She started to stand. “I forgot.”
He waved her back down. “Sit. Eat.”
He opened the refrigerator and found a bottle of wine. After a brief search of the cabinets he returned to the table with it and two glasses. He poured for them both and waited till she raised her glass.
“To newfound mates,” he said softly.
She gulped, but her eyes didn’t say anything about not wanting him. She nodded. “Mates.”
She sipped and set the glass aside, concentrating instead on her dinner. He watched her silently from the corners of his eyes, careful not to put her on her guard, to let her relax. They had to discuss the situation, had to make plans for her to move to the resort with him. He suspected she would balk at that order. Mentally, he shrugged. Oh, well. She’d get over it.
Finishing her meal, she pushed the plate forward and picked up her wine glass. She leaned back in the chair. The refrigerator hummed in the background, the only thing breaking the silence and piquing his curiosity.
“No power lines.”
“Underground.” She took a sip of the wine. Her expression was bitter and he wondered why. It wasn’t from the sweet white wine. “Cost the royal treasury a pretty penny.”
For some reason, he was certain her bitterness was not about the money, but he’d save that question for later. The lights flickered and her lips twisted in a rueful grin. “Not that it helps much. Everything down slope from us is above ground.”
“And the sewer systems?”
“Septic. Pipes run through the concrete supports.”
Ah, he’d noticed them but hadn’t given them any thought.
“You never said why you were looking for me,” she asked, changing the subject.
A piercing shaft of guilt. Fuck. He’d actually forgotten his search for his father while he was distracted by her. It made him angry. He didn’t even know the woman and already she was intruding on his well-ordered, disciplined life. It wouldn’t do at all. He focused.
“The plane crash last year. I understand you found Celeste Leonidas and brought her out.”
All expression left her face, and his every instinct screamed at him.
“Yeah. So?”
“Were there any other survivors?”
She blinked. Not the question she’d expected. What the hell was going on here?
“No, there weren’t.”
Something wasn’t right. There was a ring of uncertainty in her reply.
“You’re sure?”
Her chin went up stubbornly. “Of course. I would have been informed if there had been.”
She stood and carried their plates to the sink. He couldn’t see her expression with her back turned to him, but he could smell her response to the questions. Fear again. And deceit. The leopard clawed for release.
“Why?”
“I’m the Messenger Corps Commander. I’m privy to all bird business, to everything that affects the clans.”
An incomplete answer. The bitter smell of her dishonesty lay heavy between them. He rose and moved so quietly she couldn’t have heard his approach, yet she didn’t flinch when he placed his palms flat on the counter caging her in.
“I can smell a lie, Ajax.” She stiffened. “Don’t lie to me.”
Her spine went straight as a rod, and she shoved against him. He stepped back, allowing her the illusion she was in control, but his cat paced the confines of its cage in his mind. It was enraged. So was the man. A mate didn’t have the right to keep secrets, to lie and deceive. The animal in him wanted to spring. To lick and taste and demand answers. Nico had never had to fight his leopard so much in the span of one evening before. It was infuriating, but also invigorating. He loved women. What male didn’t? But he’d always preferred them submissive and biddable. This one was anything but.
Chapter Three
It was only years of court training that allowed Ajax to regain control. She used old breathing techniques to get her pulse and lungs functioning normally. Old lessons learned at her father’s knee to school her expression into one of casual interest. Nothing more. Could he really smell a lie? Her panic threatened to return and with lessons taught by brutal experience she forced it down, forced it into a small corner of her mind to observe while she watched the predator stalking her home. Stalking her heart and body and threatening to take over. Already she craved him with a fierceness that terrified her. This was a strong man. A dominant man. A leopard at the top of the food chain. What would he say? How would he react when he realized his mate was meant to be Queen? An involuntary shudder shook her. He’d never submit to anyone, much less a bird. Even less a mate.
