NightPrey Page 4

  Curiosity got the better of her, but he blamed himself that her hand made contact at all. Though he knew in his gut it was wrong, he couldn’t make himself move. He wanted the caress of her touch. It seemed every hair in his coat ached with an unfamiliar need for her hand to brush upon them. Who was he to deny the beast within at least one gentle stroke of her palm down his neck?

  The moment her hand made contact, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. As panther, he craved her. As man, he wanted her. Both needed to mate and she smelled primed for the taking. Her rich scent mixed with desire teased his senses. An unrecognizable flavor blended with her essence and set him on edge. That elusive ingredient piqued his interest even more, yet held him at bay as well. Confliction twisted his soul. He wanted her, but couldn’t have her.

  When he licked the erotic flavor of her skin from her palm, he knew he was lost. The beast within roared to life and demanded he take action. Make her yours. Mark her as the panther’s mate.

  Visions of him making love to Rose fired to life with each stroke of her hand. If he did not leave soon, he doubted he’d remain in panther form and not change before her, touch her, kiss her and ravish her luxurious body, which strained against the thin cotton of her gown. Did she know that little was concealed by the way she sat? The gown pulled snug across her full breasts. Her nipples poked against the fabric as if begging for him to lick them, instead of her palm.

  Without thought, he nuzzled her neck. And before she pulled away, he nipped the tender skin, not penetrating it with his teeth, but in a sensuous action of gentle territorial marking. There were others like him wandering the grounds of this manor, and he knew if he marked her in this manner as his, she would be safe. At least, that’s what he reasoned as he sprang from the bed and disappeared behind the privacy screen.

  Though he hated leaving her, he knew it was for the best. Alessandro slipped around the tub to the far end and pushed against a hidden door positioned low on the wall. It opened and he walked through to the room on the other side, turned and pushed the door closed with his head.

  On a heavy sigh, he sat and listened to her shuffling around in search of the mysterious cat.

  * * * * *

  No matter where she looked, she could not find the panther. After searching the room, she opened the door and ran face first into Joseph. If it were not for him grabbing her by the elbows, she would have landed on her bottom.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  Regaining her balance, Rose stepped out of his grasp. She darted a glance from one end of the hall to the other, but saw no sign of the elegant creature. Had she truly seen it at all? Yes, she sighed, rubbing her hands together. The sensation of his soft fur lingered in her palm and she knew she hadn’t imagined the encounter.

  “Ma’am, I have news from your father,” Joseph stated as he guided her back into the room with Mary close on his heels.

  The tiny woman scooted past him, gathered the robe off the chair and assisted Rose in putting it on. As soon as she was decent, Rose turned to face Joseph. Since she knew no other way to communicate with him, she simply smiled and nodded, hoping he continued.

  “He is well and awaits your presence to break your fast in the great hall.” Joseph left Mary to assist Rose with dressing.

  * * * * *

  “I hope you slept well,” Alessandro greeted Wilhelm Smythe.

  Smythe nodded. “I did, kind sir. I shall work to repay you. I—”

  With the raise of his hand, Alessandro cut off the man’s words. “That will not be necessary. Consider yourself and your daughter to be guests in my home for as long as you both have need.”

  Not known for mincing words, he continued. “Last night you referred to something being safe before you slept.” He intentionally paused, watching the old man’s face for any evidence of deceit. The shifting of Smythe into a more upright position, the dart of his eyes toward the long staircase that lead to the upper chambers and the lick of his lips by a nervous tongue all were signs of a man with something to hide. “What was your concern? You knew your daughter was here and being attended. What held your conscience in such upheaval?”

  After several moments passed, the old man finally spoke. “The matter is one of a delicate nature.” He hesitated, licked his lips then continued. “I wish not to speak of it without the presence of my daughter.”

  “What nature of business among men concerns a woman?” Alessandro snapped, causing the older man to stiffen in his seat.

