by Becca Dale
Blood surged through his head and pounded behind his eyes at the thought of Kya lying with another. She would fight such a situation, but she might not have a choice. Royal blood or not, Canar had given her to him. His to love and protect, and he’d destroy anyone who claimed otherwise. Kya’s mine. You’ll never touch her. Struggling to stay in control while Dar’s taunts fired his rage, he leaped, claws bared to slit the other cat’s throat.
Dar laughed as he dodged the attack, and Ja skidded toward a tree. Not for long. You’re lowborn. Once Kya understands, she’ll have no choice but order your execution for touching her. Unless I’ve already taken care of the problem.
Ja could not see or think clearly. The clan would side with Rork and Dar. Divine right would overshadow the word of a dead king. Kya would have no choice in the matter—nor would he. Images of Kya in true form as she rolled in the sun and exposed her vulnerable belly to Dar or crouched to welcome Rork’s seed burned away all caution. The cool of logic lost its final tenuous grip as battle heat swept over him with black fury. The desire to rip Dar’s jugular shoved away everything else. He could not stop the clan from giving Kya to another, but he could ensure she wasn’t sacrificed to the filthy bastard who’d tried to rape her. He leaped again and his teeth found the underside of Dar’s throat with a satisfied growl. Die you fucking bastard! Die!
* * *
Grant and the others watched helplessly as the two cats raged against one another. They struggled, rolling into the stream and out again as they battled. Then they disappeared. Grant leaped forward. He tried desperately to catch Ja but failed. His teeth snapped against the tips of fur and nothing else. The wolf watched helplessly as the stream ran over the edge of a cliff in a narrow waterfall, and the two cats bounced from ledge to ledge in rapid descent toward the ravine at the bottom. Grant waited, paralyzed, as the two felines came to rest on a narrow precipice. Blood smeared the rock face and pooled quickly on the meager outcrop. Ja! Are you all right?
One of the black cats stood too far down for Grant to see clearly. Fear for Hannah’s friend surged through him in silent alarm.
Ja. Answer me.
The cat looked up and shook the daze from his head before he leaped across to more solid ground and disappeared into the brush.
A howl of pain started among the wolf pack and the felines joined in with frustrated roars. Poignant in its painful impotence, the mournful sound of useless fury echoed through the trees and floated back to the powerless gathering. Hannah’s warrior lay dead, leaving her and her clan more vulnerable than ever before.
Chapter Eight—Ja
Jensen had killed Malachi.
Grant had told her so himself. Numbing shock soaked through Hannah’s limbs and froze her soul. Fierce pain swelled her chest and burst forth in ragged, tear-filled gasps. She could not draw enough oxygen into her lungs. Images of her beautiful cat broken and bloody against the rocks slashed her heart. She would find and kill Jensen herself. He would not walk away from this unscathed.
A twig snapped. Startled, she turned to see a tall, well built man on the path behind her. Long, dark hair framed his chiseled features. Jensen! Grief and rage boiled over in a scream. She launched herself at him. Her fists pounded on his chest while she kicked and clawed. “You killed him! You son of a bitch! I hope you rot in hell!”
“Stop, Kya.”
The gentle yet commanding voice heard so many times in her head drained the fight from her. With a gasp, she stepped back. The stranger who held her arms had Jensen’s lean build and his coal black hair, but the green unwavering stare was different. She tugged away from his firm grasp. He stood too close, strange despite his familiar aura. “Who are you?”
“You know me.”
“No, I don’t. I thought you were Jensen, but you’re different.”
He smelled of earth and sunshine, and the warm, subtle musk of man. She wanted to settle into his arms, to absorb his strength and allow him to ease the pain of Malachi’s death. How could that be?
The stranger followed as she retreated. His solid form warmed her through the thin fabric of her T-shirt. Her heartbeat skipped then thundered onward.
“Look at me, Kya. Know me, love.”
