Captive Moon (21 page)

Antoine nodded. “Make sure someone checks on them if they don’t make it back in an hour or so. Cold weather doesn’t agree with our snake friend. I’ll wake Tahira and then shower and change.” Matty and Margo both started for the great room, but stopped and looked at each other.

“Maybe we’ll go to the kitchen by the back way, so we don’t run into him.” Margo’s voice was light, but there was fear in her scent.

Antoine leaned over the banister from his position about halfway up. “I don’t believe he’ll have the nerve to harm you. He’s got an ego like a black hole, but he’s not a fool. Still… try not to spend too much time in any room where there’s no back door until I return.”

As he approached Tahira’s room, he heard movement behind the door and smelled a rush of confusing emotions. But underlying them was her own essence. He concentrated on the warm, inviting mix of sandalwood and musk, and tried to project a positive scent for her to hold on to. It would be a test of his skills to charm her out of all of the fear, anger, and self-loathing that would accompany her memories of last night.

He knocked and opened the door when she answered. She was sitting up in bed, her legs bent, knees tight against her chest. She looked up at him with reddened eyes and he sighed. Crossing the room in a few short steps, he sat down on the edge of the bed, raising one knee onto the mattress to face her.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

Tahira let out a rush of air that wasn’t quite a laugh. “As good as can be expected, I guess. My side hurts, and I feel like a truck hit me.” She looked at him for a long moment. Her fingers were trembling and nearly as white as the silk nightgown she had on. Seeing him here—alive, perfect, with concern and warmth radiating from him, was suddenly too much. Without thinking, she launched herself forward, threw her arms around him, and burst into tears.

He rocked backward with the impact, but quickly righted himself. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close while she sobbed against the soft warmth of his chamois shirt that smelled of grass and fur and flesh.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a muffled whisper. “Everybody told me that this might happen. Rabi and I even talked about it. But I thought I could control it. It was like I was a prisoner inside my own head. I wanted to kill him when I smelled Rabi’s scent on him, but I didn’t know how it would make me feel.”

Antoine stroked her hair and pulled her a little closer. She could hear his heart beat just a bit faster and a sort of sad darkness fill his voice. “The part that’s hardest is the pride in your kill, isn’t it, mon chat du feu? You bested the prey, felt the thrill of pleasure as the body went limp. Even now, the memory brings a sort of satisfaction. That’s … well, it’s what causes many of us to lose the fight—not with our enemies, but with ourselves. Not all Sazi die a violent death. Many simply cannot bear what they have become, and they take their own lives. But I didn’t know that you had smelled your brother’s scent on the man. Merde! That would be more than even the best of us could bear during the moon. You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

She leaned back a bit so she could see his face. Looking into his eyes, she realized that they weren’t truly golden, but smoldered with a thousand shades of brown and yellow and green that sucked her inside and made her want to tell him everything in her heart. “I think the part that bothers me the most is that I’m not ashamed. He kidnapped my brother and attacked me, and I defended myself. But shouldn’t I feel ashamed? My friends back home would be horrified. Even my parents would, and they were raised in the Hayalet culture. I felt like this incredible outsider in the village, thinking they were terrible and vicious for speaking of death so matter-of-factly, and here I am now, reacting the same. All I can remember is that I wanted to finish with him fast so I could help you in your fight. I heard you yelp and hiss, and my only thought was the man needed to die so I could hurt the man who—”

“Was hurting me?” Antoine smiled slightly and pushed back a few strands of hair that had covered one eye. “That’s a bit unusual in a tiger. That’s closer to the thought process of a pride or pack animal. One might think you consider me more than an acquaintance.”

It was as though time stopped. Her eyes locked with his and got drawn inside them. She could feel a sudden pulse of energy that played over her body like a hand. When he pulled her closer, she leaned into him and reveled in the sensation of his mouth against hers. His tongue tasted of cinnamon mouth wash as it coaxed and teased hers, and his jaw moved with passion. She reached up and tugged at the ponytail holder that kept his hair back. The small moan that escaped him as she ran her fingers through the thick softness made her body clench with desire. She suddenly knew that she needed this—needed to go further than this, and wanted it more desperately than anything before in her life.

