Panther's Claim (Bitten Point #2) (4 page)

“Excuse me? I think I must have fucking misheard you.”

She didn’t immediately reply as she sniffed, gagged at the unwashed smell, then sifted the scents. “I’m not sure how it happened, but I’ve treated enough German Shepherds”—because her uncle had helped her get the contract with the local K9 units—“to say with certainty that we are looking at a canine shifter, not a wolf one, and in some kind of hybrid shape.”

“It’s a half shift,” Daryl remarked. “Not easy to achieve. And odd that it’s holding even with it currently unconscious. It takes a lot of concentration to hold that shape.”

Daryl was proving an interesting fount of information.

“I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Because not many can do it.”

“What about the dog thing? Do you have many of them living in Bitten Point?”

He shook his head. “This is the first time I’ve ever encountered one.”

“So he’s not from around here?” Cynthia regarded the slumped body and chewed at her lower lip. “I wonder if he’s somehow connected to Aria’s disappearance.”

Daryl never had a chance to answer because a shadow blotted the light coming from the window. Before Cynthia could turn her head to see, round two of chaos erupted.

The glass shattered in a tinkling display of glinting shards that sprayed into the room. Via the gaping hole, a figure dove through, and it didn’t seem to care or worry that it might get cut by the lingering spikes of glass.

Then again, anyone with head-to-toe scales probably wasn’t that concerned about scratches.

Cynthia might have spent a moment longer than necessary staring. Way more than six feet tall, possibly closer to eight, a two-legged dinoman spread leathery wings in their motel room and hissed.

“What is that?” she gasped.

“Whatever it is, I doubt it’s friendly. Distract it for a second, would you, while I change.”

It took her a second to realize he didn’t mean clothes. While the previous fight hadn’t left time to shapeshift, it seemed Daryl wanted something more than human fists to face the lizardman.

What of his request to distract it? She didn’t have any live mice to dangle, just herself, a juicy chocolate morsel. Gulp.

“Here, lizard, lizard,” she crooned. A forked tongue flicked in her direction. She recoiled with a disgusted, “Ew.” Being a vet hadn’t cured her of the dislike of being licked.

Although she might make an exception for Daryl, but only if they lived, which, given dinoman sported great big claws and bigger teeth, didn’t seem likely.

Apparently, Daryl was determined to change those odds. A sleek black shape launched itself at the monster.

Only to find itself batted aside.

That pissed off the kitty. It yowled in challenge, but before Daryl could attack again, their first furry intruder woke up, and he was not a happy puppy.

With a snarl, he dove on Daryl, which left her alone to deal with the lizard. It turned a cold, dark gaze in her direction.

Eep.

She grabbed for something, anything, and tossed it.

The fluffy pillow hit the thing on the arm, and even she couldn’t pretend to not see its disbelieving expression.

In full-blown panic, she grabbed another pillow and held it before her, an utterly useless shield. “Don’t you take another step,” she threatened, or else she might just pee her pants.

Think. There’s got to be something I can do to avoid becoming this lizard’s midnight snack.

She needed a better weapon. Or…

Her eyes alighted on her purse still on the table. It didn’t have any more needles, but she did have some outside in her car.

Question was, could she make it and grab them in time?

No time like the present to find out.

The reptilian thing, tired of toying with her, lunged. She screamed as she dove out of its reach, her nimbleness coming in handy. She hit the table with her hip, but ignored that bruising pain as she dove for the still-open door.

At any moment, she expected claws to tear at her back, but instead, she heard a snarl. Daryl to the rescue.

What must he think with her looking like she fled? To a car that was locked. Oh shoot.

She banged on the trunk and let out a yell of frustration. A whisper of sound and a puff of air were all the warnings she had.

Move.

Throwing herself sideways, she made it out of the way of the wrestling pair, the four-legged panther of before now a two-legged beast able to grapple for domination.

What was going on? Two-legged dog men, a giant lizard with wings, and now Daryl, some kind of two-legged catman? Had she entered some surreal comic book adventure?

Bang
.

The lizard thing was slammed into the trunk of her car. Then the roles were reversed, and Daryl hit it.

Off they rolled, to thud against the pavement, but Cynthia was more fascinated by her blind luck. In their struggle atop her car, they’d popped the trunk. She wasted no time diving in and grabbing what she needed. Shaking hands filled the biggest needle she owned. She didn’t have time to fill a second because the dogman came bounding out of her hotel room with a vicious snarl.

