Kayden/Simon

  “You bastard,” she choked out. “Why pretend I was your daughter?”

  “Within a year it became obvious that I wasn’t going to be capable of curing my daughter, but I still had the opportunity to achieve my career goals.”

  Her lips curled in disgust. “Your career goals?”

  A hint of smug satisfaction settled on the lean face. “I’ve always been ambitious.”

  Well, at least one part of him hadn’t been a lie. His ego was just as bloated and pretentious as she’d suspected, even when she was young.

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “I couldn’t admit that the cure for my daughter had been a failure,” he said, a hint of impatience in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe she would even have to ask. “So instead, I got a new daughter.”

  Her stomach clenched with revulsion. How had she lived with this man for so long and not realized he was a complete whack job?

  “You’re sick,” she ground out. “Truly sick.”

  Annoyance flared through his eyes. Clearly he didn’t like having his lack of sanity pointed out.

  “I’ve always been destined for greatness. I just needed the chance to prove it,” he snapped, a dark color crawling beneath his skin. “You were my ticket to receiving unlimited funding for the clinic.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “So if you need me, why would you shoot at me?”

  “My benefactor has suddenly decided it’s time to meet you. I can’t allow them to discover that you’re a full-blooded Pantera.” He took a step back, lifting his arm to reveal the gun clutched in his hand. “I am sorry, my dear. I have become…” He paused, searching for the proper word. “Very fond of you.”

  “Fond?” she breathed. Loathing mixed with her stark terror.

  Then, she was distracted as there was a brief flash of light just behind Joshua. Without warning, Kayden grabbed her by the back of her neck and jerked down.

  She heard the echo of a gunshot. Joshua gave a grunt and fell against the truck before he crumpled to the ground.

  Bianca pressed her face into Kayden’s neck, concentrating on the steady sound of his heartbeat as the scent of Joshua Ford’s blood filled the air.

  Chapter Eight

  Less than ten minutes later, Kayden was crawling into the back of Xavier’s Jeep and clutching Bianca tightly in his arms.

  He’d tried to keep her from seeing Joshua Ford stretched dead on bloody sand as he’d waited for his friend to arrive. She’d endured enough shocks as she’d been forced to listen to Ford reveal she was nothing more than a means to climb the corporate ladder. Not to mention the fact that her mother had been murdered by the man who’d pretended to be her father.

  Christ.

  He’d wanted to put a bullet through the man, but he’d already caught sight of Xavier climbing onto a nearby rock to get the best angle to kill him without putting Bianca in danger. So he’d forced himself to wait.

  Settling back in the seat, he sent Xavier a glare as the older male glanced into the rearview mirror.

  “Took you long enough.

  Xavier grimaced as he put the Jeep into gear and headed in a direct line for the road.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting your female to take off like a bat out of hell. It took a few minutes to get back to my vehicle and by then you’d disappeared. I decided to follow Joshua to make sure he didn’t escape.”

  “My female.” Kayden pressed his lips to the top of Bianca’s head, breathing in her honey scent. “I like the sound of that.”

  Bianca lifted her hand to lightly touch his chest. His wound had nearly healed. Within an hour there would be nothing to indicate he’d been shot.

  “Me too,” she murmured.

  His arms tightened around her shivering body. Shock was just setting in.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” he murmured softly.

  She gave a sharp shake of her head. “Joshua was never my father. In fact, I don’t know who was my biological father, but someday I intend to find out.”

  “True, he wasn’t your father. Still––”

  His words were cut off as Bianca lifted her fingers and pressed them against his lips.

  “No,” she said in a firm tone. “I want the past to stay in the past. At least for now.”

  He rubbed his cheek against hers in a purely feline gesture. Eventually they would both have to confront what Joshua Ford had done to them and work through the pain. But for now, he just wanted to celebrate having this kind, gentle, exquisitely beautiful female in his arms.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he murmured. “All I want is to concentrate on my mate.”

  Xavier cleared his throat. “Are you ready to go home?”

