On the Prowl Read online

  Wolves hated tigers; always had, always would. Even in the animal world, their territories never overlapped for long. Tigers drove out the wolves and claimed pack lands for themselves, or wolves abandoned undesirable lands to the tigers and shunned their company. Depending, of course, entirely on who happened to answer the question about the antipathy. As wolf populations had dwindled in Europe and Asia with the rise of humans, so, too, had the Lupine populations declined. Many Lupines had immigrated to the Americas early on in the development of that nation, and they had staked their claim on New York long before the Tiguri had found any reason to care about that distant country. For centuries, the Tiguri had willingly left America to the Lupines, but in today’s world a businessman couldn’t afford to ignore Manhattan, and Nic Preda was very definitely a businessman. A savvy and determined one.

  The time had come for the Tiguri to take their place in New York, whether the Council of Others liked it or not. Based on the reaction of the Others who had attended the engagement party earlier, Nic thought it was pretty clear that they did not. He didn’t care. Despite the history between their races, Nic hadn’t come to drive the Lupines away from the city, just to make room in it for himself and his family. He knew it would take time to convince the Council of that, time and a great deal of tact and delicacy. That was where Saskia came in. A woman like her—one who had been raised with the privileged information that conversation was still an art, that diplomacy happened more often at dinners and receptions than in meeting rooms and offices—could win this kind of war in half the time and with none of the bloodshed that would likely accompany a dominant ther’s attempt to accomplish the same thing.

  That type of skill took years of preparation, education, and training, and Nic had no intention of wasting time with a bride who couldn’t keep up with his life. Saskia, he knew, could keep up; he’d seen the proof of it tonight. Theirs would be a union of logical harmony.

  At least, it would be if Nic could figure out a way to keep his hands from trembling with the rampant need to throw her down and take her like the beast he was.

  He cursed and poured another measure of whiskey.

  He needed to get ahold of himself. These emotions that swamped him every time she got too close had to be controlled and concealed. They had no place in the relationship he had planned. He had chosen Saskia Arcos to be his mate and his partner. She would stand at his side in business and in the face of the Council of Others. She would charm his hosts, spoil his guests, support his causes, and bear his children. She would do it all with grace and efficiency, and in fifty or sixty years he would look back on their lives together with the quiet contentment of a man who had benefited from a wisely chosen ally. Nowhere in that equation did it mention burning lust or instant jealous possession. Nowhere had Nic made room for emotions like protectiveness or affection. That wasn’t what this was about. As medieval as it might sound, he had agreed to a marriage of convenience; so why was he already having such inconvenient feelings for his new fiancée?

  Nic slugged back the whiskey and straightened his shoulders. Time to put things back on solid footing. He just needed to make his position clear, to begin the way he intended to go on. Once he showed his new mate what he expected of her, everything would smooth itself out and he could go back to his comfortable life with a new and comfortable wife.

  Simple.

  Heading back toward the master bedroom, he stripped off his jacket and tie and left them draped over a chair as he began loosening the studs at his collar and cuffs and slipping them into his pockets. When he stepped into the bathroom, he used the act of rolling up his sleeves to distract himself from the sight that met his eyes. Saskia lounged in the huge tub, her eyes closed and her face relaxed into an expression of innocent bliss. The rumbling whirlpool jets had masked the sound of his approach, and the rich fragrance of the oil she must have added to the water delayed her in detecting his scent. He saw the instant when it finally registered that she no longer occupied the room alone.

  Her eyes flew open, and her gaze shot directly to him. Nic leaned against the counter across from the tub and affected a casual pose. He intended to set a tone with this encounter, and he wanted her to see him in a position of power and control. She needed to remember that he was ther and he would set the terms of their relationship.

