Scratch (7 page)

Tremors overtook her body as Leon continued to cry out, his
words almost incoherent now. “Is he paralyzed?” she whispered.

“He deserves nothing less.” The blond man pressed a business
card into Blake’s hand. “Call me if it should turn out you need a good lawyer.”
He shrugged. “Or another witness.”

Her chest hurt, but in a good way. There really were
honorable people still left in the world.

Movement caught her periphery Liz Hemlock. The muscles in
her belly clenched hard. Oh, hell no. Not here. Not now.

But of course, Leon would have ensured the reporter would be
there, nothing short of a vulture ready to pick up any scrap and run with it.

The other woman stalked toward their table, all business in
her tight cream trouser suit, her thick flame-red hair caught back into a tight
topknot. She reached into her jacket pocket and flipped open a pad, her
trembling fingers giving away her excitement at the chance of such a coup.

Blake stiffened, but this time it was Alexia’s turn to
squeeze his hand. This round was her fight.

“You won’t need that pen or paper,” Alexia announced.

Liz arched a thin red brow. “Oh I will. This is some story.”

She really was a piranha.

“Mm. Though I have doubts this news is as big as you being
blackmailed by Leon into breaking into houses to steal information, and then
fabricating the rest.” The reporter’s face dropped. She shook her head, but her
face leached of color. “Nice try,” she bluffed. “Shame you can’t prove a
thing.”

Alexia turned to Blake. “Honey, will you show her the
evidence, or will I?”

Blake ran a thumb under her chin, murmuring wryly, “You’re
doing a great job so far. I wouldn’t want to mess things up.”

He handed her the device, and Alexia pressed the play button
with relish.

This one’s for my dad.

As Leon’s words replayed, Liz backed away with her hands
out. “I never meant to hurt anyone. Leon…he just…he knows stuff about me, about
my family. He had me backed into a corner and wouldn’t let up.”

From her periphery, ambulance crew lifted Leon carefully
onto a stretcher. He had to have been sedated and medicated given how quiet he
lay. Police had also arrived, and Alexia knew it wouldn’t be long before they
rode the escalator up to question the suspect.

She closed the distance with the reporter and swept a hand
to the floor below. “I doubt he’ll be bothering anyone for some time, if ever.
Either way, I want you to leave me alone.” She leaned closer, unleashing every
bit of tension with every word she spoke. “And I want you to write another
article, this time featuring my father as the ethical, honest and brilliant man
he always was.” She took a breath, adding a little less harshly. “And I’ll
forget every disgusting, malicious and untruthful piece of trash you ever
printed.”

Liz swallowed. But there was no longer any reason for her to
put up a fight. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“And I want you to refute everything you’ve ever said about
the existence of panther shape-shifters.”

Liz stopped her backpedaling. “How can I do that
and
clear your father’s name?”

“You’re a reporter. You’ll think of something.”

“So you’re saying they
are
real, then?” the reporter
all but squeaked.

Blake stepped beside Alexia, his hand entwining with hers.
She heard his low, rumbling growl. She looked up, smothering a smile at the
glint of his growing incisors inside his slightly opened mouth, the narrowed,
catlike glow of his eyes directed at the reporter. “Some things are better left
alone, wouldn’t you say?” he growled. “Panthers…hunt.”

Liz’s face paled, impossibly white. “I won’t breathe a word
to anyone. I give you my word.”

Though Alexia knew the reporter’s word didn’t mean much in
the bigger scheme of things, she also knew the redhead would look after her own
best interests.

As the reporter clattered back down the moving staircase,
passing a trio of policemen on their way up, Blake clasped her forearms and
tugged her close. When he kissed her, she leaned close and focused wholly on
him, everything and everyone around them ceasing to exist, to matter.

When at last they went up for air, he cupped her face with
outspread hands. “I seem to remember a little something about strawberries and
champagne. Care to indulge?”

Her smile wobbled. “I thought you’d never ask. But…the
police?”

“They won’t take long.” He nodded at the cameras. “We have
all the footage we need.”

* * * * *

The taxi ride back to the hotel seemed interminable after
what had ended up being a couple of hours interviewed by the police. Alexia
told herself to breathe, to relax. But adrenaline after all they’d been
through, all they’d survived, fired through her bloodstream like a firecracker
with a shortened fuse.

