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“No. No, of course not. I don’t wish that. I’d never want
that.” She felt her bottom lip quiver. Oh hell. She’d thought all her tears
dried up. But his accusation wasn’t really an accusation. “I just…I just want
my dad back.”

His expression lost its savagery, his voice gentling. “Yeah,
I know. Of course you do.” He released a long, slow breath. “I read about your
father’s death in the papers. You should never have lost him how you did.”

His empathy became her undoing. “I still can’t believe he…he
took his own life.” The floodgates ripped open and the tears fell. And with
them the words came. Cathartic. Cleansing. “My dad’s colleagues were the worst.
They pushed his self-esteem so low he hit rock bottom. The career he loved had
been turned against him. I guess the taunts in newspapers and even by his once
friends were the last straw.”

Blake rubbed a hand over his face, his voice weary. “Getting
the media and your father’s colleagues to see the truth won’t bring him back.”

She hiccupped. “I know that. But I…I promised him I’d find
the shape-shifters, prove that they really exist.”

Blake sighed a little, and then pulled her into his arms,
his big hands running up and down her spine, soothing her, comforting her.
Until her tears dried and her anguish grew into something else, something
different entirely.

A yearning she could no longer deny.

He pulled back, the burning expression on his face telling
her that he knew exactly how she felt—and shared it. “Your father might be
dead, but you’re still alive,” he said huskily.

She hiccupped again but it didn’t put a halt to her desire
as she stared hazily up at him. “Yes. Yes, I am.” She sighed and whispered,
“Kiss me.”

He lifted one of his hands to cup beneath her chin, using
his thumb to swipe away the last of her tears. “So beautiful,” he murmured.
Then he bent his head low, and his mouth took hold of hers, gently at first, a
slow exploration that built the fires within until their kiss was urgent and
hot.

His back and shoulders quivered and flexed with supple
athleticism underneath her hands. But it was only when she opened her mouth to
deepen the kiss that his head reared back and he searched her face. She licked
her tingling lips and lifted her chin. He needed to know she wasn’t afraid of
him…of the big cat.

Right then he was every bit human—and she wanted him more
than she’d wanted anyone in her life.

His long black lashes swept low, concealing for one moment
the fire in his eyes that thickened her blood and made her aware of her own
quickened heartbeat, not to mention a shiver that started at her toes then
ended in a flare of heat in her pussy. “I want you,” she whispered.

“I know you do. And I want you too.” His lashes swept apart,
his eyes piercing her with his need. “But just so you know, if we go ahead it
will become more than a one-off sexual encounter.”

Her breath stopped. “It will?”

His nostrils flared. “Yes. I wanted you—
all
of you,
from the first time I opened the door and saw you in the flesh. If we make
love, I don’t doubt that I’ll do everything in my power to keep you from
leaving me.”

“A relationship?” she squeaked.

He nodded, but then added a whole lot more meaning to the
idea when he said softly, “Mates.”

Odd how the idea sent pleasure spiraling through her body
even as she blurted a rejection. “You don’t understand. I want nothing more
from you than proof about the shape-shifters.” She shook her head. “I don’t do
relationships.”

His eyes glinted with intensity. “Then perhaps I can
convince you this once to make an exception.”

She had no response to that, not when she wondered if he too
experienced the bone-deep clarity that, even without her father’s research that
had led her to him, they had been destined somehow to meet.

They moved to their feet, and Blake sucked in a breath as
she kissed her way down his warm, silken skin, before she stooped to unbutton
and unzip his jeans. She looked up, holding his burning stare while she worked
the denim down his hips and thighs. God, she wanted him so much it hurt.

He wore no underwear and his cock sprang free as he lifted
first one leg and then the other. She pitched the jeans aside with decidedly
unsteady hands.

Lust roiled through her belly. His cock was rock hard and
impossibly large. Almost reverently she traced his thick erection with her
fingertips, caressing the silken head and ridged shaft. Such hardness of flesh
and yet such softness of skin.

He sucked in a breath when she leaned forward and swirled
her tongue over the slit at the tip of his cock, tasting the sticky,
salty-sharp bead of pre-cum that was better than any fine dining.

