The Snow Leopard's Christmas Surprise

by Emilia Hartley

  Kal’s teeth grazed her jaw, his fingers squeezing her nipple. His other hand pressed against her pants, moving up and down, the heat from the friction making him eager. Amara dropped her head back and let him touch her. She moaned for him, low and long, as if his touch was the only thing in the world she would ever desire. He kissed her again, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. Nipping his lip, she heard him groan and let her own hand wander south. The last thing she wanted to do was touch any part of him, but she needed to be convincing if her plan was going to work.

  “Stand up,” she whispered against his ear, trying to ignore the way he was groping her. “I want to be on top of you.”

  Obliging, Kal stood, but he didn’t stop kissing her. Instead, he gripped her ass with both his hands and hoisted her up, securing her legs around his waist. Then he took her place on the chair.

  Immediately, Amara began to grind against him, pressing their centers together with each roll of her hips. She could already feel him getting hard, and his stiff shaft bulged against his pants, aching to reach her. Kal’s hand pushed her shirt up over her bra. She raised her arms and let him slide it off over her head, crushing her mouth to his once more as soon as she was free. He rubbed his hands over her back, pulling her tight against him, before he unhooked her bra clasp with clever fingers and slid the straps down her arms before dropping the lacy lingerie to the floor. Her breasts spilled into his hands.

  Amara fought not to be sick.

  A greedy look played over Kal’s face and he eagerly took her in his mouth, suckling her nipples in turn. He was extremely thorough.

  She forced herself to keep going, to move against him until his mind couldn’t think anymore, until he was too distracted to figure out her ultimate goal. Fisting his shirt in her hands, she ripped it off over his head and left a trail of kisses down his neck while her hands explored the chiseled muscles of his chest and stomach. With one hand, she ran a finger along the waistline of his jeans, dipping below the denim just to tease him. She began unbuttoning his pants with one hand while the other went to his hip. As slowly as she could, she took hold of the handle and slid the knife free of its leather casing.

  Kal was too distracted with her body to notice.

  Amara turned up the heat. Clasping a hand behind his neck, she guided his mouth to hers once again. His arms wrapped around her, holding her to him. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he rasped against her lips.

  Mid-kiss, Amara smiled. “I know,” she replied. “And I am so glad you’re finally going to get what you deserve.” Something in the hardness of her voice must have tipped him off, but there was no time for him to react. As hard as she could, Amara slammed the handle of the knife against his temple, knocking him out cold.

  She scrambled off of him, breathing hard, and the knife clattered to the floor. Immediately, she crossed her arms over her chest to conceal herself. She felt dirty, violated, and as if she had betrayed Nova even though she knew she had done it for him. Hastily, she gathered her clothes and tugged them back on, knowing full well that she would burn them the second she got home.

  Once she was dressed, she knelt down next to him and locked the cuffs around his wrists. She should kill him. He had tried to kill her, Nova, even Sadie. She should kill him. But slitting his throat while he was chained to a chair felt like something he would do and she would be damned if she ever sunk to his level. Instead, she shifted him enough that she could get into his pockets and found the key to Nova’s cell.

  Standing, she glared at the man who had caused her so much pain. She should feel sorry for him, she knew. If he had been anyone else, she would have. Unloved by a horrible man, he had only wanted to please his father. Instead, he had never been able to live up to the man’s expectations. The failure had warped him into something cruel and unyielding, but deep down, he was still that little boy desperate to be loved. If he had been any other man, she would have felt sorry for him.

  But he wasn’t. He was this man. And even though she couldn’t do it herself in cold blood, she wanted him dead. One day, she knew, he would be. And she would dance on his grave.

  “Rot in Hell, you bastard,” she growled. Then she dashed across the room and opened the door.

  Chapter 12

  Amara sat up quickly in the Council Chamber and was once again surrounded by perfumed smoke. On the bed of pillows across from her, Nova was just stirring. She glanced around. Grim faces met her at every turn. Nemoy looked heartbroken, yet understanding, but it was Neveah that she found the most comfort in. Something in her eyes spoke of an understanding no man would ever be able to ascertain.