The man wore no shirt or shoes, only threadbare jeans. A savage red scar ran from his bare chest across his right shoulder and disappeared behind his back. His hands circled her arms as Jensen’s had done, but she felt no revulsion, only bewilderment. He lifted her to her toes, his lips a fraction of an inch from hers. “Who am I?” When she did not answer, he shook her lightly. “Don’t rely on what you see. Concentrate on what you know. Set fear aside and tell me who I am.”
Then she understood, though the reality should have been impossible. “Malachi.”
His smile rewarded her confidence. “Close enough for now.” Slowly, he allowed her to slide down his chest until her feet found solid ground once more.
A sick feeling swirled in her stomach. Impossible. Wildcats did not morph into human beings no matter how much she wanted Malachi alive. She twisted from his touch and held her hand up to keep him at bay when he reached for her again. “No. This is ridiculous. I don’t—can’t believe you.”
“Yes, you can. You know it’s true. You’ve heard me speak to you time and again. You’ve looked into my eyes and seen more than my cat.”
His rich voice rumbled over her like a caress, and her body instinctively responded to him. To believe him would be to admit insanity. To refuse would do the same. She’d heard his words in her mind too often. Tears welled as she searched for proof of the inconceivable. His eyes shone with the same emerald glint as Malachi’s, his hair the same rich black. He’s a man not a cat.
The stranger chuckled and tugged her against his chest. “I know this seems impossible, but I am the one you call Malachi.”
She shook her head and tried to push away, but he nuzzled her neck and licked softly at the love mark that still marred her skin. “You told the panther of a man in your dreams, but you never shared details. You never admitted how you writhed in ecstasy beneath me or how I begged you to accept me.”
She groaned as images of her dream lover flooded through her and blended with the warm sexy scent of the man holding her close. “That doesn’t mean you’re Malachi.”
“The night you came to me, the same night Dar—Jensen—arrived, you cleaned my wound and removed the bullet he had put there.” His laughter echoed through his chest as he squeezed her tighter. “You asked me not to eat you and worried that not closing the wound would leave too big of a scar.” He eased her back and tipped her chin so she had to meet his steady gaze. “We trusted each other then. Trust me now.”
“Such things don’t exist.”
He covered her mouth with his in a long, persuasive kiss and logic gave way to the reality of him. He lifted his head slowly, parting from her in small nibbles. “Feels real to me.”
She tenderly traced the furrowed skin on his shoulder, still uncertain. “How? Grant saw you die.”
“People believe what their eyes tell them. Thanks to Grant, Rork believes that his son lives, and I’m at the bottom of a ravine.” Talented hands wandered over her back, stroking her spine in tiny circles, before he pressed her hips forward against his. “I’ve been too long without you and too many others have had their paws on your sweet flesh.”
“I’ve touched no one unless you count Jensen.”
“You stroke that pack of males you call brothers all the time.”
“They’re family. You can’t be jealous of them.”
A low growl rumbled through his chest. “You reek of them when you should smell only of me.”
Before she could protest further, his mouth captured hers in a ravenous kiss; breath clean, tongue hot and commanding. A quiver shimmied up her spine as she opened for him. Long fingers threaded through her hair and tugged her head back, increasing access to her mouth. His other arm closed around her waist and shifted her flush against the solid heat of arousal. Desire
obliterated confusion as she clung to solid muscles. His strength reaffirmed life—promised it would go on in a heady rush.
Her clothes fell easy victim to his calloused fingers, the last uncertainty melting beneath his touch. He had come to her before; not in a dream, but in this human form. How she could have thought him imaginary seemed as outlandish to her as believing in shapeshifters would have moments before.
She could no longer think at all, only feel. The breeze tickled her naked flesh. Her nipples puckered as moist air teased heated skin. His mouth closed over her breast, drawing deeply, forceful and insistent, as he shoved his denim clad thigh between her legs. She rode him, massaging her sensitized clit against the rough fabric of his jeans. Desire coiled through her, curling from the tender nipple, abraded by his tongue, through her grateful heart and into her core. A desperate cry escaped her lips. She needed him, needed proof he lived, that he did not lie at the bottom of a ravine for nature to devour. She fumbled at his snap, jerking it loose. “Damn it, Malachi. Hurry!”
