The Leopard King

  “Please,” she whispered, eyes hot and bright.

  “What?”

  “I want your teeth.”

  Yes.

  He grazed her nipples with them, just enough pressure that she arched and cried out. Alternating teeth and tongue, he controlled her body so that she couldn’t get the friction she wanted against her shifting hips. A sound of pure frustration broke out of her, low and throaty. Slowly, gradually, he nibbled downward, but he couldn’t keep hold of her wrists.

  “I’m letting you go. But if you lower your arms, I’m stopping. Understand?”

  “Got it,” she muttered.

  Such a sexy, petulant tone.

  Dom dropped to his knees before her and parted her thighs. For a while, he nuzzled her there, back and forth; she shivered from the ripple of his breath. Already soft and slick, her pussy demanded immediate attention, and he gave it with long, lavish licks, avoiding her clit until her legs quivered. She groaned a protest, and then he went in, savoring her wild reaction. His heart hammered in his ears—to the point that he couldn’t hear—and Pru hooked a thigh over his shoulder, bucking against his face. He didn’t mean to let her come this way, but she was almost there, so he pressed just so.

  Her juices sweetened his mouth, but he didn’t give her a chance to calm down. With one hand, he opened his pants, and then he lifted her. “Hang on to me now.”

  She needed no further instructions. Pru wrapped her legs around his hips, arms about his shoulders, and then he took her. Mine. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re mine. Each thrust pounded her against the door. Impossible to pull back completely, but she drove him wild by grinding in slow, tight circles in a controlled but demanding fuck. He pushed deep and held so she could feel him throbbing. At one point, he heard footsteps pause outside, and by Pru’s fevered expression, she did too.

  He pushed. Arched.

  She panted. Moaned.

  Feels so good.

  “Yes. Fuck me. Please. Harder. Dom, please.”

  For some reason, the words hit him like a sex typhoon, the hottest thing he’d ever heard. My name, sweet kitten, you said my name. Begging me for it. His cock swelled inside her, and she rolled her hips faster, thighs squeezing, sex tightening on him until he couldn’t do anything but take more of her, all of her. Her hands kneaded at his arms, his shoulders, clumsy and frantic.

  Her audible grunts as her back slammed the door were too guttural to be sexy, yet they got at him until he might lose his mind. She’s coming again.

  Dom didn’t even try to hold on; orgasm swept him like him a tidal wave. The strength went out of his arms and legs. Somehow he switched off the manual lock and staggered with her to the bedroom because it would be beyond awkward for her father to catch them naked in the foyer. Collapsing with her on the bed, he closed his eyes for a few seconds, pretending there was no big picture, no problems looming.

  Just Pru.

  “Consider me chastened,” she said with a sleepy satiation that sent residual heat spiraling through him.

  They were still joined, and he flinched when she slid away, because the loss of her heat registered like pain. His softening cock gleamed with her wetness, and he throbbed, already hungry for round two. What the hell’s wrong with me? Without volition, Dom rubbed a hand over her shoulder, down her arm, marveling at her silky skin. His heart calmed a little too at having her close enough to touch.

  “You said—”

  Before he could finish, she shook her head silently, then said aloud, “You want a shower? I’ll scrub your back.”

  She must have a good reason for this. I’ll play along.

  “Give me a minute. That’s too good an offer to refuse.”

  Pru pretended to watch the clock as she teased, “Time’s up.”

  But her eyes were sober, sending their own message. She kept up the banter until they got in the bathroom, where she turned the pressure to high. With the water for white noise, she rose up to whisper dangerous secrets in his ear.

  They were worse than he’d imagined.

  12.

  Early the next morning, Pru asked Magda to bring scanners over. She hoped the team didn’t find anything, but everybody went into silent frantic mode when they picked up an audio bug, hidden in a vent. As the security chief crushed it, Pru tried to remember what they’d talked about here. How long has this been here? Dom swore beneath his breath, but even if there was other spyware, the sound of her mate cursing wouldn’t raise any alarms.

  Is it safe to talk? she wrote.

