Night Prey
Night Prey
Tara Nina
With unwanted lands thrust upon him by King George III, Alessandro Pantera feels caged. His nightly ritual of pacing the castle walls in panther form leads him into a fight to save a beautiful woman from harm. The moment he first sees her, first touches her, a raw, primal desire to claim her ignites within him. But a man such as he, the Black Knight, deserves no woman of his own.
Rescued from bandits, Rose Smythe lands in the arms of a male shapeshifter. As black panther and as man, he’s fierce and intimidating to all who cross his path. But not to Rose. His presence initiates her inner white panther’s need to mate—and her heart is set on Alessandro.
A heated night of passion neither can resist bonds them as eternal mates. A macabre twist of fate places Alessandro in the battle of his life. Kill or be killed in the fight to save his mate from the demon Mephistopheles, the creator of the darkness within his soul—the Black Knight.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Night Prey
ISBN 9781419930966
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Night Prey Copyright© 2010 Tara Nina
Edited by Grace Bradley
Cover art by Dar Albert
Electronic book Publication October 2010
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Night Prey
Tara Nina
Dedication
Night Prey is dedicated to all the readers who love Regency romance but also enjoy a paranormal twist. My heartfelt thanks go to my editor, Grace, for all her help and guidance.
Chapter One
1810 England
Something in the air didn’t smell right.
With each pace along the castle wall his senses heightened, straining to locate the source of his discontent. Everything about this night fertilized a seed of suspicion within him. The howl of the rising wind informed him of the impending storm. But that wasn’t the reason apprehension gripped his system. A gnawing sensation deep in his gut kept him alert and on guard.
Lightning cut the night sky. A glint of light reflected off an object in the distance. Alessandro didn’t miss it. His best guess placed it several hundred yards away. The faint sound of weapons clashing and the minute scent of fear upon the wind set him instantly in motion. He jumped from his nightly perch and left the safety of the castle.
This land would not be invaded, not on his watch. The memory of the day King George III awarded him these properties for years of exemplary military service made Alessandro’s lip curl. He deserved no such prize for following the natural instinct to kill, yet the king declared otherwise. The king went against normal protocol when Alessandro delivered the former Duke of Dartmouth, Richard Henry Lindsey to the court for judgment. The knot between his shoulders throbbed. He should have killed Lindsey for the atrocities he committed against the king. For some odd reason, the king spared Lindsey’s life but stripped him and his family of the privileged titles and lands.
He shook from head to toe, trying to alleviate the anger brewing in his gut over the outcome. Lindsey deserved death, not public disgrace. A sliver of satisfaction cooled his displeasure for a split second as the image of Lindsey’s face at the king’s decision appeared in his mind’s eye. He snorted. He, the next Duke of Dartmouth, not even a minute possibility. But for a miniscule moment, he’d entertained the idea just to watch Lindsey stew.
He refused the dukedom, but accepted the title of Knight to please the king and a lesser section of the properties for the sake of his loyal men. They deserved a place to safely rest. He held no desire to maintain a seat in the House of Lords. Just the thought of sitting with those pretentious beings made the hair on the back of his neck stand tall. As it was, the few who chose to stay instead of follow Lindsey called him Lord of Pantera Manor before he squelched it. He was no Lord. It irked him that they called him Sir Alessandro instead of simply Alessandro as he wished.
He didn’t agree with their line of thought that he was their salvation. They gave the castle his surname then declared a new beginning. Whether he liked it or not, it became his duty to protect the people within this realm.
Protect the people of this fishing community, from what? He snarled as he ran through the night. He’d much rather battle Napoleon than protect a fishing village. Perhaps the king had other ideas for him, but from what he’d heard he might never know the king’s master plan. Alessandro stiffened at the recent news he’d received of his king’s illness. An idea struck that made sense, if he truly considered it. Most likely this illness led the king to bypass society’s rules of peerage when he offered him a dukedom. On a silent prayer he wished him relief from the supposed madness that plagued him, for Alessandro knew as did many others, the king’s son maintained no ruling abilities. God help the kingdom with the Regent Prince at the helm. He tucked the thought to the back of his mind and focused on the deed at hand.
The skies opened and rain pelted his coat as he raced through the torrid onset of the storm. The desire for battle tainted the blood surging through his veins. Hunger for the fight sparked to life for the first time since his arrival six months ago. Pent-up adrenaline fueled the warrior and the beast within him, causing his strong stealthy legs to pump faster, closing the distance in record time.
In panther form, Alessandro stalked his prey. His enhanced eyesight gave him the means of perfect night vision. Where humans around him were unable to see, he held the ability to penetrate the dark with a simple glance. A solitary wagon sat disheveled at the roadside. Its horse neighed and tugged violently at the reins tethered to a nearby tree. A lit lantern attached to the wagon gave minimal light. On his knees, an elderly man bled from a head wound while another stood over him brandishing a pistol.