  As a woman, she had certain weapons to use against a man, and at times, they were necessary. Yet, using her body was a double-edged blade. It was effective, yes, but it cut her just as deeply, if not deeper, and she had a feeling that wound never fully went away. From the looks she was getting from Neveah and the other female elders in the room, it was a wound they had all experienced in one way or another.

  “The second Trial is complete,” Nemoy said quietly. He didn’t seem to want to look her in the eyes. He looked to Nova instead. “Your fiancé fought valiantly for you, brother,” he told him.

  “She was very brave,” his mother agreed, and for the first time, there was respect mixed in with the rest of the emotions in her eyes. Amara should have found that comforting, but instead she was having trouble breathing.

  Worried, Nova took her hand and she fought not pull away. “Are you all right?” he asked, a frown creasing his brow.

  Amara nodded a little too quickly. “I’m fine. I just…I need some air. I think I’ll go for a walk.” Unfolding herself from the pillows, she got to her feet and hurried out into the night. Darkness had fallen completely now and she took in three large gulps of the cool night air. But it wasn’t enough. Dashing around the corner, Amara held back her hair and bent over, where she was violently and thoroughly sick. When her stomach finally quit heaving, she wiped her mouth and pressed her back against the wall.

  She needed to get away. Now.

  Amara walked briskly down the gravel path through the compound. If she were being honest, she wasn’t even sure where she was going. She just needed to get away. She needed to escape the horrible feelings and things she did in that dream. Logically, she knew it wasn’t real. That it was all a simulation to see how far she was willing to go to protect Nova and the rest of the Pack.

  But it had felt real. She could still feel Kal’s hands on her. Touching her, caressing her. She could feel his mouth on hers and against her skin. His tongue licking parts of her he never should have been able to reach. And she hated him for it.

  After nearly fifteen minutes of aimless walking, Amara found herself standing outside the small, square building the Pack used to house their criminals awaiting trial. That was where Kal was being held. She snorted. Of course that was where her feet had led. It made perfect sense. And now that she was there, she wanted to see him. If only to see him rotting in a cell, all alone.

  Striding forward, she recognized the guard on duty as Ivanah’s little brother, Iso. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. So young for such an important job. He probably didn’t even realize how important it was; what level of trust they must have had in him. To a young man who loved adventure, standing guard in one spot all night was most likely the most boring job he could imagine.

  Well, she was about to shake things up a bit.

  Iso nodded his greeting when he saw her.

  “Can I go in?” she asked him.

  He shook his head in apology. “I’m sorry, Amara,” he told her, and he sounded like he meant it. “My orders are strict. No one goes in.”

  “Oh, come on,” she goaded, irritation coating her voice. “It’s not going to hurt anything. I’m not going to set him free or anything. Just let me in.”

  Iso frowned, clearly uncomfortable. “I really am sorry, but I have my
orders.”

  “Let her pass,” a deep voice said from behind her.

  Amara spun around, her eyes widening in surprise. “Nova?” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”

  “Of course, I followed you.” His voice held no shame. Only sympathy. He knew. “Nemoy told me what happened,” he admitted, confirming her suspicions. “I figured you would end up here sooner or later.”

  “Oh.”

  Nova turned to Iso. “It’s okay. Let her through.” The young man obediently stepped aside. “Do you want me to go with you?” he asked her.

  Amara shook her head. “No,” she replied, and he winced. “I really need to do this alone.” She knew she was hurting him by keeping him out, but she had no choice. Regardless of what his brother had told him, her next conversation with Kal had to be done without Nova.

  Though it pained him, Nova nodded.

  Taking a deep breath, Amara started forward. When she reached the door, however, she hesitated with her hand hovering over the handle. She glanced back over her shoulder. “I love you,” she told Nova.

