Prowl the Night (23 page)

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Authors: Crystal Jordan

BOOK: Prowl the Night
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“It hasn't even been two weeks.” She recited all the justifications she'd used in her own mind every day since she'd met him. “We've both had affairs last longer than this. We can just . . . go our separate ways and we'll be fine.”
“We won't be fine, Teresa!” He threw his hands in the air. “We won't be together. We're mates, that's what we're supposed to be.
Together
.”
She twisted her fingers in her lap so tightly, they tingled with the lack of blood flow. “You promised you wouldn't force me into mating with you.”
Eyes widening, his mouth dropped open and a flash of outraged hurt crossed his face. “When have I forced you to do a damn thing, Teresa? When have you ever
not
had a choice in what we did?”
“Rafe, please.” That pleading note entered her voice, and tears closed her throat. Why did this have to be so hard? Why did it have to hurt so much? “I thought you would understand.”
“I do understand. I understand that you're so twisted up over what happened to Enrique that you can't separate his problems from yours.”
Her lips trembled when she spoke. “Tell me it's not true. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me that Panthers don't ever go insane when their mate dies. Tell me there's some guarantee it wouldn't happen to us.”
He shoved his hands into his hair, gripping the strands tight. He shook his head, a harsh laugh bursting from him. “Stubborn woman.”
“I'm trying to protect us both.” She wrapped her arms around herself, holding on to keep from crumbling. “I couldn't bear it if I did to you what Enrique's mate did to him.”
And that was the worst part. It wasn't just about saving herself anymore, it was as much about saving Rafe too. Somehow in a few short days, he'd wormed his way into her heart. She had to hold fast and keep them both whole. Someday they would recover from this in a way that Enrique never could. Someday they would be all right. This pain would only last so long.
“His mate died, Teresa! I doubt she did it on purpose.” The look in Rafe's eyes was enough to rip her to pieces. He stared at her for a long time, as if she'd brought his entire world crashing down around him. For a moment, she almost thought she saw tears sheen his eyes. “You're never going to give in, are you? You're never going to mate with me.”
“No,” she said, but it sounded like a sob. “I was honest with you from the beginning. About this, anyway.”
“Honest, right.” He nodded, then scrubbed a hand down his face. “Fine. I won't push you, just like I promised. I hope you're happy alone. My mate.”
With that, he shoved himself out of the bed, gathered his things, and disappeared.
She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from calling him back. Sobs wracked her body, and she curled up on sheets that were still warm from their bodies, still smelled of sex. Shards of agony pierced her. She tried to tell herself this was the right thing, that she was keeping them both from a fate worse than death.
The thought was small comfort as the scent of her mate drifted farther and farther away.
6
R
afe dragged in a deep breath as he stepped out of the airport, taking in the scent of the city. Barcelona. For as long as he lived, if he had his way, this would be his home. No matter where he might roam, this place would be the one he came back to, but only if Teresa changed her mind. Thinking of her made his chest tighten.
It was a blow to the heart to remember her sobbing when he'd left her bedroom the night before. A phone call to his editor had revealed the magazine still needed someone to cover the travel writing conference in Spain, and Antonio and Fernando had been more than willing to let him go. He didn't question why they'd made it so easy for him, he'd just needed to get away.
There had been times he'd wanted to turn back, to rail at Teresa for not having even the smallest amount of faith in them. The fact that she didn't burned like acid in his skin. His mate didn't want him. She might never want him, and he would spend his life regretting that he hadn't found her before her brother's breakdown, that he hadn't claimed her before she even knew she wanted to run. But regrets got him nowhere. He lived in the here and now, not a land of dreams.
And the reality was, he felt as if he'd been flayed open and left to die. Alone.
The long plane ride and dealing with the usual hassle of international travel had given him time to clear his head and think past his own pain. Teresa would have to return to Spain soon, and some time apart might give her the chance to rethink her position. She wouldn't have him pressing her to give in to him, and he wouldn't have the opportunity to lose his cool over her obstinacy. He wanted her willing or not at all.
Not at all
was the option he didn't want to face, but many sleepless hours of staring out a small airplane window had provided him time to wrap his mind around the yawning emptiness he might feel for the rest of his life. He snorted. What he wouldn't give to have every bit of his restlessness back.
But, no. No matter what happened, he couldn't regret meeting his mate. He just wished he could keep her.
