Predator's Refuge (7 page)

Her lynx pounced toward his tiger like a bright-eyed, shaking kitten on a ball of wool. Damn. She’d forgotten she’d arranged to have him help her at the event today.
Professional, professional
. “Good morning, Anton. Ready for the race?”

He looked her up and down, unsmiling, and his green eyes seemed to grow brighter. “What are you wearing?”

She looked down at her gym shorts and T-shirt. Sure, autumn had already kissed Gemini Island, turning tree leaves into a spectacular array of color and lowering temperatures. However, it was unseasonably warm today and she’d dressed for physical activity. “Um, my clothes?”

His distracted gaze settled in the vicinity of her breasts for a second and then he looked away. “Aren’t you cold?”

She looked down again and saw her nipples poking out, as if reaching for him. In horror, she crossed her arms over her chest and whispered, “No, I’m not cold.” Her nipples seemed to have other ideas and poked against her clasped arms. She rubbed discreetly at them in annoyance, hating that her attraction to him was so evident. “On second thought, I did feel a breeze walking over this morning. Maybe I will get a jacket.” She dashed into her office and grabbed her windbreaker, throwing it on. She took a second to breathe, adjusted her ponytail, grabbed her whistle, timer, and clipboard, and headed back into the lobby to join him. Rather than stop, she walked right past him toward the door. “Time for the race. Let’s go.”

As he followed her out, she was conscious of his footfall, so heavy and deliberate. At the same time, his scent called to her. She had trouble figuring out exactly what his scent was, and had already lain awake at night a couple of times trying to pinpoint it. She allowed her nostrils to flare for a second, just a second to breathe him in, and caught a faint whiff of mint and cut grass and man. He smelled of the outdoors and of cleanliness, with just a hint of salty allure.

Shaking off her head rush, she continued on at a good clip toward the starting line. Killian was already there, talking to a couple of the participants. As she arrived, he looked up and waved her over. With an eye on Anton, Killian pulled her in for a hug.

“You look nice,” Killian purred and kissed her forehead.

What the heck? He’d never hugged and kissed her so much, not even in bed, but the past couple of days, her
friend
had been rather touchy-feely. “Oh, thanks. Is everything ready?”

“You bet.” With a grin, he gave her bum a playful swat.

Even as she jumped, Anton took up a spot next to them. His gaze followed Killian’s hand. His jaw clenched and he glared at Killian. Killian glared back.

If Marci hadn’t known any better, she could have sworn there was a little feud developing between the tiger and the jaguar. Dismissing any notion it was related to her, she chalked it up to professional competition. Silly shifter males. Always posturing. She’d seen it before, although never so up close and personal.

The race was set to start in a few minutes and families had already gathered along the route, there to cheer on their shifter teens. Marci took her place at the start at the announcer’s podium and smiled.

“Welcome, everyone,” she said into the microphone, wincing at the shrill feedback. She adjusted her stance and continued. “We are thrilled to have you all here for today’s race and are so glad you’ve decided to join our family here at the Ursa Fishing Lodge and Resort.”

A cheer went up through the crowd and the competitors high-fived each other.

She continued. “As shape-shifters, we’ve all been blessed with certain gifts, even though they can sometimes feel like a curse. Our mentoring program is all about learning to embrace our gifts and talents. Today’s event is not just about strength, but about being smart and intuitive. We’re not here to applaud the strongest or the quickest among us. We’re here to help you learn how to use your unique abilities and to support each other.”

Marci smiled at the competitors as a couple of teen wolf shifter boys flexed their muscles. The group of competitors consisted of mostly males: several wolf shifters, a bear, and a coyote. One female contestant stood among them: a timid-looking girl named April who happened to be a hare shifter.

As Marci continued her speech, she looked at April. “Today isn’t about brawn. It’s about using your brain. And although this is a race to the finish, you never know who might win.” She smiled at each of them. “Mr. Moon will be at the halfway point. Mr. Gaspar and I will take up our spots at the finish line. Don’t forget, the route is directly through the woods and ends at Ursa’s Muzzle, the large cave in the distance.” She pointed it out. “Best of luck!”