  To her relief, he smiled, and there was no pain in it. “I know,” he said. “I love you, too.”

  With that, Amara opened the door and stepped inside.

  It was a small room, mostly open space and bars. Amara stood at one end of a narrow hallway, separated from the rest of the room by the steel bars of the two jail cells. The first one was empty. Kal sat on the flat bed of the second one.

  Slowly—oh, so slowly—Amara made her way to the other end of the hall. She peered through the bars at the enemy. This Kal looked nothing like the one in her dream. That Kal had been clean, and fit, and in charge. He exuded power, even if most of it was just a sham. But this Kal, he finally looked like the rat that he was. His hair was dirty and matted against his head. Grime covered his face and skin, as if he hadn’t taken a bath in days, even though the cell contained a small shower. Even his clothes were disgusting. And the smell. The smell was like nothing she had ever experienced before; all body odor and human filth. He barely even straightened when he saw her, though she could sense that he had gone on high alert.

  “Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” she murmured, gripping the bars and peering at him between them. “How does it feel to be on the other end of the blade now, Kal?” She could feel every malicious thought she’d ever had about him rise to surface. She hated him. So much. And she hated herself for what she had done with him in the dream. Even though she knew it wasn’t real, she could still feel it as if it were, and seeing him there in person turned her stomach.

  Kal’s lips slowly curved up in a cold, cruel smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Princess?” he asked. “It’s not every day I get visitors like you.”

  “You shouldn’t get visitors at all.” She glared at him, letting the hatred burn through her. “You should be dead.”

  “Should I?” he asked, unfolding himself from the bed and standing. Instinctively, she wanted to take a step back, but she forced herself to stay put. “Should I be dead? And why is that? Because your boyfriend thinks so?” Reaching through the bars, he ran a finger down her cheek. It was just a whisper of a touch, but she could still feel the way the blade had sliced into her skin. “Tell me, Lovely, what is it that you think of me? Because I know you think of me.”

  “What do I think?” she repeated incredulously, slapping his hand away. Kal laughed. “I think you’re a horrible, hateful, excuse for a man,” she told him, grimly satisfied when the smirk slipped from his lips. “I think you’re nothing but a little boy in search of Daddy’s approval and lusting after things you can never have. I think you hurt people to feel powerful, to feel brave. Which is ironic, actually, since hurting people like that makes you a coward instead.

  “I think you feel like you have to prove yourself all the time. You feel worthless, and you’re convinced that the rest of the world will see you the same way. And you know what the sad thing is, Kal? There may have been a time when you would have been wrong. You may have been worth loving once, worth saving. Worthy of love from someone who actually wanted to love you.” The vein pulsed at his temple and a muscle ticked at his jaw. She was getting to him, and she knew it. And she didn’t care.

  “You’re not worth loving, anymore, Kal,” she told him. “You’ve done too many horrible things. You’ve enjoyed doing them. What woman, what father, would want to love a man like that? And what self-respecting man would want the love of someone who could?

  “You know how awful you are so you try to make up for it. But don’t you see? Look around you, Kal Vann.” She indicated the entirety of the room. “You’ve lost. This isn’t your world anymore. It isn’t your war. And your father isn’t coming to your rescue. You’re all alone. They’re going to execute you for your crimes. And nobody is going to miss you when you’re gone.”

  For the length of a full minute, they stared at one another, glaring. The hatred that boiled between them was off the charts. Finally, Amara had had enough. Turning on her heel, she walked away from him, leaving him staring after her as she went back through the door.

  She didn’t look back.

  Chapter 13

  Nova followed Amara back to her house that night. He kept his distance—he knew she needed it—but he made sure to keep her tail lights in view. The Trial had rocked her; he knew it had. Truth was, it had rocked him, too. Getting Tased like that, feeling his body lose control, feeling every muscle spasm until he lost consciousness, had messed with his mind. Even when he came out of the vision, he had still been shaking.