  As soon as Smythe found his voice again, he spoke. “SirAlessandro, I mean no offense. My daughter is a better judge of who can and cannot be trusted with this matter. I refuse to make another mistake.”

  “You speak as if last night’s attack was intentional.” Alessandro leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers for a place to rest his chin.

  “I believe that it was.”

  With that said Smythe relaxed into his chair and stared in the direction of the stairs. Alessandro knew from the tick in the other man’s jaw something grave was afoot and for the moment he would speak of it no further. Not without his daughter present. Alessandro got a hint of the dangerous scent in the air last night. This man’s secretive actions supported his suspicions. Something hunted this man and his daughter. But what and why would have to wait until the beauty on the floor above came down.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Rose appeared in the great hall led by Mary. Alessandro stopped mid-pace. A pure streak of jealousy shot down his spine when her father gathered her in his arms for a hug. Instantly, he ached to hold her, to take the place of her elderly father. But he had no mind of hugging her like a father. He wanted to touch her like a lover. Alessandro suppressed the urge, knowing it would never happen.

  Unable to tug his eyes away from the gentle beauty, he studied her form. The dress she wore may have been a simple light brown day dress of his sister’s, but on Rose it looked glorious. Then again, in Alessandro’s eyes, he much preferred the image he conjured of her naked.

  Her distinctive scent filled his nostrils and reignited the lust he tried desperately to control. The vivid picture he imagined of her naked, one plump nipple in his mouth, his fingers dipped in her luscious haven, burned bright behind his hooded gaze.

  Unwittingly staring into her eyes, he caught the subtle narrowing of her irises. Had she read his thoughts? Did she know what he wanted to do with her? It was not possible. Females of his breed were few and far between. Neither his sister nor his aunt shifted, yet they maintained the ability to communicate without spoken words. He’d never heard of anyone who was not of the shapeshifter bloodlines to have the ability to communicate with the use of their minds. So no, it was not possible she knew his thoughts. She wasn’t of his kind.

  Forcing her delectable image from his mind, he stepped forward, took her hand as she separated from her father and smiled.

  “May I escort you to your seat?”

  Rose hesitated then laid her hand in his. The look in her eyes seemed guarded, until she took her seat by her father’s side. Watching the two together, Alessandro’s suspicions grew. It seemed as if they conversed without using their mouths. No, he shrugged. Not possible. He misread their actions, he decided.

  Returning to his seat at the head of the table, he was about to continue his earlier conversation with Smythe when Kade ambled in and sat at his side.

  “Morning, cousin,” Kade said, though he did not look at him.

  Instead he focused on Rose. When their gazes met, Kade flashed her a sexy smile and wished her “good morning” in a sultry tone that made the hair on the back of Alessandro’s neck bristle.

  “Stand down,” Alessandro commanded in Kade’s head, but was met with a teasing smile.

  “All’s fair, Alex. She is a beautiful woman and I am but a man.” Kade leaned back in his chair with a debonair look upon his face and focused intently on the woman across the table from him.

  “This is not a moment to test me, Kade.�
�� He projected the words into Kade’s head on a deep growl.

  Kade’s brow hitched as he turned to stare directly at Alessandro.

  “All is right between us, cousin. I smelled your scent and saw your mark upon her the moment I came in. Though I am surprised that you claimed her.”

  When Rose clasped the side of her neck and stared wide-eyed at the two men, her sudden movement held their full attention. Kade’s face showed his surprise as he sat upright in his chair. Alessandro’s jaw tightened. He leveled his stare directly at her. She couldn’t possibly know what that meant. And most of all, she couldn’t have heard them. They hadn’t spoken out loud.

  The sight of her chin tilting and her shoulders straightening as she stared back at him placed him on guard. But it was the sound of her voice in his head that slapped his face without her hand laying an actual blow.

  “I heard the two of you. Even the dead could hear you with the way that you tend to bellow at one another.”