How chivalrous. Alessandro bit back his growing rage. The time was not right for attack. Not yet. His vast military experience taught him the greatest aspect to good strategy equaled patience. And at the moment, the driving rain hindered his sense of smell. Unable to determine if the one acted alone, or if other highwaymen aided in this robbery, he chose to wait.
“Where is it?” The man with the pistol shouted at the injured party.
“I know not of what you seek,” rasped the victim, who shivered in the puddle that formed around his knees.
“I believe you do,” the oversized highwayman retorted. He raised his hand to strike but stopped short at the sound of another’s shout.
“Look what I found.”
Alessandro froze at the sight of a woman being dragged through the mud. Though she struggled and fought, she did not scream. Not a sound escaped. His lips rolled back in a silent snarl
and his muscles tightened. No woman should be treated as such. He hunched into position and waited for the right moment to take either of the heathens down. Obviously, they were no match for his strength if they had to prey upon a woman and an old man.
“Please leave her be!” the wounded man yelled as he lunged at the knees of his captor. When the brute pummeled the back of the old man’s head with the hilt of his pistol, Alessandro sprang into action.
Using the shadows on the outskirts of the lantern’s reach as his shield, he tackled the assailant, toppling him to the ground. Entwined with the man, he struggled to guide them, rolling and sliding into the darkness where he sank his teeth and ripped the man’s throat open. Before he untangled himself from the dead man’s weight, the other highwayman attacked. With a musket aimed at Alessandro, he attempted to shoot on the run. Alessandro growled at the sight. Though proficient with firearms, he preferred the outdated sword or hand-to-hand combat. To win of one’s own strength was the true measure of a man. Not from the use of black powder and a metal ball. That simply took good eyesight, a steady hand and decent aim to strike an opponent. Not much of a thrill in the kill in his opinion. Up close and personal suited the Black Knight best. He snarled, showing a full set of sharp teeth as he readied to evade the shot and retaliate.
In the flash of a brilliant stroke of lightning, a large panther-shaped shadow pummeled the side of Alessandro’s assailant. The two rolled end over end until they skidded to a stop beneath the wagon. From the fresh scent of blood, he knew the battle ended. Both men lay dead, one in the shadows where Alessandro left him. The other resided under the wagon where his cousin, Kade, finished the bandit without much effort exerted.
The two shook and stretched as they stood, returning to man form.
“I could have handled it,” Alessandro stated, turning to face his cousin who stood eye to eye with him at the height of six-foot-four.
“Yes, you could have.” Kade laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “But did you not figure that I might have a hunger for a fight as well? When I saw you venture out of the castle walls on a night such as this, I thought you might be up to something.” With a quick glance at the two dead bodies, he smiled at Alessandro and jested. “I see that I was right.”
A soft moan caught his ear. Alessandro spun to see the woman crawling toward the unconscious man who lay face down in the mud. He rushed to her side. She froze and curled into a ball as if she were afraid he would strike her. Alessandro hesitated. He knew he tried to shield her from the fight, but had he succeeded? Or had she seen him in his second skin? With the dark cover of the storm, he doubted she saw either of his forms clearly—neither the black panther of his inner beast or his naked male being.
He chose to take no chances. Stooping, he gathered her in his arms and cradled her against his chest. The woman shivered violently in her struggle to free herself from him. Did she shiver out of fear, or simply the chill of the harsh weather? With what she’d just been through, he didn’t judge her reaction and decided it didn’t matter which infused her shake. Alessandro refused to drop her, even though she made it difficult to maintain his hold of her slippery wet, muddy person.
“Halt, woman,” he commanded. It yielded no effect on the tiny creature. He maneuvered her into a one-armed hold. Half of her dangled from his hip and half pressed tightly against his chest. He cupped the back of her head in his other hand. As gently as possible, he twined his fingers in her hair and forced the woman’s face to turn toward his. She kicked the back of his legs and continued to squirm. Alessandro grimaced as he grappled to maintain his hold.
“Cease your actions,” he stated in an authoritative tone then added in as pleasant a manner as possible, “please.”
He didn’t want to scare her any further. But if she didn’t stop fighting him, he might be forced to bind her for her own good until they reached the safety of the castle. They needed to leave before the storm worsened or reinforcements for the highwaymen arrived. Neither prospect concerned him greatly, but he didn’t think the victims should endure any more torment should there be more accomplices involved in this robbery.
The vixen in his arms stiffened. Slowly her lids fluttered open. Lightning flashed and reflected in her eyes. A deep shade of brown with honey gold flecks stared back at him. Her irises seemed to shift in shape from normal to catlike. Momentarily stunned, Alessandro blinked and the image disappeared. Had he seen it at all? Alessandro held his gaze level on hers, yet the distortion didn’t repeat. A trick of the night, he decided. It truly hadn’t happened. She continued to squirm and planted her foot in the crease of the back of his knee and he almost buckled. He stumbled but didn’t drop her. When he regained his balance, he issued another request in as calm a tone as he could muster.