“Good doggie?” she asked, pressing against her car.

Snarl.

“I’ve got treats.”

A step forward with an evil glare.

“Fetch.” She tossed the rubber cap to the needle, but its gaze never wavered. She trembled and held the syringe in front of her like a puny sword. While bigger than the last two she’d used, would she be able to use it in time to save herself?

The wolfman launched himself. She closed her eyes and…remained untouched.

Once again, a furry feline had slammed into the hairy impossibility and taken it to the ground.

Daryl had saved her again.

Or not.

From the shadows limped the big lizard thing, and it looked pissed.

Cynthia feinted left then right. It didn’t fall for it, its intent gaze never moving from her.

She might have let out a whimper, but she remained still, watching it approach. Leathery fingers tipped in claws grabbed at her arm. They pierced skin, but so did she, the giant needle finding flesh. She depressed the plunger, shooting it full of drugs.

“Night night, gecko man,” she slurred. Funny thing, she was the one getting tired. Sleepy. Eyes fluttering shut as she slumped to her knees and…

W
hen Cyn’s
lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes, he made sure she saw him first thing. Not his best idea.

“Eeeeeeeeeek!”

He stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it. “Must you shriek so loud?”

“Where am I? How did I get here?”

“You’re in my apartment. I brought you here after the attack.”

Far from reassuring her, his reply widened her eyes. “Oh no, did you drug me and then kidnap me? Did you take liberties with my person while I was sleeping?” Her gaze narrowed in suspicion.

“I didn’t touch you.” But not because he didn’t want to. Cyn posed quite the temptation, but he’d resisted. Barely. “Exactly what do you remember?”

She blinked as she nibbled her lower lip, an endearing habit he wanted to try—on her. He’d nibble that lower lip anytime.

“Last I remember, I was sticking the giant lizard with a needle. Did we win?” Her expression brightened with hope.

“Not exactly.” To his shame, the sudden appearance of lights in other motel rooms, plus heads poking out, had sent the two creatures fleeing. One by air, the other on foot—er paw. Daryl could have probably at least tracked the one, however, sluggish from the narcotic in the lizard thing’s claws, and not wanting to leave an unconscious Cyn alone, he’d opted to let his friends take up the chase.

While Wes, Constantine, and Caleb scoured the woods for the dogman, Daryl tucked Cynthia’s luscious cocoa body in the car, out of harm and curiosity’s way, and then dealt with the cops when they arrived.

It wasn’t as if he could hide the broken window or the smears of blood on the pavement or in the motel room. Daryl stuck to the truth, and no, he didn’t end up in a special hospital for people who claimed to see walking lizard men and dogs.

Instead, Pete, Bitten Point’s sheriff, called in, on their secret frequency channel, all available personnel to track the assailants.

“What do you think they were after?” Pete asked.

“Damned if I know.” But Daryl had to wonder, was the attack targeted? Were those two monsters after him or Cynthia? And more worrisome, would they try again?

Because of his reluctance to leave Cyn without defense and the fact that he still sought to stay ahead of the drugs in his system, he took her home, to his bed.

Was it wrong he admired how good she looked against his royal blue sheets? He managed to remain a gentleman—albeit reluctantly. He left her dressed, and untouched. While he did think of binding her, with silk scarves to his bedposts, he didn’t. Why resort to props when he could hold her down himself?

“What are you doing on top of me?” she asked, quite breathless.

Pulling her arms over her head, he pinned them so she couldn’t fight. “I am making sure you don’t go anywhere.”

“I was just trying to sit up.”

Why? He liked her flat on her back, with him pressing against her. “Why were those things after you?”

“Me?” Either she didn’t know, or she had some kick-ass acting skills. “Who says it wasn’t just a random attack?”

His gut did. “I think you were targeted.”

“But why? And for what? Do you think this has to do with Aria?”

Did it? Either those things were after Cynthia because she was poking around, asking about her friend, or the disappearances were happening again.

Was Aria a victim? Had Cynthia almost become one, too?

If I’d not decided to spend the night to drive her nuts, she would have gone missing, too, I’ll bet.
Missing or dead?

Either possibility blew. And it wasn’t that he suddenly cared about Cynthia or anything. Nope. The woman was just a curiosity, something his cat wanted to check out.

Naked.

Then mark.

Permanently.

Uh, no.

Daryl shook his head, meaning to chastise his inner feline, but Cynthia caught the gesture.

