Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) (17 page)

Anya tossed the shoe from hand to hand, still naked, still tempting him, and apparently, still oblivious to the effect she had on him. "You know, when I met you, I had this vision of you at high tea, nibbling scones with the Queen of England. Have you ever had high tea with her?"

He laughed at her question, and pulled his tee shirt over his head. "No, I can't say that I have."

"Do you ever wear these clothes?"

He tugged his tee shirt down to his waist. "I do."

She tossed the shoe at him. He caught it instinctively. "When?" she asked.

"For work."

"And pleasure? Do you have nights where you put on one of the tuxedoes, go out for a lovely dinner, and then enjoy the opera? Just because it's a relaxing, lovely way to spend an evening, and not because you need to kill one of the orchestra members in the pit?"

He raised his brows. "You're awfully demanding, aren't you? You do realize that I'm a loner, right? That I don't like to bond and tell secrets?"

She set her hands on her hips. "Slade."

He grinned and walked over to her, sliding his hands over hers and pulling her against him. "You do also realize that it's impossible for me to concentrate while you're standing there naked, don't you?" He slid his hand in her hair and kissed her, simply because he wanted to, and he could.

Her mouth tasted like heaven and home, firing up his need for her instantly. With a low growl, he pulled her against him, deepening the kiss. It was impossible for him to resist her. He'd never been owned by the primal male instincts that seemed to cause most men to make asinine choices, but Anya got under his skin, shredding the self-control that had defined him his entire life.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, kissing him back. Swearing, he grabbed her hips and lifted her, need pulsing through him as he locked her legs around his waist. He backed her against the wall, into his row of tuxes, using his body weight to hold her up as he deepened the kiss.

"Tell me," she whispered between kisses. "Tell me about the real you. Opera?"

He swore as he dragged his pants down with one hand. "I don't want to talk about it." He caught her mouth in another kiss as he pressed his hand between them. She was ready for him, so ready that his quads clenched in anticipation.

"I want to know." She pulled back, bracing her hands on his shoulders while his jacket sleeves fell across her chest, closing in on her.

He palmed her hips. "Ballet," he admitted. "It's such strength and power mixed with grace and beauty that should never work together, and yet it does. I go every chance I get."

Her face lit up, an expression of joy so extraordinary he felt as though she was sunshine pouring into him. "Ballet is beautiful," she agreed, locking her hands behind his back. "Someday, we should go together."

He thought of taking her out to a five-star dinner, seeing her wearing a gown worthy of her, of surprising her with the best champagne that could be bought, of gifting her with all the beauty that he'd never shared with anyone. "I wish." He caught her hips, angling her toward him. "But I can't ever be seen in public with you. Not like that."

She met his gaze, something so sad and understanding in her blue eyes that he felt something shift in his chest. "I wish you so much more than the life you have," she said softly, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He wanted to agree. He wanted to shout how badly he wanted everything in his life to be different, just so he could feel all the time like he felt in that moment—connected, alive, important. He wanted to stand in the rays of beauty emanating from her soul and drink it into him, using it to wash away the life he'd led for so long. He wanted so much that he'd never thought about wanting. "I don't want anything else," he said. "This is good."

She smiled, a smile that said she heard everything he hadn't said. "Liar," she said softly.

"Never." He fisted her hair and dragged her to him, seizing her mouth with his. He didn't want to talk anymore. He didn't want to listen to crap he couldn't afford to listen to. He just wanted to feel the way only she could make him feel.

She didn't fight him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close, kissing him back even more fiercely than he was kissing her, accepting him completely as he was. Warmth poured through him, the kind of burning light that illuminated every dark recess of his soul, tearing aside the darkness and the coldness and giving it life. "Anya." He whispered her name into the kiss as he sheathed himself inside her.

She fit him perfectly, a moment of perfection and stillness, where nothing else mattered. For a long moment, he stayed still, resting his forehead against hers, simply absorbing the moment, the experience of being physically and emotionally connected to her. "You make me feel grounded. I live my life on the edge, never really present, never really existing, but this moment..." He lifted his head to look at her, searching her eyes. "This moment with you feels like the most real experience I've ever had. I feel like I can feel the ground beneath my feet."

Anya smiled, a smile so tender and intimate that he could do nothing other than tighten his grip on her, as if he could hold onto her forever. "That's how you make me feel, too," she said. "Maybe it takes two wraiths to create something real."

"Maybe." He snaked one hand behind her neck, clasping firmly as he kissed her again. As he kissed her, he shifted her hips, using movement from both of them to thrust deeper inside her. She gasped and leaned back, bracing herself against the wall as he drove again.