He growled low in his throat and shoved her back against the rough bark of a tree. When he freed himself, she had no time to admire his thick-veined shaft before he wrapped her legs around his waist and slammed inside her. She came instantly. She pressed her moans to his shoulder to muffle them as the world narrowed to a tiny circle, and her inner muscles begged him to join her in ecstasy.
* * *
The forest slowly returned to normal. She clung to Malachi’s shoulders, trembling from the power of her orgasm. His mouth covered hers while he leisurely withdrew and sank back, coaxing her to arousal again. She closed her eyes and absorbed the feel of his thick cock as he stretched her.
His lips left hers to wander down her neck. His tongue caressed the hollow of her collarbone, touching briefly against the tiny scars at the base of her throat. “Mine. Mine to love and protect, Kya.”
The strange name caught her off guard, though he and Jensen had called her it before. “My name is Hannah.”
“No.” He tipped his head so she could meet his eyes. “You’re Kya, daughter of Canar, my mate by royal decree.”
He sounded as if he didn’t really believe his own words. She tried to pull away from his powerful hold. “Malachi, I—”
His fierce scowl almost frightened her. “Ja. No more human labels.” He caught her lips, stealing her breath when he plunged his cock deep, rocking her against him with relentless insistence. Pain-laced pleasure radiated through her body as his forceful thrusts struck her cervix. Tearing his mouth from hers, he grasped her chin so she could not look anywhere but his compelling eyes. “Say my name, Kya.”
Everything inside her melted around him. She wanted to belong as much as he demanded it.
His touch softened, his next kiss more whispered endearment than true contact. “Please, little one.” The arm at her hips tightened; he stroked inside her with increasing adore. Tenderness replaced dominance until she balanced on the precipice once more. “Prove you know me, that the others who circle and sniff at you have no bearing on our lives.”
She did not know him in this form but she could not be without him. His touch drove away loneliness, and his voice had reassured her time and again. She needed to give that comfort back to him. With a groan, she captured his face in her palms. “We belong to each other, Ja. No one else matters.”
His grunt of satisfaction pulsed beneath her ear. The stars swirled through the tree tops overhead as she tipped her head back in a silent cry. Strong fingers dug into her butt cheeks bruising her, holding her steady for his possession. Ja’s cock slammed home in rapid staccato, driving off all thoughts beyond the moment and the feel of him buried inside her.
Hannah moaned. Tension pushed higher. She closed her eyes and absorbed his rough control. Desire and acceptance became one as she met his physical demands with her own. Her nails clawed his shoulders. She pushed forward to meet each plunge. A scream built steadily in her chest.
Ja pounded harder, faster. “Look, Kya. See that you belong to me.” She lifted her head as his eyes shifted to watch his rigid cock slam in and out of her. He groaned deep in his throat.
His hot flesh filled her eager body, and her wet folds followed him when he withdrew and closed around his return in a sensuous dance. He shifted his hand across her thigh and found her clit with his thumb, rubbing in ache generating circles. The trees faded and left only his hands and talented dick.
Ja nipped at the mark on her collarbone. “Fuck me, love. Pull my cum inside until you smell only of me.”
He satisfied her deep-seated need for connection, took and gave in a blood pounding rush, until she could not focus beyond the intense pleasure his touch generated. “Show me you’re alive, Ja. Be mine. Oh…please…don’t leave me, again.”
His hot mouth locked on hers. His tongue mimicked his talented cock. Stinging pinpricks bit at her ass when his nails dug more fully into her tender flesh. Hannah’s world exploded. Her body tensed, clenched and released, shuddered and welcomed the fireworks that shot from his groin to her womb and stole her last thread of control. His kiss captured her impassioned cry and kept their presence secret from the night and those who would destroy them.
