Night Prey

by Tara Nina

  A thin smile graced her lips at the small victory. She stared down the Black Knight and won. But what exactly had she proven? That she could outlast him in a contest of hard stares. Rose sighed and turned from the window. The man was truly a challenge. Was he worth it?

  Remembering the heat of his touch and the taste of his lips, Rose decided he was worth every ounce of effort given to win his heart. Or at least another round in his arms. Rose smiled. Determination set in as she planned her strategy. Obviously they prepared to leave.

  Whatever was written within that parchment had to be behind the sudden drive to make ready for travel. With the amount of weaponry she saw loaded in the limited amount of time she watched, they planned for a massive battle.

  The need to know had her out the door and down the stairs in a matter of minutes. If they were leaving, then she intended to be a part of it. Rose skidded to a halt at the foot of the stairs when Mikala crossed her path.

  Taller and fuller-figured than Rose, Mikala stood with her hands on her hips. A look of pure hate twisted her face and made her appear evil as she intentionally blocked Rose. Sweat beaded the woman’s brow and her heavy breasts jutted forward as she lifted to full height, glaring at Rose.

  Not about to be intimidated, Rose stiffened her spine and held her gaze leveled on the other woman’s narrowed eyes. The woman did not scare her, but from her crazed look, she expected the worst. Every animal instinct fired awake, sizing up the possible threat.

  The air thickened with her repugnant scent and Rose stifled a gag when she inhaled too deeply. What appealed to Alessandro about this creature escaped Rose. Nothing about her appeared pleasant. Even her breath held an onion odor when she spoke.

  “You have done me a great wrong, you little whore.”

  Rose didn’t flinch as Mikala shook a finger in her face. Instead she cocked a brow and tilted her chin in a defiant manner. Both hands balled into fists at her sides, hidden in the folds of her skirts. She battled the anger Mikala goaded to life with her despicable words.

  “Alessandro belongs to me,” she sputtered as she leaned to within millimeters of Rose’s face. Teeth gritted, Rose refused to show any signs of her inner turmoil to the brazen bitch staking claim to who Rose knew belonged to her.

  Having heard enough, Rose attempted to push past Mikala, but failed to budge the other woman. She fisted Rose’s hair and jerked. In an instant, Rose fell against Mikala as the woman tightened her grip. Pain filtered through her scalp causing her eyes to water, but she wouldn’t cry and show this person any weakness.

  “What’s the matter? Got your tongue cut out the last time you tried to steal a man?” Mikala’s hot, smelly breath nearly smothered her.

  Enough was enough. Rose stomped on Mikala’s foot at the same time she ducked her head and shoved her shoulder full force into Mikala’s chest. Rose managed to free her hair from the death grip and knocked the other woman to the ground. To Rose’s surprise, Mikala rolled to her hands and knees and sprang to her feet with a small dagger in her hand. Where she pulled that from, Rose didn’t want to venture a guess.

  Mikala’s lips twisted into a macabre snarl as she waved the dagger around. “Prepared to die?”

  The instant Mikala lunged, Rose twirled out of her path and caught her in the small of her back with a firm elbow. Though Mikala stumbled, she did not fall. As she turned to face Rose once again, Rose grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the dagger with both hands. Using the force of her size, Mikala backed Rose up against a wall as they struggled over the weapon.

  Neither noticed the crowd or the men who entered.

  With each millimeter the knife gained toward her face, Rose fought harder for control over her inner beast. If she changed, she’d win. But at what cost? Did she have to kill the other woman in order to save her life and expose her secret? Was it in her to take the life of another?

  The decision was taken from her as Alessandro broke through the crowd and ripped the dagger from their grip. He wedged himself between them, placing Rose at his back, securing her against the wall. His thick masculine scent enveloped her and stunned her senses. Both of her arms were pinned above her head, so she had no choice but to rest her hands on the back of his shoulders, feeling the tension mount and bunch underneath her palms. With her arms in such a position, her breasts jutted forward, raking against the muscles of his back, hardening her nipples.