  His eyes took in the sight of her creamy, gold-dusted shoulders rising above the gently frothing water. Her skin had flushed from the heat of the bath, lending a rosy glow that made him want to test her temperature with the flat of his tongue. She had left her hair pinned up in the simple knot she’d worn to the party, but the steam had teased strands free and curled them against her temples and brow, plastered others to the nape of her neck. She looked softened and naked and vulnerable, and the way her eyes widened as she took in the sight of him with his shirt untucked and unbuttoned and his trousers stretched over his growing erection made him want to seize her like a conquering invader. Hell, it made him want to invade her, to thrust inside her until she yielded everything to him.

  Shit, where the hell was that control he’d vowed he would keep hold of?

  “Was there something you needed?” she asked after several minutes of heavy silence had stretched between them. Her voice sounded husky and hesitant, the tone carefully polite, as if she spoke to a dinner companion or a houseguest rather than to her mate.

  Nic wanted to change that.

  He debated his answer carefully. Part of him wanted to answer with a blunt, blatant, You, but he restrained himself. With difficulty. Likewise, his mind vetoed his body’s suggestion that he ignore her words and simply yank her from the tub, bend her over the nearest horizontal surface, and claim her in the most elemental way possible. He needed to set a tone here, and losing control would completely undermine his carefully planned strategy.

  Leaving the question unanswered, he pushed away from the counter and grabbed a towel from the warming rack. “Time for bed. Before you decide to fall asleep in there.”

  He stopped at the side of the tub and shook the towel open. Then he waited.

  Saskia’s eyes widened. He watched her internal struggle play out across her expressive features and saw shock give way to the realization that Nic now had every right to expect the sort of intimacy that came from seeing her rise naked from her bath. He saw embarrassment deepen the color on her cheeks and modesty tighten her shoulders. He could almost see her fingers curling into fists below the surface of the churning, foaming water. She hadn’t expected this from him, he knew. She’d probably expected him to stay away long enough for her to finish her bath and prepare herself for bed, to let her have the cover of darkness and enveloping bedsheets when he came to her. Instead, he stood before her now, silently demanding that she come to him wet and bare and vulnerable in the bright, exposing light of the bathroom.

  Anticipation drew on already tight muscles as he waited to see what she would do.

  She set her jaw first, the sweet curve of it firming as she broke their gaze and looked down at the tub controls. A dripping hand emerged from the water to still the jets. Nic couldn’t help the way his eyes dropped to the calming water to search out the sight of her naked flesh. He caught a glimpse of rounded thighs and slim calves before she curled her legs underneath herself and pushed out of the concealing liquid.

  The sight of her took his breath away.

  All rosy and dewy with moisture, her skin looked like clotted cream spread thick over strawberry jam. He’d known before that she had a slender, graceful figure, but seeing it now without the concealment of her fancy gown made his tongue thicken and his erection swell until he wondered how his body managed to divide the blood flow between the two heads. Her breasts were not large but heavy and exquisitely formed, the berry-colored nipples tightening at the contrasting chill of the room after the heat of her bath. She had a slim torso that flared deliciously at the hip and a belly that curved just enough to make her look like a woman instead of an emaciated supermodel. The swe
et plane dipped down to a small patch of damp curls that looked like an even fierier version of her hair, framed by long, rounded thighs Nic could practically feel wrapped around his hips.

  He swallowed hard and beat back an aggressive snarl. Damn, she was gorgeous. His muscles screamed with tension as he fought against the urge to throw her down on the cold tile floor and mate her like an animal. Such a loss of control would be entirely unacceptable to him, not to mention what it might do to his clearly modest mate. He grasped hard at his self-control and spread his arms to open the towel in invitation.

  “Come on. Before you get cold.”

  She stepped from the tub with natural grace and Nic noticed even her feet were small and cute, her toes polished a deep rose color. She curled them into the thick pile of the bath mat as she reached to take the towel from him.

  He shook his head and wrapped the cloth around her, enveloping her in the nubby warmth. “I’ve got this.”