As she and Anton raced through the trees toward Ursa’s Muzzle, he laughed. “That was a nice speech, but there’s no way that shy little girl will win over those competitive boys. She just doesn’t have the strength.”

“There’s something to be said for inner strength, you know,” she argued as she jumped over a cluster of stones. She landed on her feet with ease, eager to show Anton that smaller shifters had their talents too.

He lunged after her, a huge shadow in the woods. “Yes, but there’s something to be said for accepting one’s limitations.”

Peeved, Marci picked up her pace. “You’re just saying that because she’s a girl and not a big tiger man.”

With another haughty laugh, Anton pulled ahead of her, weaving easily through the trees. Marci tried to catch up to him, but with his tiger strength he easily outran her. She watched, annoyed, as he reached Ursa’s Muzzle and put his hands on his hips, waiting for her to arrive. He wasn’t even breathing hard from their sprint. “It’s better April isn’t set up for disappointment. She’s a hare. She should be competing with shifters like her. How can she possibly compete with those predators?”

As she finally reached the cave, she glared at him. “Mr. Gaspar, where did you learn to be such a pessimist? In prince school?”

“I’m not a pessimist. I’m a realist.” To annoy her, he reached out and tweaked her cheek.

“Take your hands off me, you big brute.”

He smiled. “Are you mad at me because I’m stronger and faster than you, little lynx?”

“Power and might don’t count for everything in this world, Anton.”

His features darkened. “No, Marci, but unfortunately they count for a lot.”

“Oh, very nice. Who taught you that? Machiavelli?”

“No.” He looked away. “My father did.”

Before she could question him, the whistle blew and the race began. With considerable reluctance, she looked away from him and turned toward the competitors. The route consisted of a straight line through the woods, and she could easily see them as they hurried through the trees. However, the path was studded with several rocks and felled logs, and the teens needed to keep their wits about them. A couple of the boys fell over themselves in their haste and scrambled to get up. April loped along at a slower pace, but didn’t stumble once.

As the boys saw her progress, they clearly grew desperate to prove themselves. Hurriedly, they all tore off their clothes and dropped to the ground, shifting into their animal selves. As Marci eyed the slim girl, being followed by a pack of snarling predators, she grew tense.

Anton leaned into her and his scent reached inside her, teasing. “This is where she loses the race. Even if she shifts, a hare will never outrun those angry beasts.”

Marci didn’t say a word; she just continued to silently cheer on the girl. As one of the wolves stumbled on a large rock, he knocked against the bear boy and they both careened to the ground in a tumble. As they rolled, they inadvertently took down the coyote with them.

The hare girl just kept her eyes ahead and ran on human legs through the trees.

The remaining wolves chased her. As one of them lunged at her, meaning to scare her, his legs got tangled up with those of the other wolf boy. They, too, fell down, stunned.

“Yes,” Marci whispered, poking Anton in the ribs with her elbow.

“Watch it, lynx,” he teased. “The race isn’t over.”

The coyote disentangled himself from his group of beasts and got back up, swiftly gaining on the girl. Marci jumped up and down, shouting and waving, “Girl power!”

April smiled through ragged breaths. Just as the coyote pounced, she pulled ahead and tumbled across the finish line into Anton’s arms. Marci blew her whistle, signaling the end of the race. The boy shifters all crossed the finish line, remaining in their panting animal forms until their parents could bring them their clothes.

Marci giggled, elated, as April’s parents rushed over and hugged her. Killian brought over medals for first, second, and third places and gathered together the contestants.

Feeling more smug than she should, Marci turned to a scowling Anton. Unable to help herself, she did a little victory dance, wiggling her bottom. “Looks like slow and steady really does win the race. Those boys were so full of testosterone that they forgot to be careful. So much for power and might.”

She was about to go congratulate the girl when Anton grasped her arm and pulled her behind a large tree. Sheltered by the thick trunk, he drew her into a tight embrace. His massive arms encircled her and held her close to his body. Flush against his hard plane of a body, she couldn’t help but be aware of the throbbing length pressing into her belly. He dug his hands into her hair, messing up her tight ponytail and gently pulled her head back so her neck was exposed to him. He leaned in and whispered against her ear. “Be careful how you play,
cicuskám
. You don’t wish to toy with a man like me.” He ground his hips against her, and his cock seared her through her clothes, like the touch of a hot poker. “And as you can see, power and might are very good for some things.”