  Whether he meant to or not, his firm rump rubbed against the tender flesh of her abdomen, setting her on fire with need. Every ounce of her sizzled to life and itched to claim him. Her juices flowed, soaking her sheath and the primal need to mate rose to a feral pitch. Her breathing increased as she closed her eyes and inhaled the scents that were this man—the black panther, earth and sweat topped with the faint hint of vesper.

  Rose swallowed hard and forced her focus on the situation and not her feline urges. Though with Alessandro pressed tightly against her, it was difficult to think of anything else. She managed to gain an inch of separation between them that relieved some of the sensory overload, but not much. From her position, it looked as if he would break Mikala’s arm if she so much as moved to fight against him.

  “This is over,” he roared in her face, shaking her by the arm as if she weighed no more than a wet cloth.

  Every ounce of color disappeared from her cheeks. The death glare in his eyes induced fear as Mikala trembled in his presence. Just catching a glimpse of his face as she peeked around his arm made Rose truly aware of his deadly essence. The truth of what she heard of him showed in his expression. People quaked in his path and learned the meaning of fear. Or at least Mikala did, Rose thought and bit the edge of her lower lip to stifle the bitter smile that wanted to surface. A lady did not gloat in the face of another’s failures.

  And who was she to think she had an ounce of claim to Alessandro? Even though they toyed with each other’s affections earlier, they had not truly completed the act. But if they did, he would not have sought pleasure with Mikala. Rose sighed and tried not to think of that horrific scene on the dais.

  There were many duties required of Alessandro and keeping peace among his people was one of them. Looking up at him, she knew he acted upon his duty, nothing more. The moment he took a step forward placing a wider gap between them, cold blanketed her skin at the loss of his touch.

  As master of the manor, Alessandro had to maintain control. He was only acting as their leader and it was his right to discipline as he saw fit. Of all who witnessed the event, they knew Mikala started the fight. Rose simply defended herself. At least, Rose hoped the true story would be told if he questioned. But she was a stranger. Mikala was one of them.

  “I told you to get out.” Alessandro tossed her to the floor and pinned her there with his penetrating stare. “Joseph, see that she leaves these grounds before nightfall.”

  Joseph stepped from the crowd of about a dozen people to stand beside Alessandro.

  “With pleasure, Sir.” He bowed then turned to Mikala. “Get up, wench. Your time to leave has arrived.”

  “You will perish for this.” Mikala’s voice trembled. She tried to stand upright and tugged at her clothes before Joseph grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the open door. “I’ll see you in hell!” she added on a scream as Joseph forced her outside.

  Alessandro snarled then stated under his breath, “Been there, got spit out. Hell hath no vacancy for spawn like me.” He spoke so low she knew he expected no one to hear him. But Rose did. He took two steps then turned to look over his shoulder as he added, “See that you stay out of trouble.” Then he marched out the door.

  Chapter Six

  As she went after him, Rose wasn’t sure if she should be angry with him for commanding her to stay out of trouble like some child or grateful for saving her life from the hands of his whore. Anger won. On the top step, she sent him the first thing that came to mind, stopping him in his tracks at the base of the front steps.

  “You treat all your lovers like that? W
hen you tire of me, shall I be tossed out too?”

  She watched his shoulders sag for a moment as if her words hit him like a weighted blow. But just as quickly, he stiffened and without turning to face her he stated, “No, little one, you have nothing to fear. We are not lovers.”

  Rose bit back the words she wished to throw his way. Instead she silently watched him walk away. That broad back was held board stiff, shoulders taut and his gait quickened with long strides as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  Why did he infuriate her so? He simply stated the truth. They were not lovers. She darted a glance at the woman being carted out the front gates in the back of a wagon. From the looks of it, he liked his women rough.

  “Impossible man!” Rose screamed inside her head.

