Predator's Refuge (Gemini Island Shifters, Book 3) Page 6

  As the boys saw her progress, they clearly grew desperate to prove themselves. Hurriedly, they all tore off their clothes and dropped to the ground, shifting into their animal selves. As Marci eyed the slim girl, being followed by a pack of snarling predators, she grew tense.

  Anton leaned into her and his scent reached inside her, teasing. “This is where she loses the race. Even if she shifts, a hare will never outrun those angry beasts.”

  Marci didn’t say a word; she just continued to silently cheer on the girl. As one of the wolves stumbled on a large rock, he knocked against the bear boy and they both careened to the ground in a tumble. As they rolled, they inadvertently took down the coyote with them.

  The hare girl just kept her eyes ahead and ran on human legs through the trees.

  The remaining wolves chased her. As one of them lunged at her, meaning to scare her, his legs got tangled up with those of the other wolf boy. They, too, fell down, stunned.

  “Yes,” Marci whispered, poking Anton in the ribs with her elbow.

  “Watch it, lynx,” he teased. “The race isn’t over.”

  The coyote disentangled himself from his group of beasts and got back up, swiftly gaining on the girl. Marci jumped up and down, shouting and waving, “Girl power!”

  April smiled through ragged breaths. Just as the coyote pounced, she pulled ahead and tumbled across the finish line into Anton’s arms. Marci blew her whistle, signaling the end of the race. The boy shifters all crossed the finish line, remaining in their panting animal forms until their parents could bring them their clothes.

  Marci giggled, elated, as April’s parents rushed over and hugged her. Killian brought over medals for first, second, and third places and gathered together the contestants.

  Feeling more smug than she should, Marci turned to a scowling Anton. Unable to help herself, she did a little victory dance, wiggling her bottom. “Looks like slow and steady really does win the race. Those boys were so full of testosterone that they forgot to be careful. So much for power and might.”

  She was about to go congratulate the girl when Anton grasped her arm and pulled her behind a large tree. Sheltered by the thick trunk, he drew her into a tight embrace. His massive arms encircled her and held her close to his body. Flush against his hard plane of a body, she couldn’t help but be aware of the throbbing length pressing into her belly. He dug his hands into her hair, messing up her tight ponytail and gently pulled her head back so her neck was exposed to him. He leaned in and whispered against her ear. “Be careful how you play, cicuskám. You don’t wish to toy with a man like me.” He ground his hips against her, and his cock seared her through her clothes, like the touch of a hot poker. “And as you can see, power and might are very good for some things.”

  He held her for a moment, and then released her abruptly, pushing himself away. Running a hand over his open mouth, he turned and stalked over to congratulate the competitors. His behavior seemed to shock him as much as it did her.

  And just like that, Marci’s self-control evaporated. As her lynx rejoiced at the close contact with the hot tiger man, Marci wobbled on her feet and her vision clouded. Her womb contracted and moisture gathered along her seam. Shivers flew up and down her arms, even under her windbreaker, making her whole body feel strangely cold and hot at the same time.

  She knew she should say something nice to the teens, but couldn’t string coherent words together. She couldn’t even remember her name. Instead, she just watched, helpless, as Anton shook April’s hand and then launched a heated look in her direction.

  Clutching her whistle and swallowing her lust, she teetered back to her cabin. Once she was out of his piercing sight, she felt capable of breathing again … or did she seem to breathe better in his presence? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was she didn’t like it.

  Determined to forget the pesky tiger and her shameful lynx, she made her way to her cabin. Once there, she slammed and bolted the door. She turned on her laptop and sat down. She spent the next few hours glaring at her work, checking and rechecking the reservations for the next few months.

  When that no longer distracted her, she fashioned an Anton voodoo doll out of paper, another of her lynx, and stomped on them both.

  Chapter 4

  That night, after devouring two boxes of Maltesers and a couple of lime coolers, Marci couldn’t sleep. Even still, she knew the rumbling in her gut had nothing to do with scarfing too much alcohol and chocolaty goodness.