Her pussy throbbed with wet heat. Her breasts were heavy,
aching, her nipples hard spikes beneath her slinky dress.

It was as if all the stress, the pain, the tension of the
last few days had coalesced into one big molten ball of desire that scorched
her from the inside out. A fire only Blake could douse. Much more powerful
though was the all-consuming love in her heart. A love she couldn’t deny.

Not anymore.

Neon lights flashed. A car horn tooted somewhere behind
them. A small truck rumbled past, headlights blazing. She noted the everyday
happenings even though every scrap of her attention revolved around Blake and
her intense emotions toward him.

Blake leaned forward in his seat, his arm around her shoulders
tightening as he said to the driver, “I’ll pay you double the fare if you can
get us to the hotel in half the time.”

He leaned back with a slow release of breath. Her pulse
quickened, her senses erupting into overload. She giggled and he turned to her
with a perplexed frown. The stiff lines of his face abruptly morphed into an
easy grin, his honey-rich chuckle then joining in with hers.

She sucked in a breath and tucked her head under his arm,
pressing herself close. “I feel as if I’m some teenager drunk on hormones.”

His heartbeat drummed under her ear. “I know exactly how you
feel.”

Yet once they were in the elevator and riding up to the
penthouse suite, Blake kept himself wholly in control. A control barely
leashed, she realized, as she noted the tic of a muscle in his jaw, his
clenching hands. His arousal.

She jerked her gaze up only to see the knowing glitter in
his stare. “See what you do to me?” he all but growled.

Her pulse clattering, she managed a nod as the doors slid
apart. He followed her out of the elevator, and though she didn’t hear him
behind her, she knew exactly where he was, sensed his every movement.

She stilled near one of the cream-colored leather sofas, her
stare resting on him as he stalked past her and into the kitchen. Uncorking the
champagne, he moved back and handed her a flute frothing with bubbles, his
fingers brushing hers and sending a frisson of warmth from her nerve endings
straight to her womb.

Damn, she felt as if this was their first time.

“Turn around,” he said huskily.

She did so, her legs going weak as his hand grazed the top
of her spine. The zipper gave way with a soft whine, air caressing her bared
skin. She wore no underwear beneath the red dress, and she turned to him, proud
and unselfconscious as his eyes devoured every inch of her, his hot stare
roaming over her naked body as if he wanted to lick every inch of her like the
big cat that he was.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, causing goose bumps to dance
across her skin, her feminine core aching with exquisite pleasure-pain.

She watched as he undressed then, his deft fingers slowly
unknotting his tie and tossing it aside. She took a sip of the champagne when
he shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. She wet her lips with the
tip of her tongue at his bared torso, his sleek, sun-kissed skin and
well-defined muscle.

He stepped out of his pants and then his boxer briefs. She
gulped the last of her drink and allowed him to take the empty flute from her
hands, placing it on the counter beside his still-full drink.

She stared, taking him in. His beautiful, aroused nakedness
literally took her breath away.

Wordlessly, he took her hand and then led her through the
thickly carpeted rooms. Through a keyhole archway, heated, square white tiles
were suddenly underfoot.

A huge spa took up half a wall of glass ahead. Rose petals
were scattered strategically, and another platter of strawberries and a bottle
of champagne waited. Dozens of candles flickered in alcoves around the bubbling
spa, the city lights outside the glazed, heat-misted windows a blurred
wonderland that merged with the starry night sky.

“You planned all this?” she asked, voice breathless. But of
course he had. He’d made a call from his cell phone after the police had
finished with them. She’d seen him talking into it when she’d come out of the
public restroom.

“I take it you like?” The smile in his voice edged on
predatory.

She didn’t care. She wanted to be taken by him. She wanted
to be licked and bitten. A willing victim to his feline mastery.

He moved his big hand to the small of her back. Shivers
cascaded up and down her spine. Longing tugged at her belly. She nodded. “Oh, I
like.”

This…it was possibly the most romantic thing anyone had done
for her.

They slipped into the spa’s warm, fizzing water, sitting
opposite one another. Blake took a sip from his new flute of champagne with
languorous, heavy-lidded eyes. But she knew there was nothing sleepy or
lethargic about him. He was suppressed, erotic energy about to pounce, to
devour.

