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Authors: Crystal Jordan

Prowl the Night (9 page)

BOOK: Prowl the Night
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7
B
y the time Ciri sensed him, it was too late.
They'd left the museum and were walking toward a small café, passing by an alley, when he reached out and rammed his fist into the back of their guard's skull. The rogue Panther had already grabbed Isabel before the guard went down in a silent heap. A scream locked in Ciri's throat, terror freezing her in place. He slammed Isabel against the brick wall, and her head made a sickening thud when it contacted with the side of the building. Blood turned her golden hair a rusty red. She was down, unconscious like their guard, and Ciri faced their attacker alone.
He was on her before she could react, and she knew death had come for her.
The reek of insanity swamped her, clogging her nose until she thought she'd gag on the stink. His claws shredded her, ripping through cloth and flesh. There was pain, so much pain, so much blood.
She felt something deep inside her snap, some inner wall giving way. The Panther came to the fore, and all of her predatory instincts kicked in. Every sense she had intensified, scent and sight locking on the man before her. She had never let the feline have so much control, but it was that or die. Her heart hammered, lungs bellowing. She snarled a warning as he came at her. She fought hard, fangs and claws bared, slashing at his eyes, his throat. Deadly blows if he didn't block them quickly enough. She gave no mercy—it was kill or be killed. But he was too big, too fast. There was no way she'd win against a fullgrown Panther male.
His fist slammed into her face, and she felt the reverberation through her skull, her head snapping to the side, the tendons in her neck screaming in protest. Blood gushed from her mouth and nose, so much that she couldn't breathe through the flood of it. She coughed, vomiting up the crimson fluid.
Then she was falling, slamming against the pavement. It was over now, she was lost. He'd kill her, this man she didn't know.
But death never came.
Instead, the sounds of fists on flesh continued, but she couldn't feel anything. A Panther's scream rent the air, sending chills down her spine. Heaving herself onto her side, she tried to see what was happening.
One eye was too swollen to blink, but she tried. She lifted a hand to swipe the blood and tears from her vision. Two of the fingers were bent at odd angles. Broken.
She wavered where she propped herself up when she saw the two tall males fighting. The madman hissed. “She's mine. My prey. You cannot have her.”
“I won't let you do this, Roberto.”
Roberto. That was his name. Her mind clung to that detail as if it were the most important thing in the world.
“How will you stop me, little brother?”
Her rescuer didn't answer. He simply drew his fist back and slammed it into his brother's face. Roberto went down, unconscious before he hit the ground next to her.
She felt herself lifted from the cold pavement and into strong arms, cradled against a warm chest. For a moment, she thought it was her mate, but his scent was wrong. Her instincts told her he was safe, and that was all she required.
“Tell . . . Tomas . . .”
“Oh, no.” His voice was as warm as his body. “You can tell Tomas yourself. Hold on and I'll take you to him. You and your friends are going to be all right.”
“Promise?”
“You have my word.”
She slid in and out of awareness on the way home. They were in a car, she knew that. Agony wracked her when she coughed up blood. The guard was awake, snapping out questions that Ciri didn't understand. Isabel was with her, but the other woman remained still and silent. That should have concerned her, but her mind couldn't quite grasp why.
She heard shouting, knew people were upset, scared. One of the twins had Isabel in his arms. The Pride's doctor arrived, his gaze sweeping their guard and her before he focused on her friend. Ciri tried to push herself to her feet. Strong hands grasped her arms, helping her out of the car. It was the man who'd saved them. She focused the one eye she could open on him. “Who are you?”
“My name is Marcos.” His grip was gentle, and he held his hands out to catch her when she pulled away to stand on her own.
Tomas's voice drew her attention. “Are you all right? Ciri!”
“Fine. I'm fine.” She swayed in place, held out her hand to ward him off. “Don't touch me.”
No, she didn't want him to touch her. If he'd made time for her, this might not have happened. Isabel wouldn't be hurt and Ciri wouldn't be in more pain than she knew was possible to feel. Every part of her stung or ached, sharp agony stabbing from her worst injuries straight to her brain. Would Roberto have attacked their guard and Tomas? Two large Panther males might have given Roberto pause, or at least a more even fight. Tomas hadn't cared to come with her, and she'd been hurt. That was all she could process through the pain. She was done pretending everything was all right. Nothing was. Nothing ever would be again.
It was over.
Tomas froze with his hands outstretched toward her. He hovered before her, desperation and fear ripe in the air. Too late for him to care. Far too late.
“Don't . . . Just don't touch me.” A deep shudder wracked her, followed by another and another. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stumbled away from her mate. She couldn't control the shaking no matter how tightly she hugged herself.
“Come on, Ciri. You need some rest.” The doctor stepped forward, his warm steadiness a balm to her battered soul. His touch was lighter than a butterfly's wing as he supported her elbow. She leaned against him gratefully.
“Rest. That would be good.” She'd like to sleep forever. Maybe then the world would make sense when she woke up. Now things were broken in ways she didn't think would ever be fixed. And she was so tired, so hurt.
She just wanted it all to be over.
 