Her sight was keener than any other predator in the world. She was quick and agile. Her talons would, and had, rend the flesh from the most dangerous of enemies. But none of those things protected her heart from the leopard who’d already managed to worm his way in. It would destroy her if he turned away from her, if he left her. So she buried her secret, her deceit, deep in her mind. It wasn’t like she was in a big rush to rule anyway. She’d been avoiding the duty for years, letting her cousin rule as Regent in her stead.
She ground her molars against the frown gathering in her thoughts and on her face. That was a problem. Mathew was consolidating. Reaching. Soon his power would eclipse hers. It wasn’t because of arrogance that that rankled. Already he was doing things, making decisions that she disagreed with. They’d fought over and over again, loudly and bitterly, over his actions. He only responded if it was such an issue for her she was welcome to take over. He knew she didn’t want to rule so it was an easy thing for him to suggest. As long as she didn’t take the power for herself, it was his to do with as he wished.
She sighed. The time for holding back was fading fast. Her cousin’s actions left her no choice. She would have to take the Eagle Throne, like it or not. She cast a longing look under her lashes, watching her newfound mate prowl the large room. Would she lose him when she did so? Likely. She’d never wanted to be in this position. Never wanted to lead or be queen. Certainly never wanted to be mated. She’d seen how much being queen had isolated her mother and watched her steady decline since the death of her mate until the point that she’d stepped down and made Ajax make decisions about the throne. Mattering that much to one person, depending that much on one person, petrified her. Yet here she was mated and contemplating her next move in the werebird world. Consolidating and calling on her power. Taking her throne. Taking responsibility for every werebird in North America. She just hoped like hell she didn’t end up like her father.
She knew Nico’s questions were about his father, had watched the entire were world tremble with the news of Hector Leonidas’s death. Her heart ached for him. For a very personal loss she knew all too well. If her suspicions were right, that plane crash had been no accident. Would he react to the murder of a father the same way she had? She peeked at him from under lowered lashes. Of course he would. The memory rose sharp and sudden. It caught her in its teeth and wouldn’t let go. She felt Nico stalk closer as her eyes slid shut, as her heart thudded at the recall of what had been done and what she’d done in retaliation.
Knuckles gently traced the curve of her cheek. The touch soothed her as nothing else could. “What is it, Ajax?”
She shook her head. “Remembering.”
“The crash?”
She smiled a little. He was completely focused. “No. My father.”
He moved his body closer to her, sharing his heat, and she realized she’d started to shiver. “Tell me,” he ordered.
She scowled. She didn’t take orders from anyone, but against her better judgment she started to speak. She told herself it was because he needed to know where she’d come from. That her independence and strength had been forged in blood.
“I was thirteen when he died. We went for a morning flying lesson.” She didn’t mention he’d been teaching her battle tactics, didn’t mention part of the household Guard had been with them. “We were attacked by
a group of rebel vultures.”
She turned her face into his chest and rubbed her nose over his breastbone as he stroked her back. Nico ached for the girl she’d been. No child should have to see her father murdered. How had she survived? And who had punished the vultures? He got control of his protective rage, reasoned with the cat. If someone hadn’t already done it, he would. Later. Now he needed to take her to bed and spend hours loving her body. He started to nudge her in that direction but she backed away.
“I’m not done.” She sighed. “All of my kind knows this story, but no one speaks of it. I’m not sure why I’m telling you now.”
He did. He’d accused her of keeping secrets. For some reason, she didn’t want to speak about the crash so she was giving him this instead. The box around his heart cracked.
“I was too young to do anything about it at the time. Too weak.” She shrugged one shoulder. A nervous gesture he hadn’t seen yet. Afraid of how he’d react to whatever she was about to tell him? She fisted her hands.
“I waited five years. Then I gathered…some friends.” Why that hesitation? His cat sniffed the air and raged. More deceit. “We tracked the vultures down.”
She stared at her hands. Spread her fingers wide. Her voice when she continued was fierce, unapologetic. “I killed four of them myself.”