  Rose glared at Alessandro, not relinquishing or backing down to his intent stare. It surprised him. Any man who knew of him would have faltered in the wake of his unhappy glare. This woman spoke without words and deceived him, listening in on his private discussion with Kade. He held himself upright in his chair with his shoulders back, his fists balled tight and his anger filtering through his eyes, yet she showed no signs of retreat. Her uncommon strength chipped at his anger. Instead of infuriating him, she earned his respect when she continued her mental tirade.

  “And as for this marking of such…” The sound of her voice paused and his eyes lowered to the subtle movement of her fingers across the slender bruise his teeth left upon her skin. “We shall discuss this.”

  The flash of heat in her eyes set his insides on fire with renewed desire. A primal hunger to claim her and take her as his flowed through every fiber of his being. If it were not for the fact there were others in the room, he would have taken her on the table at that very moment.

  A heated flush rose to her cheeks and he knew she was aware of his thoughts. The nip of the edge of her lip by her teeth made him ache to replace her teeth with his own. Those lips were ripe and ready and his mouth watered, wanting a taste.

  “Now is not the time for this.” The whisper of her words snapped him back to the moment. Slowly he returned his gaze to hers and met the heated promise in her innocent eyes. Though it gave him hope, he knew she was not meant to be his.

  The clearing of Smythe’s throat returned Alessandro’s attention to the older man. Even with the fresh bandage on his head, he looked the part of a man on a mission. His small frame held his head up as high as possible, his shoulders taut and his gaze leveled on Alessandro. Not a quiver did his voice make as he spoke.

  “My daughter feels that both of you are honorable men,” he shot a gaze from man to man, then glanced around the room as if searching for eavesdroppers. Leaning closer to them, he lowered his voice, causing them to lean in as well. “I hope her trust has not landed upon the wrong shoulders.”

  Keeping his voice low, Alessandro spoke. “You have no fear of your safety here.”

  “It is not our safety that is the concern.” Smythe’s face shadowed as if the weight of his worries made heavy his soul.

  “You have not misplaced your faith, my friend.” Alessandro laid his hand upon the frail wrist of Smythe in an attempt to reassure him. “What bothers you, if not the safety of your own flesh?”

  “’The safety of the king.”

  Chapter Three

  “The safety of the king?” Kade interrupted, keeping his voice low. Only Alessandro caught the edgy hunger for battle in his tone. “Of what danger would you know the king to be in?”

  “There is a plot against him.”

  “How do you know this?” Alessandro asked. He had heard nothing to that effect, but then again, being stationed far south of the throne tended to keep one out of reach of the word of spies. Anything was possible.

  “A conversation not meant for the ears of others was overheard.”

  Alessandro saw the subtle glance of Smythe to his daughter, before he met his gaze again. Though he guessed the answer, he asked anyway.

  “By whom?”

  “My daughter, Rose,” Smythe answered, taking her hand in his. “You see, many believe Rose to be deaf as well as mute. For most of her young life that was true. Over the years, her hearing returned and now she hears better than most. Unfortunately, her speaking abilities have not recovered. As a small child she spoke as well as heard, but a brush with a childhood disease left the inside of her throat scarred to the point she can no longer speak coherently so she doesn’t.”

  “Scarlet fever?” Alessandro questioned and Smythe simply shrugged.

  “We are uncertain as to what actually happened. Due to certain circumstances, our choices were limited. We were unable to obtain a physician’s help in this matter. My wife and I took care of her. We followed the old medicinal ways of my wife’s people which I believe saved my daughter’s life.”

  A sense of discovery washed over him. Here he thought she refused to answer him out of fear or brazen haughty woman attitude, and neither was the reason. She could not speak. Alessandro’s gaze fell upon her luscious lips for a split second before Smythe’s continuation of their story demanded his attention.

  “The Falmouth innkeeper, Langsford, likes his knives kept sharp and me being the blacksmith well, he and I have an agreement. Every week, I sharpen his knives in trade for a hearty meal for Rose and me. It is a fine settlement for both of us and lessens Rose’s work for a night by not hav’n to cook.”

