Beautiful Mistake: 2 (Royal Pride)

by Nancy Corrigan

  “I gave you an order, woman. Answer me.”

  Little did he know, orders from domineering shifters were her favorites to ignore. So why did she have a hard time forcing the refusal past her lips? Focus. She had to focus on the facts, not the unexplainable wavering in her convictions.

  After the way he’d attacked those men, torture wouldn’t be too far of a stretch for him. The thought scared her but for the moment, he wasn’t hurting her. Withholding the information he wanted was the only card she had to play until she figured out how to escape.

  She took a deep breath for courage and blurted, “Not on your life.”

  He growled. With their bodies pressed tightly together, the vibrations from that animalistic sound traveled down the length of her spine. She tensed and waited for him to strike out. Torture her maybe. All the scary things that could happen to a woman in the wrong man’s arms flashed through her mind. She choked on bile, anticipating the worst, but all he did was stroke her neck and nuzzle the sensitive spot behind her ear. In the face of the gentle stimulation, her traitorous body relaxed in his embrace.

  Several minutes passed in silence while he cuddled with her as if they were lovers. The soft stroke of his fingertips over her hip and the intimate way he spooned her messed with her mind. Her thoughts drifted to sex. Hard not to, especially with the edge of his foot skimming along her calf and his erect shaft poking into her cloth-covered backside.

  She was in bed with a naked shifter, one who’d torn other men apart before her eyes, one who’d nearly gutted her without so much of a blink of an eye. Why wasn’t she afraid? She should be, except the contentment she’d felt when she first woke returned. Not good. This was her kidnapper, not someone she wanted to spend the night with.

  She reached for the memory of what happened in the woods. The blood and gore, the agony. Instead of her screams, she heard this man’s apologies for hurting her. In place of her pain, she remembered the cocoon of strong arms as he cradled her against his chest and pressed kisses to her face. His actions didn’t make sense. Why touch her so tenderly after callously pushing her body off his claws and letting her drop to the ground?

  The image of his vacant feline eyes came back to her. They hadn’t even focused on her face. Oh, god. He hadn’t seen her, didn’t know he’d hurt her.

  Before she could take the thought any further, he flicked the tip of his tongue to her neck. She swallowed a moan. He did it again. She clenched her hand until her nails dug into her palm. The sting stopped the sound from escaping, though not the slight shudder that ran through her body. He murmured something, mouth pressed to her neck so the words were muffled, but she knew they were ones of approval. The cock poking her pushed a little harder into her bottom.

  He shifted so his erection lay nestled along the seam of her butt cheeks. A tilt of his hips and he wedged his rod between them. She squirmed, automatically countering his motion and arousing herself with the involuntary reaction. Another thrust and she groaned. What was wrong with her? She was giving him the response he wanted. She couldn’t help it. Her body refused to listen to her mind.

  He slid his hand across her stomach and stilled with his fingers splayed over her belly, the spot that should hurt, yet didn’t. The muscles pressed along her back tensed. She got the impression he was fighting himself. Why? Was he trying to resist touching her? Or deciding how far to take this? She held her breath, not knowing what she wanted him to do.

  An agonized groan fell from his lips. His decision obviously made. Going by the tortured sound, it was the one he’d been fighting. Good. At least she wasn’t the only one suffering from unwanted feelings.

  She tried to scramble away. The weight of his leg over her calves and the thick arm banded around her made it impossible. She held her breath, hating the way arousal flowed at the realization she was at his mercy. Dammit, she was not into that shit. But that fact didn’t change anything about her reaction to this man.

  He slipped his fingertips under the waistband of her shorts. Her pent-up air escaped in a rush. His breaths quickened. He drew small circles on her skin, each pass bringing him closer to her sex. She bit the inside of her cheek to hold her moan back. Oh god, she didn’t want to be aroused by him nor should she enjoy the sense of rightness his touch brought. There was no stopping it. She freaking yearned for him. That made everything worse.