  “Do not say I did not warn you that it would not be easy, little panther.” The sound of Kade’s voice echoed on his laughter from across the bailey where he stood checking off a list of supplies and watching the exchange between her and Alessandro.

  “Nothing good ever is,” Rose replied.

  * * * * *

  For the rest of the day, everyone pitched in to prepare for the journey, even Rose and her father. He worked to repair damaged swords, firearms, weapons, materials and shod each horse in need. Being a fine cook, Rose helped with the kitchen details doing whatever Ilene directed her to do.

  She maintained her kitchen duties until she fed and watered every able-bodied person. But no Alessandro. The one person she wanted a chance to see never showed. When Kade stopped in for a quick meal, he informed her that Alessandro would be busy throughout the night. It was his way to see that all was right before they ventured from the safety of the castle walls.

  Worn out, Rose took her meal to her room. After she undressed and slipped on a nightgown, Rose sifted through her thoughts. The day had been so busy no other room had been prepared for her to sleep, so she was told that she was to use Alessandro’s again tonight. And since he would have no use for it, Joseph let her know she could stay there until he returned.

  Did he think she planned to sit idle while he took the missive to the king? Rose took a bite of her bread and paced. That was not right. Whatever information the missive held was bad. She felt it to her toes. Alessandro would not prepare his men in such a fashion if they were simply taking the information to King George III. No. She shrugged as she chewed. They prepared for a war, not a simple battle. Against whom?

  Throughout the day, she listened to the chatter of the men. None spoke of the mission ahead. It seemed they did not care as long as they got to fight. Odd, these men of Alessandro’s were strange creatures to crave a battle. Even more than they hungered for a woman.

  Whenever she walked among them with food or water, they shushed and kept their actions to a minimum. Were they afraid of her? Though she tried to mask her scent, did they know her secret? True, many of them were shifters. She determined this from their essence. It was an earthy smell blended with human and whichever animal they possessed within their souls. She sensed several panthers among the men. There were a few odors she could not recognize, but knew they were shifters.

  It amazed her just how many resided within the ranks. Before she came to Pantera Manor, she feared she would never find another like her. But now she smiled. She felt at home, at peace, safe amongst her kind. Would they accept her?

  Poppa thought they might, if she chose one as her mate. As an unmated female shifter, she was a prize to be claimed. Alessandro’s explanation resurfaced and she halted. He marked her as a way to protect her from the rest. The site upon her neck warded them off. That fact made her uneasy. What if Alessandro refused to follow through on his claim? Would she become fresh meat in a market of animal shifters?

  She shivered as she pushed open the window shutter. The sight of a large black panther strolling the ward, weaving through the packed wagons, gave her hope. A wicked smile upturned her lips. Panther, you have met your match.

  Rose walked to the door, opened it slightly then slipped out of the thin nightgown using the door as a shield. After peeking from one end of the hall to the other, she shifted and padded silently through the castle.

  Never had he felt so unsettled as he did this night. Alessandro paced in panther form across the bailey then up a hidden stairwell that led to the top of the outer walls, which protected the castle. Many a night he walked these walls, watched and searched. All the while the identity of what he strived to find eluded him. But now he knew. The object of his hatred dug into his soul and tormented his every breath.

  Mephistopheles.

  In his gut, he secretly knew this day would come. But why had the demon involved innocents in his devilish game? It was he the demon hunted. Not anyone else and especially not Rose. He would die before he let that demon near her. Just thinking that Mephistopheles wanted her had Alessandro’s gut in knots and the hunger for blood—demon blood—rushed through his veins.

  When he reached one of the back corners, he climbed a narrow ledge that led him up the outside of the bastion to the rear tower. At the top, he dropped inside to the inner wall and paced the circular tower, watched and waited for any sign that proved the demon hovered near in search of him.

  This battle was inevitable. No creature ever escaped Mephistopheles. No one except for him and the handful of shifters he managed to take with him on that fateful day. They were the ones he protected and let live within his walls. Those few were true to him, but he knew he would not have them face this demon in his place, though any one of them would not hesitate. Thinking back, it all seemed like a dream. A long bad dream he wished stopped repeating.

