Prince of Shadows (3 page)

As the youngest prince was carried out draped over the victor’s shoulder, Cale followed Michael out into the spotlight. Almost twenty, with at least six inches of height and forty pounds on him, his little brother was full of self-important posturing. The instant Michael turned toward him, Cale hit him like a head-on collision.

Cale’s first blow broke his nose, the second his jaw, the third, three of his ribs. A vicious elbow to the chin and a roundhouse to the temple laid his brother out on the floor, spitting up blood. Reining back hard on a seething need to do more damage, Cale knelt beside him. Bracing a forearm across his throat, Cale leaned in close to warn, “This isn’t your time, Mikey, it’s mine. Yield before I really hurt you.”

Michael spread his hands wide and let his older brother drag him to his feet. One down. One step closer to his goal. As Cale draped Michael’s arm about his shoulders, he glanced up to gauge the audience’s reaction. He got the expected nod of approval from his father, but when he looked at Kendra, he was held by her expression of shock and abhorrence.

She thought he was an animal. And she was right. There was nothing civilized about the pressure cooker of violence steaming inside him. This wasn’t how he wanted her to see him, out of control and dangerous. If he continued to annihilate his brothers to prove his point, he risked pushing her further away.

Time for a little finesse, instead of brute force, to catch his lady’s eye. His father’s idea. It was time to show off.

Though outwardly composed, Kendra was devastated.

He was everything rumors claimed.

She hadn’t wanted to believe it. She’d desperately hoped there was some remnant of the boy in the man Cale had become. But as she watched him destroy his brother with a brutally efficient blankness, she knew Bram had ground out all decency beneath his heavy heel. What was left of Cale Terriot was a ferocious replica of his father.

Seated between Rosie and Sylvia, Kendra shut out the younger girl’s excitement to imitate the elder. Be indifferent, Sylvia had advised. Show no reaction, no interest, no favoritism. But stoicism was difficult. Kendra despised violence and couldn’t imagine finding pain entertaining. Watching the combatants purposefully injure each other, even though she knew they’d quickly heal, left her stomach knotted with shaky sickness.

With five of the princes left to prove their mettle, Kendra wasn’t sure she could sit through much more, especially when Cale made an unscheduled return to the court. She glanced at Bram, who appeared equally surprised, though curious.

Cale took off his MP3 player and tossed it to Kip with a call of “Plug that in for me, brother.” He crossed to the weapons bar, forgoing bold aggressive moves for sleek athletic grace. He stripped out of his jacket and gave it a toss, then selected a staff, moving to center court to glide through an elegant kata of positions.

Kendra’s breath caught involuntarily.

There was nothing weak about Cale Terriot now.

He wore the same loose tech pants as the others, tucked into black high-tops. An olive-drab tank hugged his muscle-sculpted chest, delineating abs as rugged as a series of foothills. What that tight shirt left bare truly amazed her. His arms and shoulders were wickedly cut perfection, all bronzed skin contoured by powerful swells, accented by the Terriot clan’s snarling rampant wolf tattoo on one shoulder. Though he still wore impenetrable dark glasses, his features were relaxed, confident.

He was simply the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“Cale,” Bram called down indulgently. “What’s this about?”

“You wanted a demonstration, my king, and you’ll have one.” With the bow resting across the back of his shoulders, he gestured to Kip. “Give me a beat.”

The sexy dance tempo of Madonna’s “Music” wasn’t something Kendra would expect from his playlist, but Cale picked up its infectious pace with a thirty-second warm-up. Fluid, strong, his demonstration was sinfully seductive as light gleamed off those glorious arms. Then he struck an en garde to face his brothers.

“You have four minutes to take me. Let’s do this.”

The foursome grinned in response to his challenge and stepped out onto the floor.

Cale let them come to him, timing his movements to the rhythm of the song with easy bounces of his feet. He met Rico’s charge with a quick spin of the staff, whapping the side of his head with one end and cracking into his ribs with the other. A kick to the sternum took him down. Wesley and Colin chose to meet him armed, the older brother with a staff and the younger with a pair of batons.

Planting his staff, Cale swung around it, landing both feet in Wesley’s chest, then, as his brother tumbled backward, spun down to the floor to sweep Colin’s feet out from under him with a twirl of the bow. Rolling up to his feet, he executed a series of spins, meeting their strikes in a lethal blur before his own effectively stopped them both.

