Panther's Claim (Bitten Point #2) (9 page)

H
e had never seen
anything hotter than Cyn on that stage, and while Daryl would have enjoyed watching more of her sensual tease, the whole punching a patron in the face didn’t go over well with management, even if he was a good tipper.

With a little protest—
“Buddy was totally asking for it.”—
Daryl was escorted from the premises, but he didn’t fight his ejection because, to his relief, Cynthia was right behind him.

With a pat on his back, Bruno, Itty Bitty’s bouncer, told him to, “Stay out of trouble and see you in a few days.”

Stay out of trouble? Where was the fun in that? And speaking of trouble, what was Cynthia thinking when she got on that stage and titillated those pervs?

You dared her,
his panther reminded.

Maybe, but he never expected her to do it. Never expected the ridiculous heat that came from watching her.

Fuck, when she’d stripped off that shirt, he’d practically leaped across the room to toss a tablecloth at her. Only by the thinnest thread of control did he walk, not run, to the stage, and once there, he got caught in her mesmerizing erotic web.

A woman with smoke streaks on her face, her hair in a messy and wild bun, looking as if she’d escaped an apocalypse, shouldn’t have ignited every single atom in his body. None of that mattered. He just about combusted. He almost dragged her off that stage so he could toss her over a shoulder and take off with her somewhere. Anywhere. He wanted, make that needed, to touch her.

Needed. Her.
Mine.

“Are you okay?” Her soft query startled him from his pensive thoughts, and he whirled to face her, only to teeter as he caught sight of her shirtless, wearing only a bra. It was enough to make him want to yowl at the sky and then curse. “Bloody fucking hell. Where’s your top?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Somebody in the crowd caught it.”

Way to remind him that someone else had it and was probably doing unmentionable things to the shirt. Wes’s shirt, snicker.

“Put this on.” He went to pull off his own shirt, but she put a hand on his arm.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m perfectly fine with what I’m wearing. Heck, I’ve got a bikini top with less material than this.”

She did?
Drooling is not acceptable.
Cats did not slobber like a common beast. They took action. Just one problem. There weren’t many actions he could take in a freaking parking lot, in which none of the vehicles belonged to him.

“We have to get out of here, but we don’t have any wheels,” Daryl grumbled.

“No shit, Sherlock. It’s your lucky day, though, because I’ve got you covered,” said Wes, who stepped out of the bar and immediately lit a cigarette. A new habit? And not one often seen with shifters who, like most animals, had a healthy dislike of flames and a respect for their body. But who cared if Wes was a smoky gator? He tossed Daryl his keys. “Take my truck since your car is wrecked. I’ll catch a ride with my cousin, Bruno.” The same bouncer who had just escorted Daryl out.

Daryl caught the keys. “Thanks, dude. Are we going to meet up in the morning and plan our next move?” Because, despite the attack today, they couldn’t give up. As a matter of fact, the deadly actions served only to demonstrate they needed to get to the bottom of what was happening in Bitten Point.

Wes took a long drag and shook his head. With smoke curling from his nostrils, he said, “I gotta go into work so you’ll have to go it mostly alone. But I’ll have my phone on me, so call if you and Cynthia find anything.”

“Will do.” Those were the last words said for a while. In silence, Daryl and Cyn got into the truck, the rumble of the motor and the static-laden western song crooning from the stereo the only sounds. He eased them out of the parking lot, driving on autopilot, the only thing he was capable of at the moment.

Today, they’d faced death, a mind-blowing deal on its own, but that wasn’t what had him so fucking frazzled.

Blood simmered through his veins. Arousal heated every inch of him. The evil cause sat beside him, her hands primly folded in her lap.

As if anything about her was prim. She’d disproven that a short time ago when she practically dry humped that stage.

How wrong was it to be jealous of that worn platform?

Cyn was the first to break the silence. “Hey, if I need to stick around Bitten Point for a while, I’ll have to make some cash. Think the owner of the Itty Bitty would let me do a few shifts here and there?”