  Saskia opened her mouth to protest, but Nic ignored her. He wrapped the towel around her, front to back, trapping her arms at her sides and drawing her tense form against his as he rubbed his hands over the cotton barrier between them and the long, smooth line of her back. He felt her shiver and wondered if it was because of the contrast of cool air against her heated skin or because of the way he held her pressed against him as he dried her. Either way, he savored the small movement, pressing the towel to her shoulders, back, and soft, lush buttocks. He squeezed then and made her jump. With her body pressed against his and her face buried against his chest, Nic could let himself indulge in a grin of satisfaction. His mate might be nervous, but she was also a responsive little thing. It made him look forward even more to the process of sealing their engagement.

  Taking a half step back, Nic drew the towel around to dry each of her arms in turn, then dropped into a squat to pat water away from her feet and legs. When he rose back to his feet and cupped his cloth-covered hands beneath her breasts to blot away the moisture trapped beneath them, she shivered. He had to school his features to careful blankness before he could meet her gaze and ask a casual, “Cold?”

  She jumped on the offered excuse. “Yes. Getting out of a hot bath is the one downside to taking one.”

  He smiled and dragged the towel down her belly. “Then we should hurry up and get you dry so you can climb under the covers.”

  The mention of covers, and by extension the bed they currently stretched across, drew Saskia’s muscles freshly taut. Nic ignored it, because he knew he was about to make her twice as tense, if such a thing was even possible. Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he used a foot to nudge her legs apart and slid his towel-covered hand between her legs to cup her damp sex.

  Her breath hissed between her teeth like steam from a kettle. Her hands flew up to press into his shoulders and froze there, as if she couldn’t decide whether to hold on for dear life or shove him violently away. Nic simply ignored them and continued to rub the towel over her mound, blotting away the moisture from her bath. Any other moisture was something he would address separately. And with relish.

  She stopped breathing, trembling against him like a trapped bird, her fingers fluttering against the heavy linen of his shirt. Her wide blue eyes stared up at him as if mesmerized, and Nic found it equally impossible to look away. He could lose himself in those eyes and never even feel the desire to escape.

  Slowly and carefully, he dragged his hand out from between her legs, making no effort to conceal his reluctance. He could happily have touched her forever, but the damned towel would have to go. He wanted to feel those soft folds against his skin, wanted to part and explore them, to pinch and nibble and taste, and tonight he had every right to do so.

  Thank God for engagement nights.

  “All done,” he murmured, barely recognizing his own voice. It sounded gruff and rasping in the still quiet of the bathroom. “Soft and dry and ready for bed.” He bent down and pressed his lips to the top of her shoulder. “Aren’t you, little tigress?”

  He felt her tremble and caught the mingled scents of nervousness, uncertainty, and arousal drifting up from her skin. He understood the uncertainty and had every intention of easing his way through the nerves, but the arousal made him purr in satisfaction. Arousal he could work with. Knowing that her body craved his allowed him to focus on her physical reactions and keep both of them so occupied with sensation that emotion would have no chance to intrude. He could still salvage this match if he acted now.

  His hands took up the challenge before his mind had finished forming the thought. They released the towel he’d been clenching in tight fists and filled themselves instead with the warm silk of her skin. They settled on her back, fingers spread wide as if trying to touch every inch of her at once, and from there they set about exploring.

  She shuddered out a sigh when he touched her bare skin with no barrier left between them. Looking down, he saw her lids drop to half-mast, concealing the expression in the liquid blue depths. That displeased him. He wanted to be able to read her reactions there, but he would have to content himself with what her body told him. Maybe that was better, anyway. Her body wouldn’t confuse things with unnecessary emotions. It would be acting purely on instinct.

  Nic shifted her closer, pressing her nude form against his half-clothed body, relishing the feeling of control it gave him. It excited him to feel her bare softness against his hands and his chest where his unfastened shirt had fallen open and tantalized him to realize only the fabric of his trousers separated him from the hot, damp valley between her thighs.

