Rage & Killian (2 page)

Then months ago, they’d been forced to come out of the shadows when it was uncovered that a secret sect of humans have been experimenting with Pantera blood and DNA.

It’s a battle for the future of the puma-shifters.

One they dare not lose.

No matter what the cost.

Rage

Chapter 1

The Wildlands were exactly what most people would expect for a pack of puma-shifters. Thick foliage, towering cypress trees, narrow water channels clogged with water lilies and banks of sweet-smelling azaleas.

A glorious, untamed bayou that stretched for miles.

But it was much more than a vast swamp. Behind the magical barriers were hundreds of comfortable homes, a state-of-the-art medical clinic, a village green where the Pantera shared meals, and a large, Colonial-style structure with black shutters that looked like it’d been plucked out of
Gone With the Wind
.

The building was currently being shared by the heads of the various factions. Suits, who were the diplomats of the Pantera. The Geeks, who took care of everything high-tech. The Healers, who could usually be found at the clinic. And the Hunters, who were the protectors.

Inside, the HQ was buzzing with activity. No big surprise. Over the past few months they’d endured a crazy-ass goddess, a traitor, and now a human corporation, Benson Enterprises, who’d been secretly kidnapping Pantera and using them as lab rats.

Which was why Rage should have suspected that something was up when Parish led him to a back room that offered them a temporary privacy.

The two male Hunters looked similar at a glance. Both had deeply bronzed skin and dark hair, although Rage kept his cut short. And both had broad shoulders and sculpted muscles that were covered by worn jeans and T-shirts, despite the chill in the air.

But while the older Parish looked like a lethal killer with scars that bisected the side of his angular face, Rage was blessed with the features of an angel. Even more fascinating, his eyes were a stunning violet that was flecked with gold.

Women had been sighing in pleasure since Rage hit puberty.

It took a closer look to see the predatory cat that lurked just below the surface.

At the moment, he looked every inch the deadly Hunter. His eyes glowed with power and if he’d been in his cat form, his tail would have been twitching as he paced from one end of the room to the other.

“No,” he growled. “No, no, no.”

“I’m sorry.” Parish folded his arms over his chest, the air prickling with the force of his authority. The older male wasn’t the leader of the Hunters because of his sparkling personality. “Did you think that was a request? Because it wasn’t.”

Rage grimaced, deliberately leashing his instinctive aggression. He’d discovered at an early age he could use his natural charm to…encourage people to see things his way. It was only when his cat was provoked to violence that it was obvious why his faction was Hunter instead of Diplomat.

“Please, Parish,” he soothed. “Send someone else.”

“There is no one else.” Parish narrowed his golden eyes. “In case you missed the memo we’ve been having a few disasters lately.”

“Exactly. I should be out searching for the mysterious Christopher,” Rage said, referring to the head of Benson Enterprises, the shadowy corporation that was responsible for stealing Pantera, as well as vulnerable humans. “Or at least hunting down the Frankenstein labs. We still can’t be sure we’ve burned them all.” He pointed toward the window that overlooked the manicured grass of the communal area. Below them a few Pantera mothers were sharing a late lunch while their cubs tumbled across the spongy ground. It was winter in the Wildlands, but the Pantera embraced the brisk air. “Hell, I’ll even spy on the military. Someone needs to discover who can and can’t be trusted in the human government.”

Parish looked far from impressed by his logic. “Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?”

“Christ, no. It’s just…”

Parish frowned. “What?”

Rage hesitated. This was the first time he’d ever questioned a direct order, but there was no way in hell he wanted to deal with Lucie Gaudet.

The female Geek had been a few years younger than Rage, and growing up he’d initially felt sorry for the half-feral creature who’d lived in the outer parts of the swamp. She’d slunk around the edges of town with her hair matted and tangled, and her face covered in dirt. Almost like a fabled wood sprite who flitted among the trees, spreading mist and magic

But as they’d matured, his pity had changed to annoyance.

Instead of growing out of her odd preference for the shadows, she’d continued to lurk at a distance, and worse, she’d used her cunning intelligence to torment others. Including himself.