Man and cat went still. This was more than a secret in exchange for one she wasn’t willing to give over. This was the story of how a girl had become the woman standing before him.
His emotions were mixed. Rage that no one had kept her safe. Terror for what one wrong move during that operation could have cost them both. And pride. Sharp, bright satisfaction that she’d made those who’d hurt her pay. Both man and leopard agreed. An eye for an eye. Life for life. It was fitting that she’d killed the vultures. He would have done the same in her situation. It was the natural order in their worlds.
Twisting her fingers together, she turned her back to him and stared out the doors. The snow had begun and wind howled, battering the glass and shaking the house.
“You’re stuck here for a few days,” she whispered.
She was afraid again, but this time the fear didn’t seem to be of him. Her body was stiff and even though she saw him coming in the reflection on the door she winced a little when he rested his hands on her shoulders.
“Why the fear, little bird?”
She tensed, pulled free of his embrace, and turned to face him. Eyes narrow and cold, she set her hands on her hips. Her voice was glacial. “I know you didn’t just call me little bird.”
“Don’t like that huh?”
There was no scent of fear from her now, only extreme irritation. As endearments went, little bird was definitely out. Fighting a grin, he held his hands up in mock surrender.
“How would you like me to call you kitten?”
“I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” he managed to say through clenched teeth, the very idea of it appalling. He sucked in a deep breath. She’d made her point—time to change the subject.
“Why Ajax for Alexandra?”
The tension left her shoulders, and he knew he was on safer ground with the question.
“My father started it. He always joked Alexandra was too much of a mouthful and besides Ajax sounded tougher.”
She smiled a little as she answered, obviously caught in memory. Returning to the doors, she resumed watching the snow, growing quiet and thoughtful. He was drawn to her again, unable to resist moving closer and leaning down to nuzzle her neck. Would it always be like this? Would he always feel like he had to be touching her to breathe?
“The crash was pretty spread out.” The subject change surprised him enough he bit harder than he’d intended, hard enough to sting. Instead of a protest, she softened against him the scent of arousal on her skin growing. He licked, soothed the ache and waited for her to go on. “There are two enclaves near the area. One on each end. I was visiting one. We checked out our end. Celeste was the only survivor there. If the storm passes, I’ll take you to the other one tomorrow. Maybe you’ll find the answers you need there.”
He murmured agreement, ignoring a twinge of guilt. The crash and his father’s fate were not the center of his attention at the moment. His brothers would probably cheer this new development. And rub it in his face. Ignoring that for now, but well aware he owed several apologies, he picked her up and carried her down the hallway he knew led to her bedroom. She felt fragile in his arms and didn’t protest the move.
Her fingers curled around the nape of his neck, brushing over the shorn hair there. She didn’t let go when he lowered her to the bed, tugging him down on top of her. Her eyes glowed in the dark room, but not with the confidence he expected to see. They were questioning, a little shy, sad. Lifting her head from the pillow, she kissed him. He didn’t like his women aggressive in bed, but her actions spoke less of trying to gain control and more of a need to be held. In that he was willing and able to oblige her, desperate to eradicate the wounded feeling he glimpsed in her eyes.
He took her mouth in a slow kiss not bothering to reign in his possessive instincts. He wanted her body and soul. Needed her body and soul. More than that, he needed her to recognize it, to see it and submit to him, let him take care of her. It was selfish, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t change his nature.
He withdrew from the seduction of her mouth and sat up on the side of the bed. She lay back and watched. Silent but not withdrawn. No longer the closed-in, reserved woman he’d met only hours ago. That shell was broken, at least for now. He undressed her. Taking his time, watching her carefully as he went, he removed first her shirt and bra, then her pants and underwear.
Her skin was creamy white. He set his palm flat on her stomach and enjoyed the contrast of his dark hand against her paleness, purred with satisfaction at the way her belly spasmed under his touch. He slid his hand up, slow, wanting to map every inch of her body. He felt the ridges of old scars and eyed the faded areas.