He sank into her again, and again, until he couldn't think, until he needed more. He dragged her away from the wall, shoving aside his suits as he took her down on the lush carpet he'd spent weeks installing himself. The fibers were like silk, framing her body the way she deserved as he moved over her, sinking into her even more deeply. He felt as though he couldn't get deep enough, close enough, connected enough, no matter how hard he tried, like what he wanted was dancing just out of reach, drifting away from his clasping fingertips.

He shifted, covering her with his body, owning her, claiming her, protecting her, even as he drove deeper and deeper, until his need was wrapped so tightly around him he felt as though his skin would split from the pressure. "Come to me," he whispered between kisses. "I need you. I need you so much."

Anya's fingers tightened in his hair, and she arched her back, shifting her hips to counteract each of his thrusts. She was moving as much as he was, consumed by the intensity of the fire crackling between them. "I'm here, Slade. With you. I'm here—" Her voice caught as the climax swept her up in its vortex.

She clung to him, gasping as the orgasm took her. The moment he felt her muscles contract, her pleasure shattered the last vestiges of his control. He surrendered willingly, turning himself over to Anya and the raw, vulnerable need thundering through him. He didn't fight it. He didn't protect himself. He didn't hold on for survival. He simply let go.

T
he feather
-soft carpet caressed Anya's back as she lay beneath Slade on the floor of his closet. His weight was heavy, his face buried in the crook of her neck. His muscles were slack, utterly relaxed, and his breathing was even. She knew he was awake, ready to go into fight mode in a split second, and yet, his body was completely at peace, as if he'd stopped fighting for the first time in his life.

She smiled softly and let her fingers trail over his muscular back, tracing circles across his skin. Around them were rows and rows of beautiful clothing, the highest quality, designed for a life of elegance and luxury, much like what she'd seen of the rest of his home. There was a gracefulness to the decor, as if it had been woven by whisper-thin glass threads in the moonlight. It was wealthy, but not opulent, and certainly not the streamlined rigor of a man's abode.

"It makes me sad that you have all this beauty, but you can't embrace it."

He pressed a light kiss to the side of her neck. "I'm embracing it right now."

She laughed softly. "I mean in life—"

"My life is in the moment." He pressed another kiss to her neck, so tender that her throat tightened. "And nothing in my life has ever been as beautiful as you. And trust me, I'm breathing in the fullness of this moment."

She let out her breath, trying to keep her composure, but it was difficult. A man like Slade didn't slow down or become soft, and yet that was where he was right now, because of her. She believed in love and emotional connection, but throughout her life, it had been tarnished by a constant fear of all hell raining down on her. That hell had come and it had stolen everything, but somehow, she'd survived. And now, in Slade's house, in his embrace, she felt like she'd finally found the place where she was meant to be, where she could relax and be herself. "I'm a white leopard," she whispered, testing the words, seeing how they felt.

"I know." He nibbled on her collarbone, making chills pop up on her arms.

"No, I mean, I'm sure that I am." She wanted to say it aloud. She'd been hiding it her entire life, afraid to trust anyone, afraid to even acknowledge that it might be true. Slade made her feel safe to say it. "I told you I wasn't sure, but I am."

He lifted his head to look at her. His hair was tousled, giving him a boyish, untamed look that made her heart flip. "Have you shifted?"

"No, but sometimes, I can feel her beneath my skin." She ran her hands through his hair, messing it up even more. She liked the disheveled look for him. It made him more approachable, more vulnerable. "I feel like I need to be more than I am. I want to be stronger, faster, and more...alive. I feel like I'm half of who I'm supposed to be."

He cocked his head, watching her. "You kept it in all this time," he observed.

She nodded. "Of course I did. It was too risky. And now, these people who have Julia..." She shuddered at the thought of the monsters who had her friend, dangerous men who she would soon be hunting at Slade's side. "No one can know, except you." She met his gaze. "It feels good to tell you. Not to hide it. It's been hard."

"I know." He traced his finger along her jaw. "It was surreal to tell you about my brother. Scary as hell, but at the same time..." He shrugged. "It made it seem real, like I almost had him back again."

Anya 's throat tightened. "Slade, I can't ever get my mom back, but you can get your brother. Maybe you shouldn't hide anymore. Maybe you should tell him."

Yearning flashed across his face, but he shook his head. "And if I walked into his house one day and found him dead with a knife in his back because one of my enemies found him? You think that's worth the risk?"