Tahira pulled back from the kiss nearly breathless, her heart pounding hard enough for her temples to throb. Without a word, she slid off the bed and walked to the door. She felt apart from herself, lightheaded, but absolutely clear and calm as she turned the big, old-fashioned key in the lock.

She’d never felt this bold before, and struggled not to blush as she pulled the nightgown over her head in one quick movement. Antoine let out a strangled sound, and she could see his eyes take in every inch of her. He took deep breaths and closed his eyes for a moment She could smell his desire in equal parts with fear and worry, but she couldn’t decide why he would be frightened.

“We can’t do this, Tahira. I won’t take advantage of you.”

She felt the cat inside push her forward, accept the challenge. She was standing in front of him before he could open his eyes again. “You won’t be. I’ve had a few boyfriends who I’ve slept with.”

He stood up and met her eyes with all the power and majesty of a sahip in his prime. “There are other ways to take advantage of someone. I don’t think—”

As soon as he said it, she knew the truth. The words came out in a whisper before they were even fully formed in her mind. “Exactly. I don’t want to think. Just for a few minutes, I don’t want to think about anything—not family or danger or death. I’m not asking for forever. I don’t even care if the whole rest of the house hears us, but I’ve never met a man who I’ve wanted as much as I want you right now.” Even as she said it, she had to fight down the need to reach for his shirt, tear the fabric apart with her bare hands.

He stared at her for a long moment, searching for… something. His nostrils flared and his face seemed to come to a sudden realization. “Your cat needs claws and teeth,” Antoine said softly. She didn’t understand the comment.

He moved toward her slightly and leaned down enough to place his nose next to her ear. She felt frozen in place as his breath heated her cheek. He let out a low growl that was unlike any she’d ever heard, but it made her entire body shudder and her knees weaken. He stepped around the back of her and part of her, deep inside, recognized the dance.

He moved aside her hair and once more put his mouth near her neck. Again he ran his nose along her cheek and growled. “You’ve conquered in battle, tasted the blood of your prey, and now your instinct drives you toward the second strongest need of our kind.” A dark smile filled his voice and the thick, rolling scent of musk made her dizzy. “I nearly took you in the woods, you know. Even with the hunters nearly upon us, I wanted to sink my fangs into the fur of your neck, use claws and teeth to battle you—

to claim you, and mate.”

The word was a hiss that made her nipples harden and flush.

He hovered there for a hanging moment as her heart pounded. Heat and power flooded her, tightened her body, and made her wet. Rational thought left her. She wanted… more—

She hissed low and her words were a rich, throaty demand that didn’t make sense to her: “Now, if you dare!”

Without warning, he responded to the challenge, suddenly sinking his teeth into the back of her neck with the vicious power and snarl of his cat namesake, and digging fingernails into her hips hard enough to make her bleed. Her gasp turned into a growl that was both hungry and angry.

She snarled and fought to be free of his teeth, but they held her fast, twisted her neck down nearly to her shoulder. She suddenly realized that he was naked behind her and couldn’t imagine when he’d found the time to undress. She grabbed his hands in a frenzy, twisting in his grip. The struggle was making her even more excited, making her pulse pound and her flesh swell. He was feeding a raging wave of desire so desperate to get him inside her that she would kill for the chance. Some little part of her brain couldn’t comprehend why she was fighting, but the cat understood and was pleased he was worthy.

He seemed to know just what she needed. He pushed her forward hard and she fell half onto the bed, with her feet still on the floor. He rode her down, never taking his jaws from her neck. She felt him reposition his hips and realized what he was doing, but the cat inside her still fought to be free, turning and moving away from the inevitable. But with a sudden powerful movement that pulled a startled cry from her, he was inside her. He was larger than she imagined, stretching her uncomfortably in width and length, even as wet as she was. But it felt intense and raw and was exactly what she wanted.

He tightened his grip on her hips and drew himself out slowly, then slammed into her again. It was pleasure and pain, scent and sensation. His growls, teeth, and musk called to her cat, pulled the tiger to the surface without the moon to bring it forth.

