Panther's Claim (Bitten Point #2) (3 page)

A
s Daryl studied the image
, he couldn’t deny that was him in the pic, smiling brightly beside a cute girl he vaguely recalled. When had he seen her—two nights, maybe three, ago? She’d been a little tipsy at the bar, but he couldn’t resist her request to, “Take a pic so I can totally make my friend jealous because you are so her type.”

Was this mocha honey the friend? And if so, was he her type?

Why not ask? “I don’t suppose you molested me while I was all tied up?”

That out-of-the-blue query had her mouth hanging open, and she blinked. “Are you for real?”

“Totally. Want to touch me again and see?”

“No.” Lie. He heard her suck in a breath before answering. “I’m beginning to wish I’d kept you asleep for longer.”

“So you could touch me.” He winked, wondering if it would drive her nuts.

It did.

“No,” she snapped. “There will be no touching.”

“But there already was. And kissing.”

“Which won’t be happening again,” she said with her chin tilted stubbornly. Was it wrong that, amidst all this weird drama, he still wanted to taste those lips?

Where was the anger that she’d drugged and kidnapped him? Where was the indignation that she thought he’d done something to her friend?

Fuck it. She’s cute.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re hot when you’re angry?”

Even hotter when she combined livid with aroused. “I really should have left you in the parking lot instead of lugging your fat butt inside.”

Daryl frowned. “My ass is not fat.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so. And just so you know, even if you’d ditched me on the side of the road, I would have still come and found you.”

“You wouldn’t have found me.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered where you went. I still would have tracked you down.” Funny how seriously he said that.

“Why?”

Because she’s mine.

He ignored the determined thought. “Do you really have to ask why? To finish what we started, of course.” Because he still hadn’t forgotten the sweet taste of her lips.

He took a step forward, and she took one back, then another, until she had placed the bed between them.

She shook a finger at him, a finger he wanted to pounce and nibble. “There you go distracting me again, and you wonder why I drugged you. I’m beginning to think you don’t want to answer about Aria. This picture says you know her, and I demand to know where she is now.” The wagging finger stabbed the screen of her phone.

“Demand all you want. I didn’t really know the girl. Like I said, she wanted her pic taken with me, but that was it. As soon as she had it, she was back partying with a group of people.”

“Her last tweet said she was off to bed.”

“And you thought she meant to bed with me?”

“Well, you were the last image she uploaded.”

“I slept alone that night.”

“Says you,” she said, trying to cling to her suspicion.

He laughed. “Says my buddy who left with me.”

“So you don’t know where she is?” Her shoulders slumped, and he wanted to spring from the bed, gather her in his arms, and tell her not to worry.

Wait a second. What the hell just happened?

He didn’t just think about promising aid; he did it. In a blink of an eye, he found himself hugging the crazy she-wolf and murmuring, “Don’t you worry, honey. I’ll help you.”

“My name is Cynthia. But my friends call me Thea.”

“Thea is a name for a good girl, not a seductive kidnapper,” Daryl said, leaning back far enough that he could wipe the tears streaking her cheeks. “I think Cyn suits you better.” Because he’d wager she was sinfully delicious. “And I want you to stop worrying, right now. We’ll find your friend. I promise.” He’d find this Aria chick and bring a smile to Cyn’s lips and earn a juicy thank-you kiss.

And claim her,
added his panther.

Uh no, we’re not,
was his reply.

We’ll see,
his cat taunted.

We’re screwed.
Yeah, they both thought it, but for different reasons. Me-fucking-ow.

S
igh
. Perhaps Cynthia should specify that she’d spent the night with Daryl but didn’t actually do the horizontal tango.

She still wasn’t even sure how the whole sleepover thing had happened. Actually, she did.

It’s his fault.
Daryl insisted on remaining with her because, “There’s two beds. Seems a waste of time for me to go home when I could just sleep here and make sure we get an early start on looking for your friend in the morning.”

“What about your job?”

“It’s the weekend, Cyn. You’ll have me all to yourself.”

Shiver. Did he have to make that sound so wicked? “Fine. Whatever. Just stick to your bed. No funny business.”

“Would you like to tie me up again to make sure I behave?” He winked at the suggestion, a flirty act that, in turn, did wicked things to her body.

She told her treacherous libido to behave. Then she told her wolf to stop with her antics, too, since her inner lupine wouldn’t shut up with the whole lick—or pee on—Daryl thing.

I am not urinating on him.
For any reason. So what if her Aunt Noelle swore by it? There would be no marking of males, at least not today. Bondage, however… “The next time I tie you up, I’ll be using chains. Great big ones.”

“I like the fact you think there’ll be a next time.”

A rumbly growl poured from her, a mixture of exasperation and too much interest. How could she both want to throttle and kiss him at the same time?

Probably because getting close enough to throttle him means putting hands on him and having him in the right place for another one of his delicious kisses.

No more kisses. He would like it too much. She just hoped the whine her wolf let out wasn’t also out loud.