Nausea churned in Anya's stomach as she imagined the scene, all too reminiscent of coming home to find her mom and Marjorie murdered. If she had a sister somewhere who didn't know she was a white leopard, would she bring this world to her doorstep? She didn't need to think about it. She wouldn't, no matter how much she wanted to. "No," she said, unable to keep the tears from her voice. "It's not. I'm sorry for that."

"I'm not." He tugged lightly on her hair. "It's an incredible feeling to know that my own brother is living a good life, that someone in my family escaped the hell of our lives and has a chance to exist in a world where this shit doesn't happen."

"Is there such a world? Really?"

His mouth twisted up in an ironic grin. "I hope there is. I wouldn't know it for sure, though." He kissed her again, then slid his hand down her leg toward her foot. He wrapped his fingers around her ankle and drew her leg up, sliding off her just enough to make room for her foot. "I want to see the tattoo."

She stiffened, her heart speeding up. "I've never let anyone see it."

"You've also never told anyone about it before. Lots of firsts today." He angled her foot so he could see the bottom of it.

She watched his face as he studied it carefully. She'd memorized every curve and every line of the rune, and she'd even made a habit of sketching it with permanent marker on other parts of her body, just for backup, especially on the days when she'd felt especially restless.

"Is there one on the other foot, too?"

"Yes."

He rolled off her and clasped her other foot, drawing it up so he could compare them. She felt vulnerable and exposed, and not because she was naked with her feet in his hands. It was because those tattoos were her dark secret, the ones that told who she really was.

Slade traced his fingers over the marks, following the lines. As he traced them, her skin tingled, as if miniature needles were being jabbed into her foot. Suddenly nervous, she propped herself up on her elbows, tensing her legs to pull them free. "What are you doing? You aren't taking them off, are you?"

"No. I'm testing them." His face was tense, his jaw clenched.

Apprehension rippled through her. "For what?"

For a long moment, he said nothing, continuing his inspection of her feet.

"Slade. You're scaring me. What is it?" She wanted to get up, put clothes on, shroud her feet in heavy boots. "Let me go." She tugged on her legs, but his fingers tightened around her ankles.

Finally, he released her feet. "Let me show you something. Sit cross-legged."

She scrambled up and sat beside him. He took her foot and brought it toward her. "See this?" He pointed to the marks on her heel.

She leaned forward, resting her shoulder against his so she could see the bottom of her foot. "The blue lines? Yes." She frowned at him. "You recognize them, don't you?" She'd never searched for them online or anywhere else, afraid that her search would trigger some sort of sensor somewhere and allow them to find her. She'd just had to trust her mother on what they were. In fact, she'd never done any research on white leopards at all, afraid that her research would trigger safeguards that would alert people that she was looking.

"Yeah." He rubbed his finger over her heel. "This is a rune to keep a shifter from shifting."

She nodded. "That's what my mom said."

"And this one?" He rubbed his thumb over the ball of her foot, where another set of lines was tattooed into the skin. "Do you know what this is for?"

Fear rippled through her at his tone. "Not to keep me from shifting?"

"No." He rubbed his thumb over it. "It's a fertility rune."

She blinked. "Fertility? You mean to get me pregnant?"

He raised his brows. "That's generally what fertility means."

"But...why? Why would she put that on me?" Sudden fear rippled through her as she recalled the few times she'd been with a man in her life, before Slade. She'd used birth control, but how close had she come? "Wouldn't she want me to not have children that could be in danger?"

He rubbed his thumb over the fertility rune, and the same feelings of pins and needles rippled through her. "White leopards are very rare."

"Yes, so?"

He looked at her. "Survival is an instinct that is impossible to defeat. She wanted more leopards, Anya. She wanted you to keep the species alive."

"Oh. God." She pulled her foot free of his hand, suddenly, horribly aware that they'd just had unprotected sex twice. "For what? Another child who has to grow up like I did? Why would she do that? I mean—"

Slade caught her wrist just as she was starting to stand up. "Stay."

"We just had sex. Twice! With no birth control! Do you realize that?"

A small smile curved the corner of his mouth. "I am actually aware of that, thanks. Sit."

"I can't. What if..." Nausea churned in her belly and she sank down next to Slade. "What if I got pregnant? What if I had to keep a child safe? What if something happened to her?" She thought of Julia, and she swayed as dizziness took her.

"Hey." Slade grasped her shoulders firmly. "You do realize I'm the Black Swan, right? No one gets to me. No child of mine would ever be in danger."