  Magda shook her head and gestured for the team to finish the sweep. Ten minutes later, they didn’t find more, so the security chief dismissed them.

  All clear? she mouthed at Magda.

  “Go for it.”

  First, she glanced at Dom for confirmation that she should share what she’d learned the night before, and he nodded without hesitation, so she went for it. Gavriel had said she wasn’t to tell anyone else, but there was no way the two of them could manage a crisis this size. She had no doubts about the security chief—or Slay, for that matter—but right now he was taking the Eldritch entourage on a winery tour.

  Once Pru finished, she thought aloud. “We did the briefing here with you and Slay. If that was already in place, then Talfayen knows about the attack, but he doesn’t know it was a warning that went wrong. So he probably thinks he has a rival?”

  “Or an overzealous supporter,” Magda suggested. “If his endgame is Dom’s demise, maybe he’ll suspect somebody tried to hand him a surprise success to kick off the conclave.”

  Dom wore a speculative look. “But since they failed, they probably wouldn’t rush to admit it. So Talfayen might be scrutinizing his followers right now.”

  “That’s not bad for us,” Pru said.

  Scowling, Magda pounded a fist against her knee. “I wish we had a timeline. Did they get someone in here before their group arrived? And if so, how long have they been recording?”

  “I’m guessing it’s fresh.” Apparently agitated, Dom rose and paced, covering the distance wall to wall in six strides.

  “Why?” Magda arched a brow.

  “I don’t say they couldn’t get someone in before.” The twist of his mouth told Pru he was thinking about Dalena. “They did. But prior to our return, there was no reason to spy on Pru.”

  He’s right. Before, I was just a Latent schoolteacher, and it’s impossible that they’d be interested in Dad’s business.

  Dom stopped at the window, staring out over the courtyard. In winter there was precious little to see, but she suspected him of internal gazing anyway. Today, he wore black trousers and a pale blue shirt, loose on his lean back. His rigid shoulders spoke of some fresh pain, and her hands itched to knead it away. Yet she only sat and watched from a distance, unwilling to be rebuffed in front of Magda. In some ways, she was dead sure of her role, but in others, she couldn’t be certain if she would be treading solid ground or eggshells.

  The security chief didn’t need everything spelled out. “I’ll take the team and sweep the other key sites, including the lounges, changing area, and conference rooms. You never know.”

  “Keep me posted,” Dom said.

  Once Magda left, Pru mustered her courage and went to the window, hesitating only a moment before setting a hand on his shoulder. At her touch, he sighed softly, not in a way that made her want to withdraw. In fact, he seemed to lean into her palm a little.

  How did he live alone for so long? He’s starved for comfort.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “With this new information, I’m wondering…”

  “Tell me.” She wrapped her arms around him from behind and leaned her head against back. Guilt pricked her, along with awareness of how often Dalena must have done this. It was almost enough to make her let go, except that his hands covered hers, linking past and present.

  “Does this shit with Talfayen cast such a long shadow? Just a theory, but… in collusion with the Golgoth, the Eldritch murde
red Dalena to destabilize Ash Valley, and I…I did exactly as they expected. Broke and ran and damn near left my people open to their machinations.”

  “Even if that’s true, it’s not a fault to love your wife.”

  “No, but if I was stronger, I wouldn’t have run. We’d be better situated to deal with the fallout instead of perched on the brink of some true fuckery, right before the conclave.”

  For a moment, Pru had no idea what to say, because he wasn’t wrong. “What does regret change?” she asked finally. “I have to live with the fact that I ended somebody who was trying to save you, and now his brother wants me dead.”

  Dom made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “That was a shitshow. They did say something like, calm down, we’re not here to harm you, but when the person claiming that comes at you with a knife, I don’t take it at face value.”

  “If they’d tried talking first… but from what Gavriel said, they were afraid you’d be executed before they could explain, so they rushed and used force. It went bad. But that’s my point. They screwed up, we reacted, and nothing will change any of it. Being too sorry could keep us from moving forward, so all we can do is learn from our mistakes.”

