Predator's Refuge (19 page)

She blushed in response, never dreaming she was so obvious.

“Look,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Ryland told me Gaspar is from royalty.”

“He did? I thought I was the only one who knew.”

“I think he wanted me to make sure you had support if you needed it. Anton’s not like us. One day, he’ll disappear back into his very different world, Marci, and I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”

He rubbed her hand and she let him, suddenly feeling in need of comfort. Killian was probably right. Anton was a freaking prince. He was titled and rich and everything she was not. In her heart, she suspected their affair was temporary, even though her lynx let out a crazed wail at the thought.

“You don’t know he’ll disappear. But if he does, I’ll deal with it.”
Right. The way one deals with a flying ax coming at your head. With unimaginable pain
.

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Does he treat you right?”

So right
. Just the thought of his cock sliding inside her pussy, stretching her, had her in bits. To say nothing of the havoc he wreaked in her with his smile. Yes, he’d turned her inside out with pleasure but his every brain-addling move had been laced with tenderness as much as with insane lust. “He’s a good man, Killian.”

“I’ll say one thing for him. When he wasn’t mentoring the kids today, he was combing the attack sites, looking for clues.”

“He was?”

“Yeah, he and his brother. That was nice to see. I don’t think he’s sold on Shawn being a culprit and wants to clear the kid’s name.”

Her heart swelled, knowing how much Anton wanted peace to reign at the resort. She knew he’d grown fond of the teens and enjoyed his time here. Did he enjoy it enough to stay indefinitely? “Like I said, his heart is in the right place.”

“Well, I’ll take your word for it. But if he hurts you, tell me. He may be a big, bad tiger, but we jags have our talents too. I can still whoop his Hungarian ass.” He grinned.

“So, we’re good?” she asked, happy to have her comrade back.

“We’re good.” Killian rubbed his thighs and stood. “Ready to make s’mores?”

Even though a black pimple of doubt sprouted on her heart, Marci forced a smile onto her face. “Sure. S’mores. Awesome.”

* * * *

By the time she got to the bonfire site, the fire was blazing high in the dark Ontario sky. Tendrils of cloying smoke whispered away into the night air. Little orange sparks flew all around the site, giving the area a magical aura.

It seemed everyone from the resort had gathered round, no doubt after being on edge for the last few days, and the mood was relaxed and congenial. Laughter punctuated many conversations. Marci peered around the many bodies sitting on dry logs, pressing together melted bits of graham cracker, marshmallow, and chocolate, and grinned. The air smelled so good: wood smoke, pine needles, and s’mores were always a potent, fragrant mix.

Even with such a heady perfume drenching her nasal passages, Anton’s scent managed to cut right to her. She breathed in, turned her head, and saw him talking to Gabi on the other side of the fire pit. Tall and strong, clutching a Sleeman’s Cream Ale, laughing with his brother. Her stomach gurgled with happiness upon seeing him laugh.

A stab of pain shot right through to Marci’s heart, and she rubbed her chest under her cardigan. Her lynx cried out.
I don’t want him to go. Please don’t let him go
.

I know
, she reassured the animal.
I don’t want him to go either
.

Anton looked up, as if sensing her internal monologue. He waved, said a couple of words to Gabi, and headed over. Marci clutched her cardigan in front of her, pasted on a smile, and tried not to look like a simpleton. “Hi,” she said, when he was close enough to hear her.

He offered her a secret smile that told of intimate knowledge and excitement. He pulled her aside, away from teenage prying eyes, and gave her a sexy once-over. He tipped up her chin and claimed her lips, nudging them open with his tongue. Marci’s senses sparked. He tasted of beer and chocolate and cookie. Delicious. She closed her eyes, drinking him in as he let his tongue explore her mouth. A soft, demanding exploration that had her bracing her knees so she wouldn’t tumble under the impact of his kisses. When he finally released her lips a good minute or two later, she licked them. “Someone’s eaten a few s’mores already.”

He took a drink of beer, and then angled the tip of his bottle toward the lace edging of her camisole. She jumped at the sliver of coldness on her skin. Anton grinned. “I’m still very hungry.”

