Predator's Refuge (21 page)

More
, his tiger pleaded.
More
.

So much more.

He removed his mouth, just for a moment, and dizziness swept through him.

Marci shouted, “Don’t stop.”

Unable to speak, or even focus, he flipped her onto her belly and massaged her ass. He dragged her closer, spread her cheeks, and admired the gleaming bounty before him. Anton then swirled his tongue into her pussy, danced it over her perineum and up toward her asshole.

When she shouted his name, he knew he’d hit the spot. He continued to flick at her tight hole while he smoothed his fingers over her clit. And just like that, she unraveled under him, crying his name as if it were a poignant ballad. Her whole body clenched, her clit throbbed, and the most delicious sweat erupted on her skin. As she whimpered and moaned, he finished her off by licking at the perspiration on her lower back, manipulating her sex until she begged him to stop.

Now
. His tiger prepared to mount her lynx. He could already see his animal’s teeth on the smaller creature’s neck.

Yes. It’s right. Take her
.

Anton climbed up behind her and eased her knees apart once again. Marci lay like a dead bee: limp, with no stinger. Well, he’d bring her back to life.

Not bothering with a condom, knowing only that he wanted to mark her in every way, he pulled her hips toward his body and teased her entrance with his aching cock.

“Oh,” she moaned, utterly spent, but obviously inspired to try again. She wiggled her hips below him, pushing herself closer to him.

On and on, Anton teased her, never entering but sliding his rigidness along her seam. Her groans grew louder, more impassioned, and he knew another orgasm was building inside her.
Good
. He never wanted her to stop coming. If he had his way, she’d come for him every hour of every day.

Only when it seemed she might already be near breaking point, he thrust inside her. She screamed in what could only be utter joy, and he was right there with her. Marci clenched, hugging him so tight, and everything in him seized. He shifted, moving so close there was no space between their bodies, and brushed aside the damp strands of hair at her neck. He took a deep breath, as deep as he could with his labored lungs, and allowed himself to undergo just enough of a shift that his tiger canines descended. The man in him stifled a cry of pain as the sharp teeth cut through his gums. In this fashion, he bit her.

Like a mother cat dragging its baby by the scruff of the neck, Anton drew her skin into his mouth, and felt her stiffen. Even as she cried out, he pierced her delicate skin, all too aware of how easy it would be to kill her. Male tigers often mistakenly killed their female partners during the mating process by being too rough. Anton made sure not to wound her and worsen the injury. For a moment, she struggled in his grip, but then he experienced the glorious sensation of feeling her submit to him. She stopped wiggling, and purred.

Total bliss.

Carried away by an emotion he’d never felt before, he forced his predator teeth back up into his gums and released her neck. With all the gentleness he could muster, he licked at the broken skin. She would be sore in the morning, but she would be his. And he’d see to it that she never suffered any other pain.

Determined to see their mating through, he resumed his thrusts, and his dick reacted with happiness. He grew inside her, and once again her body tightened around him. And when he came, flushed and hushed, she came with him. She reached a hand around and grasped his shoulder. And he held on for dear life as he spilled his seed inside her.

“Marci,” he whispered. “My kitten.”

They rolled away from each other, and almost off the bed. However, as if they were propelled by a boomerang, they fell into each other’s arms again. He buried his face in her mussed hair and she curled up against him, tangling her legs with his. For a long time, neither of them said a word.

But then, because his aching head would not give him rest until he said his piece, he moved. He turned her cheek and inspected the wound at the back of her neck with a gentle hand. It would heal. As a shifter, she would always heal from a minor injury, but it looked as raw and painful as his heart. He hated hurting her.

She gazed at him, and there was no regret in her sweet smile. “I’m glad you did it. I wanted you to mark me.”

His eyes stung. “It looks so sore…”

“It’s okay. I wanted it.” Her eyes crinkled in a show of sudden nerves. “Anton, I feel … so much…”

“I know.” He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the bite mark, and then another on her forehead. “I do too.” He smiled. “Close your eyes now,
cicuskám
. Sleep with me.”

She let out a huge sigh, nuzzled against his chest, and they slept.