Kendra couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Backpedaling a few light skips, Cale faced Turow, who’d been calmly waiting his turn. The silent middle brother kept to himself, a bit of a mystery to everyone. That unknown had Cale regarding him cautiously as Turow held up his empty hands, then beckoned with his fingers. With a slow smile, Cale tossed the staff aside, the motion leaving him open.

With a sudden running leap, Turow took him in the ribs with a heel, sending him sprawling backward. Turow rebounded with an agile flip while Cale rolled to his feet more slowly, protecting his side while he grinned, goading softly, “Let’s dance.”

Turow was patient, hanging back to see what Cale would do, saying quietly, “You lead.”

Cale exploded straight up, torquing his body into a tight revolution with enough height for his right leg to catch the side of Turow’s head, and enough momentum to twist as they both went down so that he landed with his other knee drilling into his brother’s solar plexus. A hard strike from Cale’s elbow effectively ended the competition just as the last bars of the song played out.

Cale sucked a stabilizing breath, stepping over the prone figure to approach the wall. His father was applauding. He could hear nothing else over the pulse pounding in his ears as his blood sluiced, hot and wild as his ancestry. Slowly, he went to one knee and placed palms to the floor. “For you, my king.”

A shiver of instinct gave him just enough warning to roll out from under Rico’s unexpected and unworthy attack from behind. He hooked his leg around his brother’s waist to bowl him over onto his back, coming up astride him with one hand about the throat as the furious features began to transform into the snarling visage of a beast. The competition had turned deadly.

“Frederick!” Bram roared, coming to his feet. “You shame me and yourself with your lack of control. Stop this, now!”

Kendra had come out of her seat the instant she realized the threat to Cale. Her hands gripped the railing as alarm panted from her, quick and anxious. She watched as he looked to his father for direction; receiving that slight nod, he struck with a vicious punishing intent until his brother’s features were unrecognizable.

Kendra sank back into her seat, nausea roiling. She had to close her eyes. How was she going to survive in this ugly, violent world that had turned her former friend into a ruthless destroyer with blood on his hands and death on his soul?

“Wasn’t that amazing?” Rosie gushed, squeezing her arm. Her voice grew dreamy. “Your prince slaying them all to have you.”

This wasn’t about her. It was about power claimed through force, and that was something Kendra wanted no part of.

To think she’d considered him beautiful. He was just as monstrous as the rest.

She left her seat and hurried blindly toward the narrow stairs. She’d started down them when she came face-to-face with the event’s victor. Kendra couldn’t look at him without reliving the slaughter of her loved ones.

“For you,” he told her with a low intensity as others begun to crowd in behind them. He offered his palm. “Be with me, Kendra. It’s what we’ve always wanted.”

Because it had been, her pain was that much greater. She responded to his petition in a choked whisper. “How could you think I’d put my hand into one red with my family’s blood.”

Cale went still, then expelled a harsh breath. His tone was concise and hard. “Hate me all you like while you bend over to receive my heirs, but bend you will.”

three

Cale took another long pull at his beer and stared listlessly up at the stars. They’d been bright against that black sea when he’d first come out on the patio with a small group of revelers, but now, as he sat alone, he could hardly tell they were there. He closed his eyes, frustrated and discouraged. And lonely, despite being surrounded by family.

He’d been properly congratulated and openly admired, but none of that did a damn thing to erase the memory of Kendra’s disdain. Perhaps he should have let himself be beaten to a pulp to gain her sympathy. He remembered how sweet that was, how gentle she could be, how tender her touch. Of course, she’d been little more than a child then, but his memories had aged her progressively with every passing year.

He sighed and took another drink. The competition had served its purpose. He’d spoken his claim and reinforced his ability to make good on it. The only one left to convince was Kendra. At the moment, he didn’t believe she could think less of him.

She was right. He was a beast. He’d had to be, to win this chance to have her. He’d have to show her he could be other things, too. Good things, noble things, admirable things. Protector, mate, friend. And lover, not just the throw-her-down-to-sink-a-claim-and-carry-off-a-crown fuck the rest of them were interested in. He
was
interested in that, but only as a secondary goal, far removed from the one that would have her looking at him as she had when they were young. Who needed to see the stars when that glimpse of heaven was in her eyes?

Tomorrow he’d have another chance to breach that gap between them . . . that yawning open grave filled with the bodies of her loved ones. Just how, he didn’t know, short of falling to his knees to proclaim the truth.
I have loved you all my life and will never be any kind of man without you.

He used to be able to talk to her. He’d just open his mouth, and his soul would come spilling out. Maybe if he could get close enough to kiss her, words wouldn’t be necessary.

