Panther's Promise: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance

by Zoe Chant

A few flakes of snow stuck to the windshield, and he fought back a full-body shudder. Only a few blocks… but a few blocks of icy winds. And snow. Snow that would stick, become damp, and slip down the back of his collar.

  “The hell with that,” he growled as he slung the car into reverse. The car’s suspension took a hit as he backed up onto an empty patch of sidewalk to break out of the gridlocked sea of cars. A timely spin of the wheel brought them out on a side street.

  His panther belonged in the jungle, in a world of damp heat with the warm smell of soil and growing things. But Grant? He belonged here. The concrete jungle. His jungle.

  The car’s electric engine didn’t roar as he slipped in between two moving cars into the far lane, taking advantage of every break in the traffic. It was as quiet as he himself would have been, stalking through the hot, lush jungles of Bolivia.

  Irina’s grip on his leg tightened as he found an empty lane and picked up speed.

  “Is this a shortcut?” she asked. “In the opposite direction to where we were headed before?”

  “Shorter than being stuck in a gridlock? I sure hope so,” Grant replied, eyes on the road. He eased around another corner, his mind playing out the options. Left here—no, the next block.

  A map of the borough’s streets and buildings flickered through Grant’s mind. The next block would bring them to one of Frankie’s hotels. He knew there had been road work outside the building. It stuck in his mind so clearly because he’d imagined Frankie’s fury at the disturbance.

  If he remembered correctly, the construction had only finished the day before. He hoped that most drivers wouldn’t have heard about the completion and would still be avoiding the area.

  One way to find out.

  Grant hung another left, a new plan sparking in his mind. Irina was right. Who said they needed to drive all the way, after all?

  Yes. The newly sealed road was smooth under the car’s tires, and the Hotel Lyon gleamed like a golden spire in the snow. Irina was leaning forward, peering out in front of them. She gave Grant a questioning look.

  “Is it just me, or are you driving in circles?”

  “Strategic circles, I promise.” Grant slowed down and eased into the parking level of the Hotel Lyon. The warden recognized him and waved him through; Grant coasted onto the automated parking.

  “This is our stop,” he announced.

  “You live in a hotel?” Irina asked then covered her mouth. Sadly, with the hand that had previously been on Grant’s leg. “Uh, no judgement meant, just—surprise.”

  “We can stay here if you’d prefer,” Grant said quickly, “but my apartment isn’t far. Honest. We’re at least—oh, a few hundred yards closer now than we were at the restaurant.” He grinned. “And it’s a lovely walk. I promise.”

  Irina looked doubtful and shrugged. Before Grant could leap out and open the door for her, she turned the handle and stepped out.

  Grant followed her, lightning-fast, and offered her his arm.

  “Shall we?”

  She took it, raising one dark eyebrow. “A romantic walk in the snow, when there’s a whole hotel of warm, cozy rooms above us? Why not?”

  She was right. The master suites of the Hotel Lyon were warm. All of Frankie’s hotels were perfectly appointed.

  But something inside Grant rebelled at the idea of spending his first night with Irina in a rented room. He wanted to take her home, to his bed, not to some temporary den.

  Grant turned to lead Irina further into the building, avoiding both the elevator up to the hotel lobby and the way out to the street. She frowned, questions clear on her face, and Grant held her closer.

  “Our choices aren’t just traffic jams or cold, wet feet,” he explained, lowering his mouth to her ear and feeling her shiver in his arms. “Let me show you how I managed to make it to the age of eighteen in this city and still not know how to drive from one end of this block to the other…”

  There was a plain metal door set into a dim corner in the back of the parking level. Grant tested the handle and grinned as it gave under his hand.

  “Step one, complete,” he said triumphantly. “Not that I didn’t have an excellent save ready if that was locked.”

  “Of course not.” Irina’s eyes were wide. “So, you don’t live in a hotel. You live… in a maintenance corridor?”

  “The finest of all maintenance corridors!” Grant swept into the dingy hallway, and Irina laughed, spinning with him. “Come on—follow me…”

  “Where are we going?”