“Alexia,” he groaned.

His undoing was all the encouragement she needed. Pressing
her lips to the velvety underside of his cock head, she kissed her way down
along the sensitive blue vein that led to his heavy balls. With a little mewl
of need, she licked the underside of his sack before sucking each distended
ball into her mouth and sliding it across her tongue.

She closed her eyes on a sigh. The hint of musk was
gloriously primal and animalistic—it turned her on in ways she’d never
imagined. Though Blake was a stranger to her, she felt as though she’d known
him half her life. Perhaps that was why she was aroused to such a fever pitch?

Her past one-night stands with men she had barely known had
given her nothing much beyond a cheap thrill that’d kept her only
half-satisfied. She’d never gone through the angst of a real relationship that
her friends seemed to revel in. But maybe one had to experience passion in
every facet to truly
feel
?

His throaty growl caused her womb to throb and her throat to
dry. He took hold of her wrists and pulled her upright, keeping her still while
he made short work of the buttons on her flannel shirt before he unzipped her
leather jacket and pushed it over her shoulders. Until only her top concealed
her unrestrained breasts.

His eyes blazed with an intensity that left her breathless
and all-over achy, every inch of her basking in his appreciation. Heaven help
her, she’d never experienced such desire, such out-of-control need.

Her nipples jutted hard beneath her burgundy singlet. He
bent to suckle the tip of one breast through the material and she shuddered
with pleasure as his pulls alternated between hard and soft, then fast and
slow. When he did the same to her other breast, sucking the covered flesh to
the point of pleasure-pain, she inhaled sharply, before undulating against him,
wanting more, wanting his all.

The moment she thought she couldn’t take any more, he
retreated and tugged her singlet up and over her head, her arms automatically
lifting. With nothing short of urgency, he helped her off with her boots before
thrusting down her leather pants and her lacy panties. Seconds later they were
kissing again, skin-on-skin, his cock pressing hard and insistent against her
belly, his hands cupping her ass cheeks.

She wanted nothing more than to climb up him, wrap her legs
around his hips and pierce herself on the long length of his cock. Satisfying
the carnal urgency between them, if only for a short time.

But then he was laying her down on the bed of hay, his body
covering hers and his cock sliding between her thighs, a throbbing length of
hard flesh.

Her mouth flooded with moisture, as did other parts of her
female anatomy. She couldn’t have talked even if she’d tried.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked hoarsely, breaking the
heated silence that thrummed between them thicker than molasses.

She looked up at him, her mouth quickly drying and words
forming. “What…what about protection?”

His lips curled into a sensual smile. “Shape-shifters are
immune to human diseases.”

Oh thank god.

His eyes glowed, highlighting his inner animal. “Are you on
the Pill?”

She touched her throat with a fluttering hand, though it was
the ache in her cunt she wanted so desperately to relieve. “Yes,” she
whispered, smiling weakly before adding on a desperate note. “Now take me,
please. Before I scream.”

His short laugh merged into a groan when he kissed her
again, before he reared back long enough to announce hoarsely, “I intend that
you
do
scream.” He took possession of her lips even as he clasped his
shaft to guide it between her wet folds, and slid in deep.

She gasped into his mouth. Her inner muscles screamed in
protest as he began a slow, rocking motion that moved deeper inside her,
stretching her. But it was a pleasure-pain that hit all the right spots, making
her even wetter and slicker to accept him…to welcome him.

His thrusts gained momentum and she wrapped her thighs
around his hips, urging him on, so damn hot for him she wondered if she just
might implode.

They were joined not just in a physical sense. Somehow, in
such a brief period of time, their connection felt real. Deep. Inexplicable.
Their thoughts, their emotions weaved together as one.

He moved his mouth from her lips and down along her jaw. She
arched her throat on a sigh, allowing him access. His stubble scraped her
sensitive skin, a prickling sensation that had her gasping with pleasure. His
warm breath brushed her neck, then he latched his mouth on her throat and
suckled while he rocked inside her faster and faster. Until shock waves of
pleasure coalesced deep in her pussy and she was crying out with the sudden
orgasm that flung her high, her inner muscles holding and releasing,
involuntary spasms that sent Blake tumbling right over the edge with her.