Tomas watched her stand at the window to their sitting room, her arms wrapped around herself. The doctor had banned Tomas from their room so that she could rest undisturbed. He wanted nothing to wake her. Sleep had healed all her injuries. Her physical injuries, anyway.
“I can't do this anymore, Tomas. I can't spend my life waiting for you to find time for me. Our mating isn't working, and I don't think it ever will. I just . . . can't do this.”
The words fell in the silence between them. He took two more steps toward her before they hit him, the blow so painful he staggered and almost fell to his knees.
“No.” Panic fisted in his chest. “Don't do this, Ciri. Why can't we just talk about this? Let's have it out and be done with it!” He gestured wildly, and she flinched.
He saw her arms tighten around herself. “We're just too different.”
“We balance each other! There's nothing wrong with that. We don't have to be the same.”
She laughed, and it was an ugly sound. “You want us to be the same. You want me to be like you, but I'm not.”
“Just talk to me!”
“I
am
talking to you.” Her chin lifted, and he wanted to shake her out of her detachment. “I'm just not fighting with you, and that's what you want. We can discuss this calmly.”
He thrust his hands through his hair, gripping the strands tight. “You're saying our mating is wrong and you want me to be
calm?
Have you lost your mind?”
“I'm saying that maybe we rushed into things. Perhaps we should consider that.” She tried to say it as gently as possible, tried not to accuse or criticize. He'd learned when he was in Japan that it was the way of her people not to confront, to maintain harmony and respect. At the moment, he hated that part of her personality.
“This is insane! We're mated. There's nothing to explore about being mated. You are or you aren't, and we
are.
”
“It's more complicated than that.”
“It's as simple as that, Ciri.”
She shook her head, her jaw set in a stubborn line. “I've asked Eva to find a new room for me. It's done, Tomas. My decision is final.”
“A new room?” His tone sounded blank even to his own ears. A part of him couldn't believe this was happening. Not any of it. Another part of him felt like this was inevitable. They'd been heading for this point for months. This was just what had pushed them over the edge.
“I think the suite next door is free.” Her voice rose and shook and he wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right, but he couldn't because it would be a lie. It wasn't all right. It never would be again. She cleared her throat. “M-mates don't do well when separated, so I won't be so far that we'll go insane, but . . . I can't stay.”
“I understand.” Numbness spread through him, a mortal wound that went so deep he couldn't even fathom the extent of the damage.
She nodded, the movement jerky. “Good. I'll go, then.”
“Good,” he echoed. Turning on his heel, he left. He just put one foot in front of the other and walked. His heart thudded in his chest, the beats unnatural and slow. Reaching the top of the stairs, he glanced around, uncertain where to go. There was no safe place. He couldn't go back to his room and watch his wife leave him. He just couldn't do it. He wasn't strong enough for that. The last place he wanted to be was in the Second's office. He felt like a sham in the position, and if he got another call from his father, he might lose control in a way he never had before.
Eva started up the stairs, a stack of linens in her hands, and he knew they were for his mate's new bed. A bed he would never share. His stomach heaved and he moved down the steps, away from Ciri, away from everything.
He was in Panther form before he'd even passed Eva, his clothes abandoned in a heap on the stairs. The butler would have it taken care of, and he refused to think about the sympathy he could see in her normally impassive gaze. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was at a full run. One of the housekeeping staff jerked the front door wide for him and he pelted through the opening.
Claws digging into the soft, green grass, he raced for the farthest edge of the property, knowing it wouldn't be far enough to run off the agony poisoning his soul. The landscaping blurred as he sped by, but there was no way to escape himself. Everything had fallen apart, and worse, he'd failed his mate. Failed to protect her, failed to give her everything she needed. Failed.
He was as unworthy of her as he was of the Pride leadership. He'd been pretending all along, but he didn't know who he was or what he was doing. And he'd failed in the attempt to find out.
He skidded to a stop before he hit the huge wall that ringed the property. Head down, he panted for breath. His lungs burned, but that was the least of his pain. If there were a way to rip his heart out, at that moment, he would have.
Turning slowly, he made his way back to the mansion. He didn't know what he'd do when he got there, but for once he didn't give a damn. His paws crunched when he reached the gravel path that circled the house. The window outside of Antonio's office stood open, and he paused when he heard Ciri's name mentioned.
A voice spoke that he couldn't place at first, and then he remembered. The man who'd saved Ciri. Brother of the madman who'd tried to kill her. Outcast.
He didn't stop to think. One nimble leap and he stood on the windowsill. The tableau froze before him; every adult member of the Cruz family except Isabel was present. They turned to stare at him. He ignored them, his gaze locked on the young man who'd played a part in the evening's horror.
He paled under the scrutiny, but his chin lifted. “You're Tomas Montoya.”
Tomas nodded, stepping down to the window seat and then to the floor. His tail lashed through the air behind him, and he drew the man's scent to him, locking it in for all time.
“I'm Marcos Ruiz.” The boy's clothes hadn't fared well in the fight with his brother, but they'd clearly been threadbare before that. Life hadn't been kind to the young man since he'd been cast out, an unnatural thinness hollowing out his cheeks. “I—I'm sorry your mate was harmed.”
Marcos met Solana and Antonio's emotionless gazes. “I'm also sorry for how I behaved toward you. My brothers will never apologize, so I'll do so on their behalf. I—” His voice faltered. “I never understood what it was like to have nothing, to be nothing. I didn't know life outside the protection of the Pride. I had no idea what you'd gone through. I do now.” He snorted, the sound full of self-derision. “My family hasn't done as well as you did, and we had each other.” He shook his head, looking straight into Solana's eyes. “I'm never going to have the opportunity to say this again, so I want to get it out before I leave. We were bullies, arrogant and wrong. We should have offered you empathy, not scorn. We deserved everything that's happened to us, and you deserved none of what happened to you. I'm sorry for my part in hurting you, and even more ashamed that I thought I had the right to do so.”
BOOK: Prowl the Night
8.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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