“I mean you no harm. Now halt or I shall drop you.”
As if every ounce of fight left her being, she relaxed. He braced for another approach in her attack and shifted his grip on her waist. Her lower lip quivered and her fingers trembled when she reached for his cheek. He flinched, expecting the sting of a hit. Instead the heat of her palm against his skin sent an arrow of warmth through his system and he shuddered inwardly.
“Are you all right?” he questioned, searching her face for injuries other than packed mud and debris in her hair from being dragged. She nodded, but did not speak. His eyebrow arched and he wondered if her ability at speech had been scared from her system. In an attempt for her not to notice his nakedness, he kept her tight against him and her face directed at his with his hand still tangled in her hair.
His gaze drifted from her face. Ripped from her shoulder, the dingy brown day dress and chemise hung loose, exposing more than society allowed. The mere sight of milk-white skin from her neck to the full, round mound of her breast made him wish to touch and caress its softness. Alessandro wet his lips in anticipation of tasting the pouting nipple, which poked free of the tattered dress’s folds. The direction of his stare did not go unnoticed.
The woman quickly tugged at the fabric and covered herself. A treasure such as that of the tender lady in his arms was not meant for the likes of him. Forcing his gaze to pull away, he looked at his cousin. Grappling for control, he reminded himself the Black Knight needed no one, especially a woman.
With a nod at the wounded man, he stated. “Is he alive?”
“Yes, but not for long if we do not get him out of this storm.”
“Then we shall not dally any longer. Gather him.”
He walked to the rear of the wagon and set his precious cargo inside. She sat upright, gathered the edges of her torn dress, tied them together and slipped her arm into the makeshift shoulder strap. Kade placed the battered body of the injured man beside her. The woman immediately tended to the man’s wounds, never glancing at either of them, nor did she say a word.
Alessandro unwrapped the reins from the tree and calmed the horse hitched to the wagon. Kade removed the dead bodies and hauled them into the woods out of sight. Alessandro and Kade climbed aboard and headed for the castle. As one of Alessandro’s men who knew the truth, the man at the gate didn’t balk at the sight of two naked men driving a wagon. Hell, half of his men were of his kind. Alessandro gave the guard a slight nod of recognition. The majority were shapeshifters, who tended to drift from battle to battle in search of that one kill that satisfied the inner lust for blood.
He knew this hunger well and that it never ended. Alessandro slapped the reins on the horse’s rear to force it onward even though he sensed the animal’s hesitation. The scent of shapeshifters abounded in the air, yet only animals and shapeshifters distinguished the odor from the normal smells. Humans had no such talent in his opinion.
As he guided the wagon forward he revisited his recent change in status by the king. Was it the insatiable bloodlust within his soul that finally caused King George III to rethink Alessandro’s station in his kingdom? Had his phenomenal killing abilities caused him to be given this position in one of the farthest districts so
uth of the throne possible? No. Alessandro shook his head. The king needed the Black Knight and his men’s special skills to win in battle. Alessandro and his men were the king’s secret military weapons. There had to be another reason.
But what? Refusing to let his thoughts dissect the truth behind the king’s actions—his rumored fall into madness triggered all sorts of theories—Alessandro looked to the heavens and issued another silent prayer for the king’s well-being. As soon as possible, he planned to visit the king to gain his own opinion of the latest situation.
At the castle steps he stopped the wagon and jumped down. Immediately several of his men hustled out the front doors to his side. His valet, Joseph, carried a long cape for him and one for Kade. With a quick toss of it around his shoulders, Alessandro hurried to the rear of the wagon and hoisted himself in.
The woman sat quiet with the man’s wounded head in her lap. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow, but he lived. With the help of Kade, they lifted the man and handed him over the side to two of his men. Alessandro held his hand out to the woman, who hesitantly took it. Her eyes widened and he knew from the look upon her face she noted his nudity for the first time. Though he tugged the cloak closed, the damage had been done. When she stood, the color ran from her cheeks and her eyes rolled back as she fainted. Alessandro acted quickly and caught her before she fell.
“Typical,” Kade jested. “The women always fall for you.”
Before Alessandro replied, Kade jumped from the wagon and held his hands up for him to hand the woman over the side. Alessandro straightened, staring at the frail creature in his grasp. He couldn’t do it. For some reason foreign to him, he didn’t want his cousin’s hands, or the hands of any man, touching this woman. A feral need to claim her suddenly rippled from his core and he clutched her tightly against his naked chest. He wrapped the cape around her as much as possible then leapt to the ground.