His first stop in Barcelona was the European Panther Pride den. He had to meet with Fernando Garcia, the way he met with every Pride leader before he wandered through their territory. The Pride's chauffeur met him at the airport and drove him through the city to the mansion. They passed the incredible spires of Gaudí's cream-colored Sagrada Família cathedral, and the dramatic lights at night made him understand why people said it was built of bones.
The macabre thought reflected his mood perfectly. He had little hope that Teresa would reconsider anything. She had yet to yield anywhere except in bed, and he could handle her stubbornness, gladly, if she was willing to be that tenacious about making their relationship work.
But she wasn't.
The weight of that pressed down on his chest, strangling the breath out of him. Unfortunately, he could understand her terror now all too well. Watching a brother she adored dissolve into insanity, assault an innocent woman, and be forced down from the role he'd been born and raised for, all because he'd found a mate, would scare anyone. Being Teresa, she'd assessed the problem and found a way around it. Or so she thought, until she'd met Rafe.
He could understand her side of things, and that just made it harder to be angry. Instead, he just felt . . . exhausted. Hopeless. Helpless. And frustrated by all of it.
It was not the best mind-set with which to meet his mate's father.
When the car pulled up to the elegant mansion, Rafe drew in a deep breath and schooled himself to calm. He used to be good at that, before Teresa. Stepping out, he dragged his backpack out behind him and slung it across his shoulders. The butler took it from him when he entered and directed him toward the leader's office. Rafe recalled the location from his last visit.
The man sitting before a crackling fire was older than he remembered, lines digging deep grooves beside his eyes and mouth. Time hadn't been kind to Fernando Garcia. He motioned Rafe into a chair opposite him.
“So, you're my daughter's mate.” Dark eyes pierced him, and whatever time had done to his appearance, Rafe understood that nothing had affected the older Panther's mind.
Somehow, he was unsurprised that the leader had figured out who he was to Teresa. They'd been discreet about their sexual relationship, but the extra senses of Panthers made secrets like that difficult to keep. It explained why it had been so easy to get permission for this trip. “We aren't yet mated.”
“And why not?”
He decided not to pull his punches. This man needed to respect him and understand that he would stand firmly beside his mate when she became Pride leader. “She's afraid to mate because of what happened with Enrique.”
Fernando winced and glanced away. “Nasty business. My poor boy.”
“I'm sorry, sir.” On the one hand, this man's inability to see his son's condition for what it was had left a woman defenseless when she should have had her leader's protection. That was an unforgivable offense. On the other hand, the agony of watching your child lose his mind would be enough to bring any parent to his knees.
Fernando nodded, a deep sigh heaving out. “People think . . . he's a monster, but it's not true.” The desperation in the older man's eyes reminded Rafe so much of Teresa that he reached out to squeeze the man's shoulder.
“Teresa told me. I understand, and I'm sorry.” He settled back into his chair. “But that excuses Enrique, to a certain extent. It doesn't excuse you.”
The leader's dark gaze turned flinty and his mouth worked for a moment. “I know it doesn't. I failed in my duty to Isabel. I failed in my duty to my entire Pride by leaving Enrique as my heir until I was forced to make a change. I'm a father, not a complete fool.”
“Good. I'm glad that you recognize that.” Rafe hitched his ankle onto his opposite knee. “However, I'm not a father, so I'm not going to pretend I know what you've been through.”
And it was good to see that the man was fully cognizant of his failings. That kind of ongoing behavior in a leader was something Rafe wasn't sure he could live with. He'd spent enough time under a totalitarian ruler with Antonio's father.
Fernando grunted. “Your career is a problem.”
He flashed a feral grin as he neatly turned the tables on who was in the defensive position in the conversation.
Rafe tilted his head in an acknowledging nod. He'd figured this was going to come up, and he was glad they were laying all their cards on the table now. “So help me make it
not
a problem.”
Eyebrows drawing together, Fernando stroked his fingers down his chin. Then he gave Rafe an incisive look. “It's occasionally necessary to send emissaries to other Prides. This summit is an example of such things, but it's not always that intensive and not with that deep a need for resolving political matters. It's more . . . maintaining a positive presence in the other Prides.”
“And you'd want me to do this for you?” He thought about that. If he weren't closing some sort of deal, it might be workable. He wasn't a politician and didn't intend to become one, but he could make nice with anyone. That skill was one of his current job requirements.
“I think it's plausible.”
“What would it cost you—and my mate—to have them let me loose in their territory?” It was a question he didn't want to ask, but he had to know. If it became too much of an issue, it could make them less likely to let him do his job. He'd chafe under the restrictions, so it was best to know what he was dealing with upfront.