“What happened here?” he asked, lingering over a long obviously old scratch that stretched across her ribcage.
She met his gaze with a small smile on her face. “Some birds are just as dangerous as wolves and leopards, you know. That one was from training. My own fault. Wasn’t fast enough.”
His growl was low and menacing. It took a lot to scar a wereleopard. He knew the same was likely true for a wereeagle. That someone had permanently marred her flesh infuriated him. He knew she felt his anger, but she didn’t flinch when he bent to trail kisses over the old hurt. Breathing deep, she lifted a hand to his head. His hair was almost military short, but she ran her fingers through it, massaging his scalp with her long nails. The growl became a purr. The cat liked being petted, stroked. So did the man.
He continued kissing his way up her body. She tensed, her anticipation a thrilling taste on his tongue, when he reached the underside of her breast. He flicked his tongue over her nipple, used the leopard’s superior night vision to watch it harden into a tight nub of sensation as he repeated the action. Her breathing became a pant, and her hands clutched at his head as she thrust the breast up. He took her nipple between his teeth. Bit. Suckled.
Rolling off her, he propped himself on one elbow at her side and switched to the neglected breast. With his free hand, he skimmed her body from shoulder to hip. Learning her curves and skin, claiming what was his. He explored the downy white curls at the apex between her thighs, reveled in her low moans when his thumb flicked over her clitoris. Slowly he pressed his index finger into her waiting pussy. She mewled like a kitten. He added a second finger to her warm heat, thrust them slowly in and out. The orgasm came over her so quickly he hadn’t anticipated it, hadn’t been able to hold her back. She convulsed around him, her entire body stiff yet shaking.
His cat side was done waiting, done playing, and Nico let it take over. Still stroking his thumb over her clit, he rolled over, covering her body with his. She reached between them, took his cock in her tight little grip and
guided him to her entrance. He froze for moment, resisting the urge to shackle her wrists over her head and show her who was in charge. She leaned forward, found his nipple with her tongue and a satisfied purr of her own.
“Nico. Now. Please,” she whispered, breath feathering over his skin in carnal invitation.
“Greedy, Alexandra?” He used her full name, liked the feel of it rolling of his tongue.
A brief frown marred her forehead. “Only for you.”
The cat preened its pleasure. Only for him. And she’d only ever be for him from now on. On that thought he could no longer resist and entered her in an unhurried, measured glide. He wanted to keep it slow, wanted to draw out the pleasure for both of them, but she wrapped her legs around his waist, dug her heels into the small of his back and gave him a look of such yearning he couldn’t refuse her. It was impossible.
Still inside her, he sat up and grabbed a pillow. Placing it under her ass, sitting back on his heels, he was unbelievably deep. He gripped her hips and set a steady, even pace. He had to be careful. It would be so easy to lose control in this position, so easy to hurt her accidentally. The leopard was already desperate, wanting to rut. To fuck. To claim. Would that feeling, that urge, ever go away? Would his animal half ever be appeased? Ever accept there was no alternative for either of them—she was theirs. He’d had a hard time accepting it. Maybe when she accepted it, the leopard would calm. But right now it growled, hating being shackled, held back. It would prove to the woman some things were irrevocable. She must have seen or felt his struggle. Lifting her hands, she stroked his face. Petted his shoulders and back.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Nothing,” he grunted, increasing the speed of his strokes. She shouldn’t be able to think with his cock buried in her. He met her gaze. Saw her confusion. “There’s no going back, Ajax.”
She actually grinned and tightened her grip on his shoulders. “No. I don’t suppose there is. So are you going to fuck me like you want to? Like I want you to?”
The cat caged in his mind snarled for release. “Careful what you wish for, baby. I’m no tame house cat.”
Renegade Passions: Forbidden Passions, Book 4 Page 3