Prowl the Night (7 page)

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Authors: Crystal Jordan

BOOK: Prowl the Night
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As if on cue, the sound of his cell phone carried through the bathroom door. A human might not have picked up on the noise, but she was a shifter, and the ringing scraped across her nerves. Was it so much to ask that everyone
leave them in peace
for the night? Just one night! But, no, members of a leading family were always on duty.
She hissed at the second ring. “God, I hate that you can't have a life outside of being the heir.”
She regretted the words the moment they fell from her lips. It would only start the fight she'd wanted to avoid.
Stiffening away from her, he met her gaze. “I can't change who and what I am, Ciri.”
“But you expect me to!” Her temper flared and for once she couldn't squelch it, couldn't hide it. The upheaval of the day had broken through her carefully constructed sense of serenity.
His jaw tightened, a muscle beginning to tick there. “We've both had to deal with a lot of changes.”
Squelching the urge to scratch his eyes out for managing to remain calm when she could not, she spat at him, “And still,
you're
not the one who has to change who and what they are.”
“What do you want me to do, Ciri?” Gold flickered in his eyes, belying his restrained tone.
She sniffed disdainfully, hopped down from the counter, grabbed the towel from his hand to wrap around herself, and spun away. “Nothing. Forget it.”
“Don't do this.” He wrapped his fingers around her bicep, his grip almost painful. “Don't turn away from me.”
Jerking at his hold, she gave a futile attempt at escape. He was a male feline, much stronger than her. She snarled at him, frustration shredding her control with Panther's claws. “I haven't done anything. Except mate with you.”
“And you regret that?” His question was flat, his expression going carefully blank. He released her, his hand wilting to his side. She hated that, hated herself even more for doing this to him. This was why she usually resisted arguing with him. He wanted the bad feelings out in the open, but what use was hurting each other more? It didn't solve anything.
She swallowed hard and tried to pull herself back together, but her tone still had a bite. “I regret that I had to give up my whole life for a man who can't spare an hour for me unless it's in bed.”
He flinched, and she knew she'd hit her mark. “You know my work is important.”
The ugly bitterness that festered in her soul poured forth. “Yes, I do. The most important thing in your life.”
“The Prides
are
the most important thing.” He thrust his fingers through his wet hair, droplets flying through the air. “Without them for protection, we'd all be lost—scattered to the wind with no defense against humans discovering us and turning us into lab rats.”
She sighed and rested a hand against the bathroom doorjamb. “Right now, I feel like I'm lost even with them.”
“Ciri . . .”
“Don't worry about it.” She shook her head, closing her eyes as the purest truth came out. “I just . . . didn't realize before we were married how very different we are.”
His voice softened, but she could still sense his aggravation. “I had a lot less responsibility to deal with at the time. I wasn't yet the Brazilian Pride heir, or Second in another Pride.”
“I know.” She compressed her lips, and just felt . . . sad. Meeting his gaze, she blinked back tears. “I know.”
A hint of desperation filled his voice, and his usual ardor animated his face. “We have a lot in common.”
Disbelief zinged through her. “Name something. Anything.”
“We love each other.”
She snorted, and she could tell that stung him. “What else? We value none of the same things. You love politics, and I want nothing to do with it. I love art, and you couldn't tell a Monet from a Picasso if your life depended on it. You were born to power, and I was born as no one special. You're Brazilian, and I'm Japanese. You're progressive, and I'm a traditionalist.”
He shook his head. “We're both driven by our work, defined by it, even. We value our families and want the best for them, for all Panthers. We just go about it in different ways.”
“That's not a lot of common ground.”
“We can find more.” He threw his hands in the air.
“When are you going to make time for that?” She shrugged helplessly. “Do you plan to give up the three hours of sleep you get each day?”
He growled. “It would be easier if you could find some way to care for Pride politics.”
That foreign, terrifying rage stabbed through her again, and she flared back at him. “It would be easier if you weren't a Pride heir, but it's unlikely either of us will get what we want, is it?”