Flicking the light off, she snuggled under her covers, back turned to him, her attempt to tune him out.

She heard fabric rustling then nothing.

“Do you always sleep in your clothes?” he asked, almost startling a scream from her.

“No. But then again, I don’t usually sleep with virtual strangers.”

“Strangers? After all we’ve already been through since meeting? I’m wounded, Cyn. What a low blow. Wanna kiss it better?”

Yes.
“No.”

Sigh. “A man can hope. And I was serious. You really shouldn’t sleep in jeans or a bra. You’ll chafe that sexy skin of yours.”

“Skin isn’t sexy.”

“No, but the curves it’s covering are. Would you prefer I said you were tasty?”

She’d prefer he
tasted
her. Ugh. Would her mind please stay out of the gutter? It hadn’t been that long since her last boyfriend, and she had a fresh set of batteries at home in her rocket that kept her from getting too physically wound.

His concern with her clothes made her ask, “What are you wearing to bed?”

“If I said nothing, would that convince you to join me?”

No, but it certainly played havoc with her body. Heat flushed her skin as she tried to not think of him naked with the rough cotton sheets rubbing against his skin, his muscled body unfettered by any constraining fabric.

Could extreme sexual teasing make a girl lose her mind?

“Are you ignoring me?” he asked, derailing her thoughts.

“I’m trying to, but someone keeps yapping. Mind shutting up for a bit? I need to get some sleep so I can be clear-headed for tomorrow.”

“Good plan. We wouldn’t want you coming up with any more half-witted plans.”

“I resent that.” While her plan might have run into a few bumps, in the end it had proven fruitful. Cynthia knew more about Aria’s last moments, and she now had an ally in her search. About time because the cops certainly hadn’t proven useful.

The human deputy behind the desk at the cop station in Cynthia and Aria’s hometown certainly wasn’t interested in helping.

“You said it yourself. Your friend’s on a road trip across the country. She probably lost her phone or is camping out somewhere where there’s no signal.”

“I’m telling you she’s missing. We need to file a report.”

“And I’m telling you that, until you have more evidence, there’s no point.”

The deputy wouldn’t be budged, and Cynthia left the police station frustrated.

Wasn’t the fact that Aria hadn’t been seen or heard from since that fated image taken in the Bitten Pint bar enough? And what the heck was it with this town and its obsession with using bitten? Yes, the place was called Bitten Point and, yes, a lot of its residents were carnivores, hence the whole chomping thing proving apt, but still, just about every business played on that word.

Who cared about a town with no originality? Aria was missing, and no one was looking for her. No one was worried.

Am I wrong or overreacting? Could it be that Aria is just partying somewhere?

If it were anyone else, maybe, but Aria wasn’t the type to not keep in touch. She and her bestie never went a day without talking, and it had now been at least three. Cynthia didn’t care what the cop said. Her gut insisted something was wrong. Aria had encountered some sort of trouble, and Cynthia was going to find her. She just hadn’t let her parents know. Mother would have forbidden it as too unladylike and dangerous, and Daddy would have locked her up and said he’d take a look. Which, bless him, he would, but Daddy was hobbled by a broken leg. A mishap at work that would keep him immobilized for days as it healed, then weeks as he fooled the humans who didn’t know how quickly shifters could heal.

With no one else to turn to, Cynthia had to set out on a search. Anything for the best friend she’d met during her teen years when the wolf began to emerge and Cynthia realized her human friends would never fully understand her.

But Aria did. Aria came along in grade seven, wearing black, with several piercings in her ears and a tough exterior to protect a fragile heart.

Aria was a product of the foster system. Found abandoned in the woods at a young age, she’d come into her eagle younger than Cynthia, and with no one to guide her. But the day she transferred to the group home down the street, they’d met, mostly because Aria dove onto Cynthia, slammed her into a tree, and, with wild eyes, said, “You smell different. You’re like me. Except more doggyish.”

A rather rough introduction, but Cynthia and Aria, from that moment, became the best of friends. The very best, even after the group home spit Aria out into the world at eighteen. But Aria wasn’t alone. She had Cynthia.

And now Cynthia had Daryl. Between the two of them, maybe they could find her friend, if Daryl was telling the truth. Did he truly have nothing to do with Aria’s disappearance? Or had he done something to her friend?

The kitty is good,
her wolf promised.

Yeah, but according to his wrecked T-shirt, when he’s bad, he’s even better.

And it was with that thought warming her that she fell into a restless sleep.

T
he attack
, when it came, arrived on silent hinges, yet she still woke.

Uh-oh.
In the excitement of shooting Daryl and everything else, she might have forgotten to lock the door.

Who cares? Move,
howled the wolf in her head. Trusting the instincts of her beast, Cynthia rolled and fell off the bed. She hit the floor with a thud and huddled as she tried to make sense of what had happened.

Someone is in the room.

Someone or something? The scent tickling her nose also had her wrinkling it. Ugh.
What is that nasty stench?
It seemed kind of familiar, like wet fur after a run in the rain, but with a strong mildew undertone mixed with rancid animal musk.

