Passion's Prey: The Shadow Shifters (24 page)

“I was far away from home,” she said sullenly.

“No. The Gungi is a part of you, Caprise. It’s time you start to accept that.”

“Every time I turn around somebody’s telling me to accept something. This is my life—why can’t I live it the way I want?”

“Because the way you want isn’t the right path. I used to think the same way, Caprise. I used to feel like the whole world was against me. That if there were something bad in the grand plan, it was scheduled to happen to me.”

X remembered those thoughts with a certain irritation of his own. While his running away had been in the form of moving from Atlanta to DC with his parents, it had still been running. He’d wanted to stay, to stand up to any more of the Jeremiahs of the world, but his parents were too afraid of the repercussions.

“What did happen to you?” she asked when his eyes had taken on a distant look.

He was still holding her close, but she could move enough to press her palms against his chest. “What happened to make you the hard-ass you are?”

Because really, a lot of this advice X was tossing at her could be hurled right back in his direction.

As she’d expected, X took a step back from her. “This isn’t about me. What happened tonight was about you and that tiger. He shouldn’t have been in the Gungi when you were and he shouldn’t have been here in the city. But that’s all over now. We can finally move on.”

“And how will we do that?” Caprise asked. She wiped her eyes, feeling a lot stronger than she had just a few minutes ago.

What X had said to her was right. A part of her had known all along what happened with little Henrique wasn’t her fault. She had been half delirious with pain, so whatever that shaman and midwife told her, she would have believed. Then it seemed as if she’d traded one type of pain for another as realization dawned on her—she’d had a son and now he was dead. Her parents were dead also. Everyone she loved left her in some form or another. Everyone except Nick; he’d always stood strong.

“How will we move on, Xavier? You’ve killed Rolando, that’s all well and good. I’ve told you what you so desperately wanted to know about me. Now what?”

“Now we continue to work to get rid of these Rogues. I have to clear my name since I’m now suspected of murder, and you have to find yourself a real dancing job because I really will become a cold-blooded murderer if I have to sit back and watch men gawking at your half-naked ass one more night.”

He’d said a lot, Caprise thought with a nod of her head. But he hadn’t answered her question.

“And what about us? What do we do, Xavier?”

He took another retreating step. Caprise thought about following him, about crowding him the way he always seemed to do with her, but she suspected X needed to be handled differently.

“We do whatever we want,” he told her. “Isn’t that what you said, that you want to live your life the way you please?”

She nodded. “I did say that.” She’d said a lot of things and, if she remembered correctly, so had Nick just before she’d left Havenway to go find X. He’d said that once things were set in motion there was no turning back. Caprise remembered how it felt when X had looked at her in that alley, like no one else existed but them. And when she’d gotten closer to him, even amid the scent of anger, rage, and humans, she’d picked up something else. It had been subtle, surrounded by the other scents, but right at this moment it was burning her nostrils, sending licks of desire through her body.
Companheiro calor
was the term that came instantly to her mind.

“So that’s what we’ll do. I’ve got some other things to talk to Nick and Rome about,” X said, moving toward the door. “You, ah, get some rest, or something.”

Caprise nodded. There was more she could have said; she could have pushed a little harder. But she didn’t. That wasn’t how these cards were going to play out. So she stood there looking at X as if she were listening to his every word, obeying his commands. When truth be told, Caprise was planning, getting her strategy in order. And as he closed the door behind him she shook her head. “Xavier Santos-Markland, you have no clue.”

Chapter 21

Darel closed the door to his apartment and walked straight to the bar. He picked up a glass, poured himself a healthy helping of vodka, and emptied it within seconds. He hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights because he knew his way around his own apartment. In a couple of hours it would be full daylight. Police would no doubt be combing the alley behind Athena’s once more. He’d seen those two cops there the night before, the night Rolando had killed that Shadow.

