Dance with the Devil

by Angela Dennis

  “I’m pretty sure I did the nasty with Anthony’s son.”

  He pushed her back so he could see her face. “Carrick?”

  “How do you know his name?” She untangled herself from his arms. “He left the Pride years ago. I didn’t even remember Lucas had a brother until I saw a picture of them together.”

  Gareth walked to the bed and picked up her bags, ignoring the question. She grabbed his arm. “Answer me.”

  He yanked free. “Does he know who you are?”

  She stepped back, shaking her head. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “I never said you were.” He shoved the strap of her duffel over his shoulder. “A lot has happened since you left. Your father and his top three killed Anthony.”

  Her legs turned to jelly and she fell onto the bed. “Damn it. What the hell was he thinking?”

  Gareth shrugged. “He crossed onto their land, claiming it was ours. Anthony was alone when he confronted them. He fought back and…”

  “They killed him.” She closed her eyes. Her father had been looking for an opportunity to kill the other man for years. “What happens now?”

  “There were humans camping in the woods nearby who saw the whole thing. The Conclave is fed up. They sent Quinn to clean up the mess. No one knows what’s going to happen, but, apparently, there’s a faction that wants to dissolve our Pride and kill the half-bloods.”

  She went cold. The Conclave ruled their people. Made up of the elders of each pure-blood Pride, their decisions were binding. The Regulators were their policing body. Half-bloods had no voice in the Conclave. Before Reginald had welcomed them into his Pride, they had been rogues, killed on sight. It had only been a year since they’d gained rights under the Conclave, and even those rights were severely limited.

  Her father appeared to have good intentions toward the half-bloods, but he was insane. And she didn’t mean that figuratively. Beneath his good intentions was a twisted desire for power. He wanted an army at his disposal to take over the island. The half-bloods were pawns in his war, and he’d taught them to despise their pure-blood counterparts in Anthony’s Pride.

  She closed her eyes and tried to calm her nerves. Being a half-blood didn’t make her better or worse than the pure-bloods. It just made her different. The bigotry between the shifters would be the death of them all. At least the Regulators had finally taken notice, but it had taken the death of a Pride leader. And there was little they could do to stem years of inbred prejudice.

  The beast inside her raged, desperate to take over. She wanted to punish someone, use violence to deal with her anger at her father. Still on edge from the earlier attack, she needed to shift and run off her aggression. Her father would get what was coming to him. The bastard couldn’t control her anymore.

  “There are pure-bloods in our Pride. We’re recognized under Conclave law. They can’t just wipe us out,” she said.

  “That’s why they’re forcing us into an alliance with Anthony’s Pride. Either the feud ends and we all live happily ever after, or…”

  “An alliance will never work. The hatred runs too deep.” She sighed. “There has to be another way.”

  “There isn’t.” Gareth grimaced. “Aside from the threat from the Conclave, our Pride is dwindling. No one has been able to find mates within the Pride. Everyone’s jumping ship. Our numbers are low, and a lot of the dominants are gone. The ones left are trying to kill each other.”

  “What aren’t you saying?” She studied him carefully.

  Gareth wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Your father’s being banished as a rogue. Quinn is running the Pride until the Conclave can find someone to replace him. They don’t trust the dominants under his command.”

  Jillian froze. “Are they bringing someone in? Who’s running Anthony’s Pride?”

  Gareth shrugged. “Who knows.”

  He was lying. And he would only lie if he thought the news would send her running for the trees. She’d let it go, for now, but only because she had no choice but to return to the Pride. She’d find out the truth eventually. Right now, she had enough to deal with.

  She walked to the doorway, looking at him over her shoulder. “I wish I knew who it was. He was probably the one who tried to kill me earlier.”

  Gareth froze, the suitcase falling to the floor with a loud thump. “You were attacked? When? Are you okay? Did you kill them?”

  She raised a hand to stop him. “I’m fine. It was close, but Carrick healed me.”

  “Nice.” He shook his head. “Healed you, then banged you. That’s a little too convenient.”

