Craving Her (Keeping Her Series Book 4) (14 page)

What she saw when she
arrived at Gerent’s bedroom with the rest of the milling crowd had her
re-evaluating who needed rescuing, and who didn’t.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

Arnaud Gerent was used to
getting what he wanted.  So he smiled when he watched the young lioness, Cleo
Gibbs, pacing the confines of her luxurious prison.  She was even more
beautiful than her mother, more so, with her youth, and from what he had seen
in pictures, those stunning blue eyes had a sparkle and verve her mother’s
simple dull brown could not compete with, even if they were her father’s eyes. 
He smiled broader, a touch of malice creeping in when he thought of the blow he
had dealt Lucas Gibbs with the claiming of his daughter.  They had finally come
full circle.  Once he had claimed the girl for his own, he would have finally
righted all the wrongs from the past.  He had control of the pride Lucas Gibbs
walked away from, and he had the mate that Gibbs would have denied him.  Even
if he had no idea that it was Gerent he had denied.

On the screen the girl
came to a sudden stop, her body finding a new tension as all her senses
centered on the door to her apartment.  It opened and one of the maids, this
one a short, squat little black smudge in her classic maid uniform, stepped in
and closed the door behind her.  Arnaud’s eyes narrowed on the screen, distracted
from thoughts of the past by the delivery he had ordered.  He waited to see
what the girl would do.

After a moment of tension,
his future mate took the cream silk and jerked her chin at the door, clearly
telling the maid to leave, which she did, without another backward look for his
captive.  That was promising, Arnaud thought.  He half expected the girl to
reject his offering in favor of stubborn rebellion.  Perhaps his men had been
exaggerating her fight?

Then Cleo Gibbs turned to
face the hidden camera and held up the six-hundred-dollar designer nightgown. 
She looked up at the camera, and for the first time, Arnaud finally saw her
eyes.  They were an incredible blue, beautiful and deadly, and cold as ice in
her rage.  She gripped the nightgown with one hand and held up the other; one
at a time, with a snick, snick, snick that he could hear only in his head, she
unleashed her claws before very deliberately ripping the nightgown into long
strips of rags.  Then she dropped them, pooling the silk on the ground at her
feet, and then turned and continued her controlled pacing.

Most shifters no matter
their animal had two forms, animal and human.  Some could do a monster halfway
form, and rarely, the more powerful shifters had such control of their shift
that they could change as little or as much of their bodies as they wanted. In
his life, Arnaud knew of only two lion-shifters who had the kind of control
over their shift that Cleo Gibbs just exhibited.  His father had been one and
Lucas Gibbs the other.  The fact that Gibbs could had been what convinced his
father he would make the best candidate for taking over the pride, even over
his own sons.  It was ridiculous, of course, a young lion male who aspired to
nothing more than a military career and making babies was not one to lead their
pride.  As he had proven when he preferred to put the pride first and barter
away his daughter, he had fought his way out of the pride and taken prime
breeding stock with him.  Arnaud had set out to right all the wrongs done by
that impulsiveness and his father’s lack of vision. 

That a young
female
could
do what he could not had his icy control slipping a notch.  He thought about
killing her, briefly, but he had not come so far by being led by his impulses. 
Clearly, it had nothing to do with strength and was genetics that had skipped
his generation, like he had always thought, and the proof paced before him in
ridiculous sweats and tangled hair.  Cleo Gibbs could not be more powerful than
him, so it must mean something else.  Regardless, it would be a fine trait to
pass on to his sons.

Having rationalized
everything to his satisfaction, Arnaud strolled out of his luxury suite and
headed for the connecting room of his future mate.  It was time he showed her
who was more powerful, and who would be doing as they were told.  And he had a
few things he needed to remind Miss Gibbs of.  Namely, who was now in control
of her destiny and who needed to bow down and accept how truly lucky she was. 
He was about to make her his queen.  She should be thanking him, not ripping
expensive gifts.  He would see that did not get repeated.  Ever.