He moved positions, abandoning his glass with a clack on the
tiled edge of the spa. Selecting a strawberry, he proffered her the plump
fruit. She leaned forward, biting into its juicy flesh. The sweet, delicate
flavor burst in her mouth like an aphrodisiac. But it was his tender smile that
melted her from the inside out.

His eyes holding hers, he sucked the rest of the half-eaten
strawberry into his mouth. Heat shot right between her thighs, and she
discarded her own glass to move through the bubbling water and between his opened
legs. She crawled up over his rock-hard cock, the amazing ripples of his abs
and past his lightly haired chest.

Her breasts flattened against his hard torso when she curled
her hands over his broad shoulders. Pressing her mouth over his, she smothered
his low growl of need.

He undulated beneath her, teasing her pussy with his hard,
slick cock, his hot skin sliding like silk under hers. And yet he didn’t
dominate, not this time. Instead he followed her lead while she took control,
kissing, touching and exploring.

The cords on his neck stood out in sharp relief, the panther
within stirring to life behind his eyes.

It was its own form of torture, the anticipation, the
deliberate withholding of sexual release. And then the moment of exquisite
bliss when she clasped his cock and spread the soft folds of her pussy, before
she finally sank down on him, impaled and stretched to the edge of pain.

Blake closed his eyes on a groan. She stilled, her muscles
adapting. The water sloshed as she began to move, slowly at first, then faster
and faster, a pace dictated by an urgency neither could deny.

Her moan edged into a sob. She couldn’t leave him. What they
had together was magic and worth fighting for. Blake was right. They were meant
to be together. Any other option was unacceptable.

He met her rhythm, hips thrusting upward, skin slapping
skin. Water heaved and splashed onto the tiles. A candle hissed then sputtered.
But she was soon all too focused on the sensations within, on the toe-curling,
heat-seeking pleasure that blasted her into another realm. A mind-blowing
climax just seconds before Blake’s seed erupted inside her.

Her name slipped from his lips when she collapsed against
him. The spa fizzed around them, heating their already sweat-slicked bodies.
Their hearts drummed as one when he kissed her head, drifting butterfly kisses
to the top of her brow while murmuring sweet nothings in the aftermath, his
long, corded arms holding her close.

Heaven, she thought drowsily. Surely nothing could compare
to being with Blake like this?

Long minutes passed before he made the first move to climb
out of the spa. Using a warm towel from the heated towel rack, he dried her
off. Somehow she couldn’t find the energy to return the favor, a wondrous,
drowsy bliss leaving her boneless and utterly spent.

Blake wrapped another fluffy hotel robe around her before
snaring her in his arms and carrying her into the master bedroom. He laid her
on a huge bed as soft as clouds, and climbed under the covers beside her, his
spicy warmth wrapping around her as he took her into his arms.

“Sleep now,” he said huskily, “because I plan on giving you
erotic dreams all through the night.”

Alexia woke with a smile on her face and to the sharp,
freshly brewed scent of coffee in the air.

She stretched. Every muscle, every cell was awakened,
rejuvenated.

She’d never felt better. Happier. As though everything was
good in the world and nothing bad could touch her.

Her smile pulled into a grin. She couldn’t wait to see
Blake’s face when she told him the shape-shifter journal was in her possession,
safely hidden. It belonged to him, to his kind.

She slipped into one of the soft white unisex robes—she
recalled Blake taking it off her during the night when he’d made love to her
one of many times—and padded barefoot into the kitchen.

It really did have to be the big cat side of him that had
him aroused and ready time after time. Not that she was complaining.

She moved past the puddle of her red evening gown on the
floor as she followed the coffee aroma. She spotted movement out on the
balcony, where a now fully dressed Blake sat at a round glass table, an
outspread newspaper before him.

Her smile felt nothing short of indecent. She’d give him
something better to do than read the paper. She’d sit astride him and open her
gown, giving him an eyeful of her assets. She quivered with anticipation. Maybe
she could unzip his pants and free his shaft. Then she’d ride him until his
cock was streaming inside her and he was shouting out her name.

Hell, right then she was so horny she didn’t much care if
businessmen in their penthouse suites of other builders saw them wildly
fucking.

Except Blake didn’t hear her open the sliding glass doors,
didn’t seem to register her at all. She watched with growing dismay as he
slumped in the wicker chair, resting his downturned head in outspread hands.