“No.”

“Why not? I thought I did pretty good.”

She did. Much too well. “You are not working there.” He growled the command.

“Why not? It’s a good place to make money. Renny says the management is great with the staff.”

He knew he shouldn’t say it, but that didn’t stop him. “You are not taking clothes off for strange men.”

“Why not?”

He swerved to the side of the road, slamming the truck into park so he could face her. “Why not? Because you are only taking them off for me.”

Who said that? Since when did he care if a woman stripped for a living? Since when did he demand exclusivity?

Since I met Cyn.

Seeing her lips—those lusciously teasing lips—parting in rebuttal, he did the only sure thing to keep her quiet. He kissed her.

Kissed her with the passion that she inspired with just a tilt of her lips.

Embraced her with the fervor of a man pushed to the edge.

He claimed that mouth as his and his alone, and knew she’d succumbed when she uttered the softest mewl of pleasure and wrapped her arms around his neck.

The front seat of a truck wasn’t the best place to make out. Daryl didn’t care. He wasn’t about to stop, not when he had Cyn right where he wanted her, in his arms.

A sinuous slide of his tongue was met by the sweeter touch of hers. He sucked at it as his hands roamed her bare skin, impeded only by the strap of her bra.

What strap? Deft fingers unhooked it, and it was simple enough to peel the offending material from her.

Her head tilted back as his lips moved in a slow glide down her taut neck. He paused over the flutter of her pulse. Rapid. Erratic. Excited. All of her was excited. The heat of her skin and the musky scent of her arousal said so.

He let his lips trail over the roundness of her breast, nipping and tasting the skin before reaching his goal.

One puckered berry. Yum.

“Daryl!” She gasped his name as he clamped his mouth over that tempting tip, inhaling it into his mouth and then sucking it, each tug making her cry out and dig her fingers deeper into him.

How her erotic response spurred him on. His erection was a throbbing ache in his pants, but he couldn’t stop.
Wouldn’t
stop.

He lavished attention on her other nipple, savoring the feel of it in his mouth, loving how heavy her full breasts felt cupped in his hands. He squeezed them, pushing them together so he could rapidly flick his tongue between her erect nubs.

She panted. She moaned. She even squirmed in her seat. But that wasn’t enough for this curious cat. He wanted her screaming
his
name as she came on his fingers.

“Lean back against the window.”

Already half turned, she complied, and for once, she didn’t ask questions, just leaned against the fogged glass, her eyes shuttered, her lips ripe from kissing.

Naughty thing that she was, she cupped her breasts, even brushed a thumb over the moist peaks.

Tempting. So tempting, but he had another goal. He worked her yoga pants down, enjoying how she wiggled her hips and lifted her ass so he could pull them off enough to bare her teeny tiny panties to him. And he meant tiny.

“If I’d known you were hiding those under there…” he growled.

“What would you have done?” she asked in a voice husky with desire.

“This.” He leaned down and tugged at the only thing keeping him from tasting her. The fabric stretched as he tugged, making their removal with teeth impossible. And unacceptable.

He felt no qualms about tearing the offending things from her. She was bared to him.

Much better.

Despite the cramped front seat, and the console in the way, he still leaned over to bury his face between her thighs. He nuzzled her exposed mound, humming against it, the vibration making her gasp as she clutched at his hair. Her hips wiggled, but she couldn’t really spread them. Her pants, while lowered, still kept her legs tethered, giving him only a few scant inches to work with.

He’d manage. His tongue found her clitoris, already swollen. He gave it a test lick then delved farther and found the lips of her sex slick with cream.

Yum.

He lapped at her as best he could, but the space was tight, just like she was tight, he noted when he let his tongue return to her clit so his fingers could take its place.

He slid one into the heat that was all Cyn. All wet. So wonderful.

As he flicked his tongue against her pleasure button, he slipped a second finger into her, feeling the walls of her sex squeeze and pulse around them.

Tight. Oh so fucking tight.