The older man narrowed his gaze, rocking a hand back and forth through the air. “It's hard to say. I think it's feasible that an emissary on a goodwill mission be shown the high points of the culture influencing the Pride he's visiting.”
Rafe snorted. “Okay, I can see that.”
“We'll see how it goes, but only after you've mated with my daughter.”
“I understand.” He tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. “She may never decide she wants to complete our mating.” He met Fernando's gaze directly, making sure there was no doubting what he had to say. “I won't force her, and I won't allow anyone else to force her either.”
The leader grunted. “Of course you're as stubborn as she is.”
“She gets that from somewhere, sir.”
That got a rusty chuckle. “Touché.”
“I'm in the city for work, and I need to get some sleep so I'm ready for it.” He rose to his feet, extending his hand to shake. “It was good talking to you.”
“Yes, it was.” Fernando stood and took the proffered hand. “I hope you sort things out with my Teresa, but I won't interfere. Unless you hurt her, in which case I will tear you to pieces. Slowly. Do I make myself clear?”
“Very clear.” A small smile crossed Rafe's face. “I hope we sort things out too.”
But he knew the hope might be futile. This entire conversation might well have been pointless. Coming here at all might mean nothing other than another assignment.
 
The summit was over.
Thank God.
Teresa's concentration was shot. She hadn't slept since Rafe had disappeared to God knew where. Antonio had stonewalled her subtle attempts at questioning, and no one else seemed to know anything. Not even Ben, which concerned her more than a little.
And now she was hours away from leaving and had no idea where her mate was. She had no one to blame for that except herself. Misery wrapped around her soul, and if she could have crawled out of her own skin to escape herself, she would have.
It hurt worse than she'd ever have imagined, and she didn't even want to know what it would be like if they'd been mated. Could it get worse than this? Best not to ask the question.
Skirting the staircase, she walked toward the kitchens. Anything to avoid rooms that reminded her of her time with Rafe. That time was over, and she couldn't wait to get back to Spain. Or anywhere else that didn't have the scent of Rafe fading slowly from her suite.
She drew to an abrupt halt when she saw who sat working at the kitchen counter. “Isabel.”
It was the hardest thing she'd ever done, getting on the plane to San Francisco, knowing she'd eventually come face to face with this woman.
Her stomach twisted as she saw fear flash through the woman's golden eyes, then she lifted her chin and faced her squarely. “May I help you, Ms. Garcia?”
“Hello, Isabel. You've known me long enough to call me Teresa.” She forced herself not to twitch nervously. A Pride heir was not supposed to show weakness, but she hadn't been raised as an heir. She was just the heir's baby sister. Or she was before he became obsessed with this woman. That one event had changed so many people's lives forever. Isabel's, every member of the Garcia family's. The entire power structure of the Prides had shifted, a new potential ruler with new alliances to be made. It was a confusing, painful mess. “How are you?”
“I'm well, now that I'm not in the European Pride.”
Teresa winced, but acknowledged it was a fair statement. Isabel hadn't been treated well by the Pride or its leading family, Teresa included. “I'm glad you're happy here. Congratulations on your matings.”
“Thank you.” The words were stiff and Isabel's lips compressed for a moment. Then she withdrew into her professional role as a chef for the North American Pride, any emotion locking away. A pleasant, distant smile crossed her face. “Can I get you some tea or coffee or . . . something to eat?”
“Some coffee would be lovely, thank you. I'll take it with me to my room.” She could use the caffeine if she was going to stay awake for the long trek through various airports she had to deal with today. The lack of sleep and constant strain to outthink her political opponents was starting to wear on her. She was more than happy to get the trip over with.
With a cup of liquid ambrosia cradled in her hand, she turned to leave the room. Then she paused and looked back at Isabel. “For whatever it's worth to you, I'm sorry for what my brother did to you. Father should have interceded on your behalf. I should have insisted that he do so. We were wrong, and you were hurt because of it. I will always regret my part—or lack thereof—in what happened.”
The blond woman stared at her for a long moment and then nodded. “I've made my peace with it. I'm happy with my mates, and I'm not sure when or if I would have met them if Enrique hadn't pushed me into running.” A sharp smile crossed her face. “I was also really glad when he got punched out by my mates.”
Teresa snorted. “I don't blame you. He'll never apologize and neither will my father, but I
am
sorry.”
“Thank you.” Isabel swallowed. “I forgive you. My mates never will, but . . . I appreciate you doing what your family won't.”

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