Predator's Refuge (18 page)

Hmm
.
Maybe I’ll just let her have a few nibbles before I begin to nibble her
.

As he approached the cabin area, he heard a ruckus on another path. Cutting through a glen of maples, he made his way toward the noise, and almost dropped all the breakfast food when he saw what was making the racket.

The shifter police had Shawn Dixon by the scruff of the neck, and were leading him away from his parents. His mother was crying and his dad shouted oaths at the officers. Shawn struggled in their grasp.

Anton stepped through the trees and questioned the cops. “What are you doing?”

Shawn fought to get away, but the men held him fast. “Mr. Gaspar! They think I hurt those women!”

He turned to the police. “He’s just a kid. What evidence do you have?”

One of the officers replied, “We just want to talk to him at the station on the mainland. We’ve had reports that he’s been loitering outside some of the cabins and causing a disturbance.”

“It wasn’t me,” Shawn shouted, terrified. “Mr. Gaspar. Please. You have to believe me.”

Anton didn’t know what to believe. Yes, he’d seen Shawn hiding behind a couple of the cabins, but was sure it was because the boy was intimidated by the girls. He wasn’t a stalker, just an awkward kid. He couldn’t be the one who’d viciously slashed April and Charlotte.

Could he?

As the cops led him toward their motorboat by the water, Anton reassured his parents he would do anything he could to clear the boy’s name. In the meantime, he urged the Dixons to cooperate. As they all piled into the boat, Anton stared, and no longer felt hungry for coffee and doughnuts.

But he did want to see Marci. Quite desperately.

* * * *

Marci sat cross-legged on Anton’s bed, wearing one of his big T-shirts. She looked at her bare legs and picked off a few cruller crumbs, not wanting to leave them in his bed. As she fiddled, he once again recounted the story of Shawn being dragged away by the mainland police. The shock was written all over his face, and she suspected he didn’t even realize he’d repeated certain details a couple of times.

She couldn’t believe it. Admittedly, she didn’t know the Dixon boy very well, but had recognized a teen in need when she’d first met him. The police and some of her security people had been of the opinion that a hormonal kid had instigated the attacks. She hadn’t really been of the same mind, but assumed they had evidence to back up their claim. It made sense. God only knew, she’d seen teens in the program who’d been driven to terrible lengths because of peer pressure and trouble coping with their shape-shifter natures.

She supposed it could be possible a loner like Shawn Dixon could snap and hurt someone. Anton had shared the kid’s troubling history. It made some sense that a boy who’d been bullied and beaten might lose control of his emotions and want to strike back in some way. She just didn’t want it to be true.

Poor Anton was white in the face. Even as he sat with her on the bed, stroking her calf, she could see his mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t blame him. It was clear he liked the boy. She struggled to say something that might make him feel a little better. “They’re just talking to him. No one’s been arrested. He could be back at the lodge by dinnertime.”

“This isn’t right.” He shook his head. “They’re wrong about Shawn.”

She lowered her voice, trying for a gentle tone. “You don’t know that. Think about it, Anton. He’s been through hell. He’s dealing with issues a regular teen could never comprehend, and he’s a little girl crazy right now. It’s not out of the realm of possibility a teen like Shawn could hurt a woman, especially in his shifted form. It might have been his way of fighting back.”

“No.”

“Anton—”

“Marci, I spoke with him. I saw into him. That kid is scared, but he would never hurt anyone. He didn’t do this.”

She sighed, knowing she wouldn’t persuade him to accept it. There was no sense arguing over it anyway. The police were in control. They would do their jobs. And as much as the idea saddened and troubled her, a ripple of relief wound its way across her shoulders. She couldn’t lie and pretend she wasn’t happy the police had a suspect and leads. After all, the images of April and Charlotte on the ground were forever burned into her gray matter. Her concern for the two women overrode her concern for Shawn right now. He would be questioned and the police would arrive at a conclusion. Hopefully, everyone at the lodge would sleep a little sounder tonight.

Maybe not Anton, though.

She pushed one of the paper coffee cups into his hand, knowing it was already cold. She’d managed to down some of the coffee and a cruller, but Anton hadn’t had a bite. He just stared into space. “Please have a sip. You’ll feel better.”