  Another pass and he reached the curls covering her sex. He toyed with the hair. “Tell me,” he inched his teasing finger lower, sliding through her cream to hover over her core, “where the cub is.”

  He dipped the tip in and she shuddered. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way he nibbled on her earlobe and how her inner muscles quivered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’re missing a cat, maybe you should check the lost and found section of the newspaper.”

  Growls, louder than before, rumbled his chest. He pulled his hand out of her shorts and jerked back, putting space between their bodies. “Do not play games with me, woman. The child. Tell me where she is.”

  “I don’t…”

  He cut her off with another snarl and tugged her, slamming their bodies together. She held her breath, waited for fear to resurface. It never came. Lust did. It felt good to have his arms locked around her and his erection pressed against her thigh. And that pissed her off. She was not a slave to her body, nor would she allow this man to use it against her.

  “I saw you with the child, Lena. Do not lie to me again. Tell me how to find her.” He whispered the demand a hairsbreadth away from her ear, his nose buried in her hair.

  Like fucking hell she would. She hadn’t risked her life to throw it all away now. She forced a bored sigh. “I really don’t like repeating myself, but since you’re basically an animal, I’ll take your low IQ into account this one time.” She paused, ignoring the tensing of muscles pressed along her back. “Not on your life.”

  He surprised her by chuckling, the deep rumble flipping a switch inside her. She arched into him, couldn’t stop the response. Whether she liked it or not, she desired him. He spread his hand over her belly. She held her breath, but this time he didn’t sneak his fingers into her pants. He skimmed them over her chest, thankfully avoiding her nipples, and into her hair. With the utmost care, he gathered the tousled strands so they fanned out over her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, little human. I’ve neglected to take your failings into account.”

  She waited for him to tell her about her faults. He never did. Minutes passed while he sifted his fingers through her hair, finger-combing it. A slight tug accompanied his attentions as he untangled the mass. Once smooth, he twirled a lock and rubbed the strands together before repeating the process. By the fourth time, she caved.

  “Exactly what flaws are those?”

  No response. He continued to play with her hair, not even pausing in the twisting of her tresses to indicate he’d heard her. The deliberate snubbing frayed her last nerve. She opened her mouth to repeat herself. The words got stuck there, her focus on the hand tracing the length of her arm. Wide-eyed, she watched talons extend from the fingertips. He dragged them over her skin, not bleeding her, but the threat was clear. The sight triggered the memory of watching blood drip off those claw-tipped fingers. Her blood. This time remembering his comforting words didn’t chase it away.

  The lust abated, fear replacing it. He could kill her as easily as he aroused her. Her pulse sped. She whimpered. There was no stopping the frightened sound or the trembling in her limbs.

  “Shifters enjoy the scent of fear on humans, Lena.”

  She really wished he’d stop saying her name. His European accent sounded sinfully sexy and sophisticated. Men she hated shouldn’t make her toes curl.

  He twined their fingers together and lifted them so their joined hands were inches away from her face—his clawed, hers with short, blunt nails.

  “You are tiny, Lena. Fragile.” He loosely gripped her wrist. “If I squeeze just a little, your bones will bre
ak.”

  She swallowed hard, eyes locked to his fingers she could’ve sworn had already been broken. “Go ahead and hurt me. I’m not telling you anything.”

  “Am I hurting you?”

  He might be treating her nicely now. That didn’t mean he’d continue doing so. She knew what he was capable of and how easily he killed. Seeing his claws reminded her of that. She pressed her lips tightly together and stayed quiet.

  “Are you giving me the silent treatment because I didn’t tell you what your flaws are?” He lowered their linked hands. “Sorry, little female. I assumed you wouldn’t appreciate hearing about my low opinion of your species. You see, in my experience, most humans are untrustworthy, lying individualists who wouldn’t understand loyalty if it bit them in the ass.”

  Before she could respond, he pressed his mouth to her neck, not a kiss exactly, but the warmth of his breath made it feel as intimate as one. She stilled and waited for him to make the next move. Without the visual reminder of the threat he posed, her other senses kicked in and overrode the fear that left her body strung tight.