She could almost feel thick fur trying to reach the surface in each of them, to touch in the middle and rub like velvet.

The weight of him pressing her into the bed, the sensation of his powerful chest pressed against her back as his hips slammed against her butt—it was too much, too fast. All of her frustration and desire, her fury and fear were rolled into a single mind-numbing sensation as the insides of her eyelids began glowing with golden fire. She buried her face in the comforter to muffle a scream so deep it seemed to tear from her very soul. It ended with a triumphant roar that rattled her chest and stole her breath.

Her climax was white-hot, so intense that she saw white stars erupt in her vision. It seized her entire body as a single force, raising her physically off the bed.

Just as suddenly, it was over. Antoine pulled out of her as she collapsed back down and he released her neck. He rolled her shaking, boneless body over. The powerful scent of musk and blood and her own orgasm was heady and turned her brain to putty.

“That,” he said with a small smile that had smears of blood at the corners, “is what your cat needed, mon chat du feu. You needed the claws and teeth of your hunting partner. And you do not need to stifle yourself—all of the rooms on this floor are soundproofed. Nobody in the house will hear.”

She could still feel her neck and hips throbbing with pain, but combined with the powerful contractions still swelling her insides, it felt so amazing that she couldn’t even speak. The tiger inside her stretched and lolled contentedly, and would purr if it was able, as though in gratitude for her human half finding a suitable male.

He gently slid his hands under her shoulders and legs and lifted her the rest of the way onto the bed, laying her head on the pillow. He was still fully erect and the look in his eyes was hungry. “Now … I believe the woman inside you requires still more attention to detail.”

He bent down over her and slowly, deliciously, kissed her. She could taste her own blood on his tongue for a moment, but then the lingering flavor of sweet red-hots washed it away. His powerful hands suddenly became gentle as he stroked lightly down her bare skin, making the pulsing between her legs start all over again. He flicked her nipple with his thumb as he squeezed her breast lightly and wrapped his other arm around her to pull her against him.

He turned his kisses to her neck and slowly ran his tongue along the smooth edge of the ear cut when she reached her tenth birthday, as was her tribe’s custom. She could finally think enough to speak.

“That was … it was unbelievable! How did you know that was what—”

He moved back just a bit and smiled, sending the smell of citrus and spice bursting into the air. “You needed? Remember, mon amante, I’m a cat too. It’s what we both needed. I’ve been struggling against it since we met, fearing what might happen if I gave in to my attraction for another cat—which I rarely do. There are very few cats who I could take like this and not injure them beyond repair. But there is a time for consideration and a time for action. You showed me your full fury last night, and it excited me beyond… well, probably beyond good judgment.” He said it with a strong scent of embarrassment and chagrin.

She felt her eyes grow wide. “I did… I mean, um, you said you wanted to—”

The embarrassment disappeared and his eyes twinkled with unaired laughter. “We have a saying where I was raised, Jamais couard n’aura belle amie—faint heart never won the lady fair. Our bodies want each other, as do our animals, but there is more to it than that We’re more complex than animals, you and I. You’ve impressed me, both with your intelligence and with your intensity. Brains, beauty, and aggression are heady attractants to an alpha male. Do you remember that I said I would tell you when I wanted to sleep with you?” His gaze was intense and his chest heaved slightly as he ran a slow finger down her face to end cm her lips. “Well, I’ve mated with you, and while we both needed that, now I want to sleep with you—to make love to you, if you’ll have me. There is something that I find quite irresistible about you.”

There was something so incredibly serious in his golden eyes framed by long, tawny hair. Even his scent had changed ever so subtly to a blend of cinnamon, oranges, and sweet musk. He truly believed the two versions of sex to be different things. Perhaps they were. She felt warmer inside than she did a moment ago, but not as heated on the outside.

She reached up her hand and let her fingers glide over his smooth, bare chest, feeling the prickling of power that tingled her skin. She had to admit that she enjoyed the effect her touch had on him, from the sudden racing of his heart to the sharply inhaled breath. She chuckled nervously, realizing that she hadn’t a clue what to expect from becoming involved with a sahip this powerful. “Is there a French saying for ‘curiosity killed the cat’?”