  The memory of a drawn-out bloody battle over worthless lands in the Highlands of Scotland caused Alessandro to snarl as it traipsed through his head. Mephistopheles was on a tear over the inability of his troops to dismember the Scottish scum, as he called them, and plunder their bounties. When faced with the choice to slaughter innocents or die, the last thread of decency in Alessandro’s soul clung to life in a private inner battle for control of his self-worth.

  Unable to kill a mother and her son as demanded by the demon, Alessandro revolted against Mephistopheles. Taught well by the man who wanted to be master of his soul, Alessandro welded his first weapon of choice, his sword, against the demon. Years of suffering and watching others die boiled his blood and turned him into a fighting, killing monster. Now every hair on his panther form stood on end as the battle played out in his mind.

  Steel struck steel as the master and pupil fought that night. Sparks flew with each deliberate blow. For a normal man, the hideous twist Mephistopheles’ face took would have sent them screaming in insanity. But Alessandro was no normal man. Within him lived a beast, a creation of pure evil, taught and controlled by the demon himself until that fragile line connecting them snapped.

  Each cut of his skin did not weaken him. It fueled his bloodlust into a frenzy. He shook from head to toe trying to disband the image, but it refused to dissipate. The need to overtake Mephistopheles guided his limited vision toward one goal… Kill or be killed. That motto had been drilled into the inner walls of his skull until it was all he knew. And by his hand, he planned to free the shredded pieces left of his soul and the souls of the others held captive by this demon spawn.

  The battle waged until both were bloody. Every intake of air invited a painful experience and there were no muscles left that were not saturated with pure exhaustion. Just thinking about it made his body taut and phantom spikes of pain shot through his system. Swing upon swing, each parried or blocked the other’s maneuver with expert precision. Near the end, they locked swords and forced their hands downward. Neither bent to the other’s will. In an unfortunate stroke of luck, Alessandro’s sword snapped near the hilt, leaving him with nothing but a nub and his shield.

  Mephistopheles’ menacing laughter washed over him and echoed in his head. The vivid memory made his skin crawl and added fuel to his hatred as his darkest hour paraded through his t
houghts. In a desperate move to prevent being run through by the demon’s blade, Alessandro ducked and rolled. With the last ounce of fight he could muster, Alessandro sprang upright and dove at the demon, smashing the hilt of his sword in the face of Mephistopheles and missed taking a sword in the chest by millimeters.

  The demon’s knees buckled and he slid to the ground. An icy glaze filled his eyes as blood oozed from the gash in his forehead. The battle ended. Alessandro and the others were free.

  At least that’s what he thought.

  In the early hours of light, the body of Mephistopheles had not been found. He should have taken it as a sign their personal war continued. Stiffening his spine, the great black panther scanned the perimeter for his adversary. An evil scent blew on the breeze and he knew the time of reckoning neared.

  Kill or be killed.

  Slow and silent, Rose tracked her prey. The erotic animal scent lured her across the bailey, the ward and weaved her through the barrage of wagons and supplies. For an instant, she lost his scent at the base of the wall. Though the air thickened with his flavor, she was unable to place his location.

  As the white panther, she sat back on her haunches and studied her surroundings. He was near. She sensed it. Out of the corner of her eye, a slight reflection of moonlight gave her a clue. Without knowledge of its location, the common eye missed the slender staircase worked into the craftsmanship of the wall, which concealed it from view. If a cat could smile, she would have a broad grin on her lips right now as this small victory guided her upward.

  Once on top, she regained a lock on his trail and tried to use the shadows to hide her pure-white coat. Being one-of-a-kind produced some drawbacks. The art of concealment was one of them. White tended to reflect even a minimal trace of light and give away her location. She glanced at the sliver of moon, thankful it wasn’t full.