“This is important.” He gestured at the Pride den around them, his hands moving in sharp, jerky motions. “What I'm doing here affects so many people. It's vital that I do well.
This is important.
”
The wilder his manner became, the more she withdrew behind her reserve. She just couldn't relate to this fervent side of him. “I understand that, but that doesn't mean I want to be the one to do it. There are other things that are important too, Tomas. Like our marriage, for example.”
“I'm not saying that's not important.” He jammed his fists down on his hips, magnificent in his nakedness and anger.
She arched an eyebrow. “But it's not worthy of your time or attention.”
“I won't be Second forever.”
Dropping her forehead against the doorjamb, she sighed. “I know . . . but you said it would get better after you got used to being Second, it would get better after the first state visit, it would get better after, after, after.” She rolled her head so she could look at him. “It's never going to get better, Tomas. There's always going to be something. I know those somethings are important, but why isn't what other people value important, too?”
“The Prides are the most important thing.”
“Okay.” She turned around and walked away, as she did from all their arguments. In the end, what else could she do? They were mated, but they really didn't understand each other. They knew what was fundamental to the other, but many of those things were at odds. If they changed the very foundations of themselves, they would no longer be who and what they were. If they gave in to the other's needs, would they still be mates?
5
T
omas was still stewing over their argument three days later. It frustrated him and terrified him at the same time. His mate wasn't happy. Not with him, not with their marriage, and not with their fate to rule the South American Pride.
Until now, he'd told himself that she would come to accept her place, that she just needed to adjust, that she just needed to learn about what it meant to lead. After what she'd said, he was no longer so certain. What could he do about it? He was drowning in his own problems, and he just wanted this to
work
. Was that so much to ask? That one thing go right? Just
one?
Landon poked his head into the office. “I have an update on the Ruizes, if you have a minute.”
“Yes. Please, come in.” Tomas motioned the lanky human to the couch against one wall.
Antonio stepped in behind Landon. “I'd like to hear this as well, if you don't mind.”
“Of course.” Tomas rose to get them all a glass of whiskey.
Passing snifters over to the other men, he settled into a chair next to the couch. Landon took a sip of the alcohol and sighed. “That is good stuff.”
“Twenty-five-year-old Glenlivet.” Tomas lifted the glass to admire the deep amber liquid. “A wedding gift from the European Pride.”
“Nice.” The human took another swallow, then looked between Antonio and Tomas. “I put my contacts on trying to find out what's going on with the Ruiz family. I've kept light tabs on them as a potential, but unlikely, threat to the Pride. Or so I thought.”
“Right. I agreed with that policy at the time.” Antonio waved a hand. “What have you found?”
“The mother, Lucia, recently passed away.” The human grimaced. “She was buried in a pauper's grave.”
Leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees, Tomas asked, “And that sent the sons over the edge?”
Landon nodded. “That's the assumption I'm working with at this point, yes.”
“Thank you, Landon.” Antonio settled back in his seat, sighing. “The Ruizes were an influential family in my father's reign. Lucia was his lover in the last years of his life. When I came into power, they thought they'd get away with defying me. They also decided it was acceptable to harass Solana when she was an outcast and presumed non-shifter. I forbade mistreating her; they disobeyed me and tried to kill her. Roberto Ruiz, specifically, but the younger brothers, Juan and Marcos, had some involvement.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The entire family supported Roberto's actions, so I cast them all out. We haven't heard from them since. Until now.”
“There's more, sir.” Landon gulped down the last of his scotch.
“Tell us.” Tomas made a short motion with his hand. Everything these men were saying got worse and worse, and coldness fisted in his belly.
“My contacts have traced all three Ruiz sons to San Francisco. They'd been living in Chicago since they were outcast.”
The knot in his gut expanded. If the Ruizes would try to murder a Pride leader's mate, then everyone was in grave danger. And Ciri had been stalked by one of them. “How big a threat would you call them now?”