He pumped her with his fingers as he licked and nibbled, loving how her nails dug into his scalp and she uttered soft cries. Faster he worked her, loving her erratic heart rate, heated skin, and gyrating body.

When her climax hit, she screamed his name. “Daryl!” Oh yeah! And still he kept thrusting and licking, addicted to the feel of her quivering on his fingers.

The scent of her surrounded him and drove him a little crazy. It was the only thing to explain what happened next, and no, he wasn’t talking about the embarrassing fact that he almost came in his pants like some fucking virgin. He meant the other thing he did.

The bite. The mating bite. Oh hell.

H
e bit me
!

Now, in the normal human world, biting happened. It was a passion-induced thing or a turn-on. In the shifter world, nibbling happened, like hello, tons of carnivores here; however, there was biting, and then there was
the bite.
Some called it the claiming mark or the mating bite. Whatever a person labeled it, this one was different. For one, it broke skin, and two, a true bite bonded a pair together.

She might have wondered at that if it hadn’t happened to her, the sink of his teeth into her skin triggering a second orgasm, sending her to cloud a gazillion. It was the most amazing thing she’d ever experienced, so it took her a moment to come back down and realize that Daryl was plastered against his side of the truck, looking as if he’d stuck his finger in a socket.

She would know the look. She’d done it once before, on purpose, too. Not being very old at the time, she’d wanted to see if she could become electric enough to light a bulb. She didn’t, and her hair had never been the same since.

This bite was kind of having the same effect. For all intents and purposes, Cynthia hadn’t changed, and yet at the same time, it felt as if everything about her had tilted.

Something in her world had shifted, and it was all his fault.

Coming down from an orgasmic high was never easy, but the headlights illuminating the cab of the truck as a vehicle pulled in behind them did help.

Daryl craned and squinted. “Shit, it’s the cops. Probably checking to see why we’re parked.”

The why was obvious, one only had to note the steamy windows to know they were making out.

Cyn giggled. “Think we’ll get a ticket for indecent exposure?” She truly was embarking on a life of crime since coming to this town.

“We won’t be getting a ticket because you’re going to put this on.” This being his T-shirt.

She might have said no, but she had no idea where her bra was, and since she heard a door on the police car behind them slam shut, that meant they were about to have company.

Despite her short-lived stage dance, and her random query to Daryl, Cynthia wasn’t too sure she was ready to embark on a life that involved showing off her naked booty—although she did enjoy Daryl’s jealousy at the thought.

Quickly, she pulled the warm T-shirt over her head and tucked it over her breasts. Shiver. Even the light brush of fabric was too much against nipples, still so sensitive from his oral play. Top part covered, she also wiggled her pants back over her hips and butt, the moistness of her sex soaking the fabric. But she was covered and just in time, too, as a
tap, tap, tap
, came at the window.

Daryl rolled down the window and adopted a casual mien. “Hello, Chet. Nice evening.”

“Everything all right?”

“Never better.” Even she heard the false brightness in Daryl’s tone.

Freckled arms leaned against the window, and a deputy’s face, his green eyes dancing, peeked in. “Evening, ma’am. I take it that things are fine with you, too?”

“Yes. Not all of us are big pussies when it comes to certain things.” She felt no qualms about the jab. If Daryl was going to act as if he’d committed some unbearable act, then she would totally rub his whiskered face in it.

“You might want to take your
discussion
”—small cough—“somewhere else. It’s not safe to be out and about these nights. There are things roaming.”

Those words caught Daryl’s attention enough to partially snap him from his glowering stupor. “What things? Have you seen something?”

Chet’s fingers gripped the window, and he peered down, as if trying to decide what to say. It took him a few moments, but he raised his gaze again. “I’ll deny it if anyone asks, but I know you and the lady were attacked, twice now by the sounds of it, so it’s not like it’s a secret. Stuff has been happening around town. Homes broken into. Women and children scared by what they claim are monsters.”

“No men are reporting anything?” Cynthia interjected.

