Panthers' Pleasure [Impulse 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (11 page)

Rafe shook his head. “Best not be too obvious. Just let her mingle and ask questions as they occur to her.”

“If she talks to some of the other human mates, they’re probably the best ones to set her straight.”

“Yep, that’s what I reckon, too.” Rafe rose from a prone position to his feet in one lithe movement, no deployment of limbs necessary. “I’m for the shower. We need to be ready to show our mate just how gallant and charming we can be.” He grinned at Vilas. “So in your case, that might take a bit of work.”

Vilas growled, slapping Rafe on the shoulder as they headed for their room. Laughing, Rafe leaned in and gave him a searing kiss.

“Let’s shower together, buddy,” he said. “Then perhaps we’ll get through the evening without raging hard-ons.”

“It’s worth a try, I suppose, but speaking personally, the moment I’m anywhere near Chantal, my cock stands up and takes an avid interest. It doesn’t seem to matter how often you and I screw, it still happens.”

Rafe reached forward and cupped Vilas’s balls. “Yeah, but don’t forget that I love you, too.”

“Jealous, sweetheart?”

“Nope, just reminding you who owns your ass.”

“You’re not worried that she’ll come between us, surely?” Vilas wrapped a strong arm round Rafe’s neck. “It’ll never happen. There’s plenty of room in this relationship for three of us.”

“I love you, Vilas, even though you bug the hell out of me at times.”

“Same goes for me.” He growled. “Especially when you get those damned claws of yours on my sac. Geez, you’ve got me fucking rock hard again.”

“I love you, but I’m already in love with Chantal as well, and it feels absolutely right.”

“I’m
sooo
with you there.” A rattling purr echoed in Vilas’s throat as Rafe increased the pressure he was exerting on his balls. “You have my panther soul, big guy, and she has my human one.”

“That sounds like a fair trade.”

* * * *

“It’s all very well telling me to dress up,” Chantal muttered, “but I’m not exactly spoiled for choice here.” Fresh from the shower, towels wrapped round her sensitized body and wet hair, she opened her closet door and rummaged through the few clothes she’d brought with her. “I came looking for my brother, not equipped with the right kit to go out on dates with predatory felines who seem to think they have some divine right to rule my world.”

Not ready yet to examine her inadequate collection of clothes, Chantal flopped onto her bed and let the towel fall away from her body. She examined her nipples, still unable to account for the way Rafe had scratched at them with his vicious-looking claws and yet hadn’t left a mark. She clutched one heavy mound of flesh and squeezed until the nipple poked between her fingers, frowning as she searched for telltale signs of Rafe’s actions.

Nothing.

The rosy-pink peak was completely unblemished. It was so like it had never happened that Chantal could almost believe that she’d imagined it all.

Except, of course, she hadn’t. Even her imagination wasn’t that vivid. She spread her legs and touched her clit, still tender from the pounding it had received from Rafe’s gorgeous cock. She was sopping-wet again, cream leaking from her vagina as she recalled the way she’d played with the boys—or rather, the way they’d played with her. She might have complained that the orgasm they gave her was inadequate, but that wasn’t strictly true. It was a million times better than anything she’d experienced with Jack, mainly because he’d never given her a proper climax, the selfish bastard. She wouldn’t tell them that, though. They were already quite disgustingly sure of themselves. Their egos didn’t need any additional stroking from her.

Chantal wasn’t sure who she was more angry with—Jack for being so self-centered, or herself for letting him get away with it for the entire two years of their one-sided relationship. Whatever happened to her here in Impulse, whatever decision she reached about her future, she had one thing to thank Rafe and Vilas for. They’d taught her that she didn’t need to settle for second best. Nor would she, not ever again.