***

That little maid was not
what she seemed
, Cleo thought, watching the smooth way
the maid entered the room.  Looking over the brown-haired, brown-eyed five foot
nothing woman in that frumpy maid’s uniform, she was struck by exactly how
forgettable and non-threatening she was.  Her skin was a soft, creamy café au
lait, which usually meant African American in her gene pool, but the nose and
straight brown hair was pure Native American.  Glasses obscured exotic slightly
slanted eyes, her cheeks were rounded, and her chin a touch too pointy. 
Individual parts of her face were all well-formed and symmetrical, her skin
flawless, but seen as a whole, she somehow managed to be entirely forgettable. 
Cleo tilted her head when the maid shifted to an awkward stance and handed a
span of silk her way.  She didn’t look trained or deadly now, and Cleo had to
wonder if her imagination was flying away with her. 
Except for the full
beautifully bowed mouth
, Cleo thought.  Whatever else she was hiding behind
that severe bun and downcast eyes, that mouth was straight out beautiful.  It
was a strange dichotomy, and besides the lips, Cleo doubted she would recognize
the woman if she saw her in a crowd, that was how forgettable it all was.

But a second later, Cleo
realized what the silk was and instantly her rage and pain flashed back,
overriding the curiosity that had momentarily supplanted it.  Without a word,
she accepted the silk and jerked her chin at the maid to leave, no longer
caring who she really was or what she wanted.  Then she turned to the cameras;
they couldn’t possibly think they were hiding those from her.  She held up the
silk with one hand and with the other she called the partial change. 
Snick,
snick, snick, snick, snick
, she released just her claws slowly, knowing
exactly what story that would tell to the watching lion, and how it would
enrage him, because she very seriously doubted someone this stupid had the
control necessary to accomplish it.  Then she shredded the nightgown and
waited.

He wanted to claim Lucas
Gibbs’ daughter? After being ripped from Shawn while he bled to death, she was
just aching for him to try.

A minute later, a man entered
the door without knocking.  As soon as she met those cold gold eyes she knew
this was Gerent.  Cleo studied him.  Dressed in slacks and a loose dressing
gown, he looked debonair and well-aged, with no fat to speak of but none of the
hard muscles she was used to in the physically active members of her own
pride.  The men of Lionsgate understood the weapons their bodies were.  They
trained and honed them accordingly.  This man was more standard fare.  Probably
with his gold good looks many woman would see him as a prize.  But since he was
looking at her like a cut of prime beef he was thinking of buying, she kind of doubted
too many woman would stick around.  But maybe that was just her.  He was older
than her father, and if not for the shifter genes, she suspected he would be
wrinkly and gray.  Instead, he had the presence of an older fit man in his
fifties in the prime of his life.

“You have a great deal
from your mother.”  That was the voice from the phone.  Cold with studied
casualness, you could practically hear the smugness ringing behind the words.

“I have a few things from
my father, too,” Cleo said.  Then she sprang at him with all the considerable
power in her legs.  Taking him to his back with the suddenness of the move and
rearing back, she thrust her hand past his flapping dressing gown and straight
at his chest with all her power behind the move.  Claws instantly out, she dug
down in one push and then burrowed up through muscle and blood, wrapping her
fingers around his heart.  Shock replaced that smug self-congratulation in his
eyes and Cleo smiled.

They both froze, Cleo crouching
over him, his heart literally in her hands.  Any move he made would be his
last.

“Do you know why you’re
not dead yet?” she whispered, her voice a cold wind, almost casual in tone.  “Because
it would be too fast.  I’m going to eat your heart a piece at a time until all
you remember, all you know, is pain.”

He hissed and sputtered
afraid to move in the position he was in.  He should be.  She was going to
fucking kill him.

“You’ll die for this.”

“You killed Shawn.”  The words
broke around that truth and her gold lion eyes bit at him in her rage.  “You
think I want to live more than I want this?”  She squeezed down feeling muscle
and blood squish between her fingers. 