“It's difficult to say. I think it's safe to assume they blame this Pride—specifically the Cruz family—for their fall from affluence and for the death of their mother.” Landon paused for a moment, his long fingers cupping the glass in his hands. “It's possible they have a specific goal in mind, a single target. But considering their hunting of a woman they'd had no known association with, my guess is they want to make trouble for the entire Pride and any Panther who associates with the Pride.”
Tomas set his scotch down, the fiery liquid churning in his belly. “Ciri said she sensed only one man.”
“It could be one of them working alone, but all three are in the city.” Landon shrugged, his gaze hardening. “In all likelihood, they're working together.”
Antonio nodded slowly, his expression both concerned and considering. “So, what do we do now?”
“We wait. We stay alert.” The human set his empty glass on a side table and stood. “I'm going to keep my people looking for them, see if we can beat the bushes and get them out in the open. It would be better if they left, but I've yet to meet a Panther that wasn't tenacious. And dangerous, when provoked.”
Tomas snorted. Truer words had never been spoken. Panthers were predators. “Thank you.”
Landon slid his hands in his pockets, his gaze meeting Antonio's. “I'm going to recommend that no one be allowed off the property alone, especially the women and children.”
Protect the most vulnerable Pride members. Tomas and Antonio spoke at the same time. “Agreed.”
The human left the room, but the Pride leader stayed where he was, sipping his alcohol. “I've known you for a lot of years, Tomas, and it may not be politic considering our positions, but . . .”
“But what?” Tomas wouldn't have thought the knot in his stomach could get tighter, but it did. Whatever the leader wanted to say, he was pretty sure he didn't want to hear it. He really didn't think he could handle one more thing falling apart.
“It's your mate. I hadn't said anything before now, but even without the Ruiz incident . . .” One of Antonio's broad shoulders dipped in a shrug. “She's not happy here.”
“She'll adjust.” The words were reflexive. He'd thought the same thing himself, but the last six months had been a lesson in pretending nothing was wrong, when in reality, nothing was right.
“I'm not so certain about that.”
Neither was Tomas, and it made every last pressure that weighed down on him feel even heavier. It seemed no matter what he did, it made things worse. If he pushed Ciri into the very public arena of politics, it made him and his father happy, but made his mate miserable. There was no way to please everyone, no compromise to be found. The breath eased out of his lungs. “Well, she doesn't have to live here forever. I'm sure South America will be more to her liking.”
The older man arched an eyebrow. “You're that sure?”
A bitter little smile curved Tomas's lips. “It's her destiny to be there, isn't it?”
“Only if you're the Pride leader.”
That sent a jolt of shock through him, and everything in him rebelled at the thought. It was one thing for him to consider it at his darkest moments, but quite another for someone to voice it aloud. “That's my destiny, isn't it? It would be foolish to give that up. My people need me.”
Antonio hitched his ankle onto the opposite knee. “Do they need you more than Ciri does?”
“That's beside the point.”
The leader opened his mouth, closed it. “You know that I mated with Solana before we were certain she could shift forms.”
Surprised by the non sequitur, Tomas tilted his head. “I didn't know that. I assumed her non-shifter status was cleared up by then.”
“No.”
“That was quite a risk.” An enormous one, in fact. If Solana had been a non-shifter, it was possible that Antonio would have been forced to relinquish his leadership. If there'd been no clear line of succession, it could have resulted in a struggle for power . . . it could have caused a civil war in this Pride. Before Cesar Benhassi had taken over in Africa, there
had
been civil war there, so it wasn't unheard of even in the last century.
“Not to me, it wasn't.” Antonio spread his hands. “The Pride might not have accepted her, but I needed her more than they needed me.”
Tomas tapped his fingers on his thigh. “Andrea would have been a good candidate for a leader, especially with Miguel by her side. My sister is not of the same independent spirit.”
“You're missing my point.” Antonio sat forward. “Sometimes, Tomas, you
do
have to put yourself before your Pride. You're not just a leader, you're a man.”
Disquiet mixed with the cold dread twisting within him. The sentiment went against everything Tomas had ever believed. “The Pride always comes first.”