  Her poor lynx prowled each corner of her insides, searching for the predator it wanted so badly. At every turn, it offered up its distinctive cry of hunger and loneliness.

  She’d been denying the animal what it really needed: a hearty fuck with a gorgeous man. And there was one particular specimen in mind.

  Anton.

  For the first time, she realized her desire had a name, and it was his.

  She couldn’t. It was so unprofessional and he was so … so Anton. What on earth would he do if she threw herself at him? He’d undoubtedly be horrified.

  But why should he be? Killian had been happy to sleep with her. Sure, Anton might be an aristocrat in his country, but that didn’t mean she had nothing to offer. Maybe she’d never toured the world or worked outside the resort, and she might be more at home at a country fair than at a fashion show, but she wasn’t just a happy hick. His parents might be shifter royalty, but she was the daughter to Robert and Paula Lennox, lynx shifters and owners of the general store in town. She’d won Employee of the Month fourteen times at the Ursa Lodge and remembered every guest there by name.

  She had depth and soul and good intentions.

  Wandering over to her dresser, she turned on the record player she’d had since she was a kid. It was her dad’s old record player, the one he’d insisted on giving her because “young people today don’t appreciate vinyl.”

  Prying her favorite Rosemary Clooney album from its frayed cover, she placed it on the turntable, positioned the needle, and listened to the strains of You Started Something. As the big band took over from Rosemary’s smooth voice, Marci swayed a little in time to the music. Without even meaning to, she pictured Anton’s enigmatic face.

  The man oozed intrigue. The most dangerous thing she’d ever done was learn to hunt hares with her father. Anton’s family had a court and a castle, and intrigue was probably the order of the day there. Her folks had a modest backsplit on the mainland, and the only time things got exciting there was when her mother had one too many gimlets. On those hallowed occasions, someone was bound to break out the dominoes.

  Wild times, indeed.

  Still, she was a lynx woman and she had her pride. And even though she’d been a late bloomer, there was strength and a certain grace inside her. Anton might think her silly, but he could damn well think what he wanted. She didn’t need his good opinion.

  And yet she thought she’d glimpsed something sort of like desire in his eyes at the race today. She’d certainly felt his thick rod of need against her stomach.

  Oh, who was she kidding? His erection had probably just been there due to the adrenaline rush of watching the kids race. No, Anton Gaspar was definitely off-limits. She wouldn’t debase herself in front of him.

  But she needed to silence her lynx, and her mental efforts weren’t working.

  The animal uttered a strangled cry, pushing against her insides with insistence. Feed me, it seemed to say. Give me some hunky man flesh to sink my teeth into. His!

  No! Not him. I swear to God, lynx, I will send you to the farm if you don’t behave.

  Desperate, she thought of Killian and wondered if her friend might still be up for soothing her itches with his jaguar paws. Yes, she’d go to Killian. He’d help her end this insanity. If she allowed herself to let go, as Charlotte suggested, she might even enjoy it.

  So why did it feel so wrong, almost sacrilegious, even considering it?

  With a careful hand, she lifted the needle from Rosemary’s album and turned off her record
player. Letting out a cry of exasperation that echoed her lynx’s, Marci dashed out of her cabin and into the moonlit woods. Running at night had always provided her with a sense of strange peace, and she craved it now. She hid behind a cluster of trees and stripped out of her clothes. As she removed the last item, her panties, her pussy throbbed against the scrape of the soft fabric.

  “Oh,” she murmured. As she dropped the panties to the ground, she gave in to temptation and touched her swollen labia. They were always swollen nowadays, pink and raw, aching for the touch of an experienced man. One who could bring her to satiation point with a mere brush of his fingers or flick of his tongue.