  Kayden slowly lifted his head, gazing down at Bianca’s pale face. As anxious as he was to take her to the Wildlands and introduce her to her new pack, he had a more pressing desire at the moment.

  “Actually, I want to go back to Vegas,” he told his friend.

  “Vegas?” Xavier demanded in surprise.

  “Yeah.” He lips curved in a sensuous smile as he watched Bianca’s cheeks flush with anticipation. “Bianca and I have some unfinished business that includes complete privacy and a large shower.”

  Xavier chuckled, stepping on the gas. “You got it.”

  Leaning down, Kayden brushed a kiss over Bianca’s willing lips.

  “Viva, Las Vegas.”

  * * * *

  Bianca arched against Kayden’s hard muscles anticipation licking through her body with flames of pleasure.

  They were already naked and lying in the bed they’d shared the night before after spending an hour in the shower. Kayden had kissed and caressed her until she was at the point of screaming with the need to ease the insistent desire he’d stroked to a fever pitch.

  He’d adamantly refused to listen to her pleas, insisting that they enjoy their first time together in the comfort of a bed.

  Now she studied his beautiful face. His lean features had softened, his eyes glowing with the heat of his cat.

  “Are you having second thoughts?” she asked, trying to keep her voice teasing. Inside, she truly worried that he might have decided that she wasn’t the female he wanted to share his life with.

  He frowned, then without warning, he was rolling her onto her back so he could perch on top of her. She shivered, savoring the feel of his solid weight pressing her deep into the mattress. Instinctively her legs parted, allowing him to settle between her thighs, the tip of his cock pressed against her clit.

  “I’m a Pantera,” he said on a growl. “Once we choose our mates, there are never any second thoughts. Our love and devotion is unwavering. And eternal.”

  “Mate.” The word echoed through her, easing the restlessness that twisted her stomach into knots.

  He studied her with a hunter’s gaze, the heat of his body feeling as if it was scalding her sensitive skin.

  “Does that work for you?”

  She shuddered, her hands reaching up to frame his face. “Oh, it works,” she assured him in soft tones. “An eternity with you is exactly what I want.”

  A wicked smile curved his lips. “What else do you want?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “You. I want you.”

  “Music to my ears,” he rasped, lowering his head to capture her lips in a kiss of sheer possession.

  Bianca released a soft moan, heart racing as she allowed her fingers to tangle in the short strands of his hair. He tasted of mint and heat and raw male power. Her head spun, the desire he’d already stirred to life thundering through her as his tongue dipped between her lips.

  “Kayden, please,” she pleaded.

  “Yes,” he muttered, reaching down to guide his straining erection to the entrance of her body. “Hold on, princess.”

  Holding her wide gaze, he penetrated her damp channel.

  Bianca released a soft breath as he pressed ever deeper. There was a burning sensation as he invaded her.

  He seemed exc
essively large. Were all men this big? His hardness seemed to be stretching her to the limit. Then he was finally buried deep inside her.

  Now her groan was one of fierce approval. Oh, yeah. This was want she’d wanted. It was everything that she’d dreamed of.

  Spreading her knees, she silently encouraged him to continue. She might not know a damned thing about making love, but she sensed that Kayden was a master.

  Relishing his slow, steady pace, Bianca spread her hands over his chest, her eyes widening as he held up one hand and deliberately allowed his claws to pierce the tips of his fingers. Her breath caught as he held her gaze and with one slashing motion, he’d sliced his claws through the tender skin of her hip.

  It should have hurt, but instead she felt nothing but a burst of tingling magic that exploded through her. A power at the very center of her being roared to life, stretching toward Kayden even as his roar of satisfaction shook the air.

  Her inner cat?

  Perhaps.

  Kayden wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the curve of her neck. Then, pumping into her at a furious pace, his fingers stroked over the marking on her hip at the same time he catapulted her into a shattering climax.