A born troublemaker.

“I’m a Hunter, not a Geek,” he finally muttered. “Why doesn’t Xavier send one of his own people to track down the female?”

Parish’s lips twisted. “Because, like you, they’re terrified of Lucie.”

Rage scowled. “I’m not scared of her.”

“No?”

The two predators glared at one another before Rage, at last, heaved a resigned sigh.

“Okay, I’m scared of her,” he admitted. “She’s a psycho bitch.”

“She’s not psycho. She’s just…” Parish struggled for the word. “Misunderstood.”

“Being misunderstood is shaving your head and drinking so much elderberry wine you puke purple for three days,” he muttered, ignoring Parish’s snort of amusement. Okay, it was possible that Rage had done both of those things. “Lucie burned down her grandfather’s cottage.”

Parish shrugged. “No one was inside it.”

“She stole my diary so she could decrypt my private thoughts and posted them in the community center.” Something that still aggravated the hell out of Rage. He’d written highly sensitive information about the various females he’d been dating at the time. All of them had refused to talk to him for weeks.

“You shouldn’t have been such a hound dog,” Parish said with blatant lack of sympathy.

“I wasn’t a hound dog,” Rage protested. “I just adore women.”

Parish rolled his eyes. “A lot of women.”

“Not as many as most people think,” Rage retorted. It was true he spent a large majority of his time with females, but it wasn’t about sex. Or at least, not everything was about sex. More than a few of his dates had been nothing more than two friends enjoying an evening together. “But I’m not ashamed of my appreciation for the opposite sex,” he continued. “I love their scent. Their feel. Just having them near.”

“Then why were you so upset?”

Because she made him look like an idiot
.

He didn’t share the sense of mortification he’d never forgotten. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest.

“What about the fact that she hacked into the Pentagon?”

Parish met him glare for glare. Predictably, he refused to back down.

“Xavier took care of her lack of judgment.”

“By denying her access to computers?” Rage shook his head. It was a wonder she hadn’t gotten every Pantera tossed in the brig. “All that did was give her a reason to leave the Wildlands so she didn’t have to follow the rules.”

Parish leaned against the edge of the heavy walnut desk, the wood creaking beneath his considerable weight. Pantera had denser bones and muscle than humans.

“None of us liked following the rules. I remember you breaking them more than once.”

Rage couldn’t argue. He was a hell-raiser when he was young. But he was an amateur when compared to Lucie.

“I wasn’t on the FBI most wanted list,” he muttered.

Parish studied him for a long, nerve-wracking moment, then he grimaced, as if coming to an unwelcomed decision.

“You’re not being entirely fair,
mon ami
,” he abruptly said. “Life wasn’t easy for Lucie.”

Rage frowned. Parish was the master of the understatement. If he said life wasn’t easy, then it must have been hell.

“I know her parents were Suits and spent most of their time away from the Wildlands,” Rage said, struggling to recall what little he knew about the secretive female.

“Too much time away.” Parish shook his head, his jaw tight. “Lucie should have been raised in the community nursery, but her grandfather insisted that she live with him.”

Most cubs spent at least some time in the nursery. It helped to solidify their sense of pack. And children of Diplomats spent more time than others. The Wildlands were far safer for the cubs.

“He was a recluse, wasn’t he?” Rage demanded. He barely remembered the cantankerous old man. The only time they’d crossed paths, the bastard had threatened to have Rage and his friends tossed in the bog if they ever stepped on his property.

“Unfortunately. None of us realized that he’d been affected by the rot that had already seeped into the Wildlands.” Parish glanced toward the window where the lush beauty of the bayou hid the fact that only a few weeks before there’d been a creeping evil that had threatened to destroy the Pantera. “Not until too late.”

Rage took a step toward his friend. “What do you mean, too late?”

“When Lucie was born, she was undersized and dangerously frail. If the Healers had been allowed to treat her, she would easily have outgrown her weakness, but Theo was determined to use what he called old magic to cure her.”