The older man sighed. “It's not as simple as that, not when you have a mate. It's your destiny to always have two first priorities.”
“Shouldn't a mate help you with those, so they don't conflict?” Or was that simply wishful thinking? Tomas didn't know anymore.
“In other words, shouldn't a leader's mate be like your mother, and sacrifice everything she loves—including her mate—for the good of the Pride?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “My mother is happy with her life.”
“I believe she is as content as she could be under the circumstances, but according to your grandfather, it wasn't that way in the beginning. She had to be broken first, like a young horse.” Antonio met his gaze. “Is that what you want for Ciri?”
“It wouldn't be like that.” But the protest sounded weak even to his own ears. “We both have a lot of adjustments to make. Change is always inevitable.”
“Perhaps she's not the only one who needs to change.”
“I'm doing my best.”
“For the Pride, yeah.” Antonio stood and headed for the door. He paused to glance back before he exited. “But not for your mate, and not for yourself. Think about that.”
 
Ciri threw herself into her work, shutting out everything and everyone else to immerse herself in the intricacies of her design. Sketches lay in scattered piles around her as she sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, hunching over her laptop.
It was her biggest commission yet. This was for a multinational company's new logo that would be incorporated into websites, letterheads, business cards, promotional material. Her work would be out there for anyone to see, so it needed to be perfect.
She loved the challenge of making each new piece her best ever. It was almost like she became one with her computer, an entity with a single purpose—to create something unique and beautiful. At the moment, that meant adding a black swirl here,
just
the right shade of red there. She was close to finishing, and this time, she'd almost achieved her original vision. Almost.
Her client would be pleased, which was the most important thing, in the end, but for once
she
was truly pleased.
It would be a good way to end her burgeoning career.
Her breathing hitched as that unwelcome thought intruded on her concentration. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear sudden tears from her eyes. A runny nose and burning, blurry eyes would not help her make the deadline on this project. And if she was going to be forced to quit, she was going out with her professionalism intact. Damn it.
She sniffled, swiping a renegade tear away impatiently.
Why
did she have to be mated to a Pride heir? Why did her life have to consist of supporting everything he wanted to do? That's what he wanted, what his family would expect. One meeting with his parents and she had known nothing less would be acceptable to them. The moment she returned to South America, the last part of her life that was
hers
would be gone. In fact, the moment her father-in-law found out that she was still working, it would be over. And with his arrival for the summit, that was it. Done. Over. Gone.
She gritted her teeth against the wave of pain, and forced herself to focus on the task at hand. This was the most important thing right now. Everything else would have to wait. That was how she'd learned to survive since she'd left Japan. Focus on one thing, one breath, one heartbeat, and she wouldn't be overwhelmed by the storms ripping through her life.
“Hey.” A soft knock sounded on the door as Tomas announced his presence.
Her instincts had already recognized him, singing that her mate was near. She slapped her instincts away, still too hurt and angry about everything to want to acknowledge them.
“Yes?” She didn't even look up from her screen. He'd see the pain and demand to know what was wrong, which would only start a fight. Or, even worse, he'd decide he didn't want to deal with her feelings and just ignore them. He'd done both in the last few months and she didn't think she could handle either reaction, so she didn't give him the chance to react at all. It was the only way to stop herself from coming apart at the seams.
“Dinner will be served soon.” He hesitated for a moment at the edge of the bed before he sighed and moved toward the walk-in closet to change.
Her shoulder twitched in a shrug. “I'll be ready in time. I'm still working now.”
His deep voice floated out of the closet door. “We need to go down soon.”
“You go ahead without me,” she called. “I can find the dining room.”
“Fine. I'll see you at dinner.” His tone turned curt and rough, and she couldn't tell if it was from hurt or just annoyance that she hadn't leaped to do his bidding. It was her duty to make them look like the perfect couple, to support his every agenda. She fought down a hiss, struggling with the angry Panther within who hated being caged. Calm, serenity, acceptance.

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