  He smelled of the forest, a slight hint of evergreen and moss that both filled her with peace and kicked her lust into overdrive. The hard contours of his body molded to hers, reminding her he was a man built to quench the fires he ignited. The only thing she hadn’t experienced was his kiss. She’d bet money his flavor was equally as decadent. Chocolate came to mind. It would be just her luck. Everything else about her kidnapper’s body appealed to her. Why shouldn’t he taste of her favorite food too?

  “Do you understand now, beautiful Lena, why I remained silent?”

  Her eyelids drifted shut. His voice…oh god, his voice whispered into her ear was pure sin. Its deep timbre slithered through her body and touched every inch.

  He nipped her earlobe. “Answer me.”

  She nodded immediately, unable to ignore the huskily delivered order.

  “Good. Now, my little female, with that in the open between us, let me rephrase my question.” The butterfly caress of his lips sent shivers through her body. She squirmed, hated her body for its easy reaction to this man. “If you tell me where the cub is, not only will I allow you to leave here alive and relatively unharmed, I’ll also throw in fifty grand for your troubles.”

  This time, she laughed. “First off, if that’s the opinion you have of humans, you’re hanging around the wrong people. Second,” she paused, waiting until his limbs tensed, “fifty grand is pocket change to me. Your great motivator is lacking. You might as well either kill me or let me go, because my answer stands.”

  He sighed, not the reaction she was hoping for. She wanted him annoyed so he’d stop touching her.

  “I didn’t want to resort to this, but you leave me no choice.”

  He rolled them, blanketing her body with his. With her wrists grasped in one hand, he tugged her arms above her head. She should’ve been terrified considering his huge erection pressed against her thigh, but she stared at him open-mouthed. The sight of him in all his naked glory had the same effect it had the last time. It left her muddled inside. No man should look like he did.

  Hauntingly beautiful, as deadly and gorgeous as the tiger who’d hunted her.

  Corded muscle roped his chest and arms, the definition showcasing the incredible strength packed into his body. A soft dusting of hair covered his torso and tempted her gaze lower. God, she wanted to look, knew his cock would be drool-worthy, only she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face.

  Sharp cheekbones hardened his features, making him more striking than handsome, but the wider, flatter nose softened his harsh face. Long black lashes framed exotic, up-tilted eyes. Closed, she couldn’t see their color so she turned her attention to his hair. Sections of gold, black, red and brown decorated the thick black hair covering his head. She’d say it was a dye job, but she knew shifters always returned to the body they were born with when they morphed from animal to human. The amazing display in front of her was natural, god-given.

  “Lena?”

  She flicked her gaze to his and gasped. Completely yellow eyes streaked with green and brown studied her, the odd color complementing the patchwork hair. Wow. She squeezed hers shut, opened them. Nope, not crazy. They were still there. She’d thought his feline eyes belonged to the werecat form he’d worn while attacking the other shifters. Apparently not and these eyes weren’t vacant as they’d been then. They were hot, hungry. He looked as if he wanted to eat her alive.

  Her breath escaped in a long sigh.

  “Disgusted?”

  She said the only thing she could. “Beautiful. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

  His grip eased on her wrists and he stared at her as if she were a bug he studied. “I’m not a man, Lena.”

  No, he wasn’t and she shouldn’t desire him. She knew firsthand the dangers of getting involved with a shifter, but the ones she’d tangled with were nothing compared to the incredible male watching her with guarded, wary eyes as if waiting for her to change her mind.

  “Shifter, man. Doesn’t matter. You’re still gorgeous.”

  He cleared his throat and bent closer so those breathtaking eyes were inches from hers. “Then you should be happy with your punishment, little human.”

  Fear slithered into her stomach, churning it until bile rose. “And that is?”

  “I won’t rape you, Lena,” he growled, obviously following her train of thought.

  She licked her lips. “That’s good to hear.”

  “But I won’t let you go until you tell me where the cub is.”