Rage arched a brow. “What the hell is old magic?”

The air heated with the force of Parish’s sudden burst of anger. “We assumed he meant the traditional herbs and potions from the elders. None of us knew he was tying her to trees during the middle of the night like she was a fucking rabid animal, or forcing her to hunt for her own food when she was barely old enough to shift. Lucie’s early life was a brutal lesson in survival.”

A savage sense of guilt twisted Rage’s gut.

“Shit,” he rasped, hating himself for not taking the time to find out why Lucie had always remained an outsider. And why she’d felt such an intense need to rebel.

Maybe if he’d thought about something beyond his own wounded pride he could have…

Rage abruptly leashed his cat as a growl rumbled in his chest.

He might want to taste blood, but Theo was dead and Lucie missing. He couldn’t change the past. All he could do was make sure that he didn’t leap to conclusions again.

“Cut her a break when you find her,” Parish broke into his dark thoughts.

“
If
I find her,” Rage muttered, accepting he’d been efficiently manipulated into going after the missing female.

As if there’d ever been any doubt.

Shoving away from the desk, Parish reached to lay a hand on Rage’s shoulder. “I have every faith in you,
mon ami
.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Rage muttered. “Do you have any clue where I should start?”

“New Orleans.”

* * * *

The office overlooking the Mississippi River had the hushed elegance that came from money.

A lot of money.

Not that Lucie was impressed with the contemporary style. The sleek glass and steel desk was a ridiculous statement of fashion, not function. And the low leather seats couldn’t possibly be comfortable. Not unless you were a contortionist. Not to mention the fact that the original oil paintings that lined the white walls looked like someone had tossed a can of paint at that canvas and called it art.

Whatever
.

 She wasn’t here to be the interior decorator. Nope. She was here to give her report and get her money.

End of story.

Pacing from one end of the room to the other, Lucie waited for the man seated behind the desk to lift his head and study her with a disgruntled expression.

“How long?” he demanded.

Lucie shrugged. He was asking her how much time it’d taken her to hack into his top-of-the-line computer security system.

“Less than an hour.”

“God. Damn.” Vern Spencer shook his head.

The middle-aged human was no doubt attractive to most women. He had a well-maintained body, dark hair that was threaded with silver and brushed from his lean face. Currently he was wearing a designer suit that cost more than many people made in a month. His main attraction, however, was the fact he was the CEO of a billion dollar energy company. Human women seemed to be fascinated by a large bank account.

To Lucie, he was another job.

“I spent a fortune on our latest upgrades,” the man groused.

“It’s good, but not good enough.” She nodded toward her report that he’d spread across his desk. “I’ve made suggestions of where you need to shore up your security.” She allowed a rare smile to touch her lips. “And my bill.”

“Another damn fortune,” Vern grumbled, his gaze lingering on her delicate features before they moved down to her slender body that was hidden beneath a pair of jeans and faded Pat O’Brien’s tee.

“Do you want the best or not?” she demanded.

“Yeah, yeah.” A cunning expression touched the man’s thin face. “I’ll have the money transferred into your account.”

Lucie rolled her eyes. She was always very clear about her demands before taking on a new job.

“You know I run a cash only business.”

Vern shook his head, leaning to the side to open his briefcase. Then, grabbing a thick envelope, he tossed it onto the desk.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that Lucie?” he asked her, watching as she snatched up the envelope and promptly counted the crisp bills inside.

She didn’t trust anyone. Period.

“I try.” She strolled toward the nearby door. “Let me know next time you upgrade.”

There was the sound of Vern hastily rising to his feet. “What’s your hurry?”

Lucie’s steps never slowed. “It’s late.”

“Not that late. We could have a drink or—”

“No.”

“What about a quick trip to Paris? I have my jet on standby—”

“No.”

There was a strangled sound of disbelief. No doubt Vern was accustomed to women who would do backflips at the chance to go out with him. Like another male that she’d once known.

Bleck.

“Well, you’re nothing if not blunt,” he said with a small laugh.