  He explained as they walked through the underbelly of the building, through the corridor to a storage area and past a startled security guard. Grant flashed a grin at the old man but slipped past him before the poor guy could figure out whether stopping people from breaking out was part of his job.

  “I grew up in this neighborhood, and Mathis’s family owned most of the block back then. So, we did what any young sh—uh, young kids would do. We explored. Ah—here we are.”

  He put his arm around Irina’s shoulders just as they walked into a rush of cold air, stopping in front of a heavy metal grille. He’d never been entirely sure what this architectural quirk was for, although he and Mathis had exchanged theories. Since the grille was roughly door-shaped, the more likely of these theories (the ones not involving ninjas) was that it was something to do with ventilation or an emergency exit—if emergency exits were habitually left bolted shut.

  Grant put his hands on the grille. The metal was cold under his fingers. “If I remember correctly—and if no one has fixed this in the last fifteen years…”

  He glared at the door for a moment and then wedged his shoulder under a cross-bar. Sure, there was another exit farther along, but this way was more exciting.

  He leaned his weight into the door the way he remembered and heaved.

  Nothing happened.

  Well, he thought ruefully, This way would be more exciting… if we could actually get out here.

  He slid his eyes sideways towards Irina. There was no saving his dignity after that. He could lounge against the door as nonchalantly as he pleased; she wouldn’t be fooled.

  The corner of Irina’s mouth tucked under in a badly concealed grin. “That worked when you were a kid, huh?”

  “Every time,” Grant admitted with a grimace. Irina’s eyebrows rose, and he quickly added, “We always put it back afterwards! The trick to open it only works from this side. Or not at all, now.”

  Irina examined the door and then ran her eyes up and down Grant’s body. An electric thrill followed her gaze.

  Damn it, why did I bring her here? To show off? We could be in bed by now!

  A very small, logical part of Grant’s brain protested this—they’d more than likely still be in traffic, and nowhere near bed—but it didn’t help with the heat that burned through him at Irina’s glance. Not even the chilly air blowing through the grille could do that.

  Irina leaned forward and prodded him in the chest. “How tall were you when you were a kid?”

  “What?” Grant’s mouth moved before his brain had caught up. “....Oh,” he added, understanding dawning. He bent and wedged his shoulder about a foot below where he’d put it before. This time, when he put his weight into it, the whole grille, including the lock, popped off its hinges with a metallic chunk.

  He stood and lifted the metal grille out of the way. “Can we pretend that worked properly the first time?”

  “And ignore my incredible detective skills? Not on your life.” Irina grinned as she stepped past him, wrapping her coat more closely around her body. Grant hated to see her cover her curves with the shapeless garment, but he hated the thought of her being cold even more.

  Frankie always wears fancy clothes, he thought vaguely. I should ask her for advice—something to buy for Irina.

  Something to buy for my mate.

  Irina had skipped ahead, standing above him on the steps. She looked back at him over her shoulder, dark curls falling over her face.
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  Grant’s heart twisted in his chest. Earlier today, he’d been a ball of stress, frustrated over his missing friend. He’d never dreamed his return to the city could turn out this—this magical. How could he be this lucky, to find someone he connected with so quickly—and for her to be beautiful, and funny, and adventurous? For her to find this unconventional shortcut exciting, instead of irritating and unpleasant?

  And it was unpleasant. Cold, windy and, if he remembered the alleyway above correctly, likely to be crammed with garbage. His eyes dropped down to Irina’s feet. High heels. She’d navigated the underground levels well enough, but an alleyway full of rubbish? He couldn’t ask that of her.

  Not when the alternative was so enticing.

  “What are you thinking?” Irina demanded, crossing her arms in front of her.

  Grant leapt up the stairs to her, landing lightly at her side. “I’m thinking about you,” he said softly. “Of how you’re probably very cold, and your feet are probably beginning to ache. And how I have an excellent solution to both of these problems.”