  Stifling a cry, she dropped to her knees and sucked in a deep breath. As she allowed her body to undergo its unusual transformation, she shivered as her pores flared and burst with silver-brown fur. She spread her fingers on the ground, and watched through luminescent eyes as the digits expanded into large, fluffy paws. Her cheeks tingled as tiny hairs sprouted on her face and turned into long whiskers, and her ears quivered and lengthened into the unique tufted ears of the Canada lynx. Her ass shook and her stumpy tail appeared.

  Inhaling the scents of the forest, Marci’s lynx dashed between the trees and headed for Killian’s cabin.

  It didn’t take long before she caught another scent on the wind, one that was already ingrained in her brain.

  His. Anton’s.

  Changing direction, she paced on velvet, padded feet toward Cabin 47, even as her human mind sought to carry her back toward Killian. In minutes, she was at Anton’s open window. With the stealth inherent to her species, Marci shifted back and tiptoed toward his window. With infinite slowness, she peered in.

  Sweet Jesus. He just had to be naked again.

  Of course, shifters loved being nude. The minute she got into the privacy of her own cabin she shed her clothes too.

  Anton was asleep, his large body draped across his couch. The TV was on and she heard the dignified tones of a BBC reporter. A silent laugh made her chest rumble. News reports usually caused her to drop off as well.

  Within seconds, she heard another noise, one that came from Anton. As he fidgeted in his sleep, kicking at the throw pillows at the end of the couch, he moaned. His hands clenched at his sides, as if preparing for a confrontation. Back and forth he rolled on the sofa, making it creak under his weight. His brow was furrowed and his mouth drawn into a tight line. At one point, he stopped and swatted his face, as if trying to erase the vexation haunting him. As he lay there, his cock bounced to life and he grunted in what appeared to be terrible frustration.

  “Father, no,” he cried.

  Marci tried to look away and couldn’t. And not simply because he was such a spectacular sight to see, but because his impassioned cry broke her heart. What on earth was he dreaming about, and why did he sound scared of his own father?

  After a couple of moments, a groan escaped him and he sat up with a start, throwing his legs over the side of the couch. He stared, disoriented, at the floor, and then covered his face with his hands. Even though his face was covered, she could see the lines of stress on his forehead under his fingers.

  His torn expression made her want to sit with him, to rub his back and comfort him.

  After a few moments, he let his hands fall, and they came together, white-knuckled. He spread his legs, giving her a wicked view of his substantial erection, and he closed his eyes once more. At first she thought he might be meditating, but then she realized she was mistaken. His lips moved. He crossed himself. Several times.

  Was he praying?

  The knowledge staggered her. She wasn’t sure she knew anyone who prayed anymore. She hadn’t done it herself since she was a gangly child, who used to bargain with God every night from her bed, begging the Almighty to make her a normal girl. One who wouldn’t one day become some sort of creature feature.

  As much as she wanted to try to read his lips, she couldn’t drag her gaze away from his body. So long and powerful of frame. Even his toes and wrists and knees, body parts she wouldn’t normally lust after, struck her as particularly seductive. She continued to watch as he rested his hands upward on his knees in supplication. For a moment, he sat completely still.

  And then, as his face crumpled a little, he stretched out his legs and sighed. With a shaking hand, he reached for his cock, and stroked it slowly from base to tip.

  Clearly, prayer time was over.

  He let out a grunt and began to gently pump, his hand moving in deliberate circular motions. He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the cushion, and swore in what had to be the most vulgar of Hungarian curses, based on their guttural vehemence.

  Deep inside her, the naughty lynx presented its ass to him, shaking it in his direction like the wanton hussy it was.

  Unable to help herself, Marci slid her fingers down to her pussy and burrowed deep between her folds, her gaze always on him and the intoxicating movements at his crotch. Her eyelids fluttered and she teased her labia, gently pulling them and smoothing her juices over her puffy clit. As her heart hammered in her chest and echoed in her head, she tapped the swollen button, on the verge of shredding into ribbons at Anton’s window.

  This is so wrong!