He frowned unhappily, thinking of those youthful kisses. And was startled by the light touch of lips upon his own.

Cale’s eyes flew open. He jerked his head to the side, growling, “Dammit, Syl, I told you not to do that.”

Sylvia perched on the arm of his chair, a sleek smile almost disguising her irritation. “Your brothers don’t react as if my lips were poison.”

“Then go suck on their faces. What do you want?”

“You’re in a mood. I wanted to congratulate you on that mucho macho demonstration that impressed everyone except the little twit you were doing it for.”

“Thank you. That’s just what my mood needed to hear. If that’s all you wanted—”

“I want to get paid. I do something for you, you do something for me. That’s our arrangement. I’ve done my part. So pay up, my prince.”

He looked away from her predatory stare. “I’m tired, Syl.”

She slid her palm up to gauge his heartbeats. Her gaze grew heavy. “No, you’re not. You’re juiced, and you know how hot that gets me. I don’t mind doing all the work this time. I’ll enjoy it for both of us.”

Cale stared up at that starry sky, now little more than a blur, resigned to the price Sylvia demanded, telling himself it was necessary, that it wasn’t personal or as degrading as it always felt when her greedy hands were on his zipper. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift to another. Imagining her hands, her hurried breaths, her mouth. Kendra . . .

“You bastard!” Sylvia lifted off him to glare down in a pinched-faced fury. “If I wanted a threesome with the little bitch, I would have invited her to join us.”

“Syl—”

“See if you can find someone else to take care of your problem. Good luck.”

He caught her wrist as she started away, alarm making his grip harder than he intended. “Sylvia, don’t. I’m sorry.”

She winced and tried to pull free. “You are sorry, you know that? All this fuss to make that stupid girl care about you when she’s already planning to give it up to somebody else.”

Shocked, Cale released her. “You’re lying! Who?”

Sylvia rubbed her wrist, her smile spiteful. “She’s in love with, in her own words, someone
not
on this mountain. Someone who is
not
you. Am I lying, Cale?” She spun and stalked off into the darkness.

Someone who is not you.

Cale’s mind raced frantically, cataloging Kendra’s every known movement since they’d parted at the lake eighteen years ago. He could come to only one devastating conclusion, the only readily available male. The man who had disgraced him and permanently dimmed his world.

His roar echoed across the stillness of the lake.

His queen was in love with Silas MacCreedy.

Kendra pretended to sleep to escape Rosie’s endless recaps of the evening, and then the girl talked about those dashing Terriot princes in her sleep. Her own rest was fitful.

Finally, close to dawn, she sank into a light slumber that brought fantasy right to the edge of reality. The feel of Silas’s kiss, the cherishing curl of his arms about her. Her words whispered from a breaking heart.

I’ll hold you safe in my soul until you return to me.

That kiss deepened into a luxurious, sensually charged paradise that left her drifting, eyes closed, body floating until grounded by a husky vow: “You will always hold an equal share of my love and loyalty.” She looked up into the beloved face to sigh, “My prince.”

She awoke with a start, touching fingertips to her mouth as if she could feel the heat of Cale’s lips there. As if she could taste him. Delicious and dangerous.

Shaken, Kendra headed downstairs for coffee, surprised to see that Sylvia was one of the few females up early, looking flawlessly lovely. She smiled in welcome. “All ready to play the dating game?”

Kendra grimaced. “I’m not very good at games. I have no idea what to say,” she confessed, taking a seat.

“Well, you have a couple of options. You can say nothing while they talk about themselves. They excel in that one. Or you can ask what they’d like to know about you. That will shut them up. What you wear to bed and what positions you like will exhaust their curiosity.”

“You don’t like them very much, do you?”

Sylvia sniffed, reminding her of Brigit. “They’re rich, self-centered, arrogant, and shallow.”

“Then why do you want to bond with one of them?”

“I want to be rich, self-centered, arrogant, and shallow, too. It’s not like I’d actually have to do anything except conceive. Then I’d have freedom, going into town to shop and to spas and clubs with no one to hover over me. I can handle a couple of bouts of sweaty, pawing sex for that trade-off.” Sylvia regarded Kendra closely. “You’re blushing. You’ve never had sex? I heard the rumor. How extraordinary and . . . strange.”

“The opportunity never came up.”

“I certainly wouldn’t tell them that. There’s nothing they like better than coming first.” She chuckled at her play on words. “They’d be on you like a pack of wild dogs. My dear, you are positively white. I’m sorry if my candor upset you.”