When he didn’t move at her approach, her belly bottomed out
and all carnal thoughts instantly dissolved. “Blake, what’s wrong?”

He straightened and swung around, his ashen face making her
pulse skip a beat. He gestured to the headline and managed hoarsely, “It’s
Shad. He’s been caught.”

With a sinking heart and legs heavier than concrete, she
forced herself forward the last few steps. The bold print on the newspaper
screamed out worse than a slap to the face.

Huge Black Panther caught in Australia.

Her pulse racing, she scanned the sub heading underneath.

Had world renowned archeologist, Professor Thomas Leigh,
been right all along?

Alexia pressed a hand to her mouth. Was this Liz’s attempt
at an apology and some kind of effort at clearing Alexia’s dad’s name? She sank
onto the nearest chair, barely able to digest the print, let alone the photo of
an extraordinarily large cat pacing a too-small cage.

She’d wanted her dad’s reputation restored, but not like
this…never like this.

Alexia looked up at Blake. His face was tight, yet weary and
even a little resigned. She shook her head. “I never asked Liz to print this,”
she whispered, her belly squeezing like a fist.

Blake leaned back and scraped a hand over his face. “Isn’t
this what you wanted?”

“Maybe at first,” she conceded. It wasn’t as if she’d
pretended otherwise. “But not anymore. Better that the shape-shifters be
forever shrouded in secrecy than even one of you captured.”

Dear lord, if the news article questioned the fact the
captured black panther might be a shape-shifter, had the secret of the
Illawatti
race been blown out of the water? “How much do you think the captors know?”

Blake sighed heavily. “That’s just it, I have no way of
being sure. We’re much bigger than an average panther. And Shad is the largest
of us all. His sheer size alone will raise suspicion.”

“Couldn’t he change shape and escape?”

“It might not be that easy.”

“What do you mean?”

“If it is one of Leon’s men who caught him—and I suspect it
is—then they know he’s a shifter. They’d have run whatever tests were needed to
confirm his identity. They’ll make certain there’s no escape for Shad, either
in human or beast form.”

“So…we rescue him!”

He put a hand on her arm, his nostrils flaring. “No. If we
charge in there and you’re captured, you’d be hurt, or worse, killed.”

“And if you go alone you might well be caught or killed too,
which would be two less of the
Illawatti
tribe. You’d be all but
extinct.”

He jerked out of his seat and stalked over to the balcony
rail, his back rigid and shoulders taut. “There’s only one thing now that I can
do.”

She followed him and wrapped her arms around his waist,
pressing her cheek into the warmth of his spine and closing her eyes. “What is
it?” Her eyelids flicked open as he twisted to face her. He splayed his hands
across her ass cheeks outlined by the robe when he murmured, “I put my faith in
the human race.”

“I don’t understand?”

“I go public.”

Shock lanced through her heart. “No!” She pulled free,
staring up at his harsh, determined face. “I have to trust that the majority of
humankind will rally together to ensure our survival and freedom.”

“But even if that were true, with all the government red
tape it could take months, even years to take effect.” She shook her head,
thinking of how far she’d been willing to go to clear her father’s name—and
he’d already been dead. Someone else might well pretend ignorance to the
goings-on in a science lab if it gave them even a glimmer of hope their sick or
dying loved one might be given a second chance, thanks to a shape-shifters’
ability to heal and not age. “There will be so many more people who would
sacrifice one of your kind to help themselves or a family member.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve run out of other
options. I can’t abandon Shad.”

Her breath hissed, her mind ticking over. “Of course you
can’t. But if you think for one moment that your being human matters, think
again. Even animal lovers can turn a blind eye to the thousands of animals
being forced to ingest toxics or injected with cancers and HIV, and whatever
other human diseases in the never-ending search for a better life or a cure.”

“Whoever caught Shad, Liz knows them. I think they hope Shad
will lure us in. They want us all, and no doubt have a buyer willing to pay big
money for us.” His jaw hardened. “And I’m certain it’s not to keep us as pets.
I have to go public, it’s the only way.”

She touched his face, grief and rage filling her soul as
though she’d already lost him. “No! You can’t. That’s too dangerous. They might
take you away too, study you. I’ll…I’ll lose you!”