His jaw locked tight. “Jesus, Alexia…” His head fell back,
throat convulsing and his seed jetting deep inside her.

Moments later his eyes caught and held hers, his stare
drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. Warmth flushed her face, adding to
the slippery sheen of sweat between her breasts, her thighs.

Oh, wow. Being with him hadn’t been like any one-night stand
she’d ever had before. She’d shared more than intimacy with Blake—had laid out
more than her body. His stare flashed triumph, a smile curling his lips. “You
belong to me now.”

Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening even as the warm
glow quickly faded and suspicions arose. For a moment she’d let herself believe
they were meant to be together too, but even with their lovemaking they were
still little more than strangers sharing a bed.

A lump constricted her throat. She knew his identity now.
Was he hoping to control her and keep her from telling the world the truth?
Hurt squeezed her chest. Yes, she wanted her father’s reputation back, but not
at Blake and his shifter friends’ freedom.

She pulled back from him. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

He inhaled sharply. “Regrets already?”

Oh, god. An argument already?

“No. But my will is my own.”

He nodded. “As it should be.” His eyes narrowed, his lips
pressing together. “You think I want to keep you quiet and under my thumb?”

She flushed. “It did enter my mind.”

He rolled away from her, stood and stepped back into his
jeans with jerky movements. “Then it’s a good thing you are on the pill and
cannot fall pregnant.”

“Oh?”

His nostrils flared as he looked down at her. “You and my
child would be mine. My Pride.”

She lifted her chin, though a part of her thrilled at the
idea. “And if I wanted otherwise?”

“I would do everything needed for you to change your mind.”

She let out a little sigh. “It’s all immaterial, isn’t it?
I’m not pregnant and don’t plan to be anytime soon.”

She ignored an odd pang, and couldn’t help but ask, “If I
hadn’t been on the pill and
had
fallen pregnant, what would have
happened? Would the baby be a…shifter?”

He stared at her, as though wishing he could read her
thoughts. “Few mortals ever fall pregnant. Even fewer carry to full term. But
if you did somehow prove all the stats wrong…the genetics of any shape-shifter
are generally dominant. In all likelihood our baby would have my abilities.”

She closed her eyes with relief knowing she wouldn’t
conceive, even as a small, selfish part of her wished for the impossible. Odd,
considering becoming a mother had never been on her wish list. “If you’re
worried about the very minute chance of me falling pregnant anyway, I could
take the Ducati and go to the nearest pharmacy. There is a morning after pill I
can—”

“No.”

Her eyes shot open. His expression was fierce, primal.
Possessive. He crouched, and smoothed a hand down her belly, his outspread
fingers warm on her skin. “You and I…we share something special. You know it
too. I felt it—you felt it—the moment you stepped through my opened door.”

“Well…I was actually dragged inside.”

He smiled, then expelled a rough breath. “In all honestly, I
felt something powerful for you even before we’d met.”

Her heart fluttered as if a caged bird. She frowned at the
sensation, aware she was riding a rollercoaster she might never get off. “I
don’t understand?”

“I’d been closely following your father even before his
discovery of the bones. I’ve read anything the media printed about him. I guess
it was inevitable that I’d eventually see a picture of you in the paper with
your father.” He smiled. “I was drawn to you almost as if I knew you would
become my mate.”

Her hands squeezed into fists as something primal surged
through her blood. Suddenly she did wonder what it’d be like to be his mate, in
every way that counted. She shook her head, clearing it of all foolishness.
“That’s insane.”

He cocked a brow. “Beast intuition is rarely wrong.” He let
out a slow breath. “But though my every instinct urged me to pursue you, I
didn’t. Not when your father was so close to the truth. And then when he
died…let’s just say I was waiting a respectful amount of time before I came for
you.”

He gave every impression she wouldn’t have refused his
walking into her life, his claiming her. Hell, perhaps he was right. She blinked.
“So my showing up on your doorstep really was a complete shock?”

“You could say that. Except I choose now to think of it as
providence. The winds of fate had interceded and blown you my way.”