Darel had seen that coming a mile away. That shadow had been with Caprise each time she’d come to the club; he’d stuck to her like glue. Once Darel mentioned that to Rolando and pointed the shadow out to the shifter when he’d come into the club that night, he’d known how it would end. Rolando was a loose cannon, just as Darel had tried to tell Sabar. And he wasn’t to be trusted. That was something else he’d found out. He was still trying to decide how he was going to deal with that little fact.

“Busy night?”

The female voice startled him, but Darel didn’t show it. He’d thought he was alone and even now when he inhaled deeply he did not pick up a scent. A second later the lights came on and what Darel saw standing in the middle of his living room made him pour another glass of vodka and take another deep gulp.

“I thought it was time we talked,” she said.

Like hell. When someone wanted to talk they were usually fully dressed, not standing there wearing what was the equivalent of underwear.

Bianca Adani was in his apartment. She was Sabar’s girl. She was also the ex-girlfriend of Boden Estevez, the crazy-ass
Topètenia
shifter who had kidnapped and abused Sabar and other young shifter boys for years. Sabar had warned him to stay away from her, and Darel was more than happy to keep that promise. He hadn’t invited her here and didn’t really want to talk to her. But damn if he didn’t like looking at her sexy-ass body since she’d put on display.

“Why don’t you come over here and take a seat. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Darel shook his head. “No we don’t.”

Bianca walked toward the bar. Guess she figured he wasn’t coming to her. As she did, Darel looked his fill at her long gorgeous legs. A patch of white satin covered her mound; matching satin hid only the shape and color of her puckered nipples. She wore heels like the girls at the club, and her auburn hair was left loose, hanging past her shoulders. Stunning blue eyes watched him as she came to stand right in front of him.

“I know you saw us talking. Rolando and I,” she said, lifting a finger to run along Darel’s chin.

He wanted to be repulsed, to push this whore away from him and kick her out of his apartment. But he didn’t. His dick was hard as nails, pressing painfully against the zipper of his pants. He hadn’t wanted to fuck a female since the crazy gray-eyed bitch had gone ballistic on him. Watching had been his mode of getting off as of late. Now, though, his body itched to rub against hers, to dive deep inside the pussy of the magnificent Bianca and make her forget both Boden and Sabar.

But he waited.

“I take it you two knew each other,” he said instead.

“He worked for Boden. It’s a good thing that shadow killed him. I’m sure Boden had no idea he was here. He doesn’t want his shifters in the States.”

So she’d witnessed that little episode tonight as well. Darel had seen it on the security monitor in his office. He’d watched with satisfaction as the shadow did him a huge favor.

“Why not? They can’t stay hidden forever,” Darel told her.

Bianca shrugged. “Boden has his own plan for what his shifters will do. It’s nothing like what Sabar has in mind for his Rogues.”

Darel nodded. “And what’s your plan, Bianca? Why are you here?”

She took a step closer, rubbed her palms up his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I came for you.”

“Why?” he asked even though her words could not be trusted.

She was a good liar. “Because I wanted to.”

“And Sabar?”

“Only has to know what we tell him.”

Which Darel figured would be whatever Bianca constructed when she felt the time was right. He didn’t trust this bitch as far as he could toss her. She was up to something, he was positive of that fact.

“You’re a liar,” he said, reaching up to grab a handful of her hair and tugging with a good amount of strength. “Boden sent you here to find out what Sabar was up to. You’re fucking him because Boden told you to.”

She hissed when he pulled on her hair once more, her tongue coming out to swipe quickly over her bottom lip.

“I’m here because I want to be with you,” she said pressing her breasts to his chest.

“You don’t want me any more than I want you,” he told her, disgust lining his voice. “You want to do Boden’s bidding and you’re trying to get me on your side.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Prove it,” he told her.

Bianca yanked away from him. Or rather, he loosened his grip so she could get away. She backed up only a little, her hands going to the thin band of her panties, pushing them down her long legs. Reaching behind her back she unhooked her bra, let it fall to the floor.