She’d been here for less than a day—a day that had turned her life on its head. If anyone had told her that she’d believe it when she was told she was in a town full of feline shape-shifters under virtual siege from other shifters, she’d have asked what mind-altering substances they were on. But she
did
believe it—hell, she’d seen the evidence firsthand—and was rooting for the cats to come through. She’d also enjoyed mind-blowing sex play with two hunky panther-men who seemed to think she was their mate for life. All that and the day wasn’t even over yet. The fact that she wasn’t running off screaming for help, and that she felt right at home here, probably meant she was as crazy as the felines.

“If they want a show, I’ll give them one,” she said aloud, grinning as she made up her mind what she’d wear for them.

Chantal owned just one dress. A flamboyant, emerald-green job that Jack had bought her—about the only gift she’d ever received from him, the tightfisted jerk—because he wanted her to attend some event at his college and make an impression. The dress was made of stretchy fabric, had a high neckline, and finished respectably a few inches above her knee, making a classy statement. Although it didn’t reveal much bare flesh, it was so tight fitting that it left little to the imagination, fitting her like a second skin.

Chantal dried herself off and then pulled the dress over her head without bothering with underwear. Her tits were full but still firm and, standing sideways and examining her reflection critically in the full-length mirror, she had to admit that they looked pretty good beneath the dress. Her nipples pressed against the fabric, and she reckoned that the sight of them would drive the guys ever so slightly wild.

She wondered where this new, reckless Chantal had come from. Going out in public without underwear was something she’d never even have considered before today.

“Must be something in this damned thin air that’s to blame,” she muttered.

Chantal dried her hair, left it to fall where it liked, and applied makeup with a light hand. She slipped her feet into the only shoes she owned that weren’t flat. They had four-inch heels and, teamed with her lack of underwear, made her feel as sexy as she’d privately always longed to be.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said to her reflection.

The guys both looked up when she reappeared in the lounge, smiles on their faces. Their gazes raked her body and those smiles turned into wide grins of approval. Imbued with renewed confidence, she gave them a twirl.

“Very nice!” Vilas said, sighing dramatically. “You’re more like us that you realize, babe. We’re not big on clothes, either.”

“So I see.” She laughed. They were both wearing stylish jeans and vests but, as yet, no shoes. She was willing to bet that, like her, they hadn’t bothered with underwear.

“Come on then, sweetheart,” Rafe said, slipping his feet into canvas shoes and proffering his arm. “Let’s introduce you properly to some of the gang, now that you know what they really are.”

Chantal made her way down the stairs, flanked by Rafe and Vilas. The bar was half-full, and Chantal recognized some of the faces from earlier. People smiled at them, some waved, and she caught a few admiring glances, presumably because of her dress. They headed straight for the restaurant, where Rochelle greeted them. She rubbed her cheek against Rafe’s and Vilas’s and then repeated the gesture with her. It felt incredibly soothing.

“I’ve saved you a booth at the back where you’ll get some privacy,” Rochelle said, her eyes sparkling as she led them to it herself.

“Thanks,” Rafe said, sliding into the leather banquette and helping Chantal in after him. Vilas took up the position on her opposite side, sandwiching her between them, their knees touching beneath the table. “Bring us a bottle of the Pinot Noir Reserva while we look at the menus, please, Rochelle.”

“Right away.”

“You like wine?”

“Sure we do. We’re as human as you are right now.” Rafe smiled at her. “I should have asked you if you like red wine, or at least waited until you decided what to eat. I guess I kinda assumed—”

“That I’d have red meat? Perhaps I will this evening.” She shrugged, feeling inexplicably carefree. “It must be something in the atmosphere that’s gotten me so hungry.”

“Sex always makes me ravenous,” Vilas said, grinning at her.

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Which explains why he never stops eating.”

“Ain’t my fault if you can’t keep your randy paws off me.”

“Asshole!”

Chantal laughed at their easy banter. “Talking of the atmosphere, how come I struggle to breathe outside but am fine in here?”

“We control the airflow in buildings,” Rafe explained. “Nothing magical about that. Just good, old-fashioned air-conditioning adapted to suit.”