He offered her a hand and pulled her up. They stilled, their
gazes locking. She could see he wanted to say more but they were both aware it
was now past time they left this place.

She shivered a little. “I know I’ve said it already, but all
I ever wanted was to find answers to prove my father wasn’t a crackpot.”

“You don’t have to prove anything, Alexia. Your father was a
visionary—and he did have believers. Just, not in quite the way he could ever
have imagined.”

Her eyes sharpened, searching his face, her mind spinning.
“Those believers, they’re the ones who came after us, aren’t they?”

He grimaced. “I don’t know any of them personally, but I
wouldn’t be surprised.”

“But…why would they want us dead?”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m not certain, but I believe the
majority of them think shape-shifters will become the dominant species, a
supreme race at the top of the food chain.”

“Even though there are only five shifters out there?”

He chuckled, except there was no humor in the sound that
sent skitters of pleasure across her skin. “That’s just it. They have no idea
we’re on the knife-edge of extinction. Your father’s notes gave nothing away,
other than the fact he found big-cat, shape-shifter bones. As far as I’m aware,
he told no one but you about the journal.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m the only one that knows.” She blew
out a breath. “Dad made a huge discovery, which should have been the making of
his career, a mark in history. Instead, his caution and respect made him a
mockery.”

“And yet, large black cats have been sighted in dozens of
places across Australia, a handful of people even producing film footage.”

She nodded. “Maybe everyone—especially the believers—fear
the unknown,” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Possibly.”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“We?” He chuckled again, but there was no humor to the
sound, only vague hints of desolation. “If I fight, I kill. And what’s left of
my kind will be exposed and either hunted down or locked away and studied.” His
lip curled. “We’d choose death.”

A couple of the mares whickered nervously in the yard just
outside. The stallion squealed a warning and pawed the ground.

In wordless consent, Alexia quickly dressed. She pushed
against the wall and sidled toward the window, ensuring she wasn’t a stark
silhouette in the pane as she scanned the countryside. “Shit.” Two men were
wheeling the Ducati out from behind the fig tree.

She dropped onto her hands and knees and crawled over to
where Blake peered over the edge of the loft. “They’ve found the Ducati,” she
whispered starkly.

He nodded, composed as he murmured, “Three men are taking up
position around the farmhouse.”

Better and better.

“How did they find us?”

He shook his head. “At a guess, they put a tracker on your
bike. I should have searched it when we stopped.”

She touched his arm. “You could hardly walk, let alone
search for a tracker. You had other things to think about.”

Like staying alive.

If anyone was to blame, it was her.

His fingers covered hers and she breathed slow and deep,
aware her heart was racing out-of-control, right along with a terrible knot in
her belly that twisted tight at the knowledge these men wanted them dead.

It was all her fault. If she’d never followed the lead her
father had kept secret from everyone but her, Blake might never have been
found, never have been put in this position.

And I’d never have made love to the most desirable man
I’ve ever laid eyes on.

The farmhouse door crashed inward. A window shattered a
second later as the men forced entry.

Blake put a hand beneath her chin. “In minutes those men
will come searching the barn. But you need to stay calm and trust in me. Okay?”

She nodded. Against all rationalization, she did trust him.

“Good.” He brushed a thumb across her jaw. “Have you ever
ridden a horse?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. I’ll help you onto the stallion. Though I can’t
communicate with him directly, he’ll sense what I want him to do. You just have
to hang on.”

Oh shit oh shit oh shit!

There was no more time for questions. She all but slid down
the ladder after Blake, before they moved through the mass of milling
horseflesh until they came to the stallion. Though the big horse tossed his
head, he stood motionless as Blake bent at the stallion’s foreleg and clasped
his hands together in the shape of a stirrup.

Alexia slid a foot into his hands and swung a leg over the
giant bay just as movement caught in her peripheral vision.

One of the men strode out of the house and onto the veranda,
scanning the yard with its restless horses. She ducked, staying low on the
stallion, her arms wrapped around his warm neck.

In the cover of the mares surrounding him, Blake
methodically undressed. He looked up at her. “When I open the gate, you ride
like hell,” he said in a low-pitched undertone. “Don’t look back. Don’t wait. I
won’t be far behind.”

