Prowl the Night (19 page)

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Authors: Crystal Jordan

BOOK: Prowl the Night
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Rafe had already gotten the impression of the savvy politico when he'd been in Antonio's office with her, but he was too fascinated not to try to uncover more. He knew already that she was a passionate lover and a stubborn female when she believed in something. She'd refused to even speak to him about why she didn't want to be mated since that first conversation—a fact that made the journalist in him chafe. The bullheaded fortitude to see an idea through would serve her well as a Pride heir and someday-leader, but wouldn't be as desirable in a mate. Relationships required people to bend, to change. Was her uncompromising outlook strictly related to marriage or did it spill into all areas of her life?
This was his chance to find out.
He greeted a few of the Pride members, moving through the crowd with the ease of someone who spent his life talking to strangers. He'd found that no matter what country he was in, no matter if the people were rich or poor, educated or not, they were still just people with an interesting story to tell. Keeping that in mind had always made it a little easier to deal with Panthers who outranked him by a mile.
Eventually, he worked his way into the same group as Teresa. He fought a chuckle when he found the Australian ambassador had apparently had one too many servings of scotch. She slurred her words a little and gestured grandly with her glass. He met Teresa's gaze and winked, which made her lips twitch as she struggled with her own laughter.
“So, when're you going to come Down Under again, Santiago?” The Australian hiccupped quietly and squinted her eyes as if concentrating. “Loved the little things you wrote the last time you were there.”
Tomas, the Brazilian Pride heir, coughed into his fist. “Yes, I . . . quite liked the
little things
you wrote about your last South American expedition. Machu Picchu, wasn't it?”
“It was.” Rafe smiled, noting how often the other man's gaze strayed to his wife, Ciri. It wouldn't surprise him if the two disappeared soon. The pheromones were thick enough to cut with a knife. He'd heard the couple had had some issues lately, made worse by her attack from an outcast. It seemed those problems had been cleared up. He was glad for them—he didn't know Ciri well, but he'd met Tomas a few times and liked him. “Ben was with me on that trip as my photographer. He got some great shots.”
“Ciri says Ben's work is amazing.” Tomas dragged his gaze away from his wife and gave an unashamed grin when he noticed he'd been caught staring at her. “I'm afraid I leave knowing anything about art to her, but she has excellent taste, so I'm sure she's right.”
“I'm right, am I? Can I have that in writing?” Ciri slipped in beside her mate, and he wrapped an arm around her waist and bent to brush her lips in a quick kiss. The smile she gave him was so intimate, Rafe felt he was intruding.
He looked to the Australian emissary. “I'm glad you enjoyed my stories, ma'am. I'm not sure when I'll get down there again, but I'd love to go back. You have a wonderful country.”
“We do.” She nodded, and he thought it was supposed to be a crisp movement, but with her silver hair up in a topknot, it ended up looking something like one of those wobbly headed dolls. She focused on Teresa. “How rude of me. I forgot to ask how your brother is. I haven't seen him since—”
Her eyes widened as she realized what had come out of her mouth. Teresa stiffened beside him, and he set a supportive hand on her back. She lifted her chin. “He's as well as can be expected. Thank you for inquiring.”
The older woman was saved from responding when a child's piping voice cut through the low burble of the gathered adults.
“Are you
really
a non-shifter?”
Rafe jerked around and watched Ben freeze outside the doorway. He was in jeans and a T-shirt, a cup of coffee in one hand. Since he avoided Panther gatherings like the plague, Rafe guessed he'd been passing by on his way from the kitchen to the main staircase.
“Marisol!” Ciri voiced the child's name as an admonishment. She gave Rafe an apologetic glance. “Tomas's niece. She's only eight.”
She was small for her age, a tiny fairy with a carrying voice. She looked confused as she stood there in the doorway. “What?”
A flush swept up Ben's face as he realized every person in the room was now focused on the tableau with the non-shifter. His flesh mottled red, but his gaze was steady when he met the child's eyes. “Yes, I'm a non-shifter.”
Her brows scrunched. “My
avô
says you're a curse on our people and you shouldn't be allowed to stay in a Pride.”
Rafe's fists balled at his sides and it was all he could do not to walk over and punch the South American Pride leader in the face. This was the kind of bullshit that had left Ben a homeless, starving
child
. Teresa's hand curled around his forearm, and he wasn't sure if she meant the gesture as reassurance or a way to hold him back, but it snapped him back to logic. He was so angry, he was shaking, and he latched on to her hand and squeezed.
Ben's shoulders straightened, but he didn't back down from Marisol's comment. “It's fortunate for me that your
avô
doesn't make decisions for this Pride. Antonio Cruz believes there's more a Panther can contribute to a Pride than the ability to shift and breed. There are too few of us in the world to turn anyone out in the cold.”
Too bad the Pride he'd grown up in hadn't felt the same. Sickness curdled in Rafe's gut. He took a step forward to go to Ben, to give him a show of support, but Ben met his gaze briefly and shook his head, telling him to stay where he was.
Teresa squeezed his fingers and breathed in his ear, “You'll hurt his pride if you don't let him stand on his own two feet now.”
“I know. Damn it.” So he stayed and let Ben suffer alone, his chest tight with too many emotions.
The little girl tilted her head in thought, biting her lower lip. After a long moment, she nodded decisively. “I think you're right. Families should be together, and Panthers are all family.”
A slight, bitter smile curled Ben's lips. “I wish it were that simple.”
“I understand that adults make things more complicated than they are.” Marisol's face looked far too old and wise for her years. She reached out her hand and tucked it in Ben's much larger one. “I understand that I like you. Don't you like me too?”