  The beast inside her lunged, enraged. Jillian shoved her down. “He saved my life.”

  “And took advantage of your vulnerability.” Gareth shook his head. “I should challenge him.”

  “He’d kill you.” She leaned against the door and crossed her arms. “He’s strong. Maybe stronger than me.”

  Gareth’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not possible. Did you see his beast?”

  She shook her head. “If he’s Anthony’s son, he’s a pure-blood. Why does it matter?”

  He shrugged. “There are rumors. He vanished from their Pride one night. Disappeared. No one knows why, but it was assumed he was banished. They say he was too powerful, so Anthony wanted him gone.”

  She pushed past Gareth. “Three years is a long time. You’ll have the whole trip to fill me in on what else happened while I was gone.”

  “I’ll need more than a day,” Gareth replied as he followed her through the door. “Whoever takes over is going to have a hell of a cleanup job.”

  “Sounds like it.” Jillian sighed. By rights, she should be the one leading the Pride in her father’s absence because she was the most powerful, but the Regulators would never allow it. As an unmated female, dominant or not, at best she could serve as an enforcer, unless the Regulators found some loophole that allowed them to stray from tradition.

  Jillian leaned against the railing of the ferry, focusing on the fast-approaching pier. The Pride lived on the privately owned island of Soul’s Harbor, situated in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of South Carolina. Split down the middle by the two warring Prides, the island wasn’t safe for humans, but it was remote enough that few ventured to its shores. It was both a refuge and a prison.

  Jillian returned to the car as the ferry pulled into the harbor. They’d be home in less than a half hour, and she still wasn’t ready. Her stomach was twisted into knots, so she convinced Gareth to drive with the top off so she could feel the wind against her skin. The familiar scents of burning wood, pine and cedar swirled around her, calming her nerves. When the car came to a roaring halt outside the rambling plantation house, she was as ready as she was going to get.

  No one met them as they stepped onto the stone semi-circle driveway. There was no joyful reunion, or even an acknowledgement she had returned. The others remained behind the walls of the house. She could feel them inside, watching. It was what she had expected, but her heart still ached. With a forced smile, she stepped onto the porch. Buckets of purple hydrangeas decorated the stark, whitewashed entryway. The sweet smell wrapped around her, and for a moment she could almost see her mother tending the flowers. The memory was swept away on the wave of magic that danced across her skin as she moved up the wooden steps.

  Gareth squeezed her hand in a show of support as they stopped before the front door. Within seconds, it swept open and a woman appeared. She pushed back her long blonde curls with one hand and peered at them. She locked her gaze on Jillian, and a wide smile spread across her lips.

  “You came.” Abbey leapt forward, enveloping Jillian in a violet-scented hug. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

  Jillian pulled back after a few moments, overwhelmed by the other woman’s embrace. “I would never make you face a Claiming alone.” She paused. “Especially under the circumstances.”

  Nodding, Abbey gave her another tight squeeze before stepping back. “I’m just glad you’re alive. If you scare me
like that again, I’ll kill you myself.” The grin on her face softened the words, but her point was well taken.

  Filled with remorse, Jillian grabbed Gareth’s hand and pulled him forward until they were in a contained circle. The three of them were together again. In that moment, life was good, even if only for a second.

  “Your father’s waiting for you,” Abbey said, squeezing her arm.

  “I figured he would be.”

  “Grin and bear it. We’ll drink ourselves stupid once he’s gone.” Abbey cast a furtive look around, then pulled back her cardigan to reveal a metal flask. “I’ve got you covered.”

  Jillian hugged her again. She couldn’t help it. It was as if no time had passed. She had missed their friendship more than she realized.

  “She hasn’t changed.” Jillian grabbed her duffel bag from Gareth before they stepped inside the empty foyer.

  “It only seems that way.” He walked to the side of the room and flipped on the lights. “Even though her scars aren’t visible, the past three years were hard.”