  “Oh, really?” Irina’s dark eyes flashed up at him. “Does it involve standing around chatting in the cold?”

  “Only temporarily.” He stepped closer to her and inhaled, her scent filling his nostrils. The strongest smell was that of her clothes, the perfume from the detergent she used and the heavy smell of slightly damp wool from her coat. But under it—Oooh. That was her. And he wanted more of it.

  He stepped closer again until he could lean forward and nuzzle his lips against her cheek. He felt her breath on his neck, a sharp gasp of expelled air, and then a softer hum of pleasure as he moved his lips down, brushing lightly against her jaw. He stopped to nibble her ear and her hum turned into a moan.

  Grant pressed himself against her, pushing her against the wall of the stairwell as he wound his arms around her. She pressed back, and he went hard so fast it was almost painful. Irina’s mouth found his, and he plunged into the kiss, hot and fierce. Her tongue traced one single, tantalizing line against his lower lip, and then she broke away.

  “Is this your plan?” she gasped, breathless.

  Grant grinned. He lowered his hands, stroking the generous curve of her ass through her coat, and lifted her up. She squealed and wrapped her legs around him for balance instinctively.

  It was all Grant could do not to purr with satisfaction.

  He looked into her flushed face, deep into her warm eyes, and pressed his forehead against her.

  “You won’t wear out your feet like this,” he said, softly, but unable to keep the rumble from his voice. “And do you feel… warmed up?”

  Irina’s eyes widened, but only for a second. She licked her lips, and her thighs tightened deliciously around Grant’s waist. “Warm enough,” she said, then paused. “Though I would prefer to be… warm… indoors.”

  “Point taken.” Grant secured his grip and leapt up the stairs three at a time. The alleyway above was as filthy as he had feared, and he moved through it as quickly as he could.

  At the other end was another familiar door, wide open as Grant remembered it and spilling bright yellow light and uproarious noise into the night. Irina raised her head as he slipped inside.

  “Is this a kitchen?” she whispered into his shoulder as he side-stepped past a gleaming stainless steel bench. “Oh my God…!”

  “Hey, you!”

  “It is a kitchen,” Grant admitted, speeding up. “Aha—I wonder if the chef remembers me…”

  By the roar the chef gave, he did.

  Irina was giggling wildly by the time Grant managed to dodge around a sous-chef and stunned server and escape through what he hoped was still the staff exit. The hot, steamy air cleared, and Grant looked around. Irina was collapsed against his shoulder, still laughing weakly.

  “Almost there,” he muttered into her wild curls, and made for the elevators.

  7

  IRINA

  Irina tucked her face into Grant’s neck, completely incapable of wiping the silly grin from her face. Or even stopping the giggles that still burst out of her every time she thought she’d pushed them back.

  Her head was spinning, and it had nothing to do with the wine she’d had at dinner. It was the dinner, and Grant’s burning eyes, and his ridiculous show with the metal door, and—and all of it. Everything.

  It was all wonderful.

  And Grant himself was the best of all.

  She peeked up, meaning to look around now they were out of the elevator, but found her face turning to his. One glimpse of pale carpet and creamy walls, and then him. She was close enough to his razor-sharp cheekbones that she could have kissed them. So she did.

  Grant groaned, so deeply she could feel his chest reverberate against her breasts. The noise and the sensation sent a thrill of arousal directly between her legs. When she looked up again, it was straight into Grant’s eyes. His pupils were so huge they almost blotted out the green entirely.

  “One more minute,” he begged. “My keys—”

  Irina wriggled against a hard lump that was pressing into her upper thigh. She’d thought that it was too high up to be… well.

  “Found them,” she said, and slipped one hand from his shoulders to ease the keyring from his jacket pocket.

  “Mmmph,” he replied, his voice muffled by her lips. She kissed him hungrily, reveling in the contrast between the softness of his lips and the rough scratch of his stubble. Nimble fingers plucked the keys from her hand and a moment later she was pressed up against a door, her body rubbing even closer against Grant’s, and then they were both tumbling inside.