  He turned in her arms and gathered her into a reciprocal hug. Startling how good that felt; it seemed to Pru that she’d spent most of her time giving with so few people ever glancing around to offer something back. For years Slay had worn her heart on a chain while keeping his safe. She’d been startled by his reaction to the loss of her, expecting a shrug, a smile, and an indifferent, Well, we were just killing time anyway. In her wildest dreams, she never could’ve imagined breaking Slay’s heart.

  I hardly knew he had one.

  Dom dropped a kiss onto her forehead. “That… was a surprisingly effective pep talk. Message received, kitten.”

  Startled, Pru stared up at him, but he didn’t seem to realize he’d used a pet name. It felt a little strange, yet she didn’t entirely hate it. As far as she knew at least, he’d never said it to Dalena. Good thing, as a recycled endearment would start an argument, and they had more important shit to consider. Come to think of it, he’d called her a clever kitten before, so she didn’t make a thing out of it.

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  “More than I can say. Until you came, I was rudderless and nothing mattered.” Dom hesitated, citrine eyes bright and soft at once.

  “You can tell me, whatever it is.”

  “Devotion to Slay is what drove you to me, and that’s why you wouldn’t relent, no matter what I said or did. But nobody else could’ve reached me, and it’s sure as shit, they wouldn’t have gone as far as you did. So sometimes I don’t know how to feel.” He cupped her cheek in his big hand, visibly conflicted. “Because… the four of us…”

  Dalena, Dom, Pru, and Slay. She understood his confusion, but she couldn’t guarantee how Dalena would feel; Slay had made it damn clear that he disapproved.

  “Maybe… we should just focus on doing what we must,” she said softly.

  “An excellent idea.” Dom framed her face in his hands, searching her gaze for a few seconds and then he seemed satisfied by whatever he found. His mouth took hers, first in a teasing touch, then in deepening glides. Pru dug her fingers into his shoulders, unable to think for the unexpected sweetness of this demand.

  “We promised to meet our visitors at the winery,” she reminded him, breathless.

  “Let’s go before Slay does something regrettable. He’s never patient, and his mood isn’t the best right now.”

  Understatement, Pru thought. But his temper wasn’t her problem; his mother could talk him down and soothe him with whispers of how he’d had a lucky escape. In a few days, the woman would be showing him pictures and nudging Slay toward her top choices for his mate. Eventually he would take it seriously and pick someone to make his mom happy. Pru wasn’t even angry or hurt anymore, likely a good sign.

  The whole day was fucking exhausting.

  Dom seethed as he made nice with Talfayen and company. He also had to mediate between Eldritch, bear, and wolf, not easy when Raff seemed committed to causing the war-holes some grievous offense by day’s end. Fortunately, Pru was good at defusing bombs as they dropped, and Slay was behaving well. Best he could reckon, the Eldritch had come early to keep the allied Animari from finishing whatever hurried strategy they could concoct.

  He suffered through two meals and a lengthy after-dinner drink before Talfayen elected to retire. The effort to be polite irked him because you’d think someone who had turned traitor would exude a bit more charm, if only to put others off the scent. Yet from what his father had said, the Eldritch leader had been about this querulous the last time the accords were drafted. The lounge seemed incredibly quiet without Talfayen, and the others relaxed a trifle.

  “I miss war,” Beren said with a sad droop to his weathered features. “Sure, a bunch of us died, but at least there was an end to it, unlike all this talking.”

  “That’s what we call a filibuster,” Raff admitted.

  Dom stretched and popped his neck. He hadn’t shared everything with the other two, though not from a lack of trust. Mostly, it was his responsibility to manage the situation, and it might make things worse if the wolf and bear lords knew a silent Eldritch civil war was raging beneath his roof. Added to the complication of the mysterious Golgoth troop movements Beren had reported before, he had headaches to last for a month of Mondays. So instead of briefing them, he made his excuses and went to look for Magda.