“Why does it look like you’re arguing with yourself?”

“What would make you think that?” he asked.

“Because I often argue with my wolf, too.” She smiled, an impish and, at the same time, sheepish grin that hit him below the belt, and she noticed. Her eyes widened.

Before she could remark on his rather impressive hard-on—because his girth made it difficult to miss—fact, not arrogance—he asked quickly, “Why the hell didn’t you shift into your wolf during the fight? It would have probably been better than the pillow you used as a deadly missile.”

He didn’t miss the heat suddenly flushing her cheeks. “Um, my Lycan side doesn’t like to come out in front of strangers.”

“We were in a life-and-death situation. Surely she could have made an exception.”

“No, and I don’t know why you’re making a big deal about it, seeing as how we prevailed.”

“Barely.”

“Is that why you drugged me? Because you were mad?”

He leaned forward until their noses touched. “I did not drug you. The lizard thing did, but given you’re awake, it seems the effect is wearing off.”

“Then why do I feel so lethargic?”

Should he explain it wasn’t lethargy but smoldering interest that stole her strength? “That’s not the drugs, Cyn. That’s all me.” He smiled, a slow, sensual curve of his lips. “I’m game to stay in bed if you are.”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because we don’t even know each other.”

“Hi, my name is Daryl, and I think you’re fucking crazy, but hot.” More than hot, she totally made his inner kitty wish it could purr.

“You should get off me.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?” She pulled at the hands tethering her, and she bucked under the weight of his body, not that either dislodged him.

“That’s it, honey. Keep squirming. That feels
good.
” He showed her how good and ground his hips against her.

“Oh.” She gasped, but before she could say more, his lips slanted across hers with a firm claim.

He’d wondered, in the time since their last kiss, if perhaps alcohol or something else had turned their first embrace into something more. How could an almost stranger ignite his blood and have him throbbing so quickly and so hard?

He wasn’t drunk now.

He couldn’t blame the drugs.

Touching her lips proved even more electric than the first time, the taste of her exquisite, the feel of her under him…dangerous.

Dangerous because it made him forget he needed answers.

I think I might understand why she felt the need to act so rash.
She wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stay focused.

Rolling off her, he tried to ignore her soft sigh of loss.
I wish we had more time to play, too, honey.

“I’m going to need to know everything you can tell me about your friend,” he said, his back turned to her lest he lose control once more.

Don’t mock his lack of restraint. It had happened once already when he’d stepped back to admire her on his bed then found himself covering her as soon as she twitched a muscle.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” It took about fifteen minutes for him to fish all the relevant info from Cynthia, such as Aria’s appearance, itinerary, all the images she’d posted before her disappearance, and the facts that Cyn liked to gesticulate with her hands as she spoke and she had the most delightful lips.

“…and that’s how I ended up at Bitten Pint bar last night looking for you.”

He interrupted her. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No, and neither did Aria. I highly doubt it’s her ex trying to get back with her. He’s moved on with some other chick. Last I heard they were getting married.”

“So no special someone back home?” And no, he couldn’t believe he asked either. Shoot him now.

“Nope, Aria is single.”

“I was asking about you. Do you have anyone special back home?”

“No, and I don’t know why you’re asking. I’m not the one missing.”

“A man likes to know if a woman is spoken for before he makes a play. I’d hate to have to hurt someone.”

He was really starting to enjoy the way he could startle her. Now if only she wouldn’t keep startling him back.

“Well, given you’ve already made a few moves, I’d say it’s kind of late to ask. Just like it’s probably a little too late to tell you that I have jealousy issues. So, since you seem intent on trying to seduce me, I should warn you. I don’t share.”

“I thought sharing was caring.”

“That goes for desserts, not boyfriends.”

“I didn’t realize we’d jumped from me putting the moves on you to us dating.”

“We aren’t dating.”

He smirked. “And yet we’ve already spent the night together.”

“Because you promised to help me find Aria. I don’t even think you’re my type.”

“Got a thing against Latino men?” It wouldn’t be the first time he encountered some unwarranted hostility.

“No, I have a thing against guys who are too hot for their own good.”

He couldn’t help a surge of warmth. “You think I’m hot?”

“No.” A blatant lie given the blush and heat radiating from her body.

“I think you’re hot, too.” Even if her hair was a fluffy halo around her head. She’d lost the elastic that held it back. He hoped she never found it again because she was damned cute.