  For one breath-taking moment, Irina thought they would fall, but then Grant’s entire body seemed to flex so that they stayed upright. She stared into his lust-blackened eyes and loosened her thighs’ grip on his waist. Her body slid against his, slowly, slowly, until she felt the hard length of his cock.

  Oh, it was much bigger than the lump his keys had made. But just as hard. Irina bit her lip and looked up at Grant through her eyelashes. He stared back, eyes hungry, but didn’t pull her closer to him. There was a shade of uncertainty in his face.

  “Do you—should we—?” he asked, and Irina shut him up with another kiss. There was only one question she wanted an answer to.

  “Bedroom?”

  Grant’s face cleared. “God, yes.”

  “All right, then. You’ll have to show me the way…” Irina broke off as Grant picked her up and launched into what was practically a sprint, with her in his arms. God, he was so strong.

  She caught her breath as Grant pushed through another door and came to a stop. Irina dropped her head back and saw, upside-down, a massive bed towering with fluffy pillows and thick comforters.

  One of Grant’s hands slipped behind her neck. At the same time, his own head dipped forward, and as he pulled her slowly back upright he pressed his lips to her breast, her collarbone, her neck…

  By the time he reached her lips, Irina was dizzy with lust.

  “Please,” she murmured against his lips, “don’t make me beg.”

  His mouth curved beneath hers. “As you wish.”

  She barely had time to register that he had changed his grip on her body before her back hit the pillowy bed. She raised herself up on her elbows, ready to hurl herself back up at the strong, powerful man standing at the end of the bed, but before she could move, he was on her.

  Irina raised both hands to his chest, running her fingers across the hard planes of his pecs and up and over his shoulders. She pulled him against her, or herself against him—it didn’t matter. All that was important was that her mouth found his. She ran one thumb across his jawline, and felt as much as heard the moan that tore from his throat.

  She tangled her hands in his hair, deepening the kiss. This was—this was just kissing, but it was so much better than any kiss she’d ever shared with anyone before. Grant’s tongue flickered expertly against hers, teasing, taunting. And his teeth—

  I
rina moaned as Grant’s teeth grazed her lower lip. He responded to her pleasure, nipping her lip lightly, and then soothed it with another lingering kiss.

  She was breathless by the time their lips parted. Grant looked down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded and burning with need.

  Irina wriggled, sinking deeper into the soft, enveloping bed. Grant’s arms pressed down on either side of her, his biceps clear even through the fabric of his shirt. All that existed in the world were the clouds of bedding, the hot, heavy presence of Grant above her—and his eyes, burning into her own.

  He shifted his weight onto one arm and slid the other under her, the pliant knit fabric of her dress catching under his fingers. Irina groaned in frustration. His touch was wonderful, it made her heart flutter, her pulse pound—but he was only touching her dress.

  It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. She had felt his cock against her in the corridor, and even the thought of that now—oh, she wanted him so, so badly. She was wet already, every nerve in her body singing out for him to claim her.

  She buried her face in Grant’s neck, trailing kisses down to his collarbone. He gripped her hip, his fingers digging in as she scraped her teeth along his skin, the same way he had teased her.

  “What did I say about making me beg?” she murmured, her tongue darting out to taste him. He held her tighter, both arms winding around her now, one hand sliding up her thigh and pushing her dress aside.

  Irina gasped as Grant traced tantalizing circles on her stomach. He moved lower, slowly, so slowly she almost groaned, flexing her hips up to encourage him further down.

  His breath tickled her ear. “Is this what you want?”

  “Yes,” she gasped, and then: “Oh, God, yes!”

  Grant’s fingers slid under the waistband of her panty hose, under her panties, and brushed against her clit. Irina bit her lip as sensation coursed through her, not just between her legs, but everywhere, like lightning sparking across her skin. Her breathing grew ragged as he pushed one finger inside her slick folds, and then another. His thumb found her clit and circled slowly. Excruciatingly slowly. Too slowly.