He held her for a moment, and then released her abruptly, pushing himself away. Running a hand over his open mouth, he turned and stalked over to congratulate the competitors. His behavior seemed to shock him as much as it did her.

And just like that, Marci’s self-control evaporated. As her lynx rejoiced at the close contact with the hot tiger man, Marci wobbled on her feet and her vision clouded. Her womb contracted and moisture gathered along her seam. Shivers flew up and down her arms, even under her windbreaker, making her whole body feel strangely cold and hot at the same time.

She knew she should say something nice to the teens, but couldn’t string coherent words together. She couldn’t even remember her name. Instead, she just watched, helpless, as Anton shook April’s hand and then launched a heated look in her direction.

Clutching her whistle and swallowing her lust, she teetered back to her cabin. Once she was out of his piercing sight, she felt capable of breathing again … or did she seem to breathe better in his presence? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was she didn’t like it.

Determined to forget the pesky tiger and her shameful lynx, she made her way to her cabin. Once there, she slammed and bolted the door. She turned on her laptop and sat down. She spent the next few hours glaring at her work, checking and rechecking the reservations for the next few months.

When that no longer distracted her, she fashioned an Anton voodoo doll out of paper, another of her lynx, and stomped on them both.

Chapter 4

That night, after devouring two boxes of Maltesers and a couple of lime coolers, Marci couldn’t sleep. Even still, she knew the rumbling in her gut had nothing to do with scarfing too much alcohol and chocolaty goodness.

Her poor lynx prowled each corner of her insides, searching for the predator it wanted so badly. At every turn, it offered up its distinctive cry of hunger and loneliness.

She’d been denying the animal what it really needed: a hearty fuck with a gorgeous man. And there was one particular specimen in mind.

Anton
.

For the first time, she realized her desire had a name, and it was his.

She couldn’t. It was so unprofessional and he was so … so Anton. What on earth would he do if she threw herself at him? He’d undoubtedly be horrified.

But why should he be? Killian had been happy to sleep with her. Sure, Anton might be an aristocrat in his country, but that didn’t mean she had nothing to offer. Maybe she’d never toured the world or worked outside the resort, and she might be more at home at a country fair than at a fashion show, but she wasn’t just a happy hick. His parents might be shifter royalty, but she was the daughter to Robert and Paula Lennox, lynx shifters and owners of the general store in town. She’d won Employee of the Month fourteen times at the Ursa Lodge and remembered every guest there by name.

She had depth and soul and good intentions.

Wandering over to her dresser, she turned on the record player she’d had since she was a kid. It was her dad’s old record player, the one he’d insisted on giving her because “young people today don’t appreciate vinyl.”

Prying her favorite Rosemary Clooney album from its frayed cover, she placed it on the turntable, positioned the needle, and listened to the strains of
You Started Something
. As the big band took over from Rosemary’s smooth voice, Marci swayed a little in time to the music. Without even meaning to, she pictured Anton’s enigmatic face.

The man oozed intrigue. The most dangerous thing she’d ever done was learn to hunt hares with her father. Anton’s family had a court and a castle, and intrigue was probably the order of the day there. Her folks had a modest backsplit on the mainland, and the only time things got exciting there was when her mother had one too many gimlets. On those hallowed occasions, someone was bound to break out the dominoes.

Wild times, indeed
.

Still, she was a lynx woman and she had her pride. And even though she’d been a late bloomer, there was strength and a certain grace inside her. Anton might think her silly, but he could damn well think what he wanted. She didn’t need his good opinion.

And yet she thought she’d glimpsed something sort of like desire in his eyes at the race today. She’d certainly felt his thick rod of need against her stomach.

Oh, who was she kidding? His erection had probably just been there due to the adrenaline rush of watching the kids race. No, Anton Gaspar was definitely off-limits. She wouldn’t debase herself in front of him.