“We need visitors to feel comfortable some of the time,” Vilas added.

“Yes, I wondered about that.” Chantal took an appreciative sip of the excellent wine that had just been delivered to the table and paused to order beef stroganoff when Rochelle asked her what she’d like to eat. The guys both ordered double servings of veal chops.

“Good choice,” Rochelle said. “I love our stroganoff, although since I make it myself, I probably shouldn’t say so.”

“I noticed you don’t have many hotels here,” Chantal said. “Given you have such a lovely beach, I thought that was strange.”

“Mortals can’t take the atmosphere for long,” Vilas said. “Which is just the way we like it.”

“So everyone who lives here is either a shifter or mated to one? Isn’t that what you told me earlier?”

“Right,” Rafe said, “but, for the reasons I also explained, numbers are low.”

“Attacks and lack of mates, right?”

“Yep, but that was an observation.” Chantal felt like she was drowning in the glorious depths of Rafe’s vivid blue eyes as he focused them on her face and held her gaze. “I wasn’t trying to put pressure on you.”

“I believe you,” she said softly, her insides melting with desire. She felt light-headed again, but this time it wasn’t from lack of oxygen.

“Tell us more about your life,” Rafe invited as they started on their appetizers.

“There’s not much to tell. We were just a typical family. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we were happy, or at least that’s the way I remember it. Max said that he and I fought all the time.” Chantal felt her euphoria dissipate as she recalled her childhood, before disaster struck and things were never the same again. “I was raised in Pittsburgh, Dad worked in the steel industry, Mom was a homemaker. She believed she was of more value being there for Max and me rather than trying to supplement Dad’s income.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Rafe said, squeezing her hand as though he understood her anguish. He was probably inside her head again.

“No, I think she secretly hankered after a career of her own, but Dad was old-fashioned about that sort of thing.” She took a deep breath and another sip of her wine. “Then Dad got laid off when the steel industry fell into decline. He couldn’t get anything else and resorted to doing any casual jobs that paid in cash. He’d been working all night as security at a club, came home and showered, then drove him and Mom straight to Max’s graduation.”

“It’s okay, babe,” Vilas said, taking her other hand. “Don’t tell us if it upsets you too much to talk about it.”

Rafe placed one hand on her knee and left it there. “We want to know everything there is to know about you, but we don’t want to make you sad.”

“No, I guess I should talk about it. I seldom do.” And they were so easy to talk to, it felt kind of right to let it all out. “I was furious because I had a virus and couldn’t go to see my big brother graduate. I’ve always wondered about that. I ought to have been in that car, you see, when Dad fell asleep at the wheel and wrapped it round a concrete barrier…”

“Hey.” Rafe removed his hand from her knee, slipped his arm around her shoulder, and pulled her against him. “You can’t go through your life feeling guilty for surviving. That’s the last thing your mom and dad would have wanted.”

“That’s what Max always says.” Chantal sniffed. “He’s right, and so are you, but I can’t help the way I feel.”

“Things happen for a reason,” Vilas said. “I find it helps if you think that way.”

She offered him a wan smile. “Perhaps.”

“And ever since then, you and Max have been everything to each other?” Rafe surmised.

“Exactly. That’s why I know he wouldn’t just disappear without telling me where he was going.”

“And that’s how we know the lions have him,” Vilas said, snarling.

“They won’t have killed him?” she asked anxiously.

“No,” Rafe said, “almost certainly not. They won’t hesitate to kill us here in Impulse to get their thieving paws on the place, but lions, despite their reputation, don’t kill without a reason.”

Relief washed through her. “Then you’ll help me find him?”

“Count on it,” Rafe said, rubbing his cheek against hers. “And, just so you know, there’s no obligation on your part.”

“We’ll help because we want to.”

“Helping people is what we do,” Rafe added, “and we’re pretty damned good at it, if I do say so myself.”