-forearm. He took meticulous care in working with the material before he lifted his gaze and added, “And we’ll take the time, Ariela.”

  She swallowed in understanding. He wanted to bargain, negotiate.

  Lane was a businessman after all, and as a successful entrepreneur, he could make the most out of opportunities. He saw one and planned to nail down the specifics before moving forward.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “We strike a deal here or your mates, as you call them, will die.”

  Ariela gasped. “You’ll kill them.”

  “I’m not a murderer.”

  She took another ragged breath. “Shoc is here to kill them?”

  Lane nodded. “I can protect them, but I want your word that you will help me open up Catwalk.”

  “Agreed.”

  That was easy enough.

  “The new venue will open in two weeks,” Lane continued, slamming his hand over the emergency button again. The lift began its descent once more. “After opening night, you come with me to the desert and surrender.”

  “Surrender?” The lone word tumbled from her mouth as if it were tugged from her lips.

  “Give me your word, Ariela,” Lane said, facing the parting doors. “Or you won’t leave this elevator. If you do, you’ll face the others and Shoc alone.”

  She stared at his back and for a moment, she considered that possibility, but as he squared his shoulders, she conceded. Lane would not back down from the fight ahead. Her mates needed him. “I agree to your terms.”

  Lane stepped out of the elevator ahead of her. He blocked her exit and pushed the button, waiting there until the doors separated them. Before she disappeared out of sight, he said, “Oh, and one more thing—you’ll wait in the penthouse until your mates come for you. In the meantime, I’ll count down the days until we’re together again. For now, I’ll deal with Shoc—and make sure he doesn’t become a problem for the mates you once professed to love.”

  Chapter Nine

  “It took you long enough,” Jagger bit out.

  Shoc jerked, but he was too late to respond to his attacker.

  “Gratitude will win you favors,” Lane explained, locking his arm around Shoc’s throat. “Resentment only empowers your enemy.”

  “Lane Livingston,” Shoc grated out, dropping his grip around Jagger’s neck and clutching Lane’s forearm with both hands.

  “You were expecting me,” Lane reminded him—letting him know right away that, while Lane might have been entertaining Ariela, he remained aware of his surroundings and their unraveling future.

  He stared at the cage confining Sanchez, clearly able to see the container surrounding him.

  Sanchez growled. “If you hadn’t been upstairs, trying to woo our mate, maybe things wouldn’t have gotten out of hand here.”

  Lane glared still harder at the box imprisoning Sanchez. “People who live in transparent houses, shouldn’t throw stones.” A shattering noise resounded and Sanchez stared down at the shards of glass at his shoes.

  Stepping over the slivers of broken glass, he said, “I’ll remember that.”

  “See that you do,” Lane said, dragging Shoc across the floor while trying to decide the best place to leave a corpse.

  While Lane was in the middle of an internal debate, Sanchez threw a right hook. Shoc whipped his head to the left and Sanchez connected with Shoc’s temple. He drew back to throw another punch as Shoc’s body went limp against Lane.

  “Wait,” Jagger said, slowly coming to an upright stance.

  Looking on in pure horror, Sanchez said, “I only hit him once.”

  Blood oozed from the corner of Shoc’s mouth. His eyes were set, totally still.

  “But I didn’t even hit him as hard as he struck Jagger,” Sanchez further explained.

  With Shoc’s death, Leon was instantly freed. He slowly eased forward, studying Shoc as if he couldn’t quite believe his own eyes.

  “I saw him,” Leon said. “He’s right. He didn’t strike that hard.”

  Lane slapped Shoc’s lower jaw and more blood oozed from his parted lips. He looked up at Sanchez and said, “If it makes you feel any better, you just put down a langle, one of the deadliest shifters in this world. There are twenty-two of us left, unless some of them have met their demise since the last census.”

  “Why would that make him feel any better?” Jagger asked, dabbing his bloody lip.

  “Because Shoc was, in every way you feel you are, Ariela’s mate. And if he had ever been in the same room again with Ariela, he would’ve shifted to prove it. She would’ve been responsive to him only in his lion form, but it would’ve been a fate that none of us were prepared to face.”

  * * * *

  Hours later, they returned to their penthouse suite without Lane accompanying them. Lane had called for a group of men he dubbed the dirty housekeeping crew, and an hour or so later, they’d dropped by to retrieve and remove Shoc’s body. Right after they left, Lane departed as well, telling them he’d be in touch soon.

&
nbsp; Jagger entered the penthouse on guard, halfway expecting to find Lane there with Ariela. Instead, he discovered an incredible surprise.

  Rosebuds were scattered on the floor, leading them to the bedroom. Several buckets of champagne were on ice. Strawberries and chocolate were on the bedside tables and in the middle of the king-sized bed, his beautiful woman awaited them.

  Kicking off his shoes, Jagger slowly unzipped his fly, unhooked his belt, and dropped his slacks. The others raced to the bed, stripping off their clothes as they hurried toward her.

  Jagger took his time, noting his mate’s sensual expression. Ariela’s gaze was pinned to his and as she watched him watching her, he could detect her sadness more than her lust. “What’s wrong, kitten?”

  “I just missed you,” she whispered, crooking her finger back and forth as the other two men settled beside her.

  “It’s more than that,” Jagger said, grabbing her ankles and dragging her to the edge of the mattress. Pushing her knees apart, he stared down on her bare pussy, aware of her arousal, but more attentive of another significant fact.

  Lane Livingston hadn’t shared her bed. He hadn’t marked her as his.

  His heart swelled with love and joy. Ariela hadn’t betrayed him.

  Leon curled his arm over the top of her head and kissed the tip of her nose. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

  Her eyes flooded with tears as the first few rolled over her high cheeks. “I can’t tell you.”

  Sanchez sat beside her with his head bowed. He took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips. “Don’t cry, baby.”

  Her body rocked with violent tremors then and Jagger stilled. Knelt between the legs he’d stretched, he watched as Leon tried to console her.