Chet shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“But that means nothing. Guys aren’t as likely to run to the cops and tell them that a swamp monster scared them.” Daryl shrugged and grinned. “It’s a man card rule.”

The deputy laughed. “My wife says it’s our stupid gene.”

Cynthia couldn’t help but retort, “She might be right.” And when Daryl protested with a “Hey,” she stuck out her tongue.

“But seriously, while we’ve not gotten reports about anyone going missing, there’s definitely something out there stalking and scaring folks.”

“And taking people,” Cynthia added.

“Who?” the deputy queried.

“Aria’s missing.”

At Chet’s blank look, Daryl and Cynthia filled him in, but by the end of it, he was shaking his head. “Never even heard wind of your missing friend.”

“I never technically filed a report.”

“Still, though, one of our own kind comes to Bitten Point and goes missing, that should have been noticed. Where was she staying?”

At that, Cynthia blinked. “I don’t know. She never actually said.”

“You might want to see if you can find out if she was staying at a motel in town or if she was camping. And what about her car? Didn’t you say she was driving?”

As Chet listed some things they should try and figure out, Cynthia was struck with one question that they’d forgotten to ask. “If you know all this stuff is happening, then why doesn’t the town? Why isn’t there a warning being issued to keep people safe?”

A grimace creased the deputy’s features. “That is one of the things that’s bugging a few of us. We’ve been nagging the sheriff to put out an announcement, even if it’s a red herring one to watch for the wild dog and giant gator in the bayou. But we’ve been told to keep our mouths shut.”

“Did the sheriff say why? Or who ordered it?”

“All he’d say was it came from above him, and that, if we didn’t want trouble, we’d listen.” Chet blew out a breath. “But shit, I mean, if something is coming after the folks in town, people I know… It ain’t right.”

No, it wasn’t right, and the deputy gave them lots to think about, which might have explained Daryl’s silence as they drove away. Yet the tension emanating from him was born of more than worry about the situation happening.

I think he’s still disturbed by what happened, even though it was totally his fault. He seduced me.
And now he clenched the wheel of the truck and stared straight ahead.

Ignore me, will he?

Not likely. He was the one who made her girl parts tingle, who made her see stars, and who’d bitten her. He’d done it, and now he thought to pretend she wasn’t there? Well, two could play that game—and play it better.

When Daryl pulled the Bronco into a spot in the alley behind his place, she didn’t wait for him before flouncing from the truck.

“Slow down,” he snapped as she bounced up the fire escape steps, the same way they’d exited earlier.

“Make me,” she sassed.

“Cyn!” He growled the words and then, a second later, cursed.

She wondered why until she breathed in. Weird dinoman smell permeated the air. She froze on the stairs and held her breath as her wolf perked its head and took a whiff.

Above us.
The creature waited for them.

She didn’t protest when Daryl squeezed past her. Let him face the threat first. She crept behind him, scared, but determined to have his back. Although she wasn’t sure what she’d fight with. It wasn’t as if her wolf would want to come out and give her a paw.

We can’t let him see.

Her wolf didn’t like anyone to see. Her mother and father could claim her deformity wasn’t a big deal all they wanted, but it was a big deal to Cynthia’s wolf. Apparently, her furry side was afraid Daryl would turn from them if he knew.

It’s not something we should be ashamed of.
Yet, no matter how many times Cynthia tried to reassure, her wolf was too self-conscious.

They couldn’t hide their ascent on the stairs, the metal creaking with every step. They reached the metal grate landing for his floor, only the third thank goodness. To her surprise, Daryl didn’t stop at his window but kept going up, two more floors, right to the parapet of the roof itself.

More slowly, she followed, partially because that was a lot of damned stairs, but also so she could assess what was happening instead of rushing in. She stayed crouched out of sight, watching as Daryl clambered over the lip of the roof and then strode to the middle of the building. How unafraid he seemed, standing there in just pants and his flip-flops. The muscles of his back were barely visible even without his shirt, the scattered clouds hiding most of the starlight from the sky.

She might have questioned what he saw. After all, the roof appeared deserted, yet, the smell lingered.