* * * *

Marci was awakened by a strange, muffled noise, but her eyes remained closed as delicious memories from her dreams filtered hazily into her consciousness. S’mores. Spanking in the supply shed.

Anton. Marking her as his own.

What did it all mean? The marking process was an important one to a shifter. It signified possession, protection and, well, love.

Surely not
. It was too soon. Wasn’t it?

And yet, upon feeling the sting of his bite, a light had turned on inside Marci, illuminating previously dark and dismal corners. If Killian had tried to bite her, she would have pushed him away, would have fought because it was wrong. They weren’t fated to be together. However, when Anton broke her skin, she didn’t even question the validity of his claim to her. Her tiger bit her and it made sense. She’d wanted it, even before she knew she wanted it.

And she’d never been quite so excited and scared. What now?

Before she could turn to look at her lover, the sound erupted again in the quiet of the cabin, and she realized it had come from him. Her head heavy, she turned to him.

The tiger shifter was a mess of blankets and sweat. Perspiration coated each inch of skin that she could see. He thrashed on the bed, and she was forced to jump out of the way before he kicked her with one of his killer legs. She vaulted off the bed, but then crept back, alarmed by the strange cries of his nightmare.

He was crying. It wasn’t just sweat on his face, but tears. With a pang in her heart, she touched his flailing arm, hoping to rouse him from the night terror. “Anton. Baby. It’s just me.”

He jerked and stiffened and pushed at some invisible enemy. “No!”

She held her breath as his eyes snapped wide open. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, and she wasn’t sure if he was awake or still dreaming.

“Anton? Are you okay?”

He blinked, and just like that, he snapped out of it. He sat up, turned to her, and opened his arms to her. She crawled back on the bed and into his embrace, running a hand over his very hot brow.

“Did I hurt you?” he demanded.

“No,” she reassured him. “No, but you scared me a little. Were you having the same nightmare?”

He fell back onto the pillow and she joined him, lying face-to-face with him there. He grabbed her waist, curling his fingers on her skin, and she ran her hand over the hard bulge of his bicep.

“Yes. The cage. Always, in that damn cage. Sometimes I feel as if I never got out. And it always ends the same way. With me wanting to destroy my father.”

“Your father? Oh, you know that won’t happen. Sweetie, he’s already gone. Istvan killed him.”

His eyes looked so dark and haunted in the early morning light. “Something’s not right. I can’t explain, but my tiger is warning me to keep aware, to stay awake. So strong, it’s like a prophecy.” He began to rock on the mattress. “It tells me I’m going to kill. It wants me to kill. I can’t escape my destiny.”

She shook him. “No. You make your destiny, and you would never kill anyone.”

His tortured gaze flitted toward her. “It’s
in
me. I’m a predator. I’ve tried to escape it, but I can’t. It wants me to go home and kill my brother. I thought I could avoid the vile temptations here, but they’ve found me again.”

“Anton, no. That’s not like you.” She grasped at anything that would take the fear out of his eyes. “Besides, I don’t want you to go home. I want you to stay here. With me.”

He stared past her. “It will never stop haunting me until I fulfill my destiny.”

Prickles of great unease tripped across her shoulders and neck. His strange words terrified her. She didn’t know what to say to bring him out of his strange funk.

She was going to lose him after all.

“Anton, please listen to me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it okay. I swear.”

She cradled him in bed and pulled his face toward her chest. Murmuring sweet nothings, he slowly began to relax again. As she held him, she felt the tension disappear in his shoulders and arms. After a while, he fell asleep under her ministering hands.

She knew in that moment that she’d do anything to keep him out of harm’s way.

And as the gravity and depth of that sentiment staggered her, she nuzzled his head and drank in his alluring scent. Cuddled with him, closer than spirits mingling in air, she fell asleep again as well.

* * * *

Shouts in the woods caused her to wake up, and her eyes popped open. Even Anton snapped out of his dream state and bolted up in bed. And that’s when the bizarre thought hit her.

The bonfire ended hours ago. Why did she smell smoke?