“They might. Or they might not. Besides, your father’s name
will be cleared. That’s all you ever wanted, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, Blake.” She stared up at him, loving him so much it
hurt. “That doesn’t matter anymore, not now my father’s murderer has been
caught. None of it matters. You are all that counts now.”

His eyes flared. Focused. Intent. “Alexia…what are you
saying?”

“I love you, Blake.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, and she could feel the shudders
of elation overtaking him from the inside out. When he eventually opened his
eyes, his stare was wet. “I love you too, Alexia. More than life itself.”

She clasped Blake’s hands in hers and looked up, holding his
gaze. She wasn’t going to lose the man she loved. She wasn’t about to let the
bastards win. Not this time.

“You don’t have to go public. I have a plan.”

He frowned. “Alexia, this isn’t a game. These people are out
to win, by any means possible.”

“I know that. I’ve worked with enough scientists and people
outside my field to have a fair understanding of how their minds work.”

The line in his brow deepened. “So what are you suggesting?”

* * * * *

The sun was high in the sky when the taxi finally arrived at
its destination and pulled into a car park, next to an old building where her
father once worked in his laboratory, analyzing his findings. But it was the
manicured park opposite the building where she led Blake, her satchel held
carefully to her chest.

She sank onto a bench seat beneath the shady branches of a
gum tree, Blake sitting close. He looked relaxed and composed, but beneath it
all she sensed his whole body was wired with a need to move…to hunt.

Vague scents of briny salt air mingled with eucalyptus and
the far-off exhaust fumes of Newcastle’s traffic. The lunch crowd began to pour
into the park to enjoy their hour of basking in the outdoors before they had to
return to their respective work places, some bringing take-out and some home
wrapped sandwiches or fruit.

Alexia wasn’t surprised to see the redheaded woman approach
them, right on time. The reporter stood out with her bright hair and even
brighter crimson jacket and pencil skirt. Like a flag to a bull. Alexia nodded.
“Liz, thank you for coming.”

Liz pulled her coat closer to her thin frame, her face taut.
She didn’t make eye contact with Blake. “I believe you have something for me?”

Alexia nodded, undone the satchel and carefully pulled free the
old journal. “This is worth far more to you than a shape-shifter who refuses to
shift.”

If Shad really had refused to shift shape, he’d also be
unable to talk and give the scientists information no amount of blood samples
could achieve. He was playing it smart, and paying the price for not
cooperating. A price that apparently wasn’t sitting well with the reporter.

Liz pressed her top teeth into her bottom lip, her face
flushing. “How do I know this isn’t some musty, useless old book you’ve gotten
from your father’s extensive library?”

Blake’s muscles bunched, as though he was ready to coil and
pounce. Alexia pressed a thigh against his, willing him to stay calm. “I think
we both know that to lie wouldn’t be in either of our best interests. Like I
said to you on the phone, I hand you the book—minus the two pages with the
names of the shape-shifters and a map of the sacred site where my father found
the bones—and you release Shad. Tonight.”

She didn’t need to remind the reporter about Blake’s hunting
abilities. Didn’t need to reveal to Liz that shape-shifters weren’t allowed to
kill humans.

Liz nodded. “I’ve always trusted my instincts, so I’m
running with them now. You have yourself a deal.”

Neither Blake nor Alexia said a word as Liz took hold of the
journal, hid it beneath her jacket and retreated the way she’d come. Only when
the reporter was out of sight did Blake turn to her, clasp her face in his
hands and kiss her with a tenderness that left her fighting back tears.

His face swam above hers when she said huskily, “I’m sorry
you had to give up your journal…your history.”

He shook his head, his stare warm. “Don’t be sorry. If some
ink on dry parchment can save one of my own, then so be it. Besides, I doubt
Liz will ever find an expert capable of deciphering the journal’s writing.”

Alexia managed a smile. “I only hope she honors her promise
to let Shad go.”

“My instincts tell me she’s in over her head and will do as
she said and release him.” A growl rumbled in his throat. “Especially after the
warning I gave her the other night at Club Shrine.”

Alexia nodded at the memory. “She’ll do anything to protect
her own skin.” Just as Alexia would spend the rest of her life protecting Blake
and his
Illawatti
tribe.

She smiled up at the man she loved with all her heart and
stretched to brush her mouth against his.

“As long as we’re together, things will work out. I’m
certain of it.”