She couldn’t stop staring at him. She should be mingling, handing out drinks, making s’mores, something. However, she couldn’t drag her eyes off him. Wearing black chinos and a fisherman sweater that made him look even broader than he was, he was gorgeous. His bright eyes danced, reflecting the flames from the fire, and he’d slicked his short hair back and to the side. He looked like a model for an outdoorsman’s magazine.

“Can I get you a drink, little lynx? I need you to stay hydrated for later.”

She burst into laughter.

“A bit too much?” he asked with a chuckle.

“I’ve just never seen you so … I don’t know. So carefree.”

Anton’s face grew serious as he fished a beer out of one of the many coolers for her and wrenched the cap off. He handed it to her. He then put a hand behind her neck, dragged his fingers through her hair, and cradled her scalp. “It’s you,” he said quietly. “You make me feel carefree, Marci. You make me forget the troubles of the world. I find sanctuary with you. You are my refuge.”

Her lips fell open and her jaw went slack. No one had ever said anything quite so romantic to her, and she was so glad it came from him. Unsure of how to respond, and very aware that her heart was treading into the danger zone, she laughed quietly and decided to make a joke of it. “You must already be a little tipsy.”

Anton frowned. “I’m completely sober.” He stared at her for an uncomfortable moment, as disappointment captured his gaze, but he swiftly let the flirty devil return. “I need to stay sober so I maintain utter control over you in my bed later.” He grinned, but she fancied she spied a certain darkness in his smile.

Had she hurt his feelings with her joke? She wasn’t sure, but after Killian’s warning to her, she knew her defense mechanisms had flown to the fore.

She couldn’t fall for this man. They’d only had one night together. How could she fall? Granted, it had been one spirit-lifting, heart-hammering night, but not enough to base a relationship on. And even though Anton’s heart might be in the right place, there was no denying he had family issues at home. He might be drawn back to Hungary at any time.

Why, even now, his brother Gabi eyed him, a darkly pensive expression coloring his handsome face.

Anton could fly the coop, and there was much more at stake here than his role at the Ursa Lodge. Her heart could be irreparably damaged by this man if and when he walked out the door.

No, she had to remain strong and not fall for his pretty words. They had amazing sex. She would enjoy it while it lasted, keep things light, and protect her heart.

As if he could read her thoughts, as if he could sense her detaching herself from him, Anton continued to shoot looks her way. Confusion was clearly written in the deep slant of his eyebrows. Were his feelings as muddled as hers? He opened his mouth to speak.

Luckily, Gabi chose that moment to appear at her other side. She breathed in a quiet sigh of relief.

“Brother,” Gabi said. “You’re keeping this enchanting lynx away from the party. Let the poor woman have a s’more.”

“Marci knows she can have whatever she wants,” he grunted.

Damn. I did hurt his feelings. Well, he’ll have to get over it
.

Gabi drew her closer to the fire. “Ignore him. Now please explain how these s’more things work. Because so far all I’ve done is eat cookies and chocolate right out of the package.” He smiled, setting her at ease.

“Well,” she said, grinning back. “You roast a marshmallow over the fire. Once it’s good and sticky, you smear it between two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate. Voilà. S’mores. The most delicious food ever invented.”

Gabi’s gaze dropped as he blinked. The movement, which might have been imperceptible to some, was quite clear to Marci and her lynx intuition. His gaze skimmed with appreciation over her lower half. “I can think of tastier things.”

Whoa
.

As quickly as his words slipped out, he proceeded to make a s’more, and chatted up a woman on his other side. It all happened so speedily, Marci decided she heard him wrong.

She was still shaking her head when Anton handed her a marshmallow, already conveniently impaled on a long twig. “Here,” he said. “A wise woman once told me eating sugar is crucial to one’s health and happiness.”

She grinned and placed her marshmallow over the fire, letting it hover there until it was on its way to caramelizing.

Before long, they both noticed Gabi flirting with the woman next to him. She threw her head back, laughing at something the tiger shifter said, exposing her throat.

Anton shook his head. “He never stops.”

“He’s having fun. Considering what he’s been through, that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yes, but we tigers have appetites that are often difficult to manage. It’s hard for us to walk away from temptation. He should be more careful.”