Her nipples were a beautiful blush color, thick and puckered against heavy breasts. She picked up the bottle of vodka he’d been pouring then backed up until she had to hike herself up on the bar. She scooted backward, knocking over glasses and other bottles without a care. When her ass was far enough on the bar she lifted a leg, planted her foot against the edge. Her pussy opened like a blossoming flower before his eyes. Plump folds already damp with desire, tightened clit ready for licking.

Darel stood perfectly still.

She lifted the bottle and tilted it until the clear liquid began dripping over her chest. Rivulets of liquor ran over her breasts, down her flat stomach, washing over her cleanly shaved mound, drenching the succulent folds of her vagina.

Darel growled.

“Come and get it,” she said, tossing her head back and thrusting her chest forward.

He knew exactly who and what she was. Knew this was some kind of cheap setup. But what Darel also knew was that he had the power to kill whatever plans Bianca had come up with. He could snap her in two right this moment. Ot he could take what she was so eagerly offering … then snap her in two.

Unbuckling his pants and pushing them over his hips Darel moved closer to the bar. He leaned forward and licked the vodka from her center, lap after delicious lap. When she bucked beneath him, he pulled back immediately, denying her the release she’d been about to experience. He thrust his thick length into her without reserve. Pounding into her with all the strength he had. If Bianca wanted him, she was going to get him, and then some.

*   *   *

“The shipment will be in Friday at midnight,” Ralph Kensington told Sabar at their lunch meeting. They sat at a corner table in Zaytinya, a sleek and modern Mediterranean restaurant in DC.

Ralph wanted an open setting when meeting with this character again. The last time they’d met in his office, things had gotten a little … choppy, for lack of a better word. This was the leader, Ralph noted as he sat back in his chair, sipping on his glass of red wine. He had a band of followers and they were preparing for some kind of takeover.

But Ralph was one step ahead of them.

Born in Staten Island, New York, to London-born parents who became US citizens in their teen years, Ralph Edward Kensington was the poster boy for the American Dream … if the American Dream ended in corruption and deceit, which Ralph convinced himself was just his form of taking advantage of every opportunity offered. He’d worked in a bakery when he was fifteen, swept flour off the floors for four hours after school every day. He’d gone to NYU to study political science, with a minor in information technology. His third job out of college landed him at Slakeman Enterprises, where he met Robert Slakeman. And from there his life had taken a dramatic upswing. Now the senator-elect filling the shoes of the late Mark Baines, he had more power than he’d ever imagined possessing.

And with power came great sacrifice.

His wife was a delusional drunk, his two college-aged children barely spoke to him, and his parents had long since ceased communicating with him. None of that mattered to Ralph. He was on the path that was set for him. He believed that and worked harder every day to get exactly what he thought he deserved. For a while the lovely Melanie had provided him with all the physical attention he needed to balance what work took away from his life. Now she was gone. He blamed the man sitting across from him for that.

“That’s five days from now,” Sabar said.

His eyes seemed larger today, as if they were dilated. They were a somber brown tone, but Ralph had seen them change to a golden-yellow that was both eerie and scary as hell. He wasn’t human, this man sitting across from him. Melanie hadn’t been, either.

And that fact, Ralph thought, was his new claim to fame.

“In five days you’ll meet him at the warehouse. You give him the money—one million cash—and he’ll give you the weapons.” Ralph outlined the deal once more for him. They’d been over this a couple of times, but this lunatic liked to hear it over and over again.

“The UK79865. That’s the weapon I want.”

Ralph nodded. “That’s the one.”

The UK79865 was a highly sensitive heat-tracking semi-automatic rifle. It came with a built-in silencer and scope with range of accuracy of more than one hundred feet. The bullets for this weapon were what set it apart from others used in the military—hollow-point lead-only bullets designed to expand immediately upon impact. This feature was prohibited by the military but used in some law enforcement weapons. Slakeman had created a special alloy-and-lead solution that would create the effect of an explosion once the bullet pierced its target.

Sitting across from him was some type of creature, a non-human. Ralph knew there had to be others—and given how adamant this one had been about the weapons he wanted and the number he was willing to buy, Ralph thought there had to be some kind of war either brewing or already beginning. A war that this one planned to win.