  Smythe paused then started again. “A fortnight ago, three men showed up in Falmouth. They sought lodging at the inn and had been there for several days when Rose and I arrived for our weekly meal. It was then they showed their true nature.”

  The old man stopped speaking. He looked at Rose and squeezed her hand. The tick in his jaw reappeared and tears glistened in his eyes but did not fall. Instantly, she glanced at Alessandro. Pain filled her gaze just before she blocked it out and lowered her eyes to stare at the hand her father held on the table. The obvious implication blindsided Alessandro. What had those men done to her? The hairs on the back of his neck bristled, his gut tightened and his jaw clenched.

  Anger roared to life in his veins. If they touched one hair on her head, he would make them wish the sun had not risen on that day. The need to defend a lady’s honor was the reason he felt such anger toward these strange men, nothing more. He tried to reason with his inner beast. No man held the right to take from a woman what was not willingly offered. But just what they had done to her, he did not know the particulars.

  Did he want to know? His insides twisted at the thought of another man’s hands on Rose’s flesh and that bothered him. She did not belong to him. Why did he hunger to taste the man’s blood for touching her?

  Unable to stop, he cupped Rose’s chin in his hand and tilted her face. Though he did not know how she held the mental ability of a shifter, he asked her on a gentle mind whisper, “What happened?”

  “It was nothing I could not handle, Sir Alessandro.”

  Though her words were filled with a false bravery, the quiver of her lower lip spoke the truth and tugged at his heart. They hurt her and no matter what, he planned vengeance in her name. The many possibilities flared to life in his head. Rip out their throats, or tear their entire beings apart piece by piece.

  Hearing the tender concern in his words inside her head had Rose torn between what was real and what was not. Since the death of her mother, no one other than Poppa spoke to her with the use of mind words. Poppa claimed there were others like them. Until now, she had not believed.

  Was Sir Alessandro a shifter such as she? Was he the sleek black panther on the bed earlier? The breath hitched in her chest at the possibility. That had to be the reason he and his cousin were without clothing at the time of their rescue. Her heart raced. The vision of his devastating male form reappeared in her
mind’s eye and caused a heated flush to rise up her neck to pool in her cheeks. A lady should not think such things, she silently reprimanded. But her rampant thoughts refused to obey.

  The phantom sensation of the softness of his fur teased her inner palm and she itched to touch him. Again. Except this time, he sat beside her as man. In either form, he equaled perfection. Not at all like those heathens at the inn. She shuddered and tried to bury the memory of that night. Forcing her gaze from his, she reminded herself that now was not the time for this. With little effort, she tugged her chin free of his gentle caress.

  A cool sensation coated the impression left by his fingers upon her flesh and she immediately realized she liked his touch. She kept her gaze lowered to the table while she gathered her thoughts. But it was difficult with him near. His scent permeated the air around her. His essence encapsulated her in his presence. And for some odd reason, every ounce of her seemed tuned into him—especially the mark upon her neck. It took a great effort not to trace its outline with her fingertips.

  Closing her eyes, she prayed for strength to follow through on their mission. Danger followed the king and she was determined to prevent it from reaching him.

  Rose took a deep breath to settle her nerves then lifted a level gaze to his. Pure anger danced in his pupils and she went rigid in her chair. The knowledge of who sat beside her flourished. If they had made it to Dartmouth as planned, then this Sir Alessandro was the Black Knight of Death. It was known that the new master of the manor at Dartmouth had been chosen as such by the king. He was the one they sought for help in this matter because of his skills and his loyalty to the king. For she believed that if he were not loyal, the king would not have bestowed him this position.

  Her lungs stalled on an inward breath and her chest tightened.

  The Black Knight’s feats were legendary. He never lost a battle. Many claimed he was in league with the Devil. Staring into the heat of his glare, Rose sensed his inner turmoil—dark like his presence and foul like his current mood.