  Bianca quivered in ecstasy, convulsing around him as he gave one more thrust and cried out with the violent pleasure of his own orgasm.

  “Mine,” she called out.

  “Mine,” he panted. “For all eternity.”

  Simon

  Chapter One

  “Shift back,” Parish growled as he stood at the cabin door, arms crossed over his bare chest. “I’ve had about enough of this bullshit, Tryst.”

  Behind the screen, the massive midnight-black cat grinned up at him.

  Damn female. Pain in his ass.

  “This isn’t a friend making a request, Tryst,” he continued with barely disguised irritation. “This is your commander.”

  The cat raised one eyebrow. Which, frankly, would seem like an impossible feat for a puma—but this puma wasn’t like any other.

  Parish exhaled heavily.

  “I’ll jump back into my cat, boss,” Lian said, holding ground right beside him. “Discuss things with her. Use a little fangs and claws. You know, the language she understands.”

  Parish turned his head and uttered tersely, “Get serious. You know her. Have since you were cubs.” He gave the male a pointed look. “You know what she’s capable of. You try and cross this threshold, you’ll get your ass handed to you.”

  Lian’s lip curled. “Bullshit. She’s barely out of cubhood. A female. And half my size—”

  With a sudden crash, the black puma shot forward and attacked the screen, cutting off the male’s words and sending him, and Parish too, back a good two feet. Both males cursed as, with a snarl of satisfaction, the puma dropped to all fours once again.

  “All show, no bite,” Lian baited, though remained where he was.

  “Shut it,” Parish said to the male, then approached the door once again. “Okay, Tryst, enough of the games. This isn’t just any order. And I’m not the only one giving it. You remember Raphael, don’t you? Our leader?”

  Parish waited for the hiss or the snarl that normally accompanied a reminder of authority. But this time, the cat was silent. Even sat down on her haunches. Pale blue eyes wary, she glared up at him, as if to say, Yes, asshole, I know him.

  “This is dire,” Parish continued. “The species—your Pantera—need you.”

  Her nostrils flared, as if she was trying to scent his sincerity. And if anyone could do it, it would be her. She was a strange thing. Talented, brave, and ruthless…but strange.

  “No one has your capture and retrieving skills, female. With fur or without.” He leaned against the doorjamb and inhaled sharply. “I know you’re not comfortable doing the without thing, but we need this male.”

  Pumas didn’t have eyebrows, but this one did. Maybe it was because she practically lived in her cat 24/7 and her human traits had fused somehow with the animal ones. Whatever the reason, she raised that brow high and in question.

  “I don’t know why they want him,” Parish told her. He pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and thrust it flat against the screen door. It was barely a paragraph. All they had on the rogue Diplomat. “Raphael won’t disclose it to me. But he made it very clear that this is vital—life and death kinda thing—and to get my best on it.”

  Behind him, Lian snorted. “Best,” he grumbled. “Please. I’m right here, boss.”

  Parish didn’t have a chance to respond. To tell the male to pipe down or they were going to lose Tryst and her skills. The front door of the cabin burst open with a sharp creaking sound and the puma leapt out. With barely a sound, she snatched the paper from Parish’s hand with her teeth, then, as both males watched—mouths open—she leapt from the porch steps and took off into the misty morning bayou.

  Chapter Two

  Didn’t they get it? No one fucking touched his hair but him. Not because he was a vain prick with an attitude problem, but because if they did, if they got too close, they’d see the tats on his scalp. The marks he’d been given in hopes he could be tracked. Hadn’t worked, of course. But the tats remained.

  As a reminder not to get that close to being caught ever again.

  “Simon.” The photographer’s assistant stuck her head into the room. The twenty-something female gave him a bright white smile, her gray eyes eager. “They’re ready for you.”

  “Thank you…” he said with a question mark to his tone.

  “Becca,” she supplied.

  “Right.”

