Prowl the Night (24 page)

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Authors: Crystal Jordan

BOOK: Prowl the Night
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Teresa nodded and left, something loosening in her. In the end, she hadn't told the whole truth. It could have hurt her Pride if she'd admitted how negligent they'd been by denying Isabel wasn't Enrique's mate, when they'd known he'd already had and lost his true mate. She had to think of what was best for her people, and creating more scandal and upheaval just to assuage her guilt wasn't fair to anyone. So, she'd done what she could to make things right with Isabel, though there was really no making any of it right.
If Rafe had been there, he'd have hugged her and told her she'd done her best. He'd have understood, and God, but she needed that now. Just his understanding of others, whether he agreed with them or not.
She missed him so damn much. She could understand as she never had before exactly why her brother had gone crazy. More than ever, she feared she might share his fate. Without even mating with Rafe, she felt the fogging grief of his absence. The pain would have been so much easier to bear if she knew
where
he'd gone. But she had no right to know—she understood that; she just hated it.
And she hated herself most of all for never having the guts to tell Rafe she loved him. Even if she couldn't have him, he should at least know that he owned her very soul.
She owed him that much. If only she knew where to find him—she'd tell him.
7
H
e dreamed of her. Just as he had the night before. He knew it was a dream, but there was nothing he could do to stop his mind from playing tricks on him.
This time, she came to him in Panther form, her jet-black fur rippling in the lamplight.
Her movements were fluid, the pure grace of a cat. His hands were propped behind his head, and he lay naked in bed, waiting for her.
She was beautiful, no matter what form she was in. The Panther within him purred at the sight of her. Her golden gaze locked on him, a predator stalking its prey.
He grinned, flicking his fingers to beckon her forward, welcoming the challenge. Stepping up onto the mattress, she continued toward him, her gaze never wavering. She set a paw on his upper thigh, just below his hardened sex, and flexed her muscles to dig her talons into his flesh.
“What exactly are you planning to do with those claws, sweetheart?”
She ran her tongue down a long fang, stepping forward until her front paws were on either side of his hips. Bumping her head against his chin, she purred. He chuckled and stroked her silken fur.
She shifted to human form, her body dissolving into a warm glow of golden magic. When she re-formed, she was naked with her arms curved around his thighs, her body between his legs. Glancing down at his cock, she licked her lips.
He shuddered, groaning when she flicked her tongue out to trace the crown of his dick. Every muscle in his body grew taut as she took him into her mouth. He laced his fingers through her hair, holding her in place. Her lips closed around him, sliding down to take all of him.
The air in his lungs froze at the intense sensation. His grip tightened on her hair, his hips thrusting upward to fill her mouth as she suckled him hard. Sweat broke out on his skin when her fangs grazed his shaft. “
Dios mio,
Teresa!”
Her only answer was to soothe the sting with her tongue. It was all he could do not to lose control, and her hot sucking did nothing to help him in that arena.
“God, I love fucking your mouth.”
She choked, her body beginning to writhe where she lay between his legs. Soon, he'd pull her over him, slide into her sweet pussy, and possess all of her. The thought was arousing enough to have him skating on the very edge. Then she worked her tongue down the underside of his dick, glanced up so she knew he could see that she'd taken all of him, and then purred, sending vibrations down his shaft.
“Teresa!”
Rafe ripped himself out of the dream, her name on his lips. He panted for breath, still hot and hard and shaking like a teenager in the backseat of his dad's car.
He gritted his teeth and grabbed hold of his cock, pumping himself roughly in his fist. It took only a few strokes to explode. His come spilled over his stomach and on the sheets. He shuddered, flopping back against the pillows. “Jesus Christ.”
He wasn't sure if he wanted these erotic dreams to stop, or to never stop. God, he missed her.
A sigh heaved out of his lungs. He needed to get up and get to the conference. He had a panel to sit on today, a reading from one of his books, and a presentation to give on adventure travel. A busy day was good. He'd found that packing every single minute with activity helped to keep him from thinking of Teresa.
Unfortunately, he had no such control over his sleeping hours.
The hollow feeling in his chest expanded, and he had to clench his teeth to keep from howling with the building agony. It throbbed at the base of his skull, an ache he couldn't escape. The Panther within him constantly pushed him to go after his mate and force the issue between them. The insistent, gaping loss tattered any optimism he might have been able to muster.
The longer he was away from his unclaimed mate, the more it hurt. He wasn't sure if this was something that would get worse before it got better, or if it would just always be . . . worse. The only thing he could do was put one foot in front of the other and get on with what had defined his life for so long—his work.
As much as he still loved what he did, it was no longer
everything
to him.
He didn't know what he'd do if Teresa didn't change her mind. He tried not to think about the fact that her flight should arrive this evening. Fernando had given him that information, expectation in his gaze that Rafe wasn't sure he could meet. He would see his mate again soon, and then he'd know one way or another what direction his life was about to go.
His fate was in her hands.
She could smell him.
The ghost of Rafe seemed to linger around her, haunting the halls of her Pride's den. Teresa shook her head and ignored the tricks her senses were playing on her. It was just the loneliness, which she'd brought upon herself.
After she unpacked, showered, and changed into fresh clothes, she found herself walking toward her brother's suite. Sometime during the long flight to Europe, she'd come to the realization that she needed to talk to him, to resolve this horrible guilt that wouldn't stop eating at her soul, this fear that held her back from . . . everything. Some of it had been allayed by apologizing to Isabel, but the rest? She needed to see her brother.