"Your answer to a child in danger was to abandon him! Is that what you'd want me to do? Stick my daughter in some church and pray that she never actually shifted and got caught?"

Slade's face went cold, ice cold. "My brother is not in danger of shifting. The only danger that would come to him is through me. A child of yours would be different—"

"Why?" She lunged to her feet. "Your mom was a white leopard. What's the difference? Why can't your brother be a shifter?"

He met her gaze. "One of the reasons white leopards are so rare is because only their first offspring carries the white leopard gene. Never two in a family."

She stared at him as his words sank in. Damn. There was so little she knew about her kind. "Is your brother younger than you?"

"Yes."

Foreboding began to settle in her. "And your sister? The one who died? Older or younger than you?"

Slade met her gaze. "Younger."

Her knees seemed to give out as she fell to her knees in shock. "You're the oldest?"

"I am."

"But you're..." She searched his face. "You're not a white leopard."

He raised his brows. "Meow."

She blinked. "Meow?"

"Should I purr instead?"

"'Should I
purr
?' That's your answer when I asked if you're a white leopard? What kind of answer is that?"

"Flippant and elusive from a guy who doesn't like to talk about it?"

"Oh, God." Her hands started shaking. "I don't understand. How can you be one? How does no one know?" She had a thousand questions for him, so many that she'd been unable to ask for her whole life. "You're a white leopard? But—"

"I control people's minds. I can affect what they perceive. Most people wouldn't recognize me as one, but there are a few who could. I make sure they don't." He raised his brows. "You would have known if I hadn't interfered."

"Me? But, how—" Heat suddenly flooded her mind, the kind of dry, asphyxiating heat of a desert. It seemed to melt the edges of her brain, turning it into a bubbling, simmering cauldron. She winced, holding her hands to her head. "What are you doing?"

"Taking down my shields."

Suddenly, the claustrophobic heat vanished, and her mind felt cool and clear, like an untouched mountain stream. Information cascaded through her mind, thousands of data points that raced through her, turning on sensors in every part of her. She was filled with the sudden hugeness of Slade's aura, a fierce, dangerous predator...a cat...a white leopard.

She knew it instantly. Her own cat roared to life, clawing to get free, to respond to the sheer influx of feline power flooding from Slade. His power rushed over her, almost overwhelming her, so strong she couldn't breathe. "How did you hide that?"

"I'm an assassin." He spoke as if that answered everything, which, in a way, it did. To be an assassin, he had to be an absolute shadow, exercising ironclad control over himself and his environment in order to survive and succeed. He would allow no weakness, including being seen for who he was. "I figured it out when I was a kid. I heard so many stories from my mom about being hunted. I had nightmares about being caught. I was terrified all the time, until I figured out how to hide it. If no one knew I was a cat, no one would hunt me for it." His voice was calm, but he was watching her closely. "I rarely shift. I don't need to do it, so I don't."

He was a
white leopard.
He spoke freely about it, the part of her that she'd had to hide her entire life. "Can I... can I touch you?"

He laughed softly, then clasped her wrist. "Babe, we've already crossed that line. You can touch me anytime you want." He pressed her hand to his chest. "Can you feel him?"

She dug her fingertips into his velvet-smooth skin. The hair on his chest was silky soft, softer than it should be, softer than she'd noticed before. She slid her hand over his shoulder and down his arm, following the curves on his muscles. This time, she could feel the sinewy strength, the elongated grace, the untapped power of his body. "No wonder you move so fast," she said. "So graceful."

"To be fair," he said, "I'm more than your average white leopard. My speed is an additional talent, as is my psychic ability. I got those from my dad's side. His family has some interesting genes, which is why mom's leopard responded to him." His eyes glittered with sudden feral interest. "A leopard needs a mate that will strengthen their bloodlines. They accept no less. They're dominant predators at the top of the food chain, and they have no tolerance for anything less in a mate."

His words made chills ripple down her spine, reverberating through her as if he'd reached inside her and claimed her with his words.

Slade leaned closer and slid his hand along her jaw. "My leopard wants yours," he whispered, his voice rough and ragged. "Can you feel it?"

Desire pulsed low in her belly, desire mixed with a carnal need. She swallowed. "Don't." She pushed him away and stood up, pacing across the closet.

He rose to his feet with that same innate grace she'd noticed in him the first time they'd met, as if he were part angel and part cat. "You've been hiding your whole life, Anya. It's time to stop." He strode across the closet toward her, his muscles rippling beneath his skin. He'd always been well-built, but now, he seemed more lethal, and more powerful, as if his skin was sliding across his muscles with wild grace.