“I’m not thirsty.” He finally turned to her, his eyes dark and haunted. “But thank you,
cicuskám
.”

She warmed upon hearing the term of endearment.
His kitten
. She wasn’t dumb enough to believe he really meant it when he called her his, but it was still nice to hear.

Still, he’d certainly turned her into a purring kitten last night. The mere thought of what he did to her had her heart pumping with renewed desire. She knew that, under the circumstances, Anton wouldn’t be interested in another tumble right now, but the memories of their previous tumbles would delight her for the rest of her days.

Her body had responded to him with such ease and wonder. And she couldn’t stop wanting him. Even in all her dreams last night, she’d wanted him with a force that shocked her. She’d lost count at how many times he’d made her come. Even while in the midst of it, the numbers and ferocity had surprised her. After each orgasm shivered away into nothingness, her Hungarian prince coaxed another from her, teasing sensation from uncharted places inside her.

He knew her body better than she did.

And even more astonishing, the shy lynx shifter from Gemini Island, Ontario had managed to send a sophisticated tiger man into throes of ecstasy. Or so it seemed from his impassioned grunts and shouts. He’d called her name, many times, and held her tighter than she’d ever been held. He’d wrung feelings out of her that had lain dormant for years.

In touching her, kissing her, and licking her, he now knew all her secrets. She’d been laid bare before him, and she’d never felt such freedom.

Stifling the huge sigh inside her, Marci broke the silence. “I should get to work and see how everyone is doing. I need to check on Charlotte too.”

He lifted his lips in a small smile. “I know.” He put the coffee cup down on the bedside table and reached for her hand. “I want to see you tonight. I want to lose myself in you, tonight.”

Delicious fever set in. If she didn’t get out of there now, her lynx would take over and she’d be naked again and impaled on his huge cock. “I’d like that.”

He leaned over, cupped her breast, and tweaked her nipple through the fabric of his shirt. As a whimper broke free from her throat, Anton kissed her, tracing her lips with his tongue. Heat pooled between her thighs and an uncomfortable yearning settled there.

As she scrambled off the bed, he caught her right hand and opened it. With his gaze pinned on her, he slowly dragged his tongue over her palm. Shivers flew up and down her spine at his intimate caress. When his tongue reached her fingers, he removed it and gently closed her hand.

“Later,” he whispered, “when you’re at work, open your hand and smell your palm. My scent will be there. Think of me then.” He arched a brow at her. “And then you can think about all the other places I’ll lick you.”

Quivering with need, Marci got dressed and hurried out of his cabin. She dashed to her own cabin, caught her breath, and forced herself to have a quick one-handed shower. She made sure to keep the hand he’d licked out of the water. As she strode toward the lodge a few minutes later, she curled her fingers over her palm and protected his scent.

Even as she sought to keep it from disappearing off her hand, somehow she already knew it was tattooed on her skin. She’d never forget the scent of her tiger.

Chapter 10

“What are you doing back at work? Are you crazy?”

Giving her nose a quick rub with her Anton-scented palm, Marci gawked at Charlotte. Her friend, attired in her chambermaid uniform, stood before her cart of clean towels. Her neck was bandaged and she appeared a little pale, but otherwise spry. In fact, the dark circles under her eyes only served to make her appear a little more delicate, more hauntingly beautiful. With her dark hair tucked under her white cap, she resembled the heroine of a tragic Victorian romance, even though she would never in a million years sound like one.

Charlotte shrugged. “I was so fucking bored. Anyway, I feel better.”

“So, stay home and read a magazine. Watch TV. Watch your favorite porn, I don’t care. But don’t report to work.”

Her friend grunted, stubborn thing that she was. “I’ve done all those things. Believe it or not, I feel like cleaning rooms. It’s therapeutic. Plus I get to look through people’s stuff.”

“Charlotte!”

She held up her hands. “Kidding. Look, I was going stir-crazy in that clinic bed. Besides, we shifters heal quickly. I’m almost all better.”

“Bart is going to pop his cork.”

She frowned. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I sent him on a teeny goose chase. I asked him to bring me the August
Vanity Fair
magazine from my cabin.”

“You don’t read
Vanity Fair
.”