“Show yourself. I know you’re here,” Daryl boldly dared it.

For a moment, nothing happened, and then, as if stepping from the shadows themselves, a figure lumbered out into the open, not close, just enough for them to recognize the towering shape, the tips of wings tucked behind, along with the oddly human and somehow alien shape of the creature.

“If it isn’t dinoman. Did you come back for round two?” Daryl rolled his shoulders and cricked his neck, limbering his body.

“Sssstupid cat,” the thing hissed. “You are no match for me.”

“I don’t know. Why not put on your human face and we’ll go at it the old-fashioned way.”

“I can’t.”

Not “I won’t,” but can’t. Cynthia wondered at the wording as she crept higher on the ladder to better see the lizard man. While the feeble starlight wasn’t much help, she still managed to note a glint of metal around the creature’s neck.

“Can’t show your face?” Daryl snorted. “Why not? Afraid I’ll figure out who you are and come after you?”

“Who I am is not important. The town must be warned.”

“Warned of what? That you’re terrorizing them?”

“Not me.” The thing kept forcing words out, his pronunciation chunky, as if the words were familiar but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate.

“Are you going to try and convince me you’re different than your buddy who kidnapped my friend’s kid? You attacked me and Cyn last night. For all I know, you’re the other asshole who rammed our car today.”

“Not me,” dinoman stated again. “She must leave. All of you must. Terrible things are…”

Before the creature could finish, his body jerked. Even though she stood yards away, a charred smell wafted on the evening breeze.

Probably sensing his chance, Daryl darted forward, hands extending into claws, only to swipe at air. Dinoman was no longer there. The creature dove at the side of the building and threw itself into the air, arms and legs tucked tight to its frame. With a snap of unfolding canvas caught by a stiff breeze, the wings unfurled. Those massive leathery spans flapped, displacing air and keeping the reptile man’s body from smashing to the ground below. With a final hissed, “Run while you can,” it soared off on air currents that weren’t so kind to those with two feet.

“Fuck. He got away.” Poor Daryl sounded so disappointed.

Clambering onto the roof, she ran to him, uncaring if he’d been a jerk in the truck. A chill invaded her limbs, and she needed reassuring warmth.

Daryl caught her and tucked his arm around her. “You okay, Cyn?”

“Fine. But I can’t help but wonder why he came here.”

“To finish what he started last night.” Stated as if it was the most obvious thing.

But was it? She shook her head as they walked back to the stairs. “I don’t think that creature meant us any harm. I mean, think of it. He could have totally taken us by surprise. He can fly. Why not swoop at us on the stairs when he had the advantage?”

“Maybe because he wanted a bigger area to fight.”

Halfway through his window, she stopped to say over her shoulder, “I don’t think he wanted to hurt us.”

“He’s not the good guy, Cyn.”

“Are you sure of that?” she questioned, still stuck halfway in the window. “I mean, did you notice he was wearing the same collar as the dogman the other day?” It made her wonder if dinoman also wore one the previous night. Possible. She might not have noticed before on account of the whole trying-to-stay-alive thing.

“So he’s someone’s pet. That doesn’t excuse his actions.”

“No, but maybe explains them. What if he doesn’t have a choice? What if someone is making him do those things? Just before he took off, I think someone activated his collar.”

“I thought I smelled roasted gator. But I don’t see what difference that makes. He, and whoever is controlling him, needs to be stopped.”

Need. Cynthia needed a few things herself. One, to find a clue as to Aria’s whereabouts.

Two, she needed a shower. In a bad way.

And three, she wanted Daryl to stop pretending something utterly wicked and wonderful hadn’t just happened in the truck.

She finished climbing into his apartment and had her hands on the hem of her shirt, determined to do something about items one and two, when a cleared throat caught her attention.

Uh-oh. Someone was in there with them. Someone whose scent was so familiar she’d not initially realized they were there. She froze before she could strip her shirt and managed a weak, “Hi, Mommy. Hi, Daddy.”