  And yet, she needed it. She needed to finally give in to the wild sense of abandon rocking the periphery of her world. She wanted to surrender to the maenad-like debauchery unfurling in her core. And she needed to do it in Anton Gaspar’s presence, even if he didn’t know she was there.

  A sudden movement inside his room caught her attention. She froze. He opened his eyes and looked at the window, his green gaze focused on her. His jaw fell open. For a moment, neither of them did or said a thing. His hand rested on his cock, motionless, just as hers was on her pussy. And then he sat up.

  “Marci.”

  Oh, fuck. He would have caught her scent. How could he not? Her moisture was all over her hand. What was she thinking?

  “No,” she cried softly. This wasn’t what she wanted. How had she allowed herself to do this? She could be fired for this, never mind arrested.

  Bye-bye assistant manager.

  Anton rose to his feet and stepped toward the window. “Don’t go.”

  As hot tears threatened the corners of her eyes, Marci shifted back into her cursed lynx and escaped into the woods.

  To make her mortification complete, he followed with a swiftness that astounded her, shifting as soon as he was out the door. His tiger bounded through the trees like orange lightning. As much as she increased her speed, she was no match for him. Her lynx might be smaller and agile, but she knew full well tigers were built for stealth and speed. Hoping to lose him, she darted between a couple of thick oaks, veering off into another part of the forest.

  Despite her unexpected turn, Anton remained right behind her.

  That was when the smell hit her. Fresh blood.

  She stopped moving and Anton caught up. Immediately, his tiger ears went back and his nostrils flared. He smelled it too. He turned to her and a low growl of warning issued from his throat.

  Together, they crept toward a clearing from which the scent seemed to emanate. As they drew nearer, Anton nudged her aside with his nose so he could peer into the clearing first. Within seconds, he bounded into the clearing like a firefighter headed for a blaze. Marci watched as he shifted, and took note of his pale face. She followed him the last few steps into the clearing.

  April, the hare girl who’d won the race, lay in a pool of her own blood.

  Horrified, Marci shifted and ran to join Anton as he crouched by the girl’s head. She stifled a cry as she glimpsed the terrible bite marks near the girl’s carotid artery. Thank God, she was still breathing. As tears pooled in her eyes, she whispered, “Who could do this?”

  Anton picked up April’s limp body and looked at Marci, his face ripped apart by sympathy and some sort of deep-seated horror. “We’ll find out. Let’s get her back to my cabin and take care of her wounds. She’ll be okay with so
me attention. Luckily we got here before she bled out.” He cocked his head at her. “I’ll call the police once we’re inside.”

  She straightened, as much as she wanted to buckle. A young girl had been attacked on the grounds of the Ursa Lodge, while she was in charge. Swallowing bile, she fought the urge to vomit. She’d never stop feeling sick over this. However, her need to hurl did no good to April. The girl needed her to be strong now. “No. I’ll call them. It’s my job. Let’s go.”

  And without another thought for her need to mate, or their nudity, she ran with Anton back to his cabin. They quickly tended to the girl’s wounds, covering them in gauze. Anton rifled quickly through his drawers and pulled out clothes for both of them. Once dressed in gym clothes that were way too big for her, Marci called the security office for help. She then put on her best assistant manager face and called April’s parents to let them know of the savage attack.

  * * * *

  The next day, eyes bleary and still biting back the urge to throw up chunks, Marci did her best to man the front desk without looking like a crazy person. Charlotte brought her a third coffee before her cleaning rounds, and Marci practically gulped the hot liquid, scalding her tongue. She didn’t mind, hoping it would keep her mind off other things.

  Like the memory of a girl lying in a thickening puddle of blood.

  The only blessing was that April had somehow pulled through in the early morning. Aside from her parents, Marci and Anton had both been there. So had a couple of shape-shifter officers from the mainland police force.

  April hadn’t recalled much about the attack. She’d gone for a run late at night, still high from her race win and wanting to stretch her legs. As she’d gotten deeper into the forest, she’d had the sensation of being followed, but like so many victims, shrugged it off, thinking she was paranoid.