“True, but he doesn’t know it. It gave me time to escape his attentions.” She giggled.

“You’re terrible. You do realize that man loves you?”

Charlotte blushed. “No, he doesn’t. Bart just wants to sleep with me. He would fuck anything with two legs, and some things without. He’s more of a slut than I am.”

Marci shook her head. It was impossible talking sense to either her or Bart. They refused to be anything other than blind around each other. God only knew she’d never set them straight.

“Well, just don’t work too hard, or I will send you home for a week. Do you hear me?” Marci brought her hand to her nose, with what she thought was a discreet gesture, and sniffed her palm.

She should have guessed Charlotte would suss her out. “Why do you keep smelling your hand?” She peered at her intently, silver eyes flashing. “Oh my God, you did it! You fucked Anton!” She put her hands over her mouth and stifled a maniacal cackle. “I thought your scent was different today.” She put on a really bad Eastern European accent, making her sound like a two-bit Dracula in a dinner theater production. “You smell like Hungarian man.”

At first, Marci wanted to dive under her counter, abashed, but then she decided to stand up straight and enjoy the moment. After all, Anton Gaspar had given her the best night of her life. She was tired of being ashamed of her feelings, and quite frankly, she felt like giving Charlotte a bit of her own vulgar medicine. Smiling sweetly, she lowered her voice. “That’s right. We fucked. And then we fucked again. And then we fucked on the couch. And on the floor. And in the shower. And then on the bed again. Anton fucked me all night long. And he’s going to do it again tonight.” She waved her hands around in front of her, as Charlotte had just a few days ago. “Ka-boom.”

Her friend just stared, silenced for once. With a grave face, full of clear wonder and admiration, Charlotte backed away from Marci’s counter. She bumped into a fisherman headed outside with his tackle box and rod, turned to the man, and gestured to Marci. “That woman is a goddess.” And then she wheeled her cart away.

Marci returned to her work, but couldn’t hide her smile for the rest of the day.

* * * *

That night, the resort resumed one of its festivities. Marci knew she couldn’t stop the events forever, and with Shawn being questioned by police, she could see things were a bit more relaxed around the Ursa Lodge. Not that most people didn’t feel badly about Shawn’s situation, but most also recognized the need for a return to normalcy. Being a Wednesday, it was bonfire and s’more night, and she couldn’t wait to join the guests and employees while sitting around a blazing campfire.

She also couldn’t wait to see Anton. It had only been hours since their tryst, but her hunger for him had grown steadily with each passing hour. She knew he’d be at the bonfire, and her anticipation mounted as she completed various tasks for the day. It would be so hard keeping a rein on her emotions at the bonfire, but she knew she had to.

Hopefully the fire would burn out quickly, she prayed with a devilish giggle.

As she got ready in her cabin, someone knocked on her door. She rushed to open it, thinking her tiger man had dropped in for an early slap and tickle. “I didn’t expect you so early,” she said through a happy smile as she whipped open the door.

Killian Moon stood before her, dog-faced.

Marci still hadn’t quite forgiven him for spilling the beans about their fling. She glared at him. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please, Marce.” Relenting, she stepped aside and let him in. Killian waited silently as she closed the door behind him. He watched her as she turned to him, a shy smile on his face. “You look nice.”

She looked at her outfit. Slim-fitting jeans, her favorite wedges, and a lace camisole topped with an asymmetrical cardigan. Perhaps not a wardrobe worthy of a sex goddess, but she hoped it held the promise of sex. “Thanks. What do you want, Killian?”

“I just want you to be okay.” The bravado of the past few days faltered, and she once again glimpsed her old buddy behind kind eyes.

“What’s with all the macho crap lately? Don’t get me wrong, Killian. It’s nice you’re acting possessive, but over me? We only slept together once, and it was because we trusted each other not to let emotions get in the way. Right?”

“I know. And they haven’t. Not really.” He rubbed his chin, a stress reaction she’d seen in him many times, and plunked his big frame down in a wing chair. “I guess when I saw the way you responded to Anton, something in my jaguar felt the need to mark my territory. Not as a lover would, but as a friend. I see what he does to you, Marci. And I see those sly looks you throw his way, when you think no one’s watching.”