  Jillian considered his words as she examined the room. The foyer hadn’t changed. The furnishings were sparse. A burgundy area rug stretched across the walnut floor, ending before the set of old-fashioned high-back chairs that had been shoved in the far corner of the room. The only elaborate fixture was the chandelier above them, and even it had lost its luster. The upkeep on the house had fallen short, and it wasn’t due to lack of funds.

  With a growing sense of foreboding, she followed Gareth around the curve in the hall to the suite where she had grown up. The set of three rooms were extravagant in every way, but that had been little consolation to the girl she had been. She had spent her most vulnerable years locked away, forbidden from associating with the rest of the Pride. When her father had finally opened her prison doors, she had realized that even the half-bloods were afraid of her, afraid her beast made her stronger than the rest of them. Her father had encouraged that fear, hoping the cruelty of the other children would harden her heart and make her an unfeeling monster he could use as a tool to enforce his will.

  She said a quick goodbye to Gareth, then walked inside her bedroom. Her mother’s patchwork quilt still lay on the king-sized bed. Jillian ran her fingers across it, remembering the woman who had painstakingly pieced it together. There were good memories here as well, although they were few and far between.

  A few moments later, the thick, tainted swell of her father’s magic spread through the room like tar. He stepped inside. His long, lean body was cloaked in head-to-toe black like an avenging vampire from a cheesy cult film. It seemed he hadn’t lost his flair for the dramatic. Murmuring an incantation, she clenched and unclenched her fist. The air around her cleared, purified for the moment.

  “You’ve been practicing.” One eyebrow raised, he studied her.

  She shrugged. “I’m part witch. Seems a waste not to use it.” Giving him her back, she tossed the suitcase on the bed.

  Quick as a snake, he grabbed her arm and turned her around. His ice-cold hands held her bicep tighter than necessary, nearly cutting off her circulation. But she didn’t fight back. Although she was certain she could pull free, she didn’t want to reveal the extent of her newfound power.

  “Get off me.” Her eyes narrowed as she wrapped her magic around her body in a protective cloak. “This is how you welcome home your only child?” She laughed. The bitter sound echoed in the quiet room.

  He released her, his gaze assessing. “You’re stronger.”

  “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” She leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed. “I was going to come see you after I got settled.”

  “It couldn’t wait.” He crossed his arms to mimic her stance. “The Regulators are here.”

  “So I heard.” She shook her head. “Looks like you pushed them too far.” He raised his hand to slap her, but she didn’t flinch. After a few seconds, he lowered it. “What do you want? None of this has anything to do with me.”

  Something in his posture made her study him more closely. A pure-blood lion shifter and a shaman of his people, Reginald held a wellspring of power few could touch. It leapt beneath his bronzed skin and peered through his amber eyes. Being in the room with him was like standing near an uncovered electrical circuit. But today his magic seemed dulled, his mind distant.

  “It has everything to do with you.” He paced before her, his strides long and powerful. “No one thought you would come back, and the others have been fighting for your position. Five dominants have died.”

  Confusion overwhelmed her better sense. She should know better than to ask. Every word he said was a manipulative tool to get what he wanted. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a position.”

  Reginald’s eyes gleamed. “Quinn named you as my successor. You’ll be named Alpha after the Claiming.”

  No. She stepped back. Not possible.

  “Don’t look so damn surprised.” He stopped pacing and stood before her. “This is what you were born for. You’ve finally come into your power. I tried for years to force you to accept the burden of your beast, but you fought me every step of the way.”

  “You had the others torture me,” she snapped. “That’s not how you teach a kid.”

  He shook his head. “You’re wrong. The pain called to your beast, made it harder to resist. You were on the edge when you ran away.”

  “I lost control and killed someone. Was that what you wanted?”

  He shrugged. “It was a start.”

  “You’re insane.” She stared at him, her mind racing in circles.

  “Maybe.” He laughed. “But I’ve started something with this Pride, and you have to finish it. We’re the only Pride in existence that welcomes half-bloods.” His eyes glowed with power. “Because of that, we’re stronger. We can take over. Rule the Prides.”