  Her words echoed in his head. Feel bad? Do better. She’d also suggested he revert to his old self as soon as possible, but thinking back, Dom recalled an artesian well of confidence that never seemed to run dry, but then, abruptly, he fell into that bubbling water and nearly drowned. Now he couldn’t factor why he’d reckoned himself so wise, so infallible, so fucking indestructible. These days he felt like he’d been walking a tightrope above a chasm for a thousand years.

  Until Pru threw me a lifeline.

  On the way to confer with the security chief, he spotted Slay stepping out of the private quarters they’d assigned to the Eldritch. Even Dom hadn’t been invited inside, so he slowed, watching as a cold smile crooked Slay’s mouth. When his second turned, he seemed startled, but he sauntered toward Dom with no hesitation.

  What’s he up to?

  “Productive visit?” he asked.

  “Just a little private meet and greet. I brought over a few vintages that I promised from the winery tour.”

  Definitely not like Slay.

  He loathed the awkwardness that stood between them now like a wall, but one punch hadn’t made things right, not by a long stretch. Though he’d meant to meet with Magda, he offered, “Want to go a few rounds?”

  Slay laughed, the sound quiet and caustic. “You’re in no condition to square off against me, and I’m in no mood to go easy on you, either.”

  “So don’t.”

  The other man spoke through a clenched jaw. “Sounds like you understand that I owe you a beating.”

  “You’re welcome to give it a shot.”

  “Big talk. Let’s go, then.”

  Back in the day, even at Dom’s peak, Slay beat him about half the time. Jaguars tended toward a heavier build than leopards, along with great strength, and Slay brought that to his human form too. So his second might be right, especially since he’d spent three years dwindling. Yet he had to do something; it wasn’t like he could spend the rest of his life in an armed truce with his former friend.

  In silence they went to the training center, dark and deserted this time of night. Slay threw down the mats. “Cat or hand-to-hand?”

  Dom shrugged. “You choose.”

  “Cat. That way your bruises won’t show and Pru won’t come crying to me over how bad I fucked you up.”

  Though Slay talked a big game, Dom half-suspected he was being kind since a bout in feline form would make up for some of his muscle loss. But he didn’t say anyth
ing as he shucked his clothes and shifted. Slay cut the lights and did the same. Even in the dark, he was an impressive beast, larger than Dom, heavier, with a round head and a wide jaw. If Slay got his fangs sunk in, Dom might lose an arm.

  For a few seconds, they just circled, and then Slay lunged. The leap knocked Dom back, and he scrambled, tail lashing, for a better angle. His ears went back as he analyzed Slay’s posture. Too pissed to think, he just wants a piece of me. The next time Slay leapt, Dom bounded over the top and pounced hard enough to knock him down. He’d already noticed that Slay wasn’t using his teeth or claws. But even a kick from his powerful back legs felt like taking a Rover door in the ribs.

  He lost track of how long they tussled and rolled. Eventually Slay did bite him, but not hard enough to break the layers of fur, muscle, and skin. Dom rolled over and went belly up; he could’ve fought on, but Pru must be wondering where the hell he was. If she came looking, she wouldn’t be amused to find them squabbling like kits over a dead bird.

  At last he shifted back and got as far as putting his pants on when Slay tackled him and drove a fist into the mat beside his head. “Fucking bastard.”

  He stared up at Slay’s angry face. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t lie, brother. I’ve had her with me, and I’ve watched her with you, and I know damn well which is better.”

  Since Dom had a vivid recollection of how hellish life had been before Pru, he had no rebuttal. “I can be sorry for hurting you without regretting her,” he said quietly.

  “I guess that’s true.” A hard breath slid out of his second, and suddenly all the bravado went too. “I love her… and I hate you, and this is killing me.”

  In all the years he’d known him, he’d never seen Slay cry, but his shoulders crumpled and the tears just came. It was awful and absurd that he’d be the one stuck trying to comfort him, but there was nobody else. Pru was the one who had always taken care of Slay, stroked his head, and looked at him like he was all the light in the world. So Dom wrapped an arm around his sweaty shoulders and held on while Slay screamed, over and over, bursts too wild and angry to be sobs, but they held raw grief at the heart of all that fury.