  Her smile faltered and her eyes flickered to the floor. She was disappointed he hadn’t remembered her name. He wished he could tell her it wasn’t anything personal. It wasn’t arrogance or douchebaggery either. He’d seen her once on the way in, but hadn’t worked with her before. In fact, he never worked with the same photog more than once, so he rarely remembered anyone’s name. Such was his life. And his rules of order. Never stay in one place long enough to develop relationships. Business or otherwise. Trust no one. Rely on no one. He worked only to stay flush, jobs coming through his private Instagram account only. And before he agreed, all parties and locations were checked out thoroughly. Granted, he’d fucked up a time or two. Drew some unwanted fur his way. But it had been a clear thirteen months since those fangs had attempted to come ‘round. Maybe his past had finally gotten the message.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Becca asked, following closely behind as he left the dressing room and headed for the set.

  “No, thanks, darlin’. I’m good.”

  The shoot was for Red Dog men’s fragrance. Something he’d never smelled or worn in his life. Fragrance, even scented soap, brought out his musk, and he couldn’t have that. The fact that he didn’t wear what he was selling didn’t seem to bother the company heads, though. Hell, they were giving him the billboard in Times Square. It was his biggest score yet, and despite the exposure issue—which would drive him underground for a year or so—he should be happy as a pig in shit. After all, the payday would fill his bank account to the brim, not to mention buy him that little house in Athens he had his eye on—the one that could serve as his “underground.” But happiness was not something he considered possible. Inside the Wildlands or living among the humans. Once stolen and ravaged, an emotion like that, so precious, so rare, was gone forever.

  “All right, Simon?” the photographer called over to him.

  Simon assessed the set. Craggy brick wall, gray concrete floors, plush red velvet couch. He headed for the red velvet and dropped to his knees before it. Instantly, the photographer started clicking away. He moved lithely through poses: arms stretched out wide, head falling back, cheek resting on the cushion, eyes eating up the lens…

  Strange job, modeling. But it spoke, and encouraged, every facet of the…Goddess, could he even think the words anymore?

  The Pantera within him.

  Yes, he supposed he co
uld think of it.

  He grinned. His Pantera nature rose to the surface with every fierce look he threw at the camera.

  “Not sure I’m feeling the tux, Simon,” the photographer called out. “What about you?”

  Simon turned to see the man staring into his camera, assessing, as he moved through the shots.

  “Fragrance goes on the skin,” Simon replied, removing his jacket and tossing it aside.

  Ever so slowly he pulled off his tie, then started ripping his shirt away from his body. As buttons flew and fabric shredded, the photographer quickly jumped in and started snapping, calling out, “Oh, hell yeah. Loving this. Eyes on the lens and walk to me. Slowly. Tear me apart while you’re tearing the shirt.”

  Mouth slightly open, teeth bared, Simon did as he was commanded, embodying what he’d left behind. Or who… The Pantera male. The beast man...without the beast…

  “Perfect,” the photog said. “I’m following your lead.”

  Tossing the shirt off set, Simon turned and stalked toward the red velvet couch. Slipping the belt from the pants at his waist, he sat down, legs spread wide, grabbed the New York Times off the coffee table and started to read.

  “Too much?” he uttered, keeping his face covered but his chest exposed.

  No answer. Just the familiar clicking sound of the camera’s shutter as the photog moved in closer.

  * * * *

  A model?

  Were they fucking kidding her with this?

  Was this a…joke?

  Sending their best tracker…forcing her out of her fur—for this?!?

  Poised, ready, disgusted, Tryst sneered from her spot beside a support beam in the shadows of the warehouse as she stared at the Pantera male sitting on the red couch. No. He wasn’t worthy of that name. The near-human male?

  Yes. Perfect.

  He had tossed the newspaper he’d been fake-reading onto the floor and was now staring straight into the camera. Ravenous. Long legs spread wide, tan chest hard with muscle, overly handsome facial features taut and fierce and lightly stubbled. With short black hair tousled like…well, like he’d just had a good fuck. She supposed he was something to behold. No doubt he was over six four and could bench press a Ducati too, like most Pantera males…