  Her nipples tightened where they pressed against his chest, and he shifted her deliberately to allow the curling hair there to abrade the sensitive peaks. Her reaction was a soft, sharp exhalation accompanied by the thrilling sensation of her hands shooting up to grip her arms, as if she felt the need to hang on to something solid. He would be more than happy to do her that service.

  He bent his head to hers and shifted forward, throwing her off balance, his hands firming to hold her securely as he forced her body to arch backward until he could set his mouth to hers. Unlike their exchange earlier in the back of the car, this kiss never pretended to innocence. It seized and claimed and devoured, his mouth opening over hers, firm pressure forcing her lips to part and allow him entrance. He took immediate advantage, surging inside to touch and taste. The unique flavor of her acted like a catalyst to his lust, sending pure hunger through his veins with every hammering beat of his heart. His fingers tightened until he thought he must be leaving bruises on her delicate skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to ease back. His beast had taken control, and it would not be denied.

  Saskia whimpered against his lips, her body arching stiffly for a moment, as if she meant to fight him. But a second later she melted, her sweet curves easing against his demands for surrender. Her fingers gripped his arms and kneaded, no longer seeking to steady herself but instead taking obvious pleasure in the feel of powerful muscles moving beneath her hands.

  This was what he wanted, what he intended to have—his mate heating and yielding and wanting beneath his hands. Nothing else mattered and nothing else was necessary. He would have this relationship, enjoy his mate, get her with cubs, and otherwise live his life exactly the way he wanted. As ther, he would accept nothing less than his due.

  His beast agreed, roaring its impatience and fighting hard at his already tenuous control. It wanted her now, wanted to come up behind her and cover her, to force the joining of their bodies in the most primitive way. It didn’t care about comfort or mutual pleasure; it would take her here on the cold tile floor if Nic didn’t get ahold of himself. Even if he did, he knew the beast wouldn’t be thwarted for long. About all the man could do now was move them some place where he could ravage her in comfort. He had just enough control left to give her that.

  Maybe.

  Somewhere in the back of Nic’s mind it registered that she wasn’t fighting him. In fact, she seemed as involved in the kiss as he was. Sh
e sucked on his tongue, tangled and teased it with her own, nipped at his lips, and shifted in his arms to press her breasts tighter against his chest. When he shifted his hands to grip her ass and lift her off her feet, she rubbed her bottom into his palms and spread her thighs until she gripped his hips between her legs. She made tiny little mewling sounds of need and clung to his shoulders as he carried her through the door and into the enormous bedroom. When he moved to drop her on the bed and step back to shed his clothes, she refused to release him and growled low in her throat at any attempt he made to put space between them. Somehow, the press of their bodies together had transformed her from the cool, elegant stranger he’d become engaged to into a fierce, demanding tigress in heat.

  Thank God and everything holy.

  He sank back into their kiss, reveling in the way her body surrounded him, arms and legs clasping him close. He couldn’t wait to feel her sex clasping him, too. He wanted to sink his aching erection deep into the hot cavern at her center and feel them joined together in one sweating, straining body of lust. He wanted to match their stripes until there was no way to tell where he ended and she began.

  He wanted her like his next breath.

  It didn’t appear that she would be all that difficult to convince. Her body writhed and twisted under his, sinking deep into the softly mounded bedding, then rising up with surprising, agile strength. He loved the feel of her female power, loved the knowledge that because she was his Tiguri mate her body had been designed to match his, to take his power in a way few other women could manage. Even other shape-shifters tended to be intimidated by the strength of a dominant Tiguri. The largest of the big cats, tigers possessed an awesome strength comparable to that of any predator on earth, and their shape-shifting cousins, the Tiguri, easily duplicated that power. Even Leos—the Lion shifters—found themselves reluctant to take on the Tiguri in battle. The same could be said for most female shifters of any species; they preferred not to face off against a grown male Tiguri, on the battlefield or in the bedroom.