Chapter Nine—The Truth Revealed
When they could breathe again, Ja slid to the ground and snuggled her in his lap. Confusion slowly overshadowed Hannah’s contentment as reality returned. She traced the solid muscles of his chest, savoring the steady beat of his heart. “I still don’t understand. Tell me what I need to know.”
He chuckled. “Do you really want to discuss this right now?”
She tipped her head back. “I want to know why you cry another woman’s name when you’re buried inside me.”
A scowl drew his dark eyebrows together. “I’ve told you. Kya’s your given name, the one chosen by the clan.”
When he did not elaborate, she pushed him away and slipped from his embrace. She gathered her clothes and dressed—thin armor against the questions thundering through her brain. Who was he? Better yet what was he? She did not bother with underclothing, merely struggled into her jeans and shirt. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the buttons.
Ja pulled on his own pants then gently pushed her fingers aside to close her blouse over her naked breasts. “Don’t shut me out, little one.” He swept her into his arms and settled on the ground with her across his legs. “Can you listen with an open mind?”
She nodded, and Ja hugged her closer.
“Three summers after your birth, the clan suffered an attack from within. Your father’s cousin decided he should rule and eliminated those who stood in his way.”
“Stop.” She shifted on his thighs so she could see his expression. “You can’t start in the middle here. My parents died in a car accident right after I turned sixteen. Are you saying someone killed my dad?”
“Not your adoptive father.”
She shook her head. “I was abandoned as a baby. My biological parents didn’t want me.”
Ja rubbed her back in slow soothing circles. “That’s not true. Your parents loved you. We all did. We just had no way to protect you once Rork overthrew the government.”
“So who were my parents? The man you claim was my father, was he in line somewhere between his cousin and the throne? What made them targets?” She wanted to sink into the comfort he offered but doubts and confusion jumbled her thoughts.
Sadness flitted through his beautiful eyes. “One question at a time, little one.” He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers before he looked at her fully. “Your mom and dad were the king and queen. Your father was the only one who stood between Rork and the throne.”
She laughed not at the humor of the situation, she could see none of that, but because the story kept getting more farfetched. “Does that mean I’m a princess?”
“Yes. You’re the last of the family line beyond Rork. Since Jensen—Dar—is dead, you’re it unless your uncle has another child.”
Disbelief crowded ou
t objectivity. “If my parents were really royalty, where were their guards? Why did no one stop this Rork?”
“He struck too fast. It’s not uncommon. Once the reigning king or queen is dead, the next in line takes the throne. Your grandfather came to power in much the same manner.”
Ja had requested she listen with an open mind, but she didn’t know if she could. It was too much to take in. She had been on her own too many years, had carried the knowledge of abandonment too long. To believe she descended from nobility was even harder to accept. “So were they… Were my parents like you and Jensen?”
“I’m not royal.”
She scowled. “No, I mean, like you. Could they…?” How did one ask such a ludicrous question? The whole cat-shifter thing hovered beyond the realm of comprehension. “Could they turn?”
“Yes. We are all of the Wyenko tribe of the Kialo clan.”
How could she trust him when he made such outrageous claims? “I can’t do what you do. I am nothing more than I appear.”
Raising her hand to his mouth, Ja feathered kisses over her knuckles. “Belief is a hard thing, but you are far more than you seem.”
“So why haven’t I ever shifted?”
“Because this is first form for you. Shifting requires a conscious effort to move from first to second stage and maintaining it takes practice. You did not have a mentor as you grew into your abilities, so you have never known to try.”
“What is your first form?” Was the sleek black cat his natural state?
“I was born feline, as is almost a hundred percent of our kind.”
Hannah didn’t know what to believe. The sanctuary had been the first place she’d truly felt at home; among the trees and animals she found a lonely sort of peace. Still, his story tested the imagination too far. “How many is that?”