She breathed in and swallowed a mouthful of the rancid stuff. As it choked her, squeezing her lungs, she looked at Anton. He coughed and pointed to the back window. Flames jumped outside, spreading quickly inside. Soon the entire back wall would be one of flame.

They jumped out of bed, grabbing clothes to cover them. Within seconds, they were outside. A crowd had already gathered, and they took in the expressions of relief as they escaped the cabin. Flames singed the air, giving the whole area an eerie glow.

“My cabin,” she whispered. “My home.”

They heard a shout. Killian was there with several of the security guards, who were already aiming hoses at the flames. He spotted them and ran over, touching her cheek. “Thank God you’re okay. I was about to break down the door.”

“We were knocked out. Sound asleep,” Anton confessed. He turned to her and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, mystified. “I didn’t smell it either.”

Killian nodded toward a nearby cabin, where a dazed, sweaty Gabi was leaning against the doorjamb. “Your brother was one of the first ones on the scene. It all happened so fast. Didn’t you hear him calling out for you?”

Anton stared. “I heard nothing.”

“Well, at least you’re both out now,” Killian replied, turning to him. “We keep hoses all over the island, in case of fire, because we can’t afford to wait for the mainland fire department to get here by boat. The guys will have the fire out in no time.” He looked at Marci and then back at Anton. “Looks like you had a lucky escape.”

Gabi, who looked like death warmed over, ran to them. Although pale, the tiger shifter was breathing normally and already rallying from the scare.

“What happened?” he demanded. “Were you smoking in bed?”

Anton shook his head slowly. “You know I don’t smoke.”

“Then what the fuck happened?”

She met Anton’s gaze, and started at his pale skin. “We have no idea.”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Gabi spat. “Istvan happened.”

“What?”

Gabi’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “You heard me. Our brother has found us. And he wants us dead.”

Chapter 12

A couple of hours later, once the fire had been extinguished and the worried guests directed back to their cabins, Marci stood outside and stared at the mess that used to be her sanctuary on Gemini Island. She knew some of her goods were salvageable, but others would have to be pitched. Her Rosemary Clooney albums had melted in the blaze, and as much as it saddened her, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought Anton might have been injured or worse.

Anton crept up to her and hugged her from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder. His stubble rasped against an exposed patch of skin and she shivered.

“Everything will be okay,” he murmured, and then kissed her shoulder.

“I’m not worried about the cabin. And I know Ryland’s only concern will be whether anyone was hurt.” She turned around in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his hips. “I’m worried about you. Do you think what Gabi said was true, that Istvan somehow did this?”

“I don’t know. Anything is possible where my family is concerned.” He ran a hand over her hair. “My youngest brother is a dangerous man, Marci. One who would not be opposed to getting his hands dirty. When Mariska was killed, he felt no remorse, acted as if he had nothing to do with it. He’s a cold shell of a beast, like our father.”

“Do you really think he’d hunt you and Gabi down to eliminate you as threats to his position?” Fear gripped her insides and squeezed, taking hold like an anaconda. The idea Anton could be hurt terrified her. “Do you think he’s here, hiding on the island?”

“Look, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I want to talk to Gabi and find out what he knows.” He cupped her cheek. “One thing is certain, though. I don’t want you alone. I’m officially moving you into my cabin.”

She couldn’t help but grin, thrilled at his protectiveness. “Moving in together, huh? That’s a big step.”

He returned her saucy look. “Would you prefer to stay at the lodge, lynx?”

“Not really.” She burrowed closer to his chest, stealing his warmth, wanting it next to her skin forever.

“I’m glad you have the sense not to argue because I feel rather responsible for your safety right now.” He slid a hand under her shirt and tickled her spine. With his other hand, he softly brushed the bite mark at the back of her neck.

Despite the delicious flurry of feeling he created inside her, the warm echo of need that seemed to constantly reverberate in her core, her attention was diverted by footsteps scraping on the path toward them.

Shawn Dixon, bewilderment on his face, made his way toward her and Anton. They both walked forward to greet the young shifter. “Hey,” he joked, motioning toward the blackened cabin. “It figures as soon as I leave, the excitement starts.”