Tapping on his door, she poked her head in. The room was clean and bright, rich silver tapestries covering cream walls. A wide window looked out on the Pride's property and the city beyond. She could see her brother sitting in one of the chairs grouped by the window, his back to her, his dark head bowed. She coughed into her fist to get his attention. “Enrique?”
He seemed to startle when she spoke, as though waking from a dream. Then he smiled and bounded out of his chair. “Teresa!”
He pulled her inside, lifted her off the ground, and twirled her around, much the same as he'd done for most of her childhood. She closed her eyes tight and tried not to cry. He still smelled of Enrique, still felt like her brother.
“Sit and talk to me.” He waved her into a chair opposite his, and she sank into the soft upholstery. He poured them both a cup of coffee. “Hardly anyone stops by anymore. Mother, of course, and a few old friends, but . . .” He shrugged, a bashful grin curving his lips.
She took the cup he held out and sipped the strong, slightly bitter liquid. Just the way she liked it. “I've been away, or I would have come.”
“Have you?” He tilted his head. “Yes . . . I think Mother said something about that.”
“I found my mate. His name is Rafael Santiago.” She said it boldly, baldly, and waited for him to react.
His face paled, his chin jerking to the side as though he'd been slapped. He choked, swallowed hard. “Con—congratulations,
hermana.
”
“I'm miserable.”
His gaze came back to her, and he looked utterly dumbfounded. “But, why? Isn't he good to you? Doesn't he want you?”
“Yes, he's perfect for me.” She laughed, and the sound was bittersweet even to her ears. “And I've pushed him away.”
He looked at her for a long moment, searching her face. “Because of me, because of what I've become. You're scared.”
“I'm terrified, Enrique. Terrified to move forward, terrified of where I am.” Moisture burned at her lids, and she closed her eyes. Two tears streaked down her cheeks and she shook her head. “You should be the one with the mate. You should be the one who's heir. You should be the one who's away on political missions. I stole your life, Enrique.”
“No.” He set his coffee aside, reached out to grab her shoulders, and shook her a bit. “Don't be an idiot. My life was over when I lost Lupe. You aren't me, and she wasn't your Rafael. Your life together will be different.”
“But . . .”
“Stop. Just stop.” He released her and flopped back in his own seat. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Don't throw away what I've given everything for. My life, my sanity. You have the chance to be happy, to do what I wish I could have done.”
“If I mated with him, I could lose him like you lost Lupe.” And go insane, but she didn't say it out loud.
“Would it hurt any less than having lost him by pushing him away now?” His gaze bored into her, refused to let her run from his question.
She swallowed and faced the horrifying truth. “No.”
Spreading his hands expressively, he arched his eyebrows. “Then what are you waiting for?”
Reining in her spinning wits, she tried to focus the conversation on what she'd come here for—absolution. Or resolution. Or something that would give her the excuse she needed to move forward and stop looking back. “Don't you resent me?”
“No. I wish things could have been different for me, but they aren't. Your life isn't my life. You'll be a wonderful Pride leader, and you'll restore the honor I cost our people.” He held up his hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “It's true. You know it is. My crazed behavior cost a great deal.”
She swallowed. “You don't seem insane now.”
“This minute? Yes. Five minutes from now? Perhaps not.” His brows drew together as if perplexed. “I can . . . feel myself going in and out. I know when I'm right and I know when I'm not, but I can't control it. I'm slipping further and further away. The time I lose is more than the time I remember now.” He closed his eyes. “It's to my shame that I'm glad.”
“Shh,
hermano
.” She caught his hand with hers and squeezed, her heart contracting in pain. “Don't speak like that.”
His head rolled on the back of his chair and he opened his eyes to meet hers. His smile was sad. “It's the truth. We pretended for far too long, didn't we? All of us pretended.”
Oh, God. She wanted to sob, wanted to scream and cry for this brother she'd adored her entire life. Her lips shook when she spoke, and her voice quavered. “I love you, Enrique.”
“I know.” He squeezed her fingers tight. “I love you too, but you have to move on with your life. You have to live,
because
I cannot. I'm not strong enough. I should be, but I'm not.”
“Enrique . . .”
He shook his head, and his grief radiated from him. “Do better than I've done, little one. Destiny's done well for you.”
A sob lodged in her throat, threatening to strangle her, and she tried to force it down before it could burst out. “It's not fair, that I should get so much, and you should have so much promised to you, and have it all taken away.”
He laughed, and it had an edge of mania to it. “You think I haven't thought of that? You think I haven't railed against the world, and fate, and destiny about that?” A hysterical giggle spilled from him. “I have. I thought of everything I could have done that might have saved her, saved myself, but it's not to be.” His laughter cut off abruptly, and the silence sent a chill down her spine. He released her fingers and seemed to calm. “I'll be with her again soon, and the less I remember between now and then, the better off I am.”
Soon
. His word made her insides twist. The implication was one she didn't want to accept. She didn't ask how he knew he'd be with Lupe soon. She didn't want that question answered.
“I'm sorry, Enrique.” For perhaps the first time, she didn't feel guilt when she looked at him, just sympathy. Losing a mate was terrifying, horrifying. There was no escaping that, but she couldn't escape that she
had
a mate. Even if she lost Rafe, her life wouldn't be nothing to her. She didn't think his would be nothing to him if she died first. For Enrique, nothing had mattered except Lupe. Not their people, not his duties. He'd gone so far as to try to replace his mate. She could understand the agony of loss, but everything else? No. She couldn't make those same decisions. That wasn't who she was as a person. Did that make her better or stronger than her brother? Maybe. Maybe not. It just made her a different kind of person, and the only thing she could do was make the best of what life had thrown at her.

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