And that’s a nice handful for pulling.

Rowr
.

“I know I’m hot.” She rolled her eyes as if it was obvious, and he laughed. “But hands off, Casanova. I am here on serious business.”

“So does this mean no hooking up?”

She snorted. “Will you stop trying if I say no?”

“No.” Said with an unrepentant grin.

“Then expect to get shot down. Now, if you can direct a bit of blood from your groin to your head, can we get back to finding Aria?”

A knock at his apartment door saved him from the fabulous insanity that was Cyn. He left the bedroom and headed to the door. He didn’t need to peek to know who was there. He flung open the portal to find Constantine and Wes standing on the stoop. A peek behind them showed no one else. “Where’s Caleb?” Daryl asked.

“Gone home to check on Renny and his kid. If there’s another lizard thing running—”

“—flying.”

“—around, then we’ll need to be vigilant.”

“You mean you’ve seen that thing before?” said the woman he should have tied to the bed.

Cynthia, thankfully dressed, despite his best attempts to get her to shed clothes at bedtime, appeared by his side.

What possessed him to curl a possessive arm around her waist?

It didn’t go unnoted.

“Is this the chick those things were after?” Wes asked with an arch of his brow.

“This chick is called Cynthia,” she remarked, but at the same time, she didn’t move away from his loose embrace.

A bite of Daryl’s tongue prevented him from saying,
Mine
.

Cyn didn’t belong to him. And she never would. Daryl must really need to get some sleep, or those drugs were still affecting him, because his inner feline was acting awfully weird. Daryl wasn’t into anything long term or serious, even if Cyn was a babe.

Seeing a girl a few times, no strings, that was cool. Anything that involved a toothbrush in his bathroom, half his closet gone, and boxes of feminine unmentionables in his hall closet? Never. Not happening.

He’d grown up with a mom and sister. He loved them both, but damn, those crazy women drove him mental.

What idiot would volunteer for that? No sex was that good.

It seemed extreme, and while he didn’t mind trying his hand at many a daring sport, the whole relationship thing wasn’t his scene.

And I usually move on when a girl shoots me down.
Not to mention, he shouldn’t even like Cyn, especially considering what she’d done. Drugged a guy.
Made out with me.
Kidnapped him.
Put her hands all over my body.
Restrained him.
Bondage!
Shot him.
Which so deserved a spanking.
His hand on her—

“Dude! Pay attention.” Constantine snapped his fingers in front of him.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“What should we do next since we didn’t find anything? The freaking trail stops by the main road, not even a half-click from the motel. Looks like someone gave our thing a ride.”

“A monster with a human buddy?” A crease pulled at Daryl’s brow.

“The thing did wear a collar,” Cyn added. “And it had this odd buzzy feeling to it. Could someone be controlling it?”

“Even better question, what is it?” Wes leaned against the wall, jeaned leg bent, his boots unlaced and scuffed. The T-shirt he wore rivaled Daryl’s with its vintage KISS logo. “I ain’t never smelled anything like them before. And everyone else I’ve talked to says the same.”

Cyn waved her hands. “One of them is part canine. How does that happen? Is it a shifter or something else?”

“You mean like the Sasquatch in Canada?” Those big, hairy things were big, hairy things. They didn’t magically shrink into humans that could easily hide. Instead, they lived scattered on plots of land that spanned acres. People might mock Bigfoots, but they were really fun to drink with.

Shaking his head, Constantine tapped his nose. “I don’t think they’re proper shifters. They don’t smell right.”

“They do have a certain alien quality, and their ability to hold that hybrid shape means that might be their natural form.”

“So calling it dogman and dinoman is accurate?” Wes snorted. “Can’t we change it to something a little less cartoonish sounding?”

“It is what it is,” Constantine said.

“At least now we’ve got a little more evidence than before. Blood samples were taken from the scene and sent to Bittech for analysis.”

“When will we get the results?” Daryl asked.

Wes shrugged. “We’ll start getting data in a few hours, but the full battery will take a few days to process. In the meantime, I think enough people saw something tonight that we can maybe stir some shit up about it.”

“You’re not afraid someone will go missing again?”

The last time one of their group had tried to call a town meeting with their suspicions that there was something wrong in Bitten Point, that person had disappeared. Wes said he’d given up hope on finding his missing brother, yet Daryl knew Wes still looked, every free moment he had, convinced his sibling was out there somewhere in the bayou.