The young man looked stunned by the child's open gesture of friendship. Rafe knew there had been very few Panthers who willingly touched Ben after his non-shifter status had become apparent. He'd been treated as though he had leprosy. He swallowed hard, his voice emerging in a rasp. “Yes, I do.”
“Good. We'll be friends, then.” Her smile was brighter than sunshine. “Aunt Ciri said you go all over the world and take pictures.”
“I'm a photographer, yeah.”
“I want to travel, too, but
avô
says because I'm in the leading family that I won't be able to go to other Panther territories.”
“I'm not in the leading family.”
She nodded sagely. “You're lucky, then.”
He snorted. “You're the only person to ever say so.”
“Will you take my picture? I look very pretty in my dress.” She held out the edge of the deep blue skirt. “Aunt Andrea made it just for me.”
“It's a nice dress.” A tentative smile curled his lips at this pint-sized whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm. “I'd be glad to take your photograph.”
“Okay, let's go now!” She started down the hall, towing Ben along in her wake. He flashed Rafe a relieved look before he disappeared from view.
“Is it safe for her to be alone with him?” The Australian ambassador turned to Ciri and Tomas.
A muscle ticked in Rafe's jaw and for the first time in his life, he seriously considered doing damage to a woman. “Ben is a good man, which you would know if your Pride hadn't thrown him out.”
Teresa's grip on his hand became bone-crushing. He snapped his mouth shut and glared down at her. Did she agree with this woman? Did she think non-shifters were cursed and should be discarded like so much trash? Everything in him recoiled at the very thought.
“Australia did nothing that every other Pride hasn't done in the past.” The older woman flushed, her mouth tightening.
“That was the past, and we must look to the future. I think Antonio is giving us an excellent example to follow, both with this peace summit and with his policy of non-shifter acceptance.” Teresa's voice was cool and smooth, but loud enough for every Panther in the room to hear. “This Pride has suffered no ill effects from taking in a non-shifter. No curse troubles this den. And I, for one, believe that destroying others of our kind through feuding or prejudice is counterproductive. We must preserve the Panthers we have, regardless of their ability to shift, and use every resource at our disposal to thrive.”
The Australian emissary snorted. “You're as crazy as your brother if you think one leader can make everyone accept non-shifters. They aren't normal Panthers—they can't give a Pride what it needs most, and that's more Panthers.”
“A non-shifter
is
a Panther, and their financial contributions to a Pride help support Panther children. Even mated Panthers have no
guarantee
of breeding more of our kind—if they don't, does that really make them less worthy?” Teresa shook her head. “It's unfortunate that your bigotry has blinded you to what's truly valuable.”
The older woman's gaze narrowed to dangerous slits, an enraged hiss erupting from her throat. “Your father will hear of how insolently you've spoken to me this evening.”
“I'll be certain to let him know about the disparaging remarks you've made about my brother. Be certain your Pride leader
will
hear of it—from my father. I can assure you he will be most displeased.” Teresa's chin rose, a gesture Rafe was beginning to associate with her. Her gaze swept the room. “If you'll all excuse me.”
He kept her hand in his, squeezing tight as they both strode from the room. A few people noted his gesture, but there were more important things to contend with. Like his mate. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, her gaze glassy with shock. She looked around as if she had no idea where to go now. He urged her up the steps, gently leading her down the corridor to his room. Tonight, he wanted her in his space, not some guest suite.
“Thank you for defending Ben.” He drew her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
Teresa shook herself out of her stupor and met his gaze. “He'll be all right. Marisol seems like the kind of kid that could make anyone laugh.”
A growl was the best he could manage while he pulled her over to sit on his couch. It was beat-up and comfortable, like everything else in the large room. “He's been through too much already.”
She squeezed his fingers, kicking off her heels to curl her feet underneath her. “He seems more than capable of fighting his own battles. You can't save him from what he is.”
He grunted. “He shouldn't need saving.”
“I agree with you.” She sighed, brought his hand to her mouth, and kissed his palm.
It was in that moment that he realized
why
she was his mate. He could handle the stubborn streak as long as their fundamental beliefs were the same, and her actions today had told him more clearly than anything else could that she was the kind of woman he could respect.
Her self-deprecating grin crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Though I'm afraid my lecturing the Australians about persecuting one of their Pride members will just make me look hypocritical considering what happened to Isabel.”
He pulled his knee up and propped his elbow on it. “No one here holds you responsible for what Enrique did to Isabel.”
The smile disappeared, and something dark and painful flashed in her gaze. “They have every right to do so if they want to.”
“Why? You didn't do it.” He tightened his grip on her fingers when she tried to pull away. “Even by our own culture, the Pride leader is held responsible for the actions of his people. Other members are not.”
Her throat worked, and she swallowed hard. “I played as much a part in what happened as my father did.”
“I can't believe that.” He shook his head at her. No way. A woman who valued people's lives so much wouldn't have let Isabel be mauled. It just didn't fit with what he knew of Teresa's character so far.
“You should believe.” Her mouth firmed, and that horrible pain flickered in her eyes again before she masked it. “I'm not perfect, Rafe. I've done things you wouldn't approve of, things that would make you think badly of me.”
“I'm sure I've done the same. No one is perfect, least of all me. But you can tell me anything, and I promise not to judge.”
She glanced away, saying nothing more, and he felt a frustration he was becoming familiar with. It was one step forward, two steps back with her. “Okay, time to call Father. I'm afraid jumping into the fray tonight means I have to explain my actions to him. No talking me out of it this time.”

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