  Her belly flip-flopped. The determination in his voice left no room for discussion. “That’s kidnapping.”

  “You would know a thing or two about kidnapping, wouldn’t you, Lena? You’re the one who was ready to hand an innocent child over to a fucked-up pride of lions.” He sneered at her, disgust etched into his features. “Why, Lena? What’s in it for you? Do you hate us that much that you’d destroy a little girl’s life?”

  She didn’t answer. What was the point? He wouldn’t believe her and she’d made a promise. Nothing he did would make her betray her little sister. Molly had been through too much, suffered more than any child—shifter or human—should.

  Lena had to stick to the plan—give her younger sister, Gwen, the chance to get Molly to safety, away from all the shifters who wanted to get their hands on the last unmated, female white lion. Yeah, she knew exactly what those men wanted—to secure their incubator so when she came of age, she could pop out babies for them. Not. Fucking. Happening.

  “Answer me.”

  She sneered. “Make me.”

  He covered her mouth with his, his tongue prodding against her lips, incessant and demanding. Instead of forcing his entry, he shifted his hold on her wrists. He rubbed gentle circles into the center of her palm, the soft touch at odds with his hungry kiss. He was seducing her. She knew that’s all this was. Accepted it but couldn’t resist.

  His aroused member slid along her bare thigh. She shuddered, a soft gasp escaping. He took advantage of it. He slipped his tongue between her parted lips and kissed her as if she were his salvation or his favorite meal. Only her stubbornness stopped her from returning his passion.

  He pulled back, frustration tightening his face so creases ran across his forehead. Her gaze shifted from his narrowed eyes to his mouth. She watched as fangs descended, the sharpened canines moving easily into place.

  He gave her shoulders a little shake. “Dammit, woman. Kiss me back. I know you want to.”

  With her eyes locked to the fangs that had ripped a man’s throat out, she whispered, “I want you to let me go.”

  He leapt from the bed and grabbed sweats off the edge of a chair. She turned away and studied the nightstand, its dark wood scratched and nicked. A black phone sat in the center with a sticker reminding that checkout was at noon. They were in a hotel. Her fear eased. He probably wouldn’t kill her in a hotel. Too many witnesses.
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br />   She peered over her shoulder and took in the body that went with her kidnapper’s big hands. She guessed he stood at over six and half feet. A wide back tapered to a tucked-in waist. Loose gray pants hung low on his hips and bare feet that matched the proportions of the man—gigantic—flattened the plush carpet. Biceps thicker than her thighs bunched as he flexed and released those dinner-plate sized hands.

  He reached up and ran his long fingers through the patchwork hair. The strands fanned with the movement, settling against his shoulders. With the second sweep through the locks, he yanked handfuls of the colorful hair, a groan accompanying the rough tug. She dropped her gaze before she gave in to the urge to ask if he was all right. Her fascination with him wasn’t healthy. Outward appearances didn’t make the man and this one was a dangerous predator. Big cats did not make good cuddle buddies.

  She pushed her body into a sitting position. The movement tugged her abused stomach. Preparing for the worst, she glanced down and didn’t see what she’d expected. Instead of a bruised and beaten body, she saw her familiar tanned skin—blood free, without any ugly black-and-blue splotches.

  Her shoes had been replaced by a pair of large socks, the tops rolled down to help them stay on. Scratches marred her legs from the edge of her exercise shorts to her feet but none were bandaged nor did they need to be. The only square of gauze covered the wound on her belly.

  “How long was I unconscious?”

  He tensed and rubbed one of those big hands over the back of his neck but didn’t turn around. She glanced away when it became apparent he wasn’t going to answer and ran a finger over a splotch of shiny new skin on her knee. Anxiety settled in her bones. A lot could happen in a matter of days.

  “Few hours,” he muttered. She looked at him. His arm was folded against the wall, his forehead resting on it. “I tended your wounds. Most won’t scar.”

  She opened her mouth to ask how but decided against it. Engaging him in conversation wasn’t the smartest move. Besides, something told her she didn’t want to know.