  “No. They’re not our enemies.”

  Reginald snorted. “You’re idealistic. It’ll be beaten out of you soon enough. You’ll do as I say.”

  She glared at him. “The hell I will. After the Claiming, you’ll be a rogue. Your days are numbered.”

  Growling, he slammed his hand against the bedpost. The wood split down the center. “Damn you.” He leapt across the room, wrapping his hand around her throat. “You will obey me.”

  She ripped his hand away, but not before he bruised her skin. “You’ve ripped this Pride apart trying to prove you’re the strongest. I’m glad Quinn’s banishing you; you’re a disgrace.” For the first time, she sensed his fear. “I’m here because I want to be, not because I was called. And I’ll damn well do what I want. I’m done with this place. I came back for the Claiming. Once it’s over, I’m leaving.”

  Reginald tossed his head back, bitter laughter spilling from his throat. “That’s what you think, little girl. If you don’t take my place, you’ll be cast out or killed. You’re too big a threat.” With a growl, he disappeared through the doorway, the door slamming behind him.

  Jillian sank onto the bed. He was right. If Quinn wanted her to lead the Pride, she was at his mercy. She was more powerful, but he was a Regulator. If she crossed him, he’d make her pay. He had the force of the Conclave behind him. But Quinn had no idea what he was asking. To become Alpha, she’d have to take a mate at the Claiming. She was a female dominant with abnormal strength and the magical capabilities of a witch. She couldn’t stomach the idea of binding herself to a weaker mate. And none of the males in the Pride could match her strength.

  Knowing Quinn, her mate was already chosen. The Conclave didn’t understand the concept of free will. And then there was the matter of the Claiming itself. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t be locked underground for five days with the rest of them. I might kill someone.”

  “You killed that enforcer because he tried to rape you. You didn’t have a choice.”

  Jillian glanced up, startled.

  Abbey stepped inside the room, flask in hand. “The bastard was trying to claim you w
ithout your consent. You were within your rights. No one will make that mistake again.”

  “That was before Quinn put a bright red ‘X’ on my forehead. When did everything go to hell?” Jillian threw herself on the bed, staring at the lace canopy.

  Abbey settled beside her and unscrewed the flask. “You mean you’re not ready to be locked in an underground playground with dozens of single dominant cats itching to get laid?” She took a long drink. “Me neither.”

  “No luck so far?”

  Abbey laughed. “My mom’s a vamp. Most guys are afraid to touch me. They think I’ll drain them dry.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” Jillian grabbed the container from Abbey’s outstretched hand. “I’m the infamous black lion, remember?”

  Abbey laughed. “Get over yourself. I’m sure you’ll find a dominant down there who can kick your ass so you can live happily ever after.”

  Jillian grinned. “Thanks for keeping it in perspective.” She paused, rubbing the frayed edge of the quilt between her fingers. “So, you’re going?”

  Abbey grimaced. “Yeah. We’re all going. Quinn’s not giving us a choice. Our numbers are down and mates make the Pride stronger,” she mimicked.

  Jillian rolled her eyes.

  “That’s not the best part,” Abbey continued. “Only dominants need apply. The other boys have to stay home. Personally, I wouldn’t mind mating with a submissive cat. Less drama. No worrying about them going off and getting themselves killed.” She grinned. “Anyway, Quinn’s called in all the dominants from across the island. Anthony’s boys are coming to play. Quinn’s hoping for a decent success rate, so he can intermix the Prides.”

  Jillian choked on her whiskey. “We’re doing the Claiming with the dominants from Anthony’s Pride?”

  “Yep.” Abbey grinned. “Your father went apeshit. But he doesn’t have a say.”

  Jillian swallowed. She had no idea what she would do if Carrick was at the Claiming, especially if Quinn had already chosen her mate.

  “What’s wrong?” Abbey squeezed her hand.

  “Nothing.” Jillian took a long drink. “I was just thinking how stupid the whole thing is. Mates are born, not made.”