  His first thought was for Amara. Was she okay? What had happened with Kal? Did he hurt her? And when he found out the truth…Nova cringed. When he found out the truth of what Amara had to do to get away, he had hated himself even more for not being there for her. His stomach turned any time he thought about it. He couldn’t even imagine what she had gone through; what she was still going through.

  It was like she’d been a stranger when she walked out of the building where Kal was being held. Her face was gray and drained of her color, and her eyes…her eyes had been haunted.

  Buildings began to surface over the horizon as they came up on Strathford. When he reached the top of the hill, all he could see were lights. It was amazing to Nova that he had lived in the area, had been watching over Strathford in one way or another his entire life, but he had never really gotten involved in the everyday workings of the town.

  Until her.

  Now, Nova could look out over the houses and buildings that made up Amara’s home and he knew, more or less, what was happening on those streets. He knew that Murphy’s was just starting to heat up, that the regulars were sitting at the bar or the back tables enjoying a few beers before they went home to their wives. He knew that Zoe and Mitch were waiting those tables, serving the drinks, and fighting like cats in the street, then making out in the stock room. He knew that old Mr. Taylor, across the street from Amara, was most likely asleep in his lounge chair in front of his TV, a glass of milk on the coffee table and a remote in his hand. He knew Amara’s mother, Cathleen, was sitting in her living room with a blanket and her knitting needles watching a cooking show, and that Mac, the dutiful sheriff, was probably in his office pouring over case files to catch the latest bad guy.

  Nova could only hope he was trying to catch Amara’s stalker.

  Turning onto Amara’s street, he waited until she had parked in her driveway before pulling in behind her. She didn’t so much as look at him before making her way up to the porch. Giving her space, he tried not to take it personally.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, Nova followed her up the front porch steps. He nearly ran into her when he reached the top. She was frozen, staring at the door. “Babe? What is it?”

  Amara didn’t say a word. Instead, she just raised a hand and pointed at the door. Nova followed the line of her finger and raised a brow before his entire face fell into a frown. A bundle of blood-red roses—two dozen, a
t least—sat on the Welcome mat. A stark white envelope was attached to the stems. No bugs or rotten blooms this time. Apparently, he had figured his shit out after she’d gone to the sheriff.

  As if she were coming out of a trance, Amara darted forward and knelt down next to the bouquet. She plucked the envelope from its tie and pulled out the note. For a moment or two, she just stared.

  “Mara?”

  Silently, she held it up to him. She didn’t speak; didn’t even look at him. She just stared at the roses. Nova leered down at the white cardstock message in his hands. He flipped it open. Inside, the words were bold, black, and written in all caps. He stared.

  “I’M SORRY ABOUT BEFORE,” it read. “I’M GLAD I CAN MAKE IT UP TO YOU.”

  What an odd choice of words, Nova thought. ‘I’m glad I can make it up to you.’ Was this guy so delusional that he really thought a nice bouquet and lame apology was going to make it better? The man was taunting her, stalking her, and he seemed to think that meant they were in some kind of relationship?

  Not just delusional then, he decided, but dangerous. And after everything Amara had gone through because of her involvement with the Pack, he’d be damned if he let some nut job put her through anymore.

  Movement caught his eye and Nova looked up in time to see Amara snatch the flowers from the ground. Letting out a scream of rage, she raised the roses over her shoulder like a bat and brought them down with enough force in a swing that would have made her father proud. She beat the bouquet against the porch rail over and over and over again, until there was nothing left in her hand but stems. Red petals covered the boards of the porch around her feet, but she didn’t seem to notice. All she was focused on was her anger and those roses.

  Nova waited until she stood there, her chest heaving, and let the stems drop to the ground, before he went to her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her back against him and pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck. “Sshh,” he whispered, his breath a caress against her cheek. “Sshh. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. He’s not here. They’re just flowers, and they’re gone. You destroyed them. They don’t matter anymore.” Nova took a deep breath, then steeled himself to say what he knew he needed to say.