She nodded, gripping the stallion’s long black mane and
clamping her thighs to his rust-colored coat.

“The house is clear.” A man’s aggrieved voice drifted across
the breeze. “Go and check the barn.”

Crouched low, Blake swung open the gate. It squealed on dry
hinges like a cat that had its tail pulled.

“Heeah!” Alexia yelled, stampeding the mares out of the
gate. Now was no longer the time for quiet.

All three men raced toward the barn, their guns drawn.
Alexia caught a glimpse of Blake, already fully shifted in his panther form,
and running in the opposite direction. Drawing the three men away from her like
bait.

Oh, dear lord, no!

Her belly churning, it was all she could do just to hang on,
crouched low on the stallion’s back, as he galloped through the herd, nipping
lagging mares to push them faster.

At the sound of her Ducati, she risked a quick look behind.
Stupid! Last night she hadn’t been thinking straight. And though she could
forgive herself for not having the foresight to check for a tracker, she should
never have left the key in the ignition, no matter how distracted she’d been by
Blake’s injuries.

Two of the goons roared through the horses on her bike,
scattering all the mares in their path. She leaned forward, encouraging the
stallion faster still, his stride lengthening until he passed the mares in
front, his breath heaving with the effort, his hide already drenched with
sweat.

A line of gum trees came into sight ahead. She bit back a
sob. They weren’t going to make it! Though the ground wasn’t smooth asphalt, it
was relatively flat and well maintained, giving the road bike all the
advantage.

The Ducati roared alongside. The man riding pillion raised
his wavering rifle.

Bastards. What had she ever done to them to deserve this?

Whatever. She wasn’t about to roll over without a fight. She
wasn’t her father.

Using her legs to steer the stallion, she nudged closer to
the bike. Then bending her knees until her feet pressed onto the stallion’s
back, she twisted sideward and launched clear.

She threw herself at the men in a double body tackle that
had them grunting in shocked disbelief. The Ducati toppled onto its side and
the rifle flipped into the air. Tucking her head into her chin, she curled into
a loose ball and struck the ground hard, jarring her shoulder against a rock
before bouncing over and over. She lay still, winded and unable to move but
conscious of everything around her.

The mares’ hoofbeats drummed past, dust choking her lungs.
The sun beat down, hot on her face. A groan sounded somewhere a few yards to
her right.

She gritted her teeth and rolled over. One man lay unmoving,
out cold. The other was conscious and hurting by the sound of his labored
breathing. Her own shoulder throbbed. Blood drizzled wet and thick as sludge
down her brow.

Please let Blake be safe.

She sensed him long before she heard the pad of his huge
paws slow into a walk. His breath was hot on her face as his whiskered head
gently nudged her nearest cheek, a long, low growl rumbling deep from his
chest.

“Blake,” she managed, smiling a little even as she winced
and managed, “I’ve always wanted a big…cat of my…very own.”

In the long seconds it took him to shift back into human,
she forced herself into a sitting position.

“Are you all right?” He crouched beside her, unashamedly
naked, his stare sweeping her from top to bottom.

“I’ve been better.”

A corner of his lip curled up into a half-smile at her dry
sarcasm. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

“You could say that.”

He bent then, his mouth covering hers in a quick, hard kiss
that stamped his possession. When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers as if
he could read all her thoughts, all her emotions. Apparently satisfied, he
said, “Just give me a minute.”

“I won’t be going anywhere,” she said drily. Only, all irony
was forgotten when she watched him stride toward the motorcycle in his loose,
easy gait. She drank in the flex and shift of his smooth ass cheeks, the
extension of muscles at the back of his long hard thighs and calves.

He bent and lifted the Ducati back onto its wheels, giving
her a splendid display of his maleness.

Oh dear lord, give me strength!

She swallowed past her too-dry throat, all pain temporarily
forgotten.

He straightened with a crooked grin and a devilish glint in
his stare.

The bastard. He knew!

He wheeled her battered Ducati toward her, expelling a
whistle of chagrin at the damage. A side fairing and mirror had torn free, the
windshield badly cracked, the frame scratched and seat torn.