He was struggling for
breath and, finally, there was fear in his eyes.  And pain.  Fucking finally,
that smug arrogance had fled.  “I’m going to make it my new mission in life to
kill you a piece at a time.  And the best part?”  She smiled a cold calculated
smile that drained what was left of the color from his face.  The rest she
whispered right into his ear, “Even if you decide you don’t really want a
Lionsgate bride and you succeed in killing me before I decide I’m done playing,
my father will finish the job I started.  You will never have another moment
free of pain or fear.  And then you will die, never having secured the future
of your precious line.”  She squeezed a little more, then lunged down and bit
his fucking nose off while he screamed.  She threw her head back and spit it
across the floor, leaving a gaping bloody maw on his formerly handsome face.

***

Gerent had raised his
hands reflexively, trying to stanch the flow of blood from his face.  He roared
in fear and rage and struck out instinctively; if she had still been holding
his heart, it would have been ripped clean out of his body.  Instead, she was
across the room in one leap of those long legs, crouching there, blood on her
face and chest, her hands clawed and red with his heart blood.  He looked at
her, one hand on his wounded chest, the other on his face, the shock and fear
he felt deepening at the feral beast she had unleashed on him.  Then,
understanding that she toyed with him, like prey, the fear quickly turned to
blind rage.

“Welcome to the future, motherfucker,”
she said, his blood on her beautiful mouth, and then she leaped through the
closed window, shifting as she did, just as his men broke through the door.

***

Guess they finally
realized he was in trouble,
Cleo thought with no small
satisfaction as she ignored the thousands of cuts screaming across her body.  Jumping
through a closed window had cost her.

There was yelling and
confusion behind her as she ran full out for the jungle.  The feel of running
was almost euphoric after the confines of her prison.  But it was the roar of
the enraged lion she left wounded behind her that gave her the most satisfaction. 
Next time she would carve Shawn’s name on his fucking forehead.

***

Logan was in the control
room when the call was transferred to the jet.  Waiting was not his strong suit,
and between the cursing and lack of progress from Eli on the computer beside
him and his own feelings of helplessness, he lunged for the phone.  “What?”

There was a beat of
silence, then the voice, obviously a woman, the smooth melodic tones that would
normally have perked him right up.  This time it was what she said that caught
his interest.

“Cleo Gibbs is at these
coordinates.”  She spat off a line of numbers while he was still motioning Eli
for a trace.  “Come in hot.  It’s a fucking armored fortress, but I’ll leave
the light on for you.”

“The situation for Cleo
Gibbs?” he growled out the question foremost on his mind, the southern accent
he had lost slipping back into his voice and giving away his agitation.  Eli
shot out of his seat and started typing on two different laptops.

That sexy as fuck voice
chuckled into his ear almost playfully.  “She already took care of her own
business and escaped into the jungle.  You’re just the cleanup crew, cowboy.” 
Then with a click, she was gone, leaving him with a lot of questions and a new
hope that took some if not all of the weight off his chest.  His instincts said
the woman was telling the truth, but he would proceed as if it was a trap
anyway.  Meanwhile, he needed to round up Lucas and Shawn before they started a
bloody rampage that brought the council to their door.  Again.

“Coordinates are an
island off the coast of Rio.  Small enough it’s not even on a map, but it could
be legitimate.”

“Jungles?”

“Looks like it’s all
jungle.  Ah, here it is.  One private owner.  I see no connection to Gerent but
that might be why we haven’t found it before.”

“Keep looking.  I want to
know everything about the island for an incursion.”

Eli looked up at Logan as
he headed for the exit.  “You think you can stop Lucas before he starts the
war?”

“Since the war started
the second they came after one of ours and shot Shawn, as far as I’m concerned
they can reap what they’ve sown, but it would be better if it was not quite so
public as this dinner promises to be.  With this information, I might have a
chance of stopping this before it starts.  Tonight, at least.”