She might not be a tiger, but she understood his sentiment. Her gaze traipsed across the breadth of his shoulders, and she remembered what it was like to see him as a roaring tiger. “Are there a lot of Siberian tigers in your part of the world?”

“No. My family are among the very few, which is probably why we fell so easily into a leadership role so many centuries ago.” He stared at the fire, slowly turning his own marshmallow until it was golden brown. “I’ve heard it said our ancestors came from Siberia.” He glanced at her. “Perhaps that is why we sometimes run cold.”

Cold? She couldn’t recall ever feeling anything but blistering heat in his presence.

She withdrew her marshmallow from the fire and tested it with a finger. Rather than respond to Anton’s comment, she stuck her treat back in the fire. “Not done yet.”

One corner of his mouth twitched up in a half smile. “You’re going to burn it.”

“I like them black and crispy.”

His eyebrows twisted in disbelief. “That’s disgusting.” He pulled his amber-hued marshmallow out of the fire and pried it gingerly off its stick. He turned to her. “Now here I have a perfectly roasted marshmallow. Warm and sticky inside, golden on the outside. Taste this and tell me it’s not better than your little burnt block of dust.”

Anton nudged her lips open with the sugary confection and she opened to him, her gaze locked on his. The smell of desire clung to him, and his pupils dilated as he trained them on her. She licked at the marshmallow and his gaze fell to her mouth. Heat scorched her insides, and she knew it wasn’t the bonfire. It was
their
fire.

Unquenchable. Inextinguishable. Powerful.

As her lynx issued its now-familiar keening cry, Marci dropped her twig into the fire pit, blackened marshmallow forgotten. She bit off a piece of his, let the caramelized sugar coat her tongue and melt there. Anton removed it from her mouth, and popped the remaining chunk into his own mouth, savoring it as he stared at her.

“Well,” he asked quietly, licking his finger. He took a step closer, and his shoes knocked against hers. “Isn’t it tasty?”

Drowning
. She was certain she was drowning in his green eyes. As a low throb began to tug on her belly, her eyes watered. Standing there beside him, not touching him … it hurt. She needed him inside her again, filling her, stretching her body and her emotions to their very limits. Even as she opened her mouth to speak, her teeth chattered with need, and itches flew up and down her back.

Oh, the want. Too strong. Too much.

Her head began to pound and Marci felt sure in that moment she would die. She brought a shaky hand to her mouth.

Anton leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I know what you need, little lynx.” He brushed his lips over the sensitive spot on her neck, right under her ear. “My cock is hard for you. How many more s’mores do you need before I fuck you?”

She looked at him and swallowed. “No more s’mores.”

The slow smile that spread across his face was sinful enough to make her come right there. “Good girl. Come with me.”

Marci didn’t ask where he would take her. Just knowing she’d follow him anywhere, she ignored Killian’s warning to protect her heart. Right now, her heart just wanted her to submit to Anton, and she couldn’t agree more. Decided, knowing regret would possibly claim her later, she took his hand and they stepped into the dark woods.

* * * *

“Aren’t we going to your cabin?” she asked once they’d been walking for a few minutes.

“Too far,” Anton said. “I don’t want to wait. You don’t know what you do to me.”

Her pretty lips opened, and he could tell she didn’t quite believe him. Well, he’d have to show her.

He didn’t think he’d ever endured a more excruciating day. His work had gone well. He’d even begun teaching a few of the more coordinated teens how to fence. And Killian Moon hadn’t accused him of trying to molest anyone in the past few hours. That was a plus.

The reason the day had been so fucking long was because Marci hadn’t been at his side. Christ, how he’d missed her.

So much that he’d become a blabbering idiot as soon as she’d shown up at the bonfire. Why had he spouted all that “you are my refuge” bullshit? Clearly, it had scared her away. And now he had to reel her back in.

He hadn’t been able to help himself. He did regard her as his own personal safe harbor. Being able to lose himself in her sweet body and sweeter moans had given him the greatest satisfaction of his life. And God only knew, before his enforced celibacy, he’d had a lot of women. Not a single one had made his heart race the way Marci Lennox did.