Whatever shared the room with her stank and wasn’t here to play nice, or so she surmised from the sounds. Snarl, growl, and a heroically stated, “I’ve got this.”

While Cynthia might have chosen to hit the floor for cover, Daryl went after the intruder.

Grunt
.
Thud
. A muttered, “Stand still, you hairy fucker.”

Such language! Then again, the situation might warrant it. With Daryl keeping the person or thing occupied, Cynthia dared to peek over the edge of her mattress wishing she wasn’t such a wuss. But alas, while she might have an inner wolf, hers was perfectly content to stay on the lower rungs of pack hierarchy.

Fingers clutching the bedspread, she looked. Forget seeing anything in the pitch black. Only the red glow of the clock was visible, displaying the ungodly hour of four-thirty a.m.

The longer she stared in the direction of the tussle, the more she began to discern. Murky shadows coalesced into two shapes. One, naked but for a pair of briefs, the other… What the hell was that other thing? It stood like a man. It had the right number of limbs, and yet…there was something off about it.

Enemy.
Her wolf snarled inside her head.

Well, duh, the weird dude was a bad guy, but what was he?

Since Daryl seemed to be having some luck keeping the intruder distracted, she scurried over her bed for the lamp, fingers fumbling for the switch and lighting the room.

Something let out a nasty snarl. Something with lots of hair, she noted, as she finally saw their nocturnal guest.

“Good grief, what is that?” she said, her voice low with repulsed wonder.

“It’s a bad…” Daryl grunted as he struggled to get his arm around its neck. “Bad dog.”

“Is it a shifter?” Albeit a kind she’d never seen. It seemed to possess many wolf characteristics, yet this hybrid shape wasn’t something she’d ever heard her mother talk about. Animals didn’t walk on two legs, for starters, or have such human eyes.

“Who cares what the hell it is? Give me a hand.” Because despite Daryl’s bulging muscles, he was straining to keep the slobbery jaws from snapping on anything vital.

“I don’t know what to do!” Panic increased her heart rate. Pitter. Patter. Double time, and faster still, as the wolfman managed to turn them and slammed Daryl into the wall.

He let out a grunt. “Do anything! Zap it with one of your needles.”

The sedatives, yes, good plan. Better than the one she had that involved her whistling to snare the thing’s attention, tossing a stick, and seeing if it would fetch. At least Daryl’s plan might work. Hers lacked a stick.

Diving to the table, she riffled through her bag, spotting two more needles loaded with drugs. She grabbed them and flicked the caps off.

Holding them shoulder height, she couldn’t help watching with wide eyes as Daryl and the wolfbeast wrestled for control.

When Daryl hit the wall again, she knew she had to act. With a shriek of, “Hello. My name is Cynthia Montego. You might have hurt my friend Aria. Prepare to sleep,” she attacked, and by attack, she meant that she jabbed the creature in its hairy butt, which, not surprisingly, did not go over well.

It howled in fury, she squeaked like a purse-sized Yorkie, and Daryl snorted, “Did you seriously just parody
The Princess Bride
?”

“And now I’m channeling Jamie Lee Curtis from
Prom Night
.” Cynthia shrieked as the wolfman turned baleful eyes her way and swung hairy paws tipped in claws, narrowly missing her as she danced back.

“Oh no you don’t. The only guy touching that sweet skin is me,” Daryl—clad only in black briefs—snapped. He wrapped a thick forearm around the beast’s head. He yanked it to him. “Drug it again. With the adrenaline he’s got going, two ain’t enough.”

“I have no more,” she cried, wringing her hands together. What to do? She still hadn’t found a stick.

“Bonk it on the head.”

Goodness but Daryl was good at thinking of logical stuff under pressure. Grabbing the lamp, she ran at the monster, only to jolt as the cord didn’t release right away. Once it did come whipping from behind the nightstand, it stung her in the buttocks.

Worse than that, though, the room was plunged into darkness. The pitch black didn’t mean she couldn’t hear them struggling and grunting.

But how could she aim if she couldn’t see? A yank of fabric pulled the curtains open, letting in the feeble light from the flashing neon sign—Nap Bites.

It proved enough illumination for her to see, take aim, yell, “Hi-ya!” and bring down the lamp hard.

With a crack, the hairy intruder went limp. Daryl dumped him on the floor and wiped his bloody lower lip.

“That is one smelly fucking dog.”

Cynthia might have taken more offense at his derogatory term if she hadn’t agreed. Besides, he might be right.

“What are you doing?” Daryl asked. “Checking it for a name tag?”

Having dropped to her knees beside the hybrid creature, she could understand his curiosity. “I’m checking it out. Look at this. It’s wearing a collar.” A thick metal ring that hummed uncomfortably against her skin when she touched it with her fingertips. But that wasn’t the only thing interesting about their sleeping intruder. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but I think this thing is part German Shepherd.”