Kendra smiled wanly. “I’m hoping not to be in that position.”

“Or any position,” Sylvia murmured, then leaned forward to say, “He’s very handsome and mannerly, your Silas. Don’t look so shocked. I won’t say anything. He’s not like the typical Terriot, who’d throw you down and tear off your clothes after coming home smelling like violence and whores. I can see why that would appeal to you. When will he be here?”

“Soon.” Did she sound as desperate as she felt?

“Sooner the better. In the meantime, don’t let yourself be caught alone with any of them. They don’t need your permission to claim you. Or you to be conscious, for that matter.”

Kendra excused herself and hurried to the bathroom to toss up her coffee.

Sylvia’s advice wasn’t forgotten as Kendra tried not to resemble a mouse beneath circling hawks.

Her speed dates took place in a conference room at the lodge, where two executive chairs faced each other from opposite sides of a table. Kendra took comfort from that separating barrier and from the fact that the door was open partially for her protection as Bram’s unmated sons were brought in for awkward fifteen-minute one-on-ones. From those brief interviews, she was to pick the male she’d bond with for life.

Each one was different yet the same. All had that desensitized roughness, honed to a lethal point beneath Bram’s rule. Crude, deadly imitations of their father that the nice clothes and careful barbering couldn’t conceal. The first thing each one did was draw her scent in hungrily, gulping it up like a juicy meal. She hoped they couldn’t taste her fear.

She made mental notes as they tried to overwhelm, seduce, convince, or embarrass her with their virility and power. Her impressions were immediate and not favorable. Rico: flashily gorgeous, quick-tempered, conveying with his hot stare what he’d like to be doing with his hands. Michael: boyishly tousled, bragging about his accomplishments and ambitions, confidence lessened by the damage Cale had done to his jaw. Kip: youthfully eager and shamelessly enthralled, but with the predacious gleam that kept her wary. Colin: narrowed eyes, narrowed smile, coolly smug as he spoke of the things he could give her, things that meant nothing to her. Turow: dark, still, and stonily silent, unsettling her to the point where she was making conversation. Wesley: slickly handsome, all smooth, caressing compliments while his gaze tore off her clothes.

Only James engaged her by talking about his vision for their clan and how her presence at his side could aid that plan. He was forthright and intelligent, reminding her of Silas, with his larger view, as he asked her opinions, relaxing her to the point where she didn’t notice he was caressing her hand with slow intimate strokes until his thumb was rubbing across the pulse points on her wrist. She drew away, her smile stiff when he told her, “I think we’ll get on well together.”

That left Cale.

He came in last, unlike the others, dressed casually in jeans and a loose sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Instead of taking the chair, he leaned against the wall, one booted foot crossed over the other, staring not at her, with his brothers’ devouring stares, but at some point behind her. She could hear him inhale her scent with a slow, savoring pull.

In the unpressured seconds of silence, Kendra was able to view him critically. When not measured next to his six-foot-plus siblings, Cale Terriot cut an eye-catching figure of lean lines, powerful shoulders, and deceptively easy grace. With that deep-set, granite-piercing stare, his features were too rugged to be movie-star handsome, but he had an intensely compelling presence, a tough Wild West sort of hair-trigger directness that immediately commanded attention. Hers.

Even as the memory of his arrogant words on the stairs fired indignation, her gaze was drawn to his mouth by the stirring remnants of that morning’s dream. By the forbidden taste of him that made her lips soften and part. How fast her heart was beating, in upset, anguish, and uncomfortably, with attraction. Cale sensed it, too.

“Did you ever think of me?” he asked at last, his tone quiet.

Kendra hadn’t been alone with him in years. At one time she’d dreamed of saying so much to him, but her answer was clipped and truthful. “Not in ways that would flatter you.”

He studied her, his emotions masked. Then came the surprise of his unfurling smile and the heart-clutching slow, dry laugh that always made her think of starting a reluctant engine as he confessed, “I’ve missed you.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, and everything he’d meant to her came flooding back so fast, she was swept under without a struggle. She swallowed, emotions flailing, desperately trying to recover her footing by asking, “How’s your mom?”

His careless exterior cracked. She wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t known him so well. His voice was deceivingly steady. “She’s fine. I don’t see her very often. She lives down in the valley. I miss her, too.”

“When did she leave?”

“Right after you went away.”

So he’d lost them both at the same time. An unwanted twist of sympathy made her gaze soften, prompting him to offer, “I could take you to see her, if you want. She’d like that.” More softly, he added, “I’d like that.”