Wild Cat (5 page)

Paolo licked at the blood on his knuckles, but said nothing, his eyes on her. She waited, her gaze fixed on her grandfather. He should be yelling. Ordering Paolo out. Instead, his gaze came back to her and he shook his head.

“Tell me you did not do this thing, Siena. You allowed the
bastardo
Lospostos to put his hands on you?”

She flinched at the disgust in his voice, but she didn't move. Didn't respond. They couldn't make her feel any lower than she already felt. She wasn't going to defend herself. There was no defense. Still, there was no defense for what Paolo had done and certainly none for what her grandfather had done. They were all guilty of something.

“I did not raise my granddaughter to
puttaneggiare.
”

Her breath left her lungs in a long rush. “To play the whore? To be a slut? You didn't? You just send me to your friends, men who have been at our dinner table, to distract them so Marco can slip into their home and
murder
them.
You raised me to assist a murderer. All those rumors, Nonno, all those rumors about you are true, aren't they?”

There was a long silence. Her grandfather exchanged a long look with Paolo.

“Siena.” He whispered her name, for the first time looking his age.

Her stomach lurched. She'd been holding out hope that there was some other explanation, but she read the truth there. She saw it in his eyes. In the way he looked at her. In the exchange with Paolo.

“He missed, Nonno. Marco is dead, and Elijah knows you tried to have him killed. In fact, he was waiting for it. He knows about the others.” She kept her gaze on her grandfather, but she was fully aware of Paolo watching her closely. She forced her lungs to keep breathing, although every breath she took hurt.

The others. Their friends. She still held out hope, even though she knew better. She didn't want to be a part of killing their friends. Friends who had laughed with her, believed she was simply visiting. They were glad. Grateful. She actually felt dirt coating her skin, grinding into her pores, making her ugly and filthy. Her own grandfather had used her to kill his friends.

“I have enemies, Siena,” her grandfather said softly. He pushed himself out of his chair and walked over to her, leaning down to tip her face up to his.

She tried to jerk away, not wanting to feel his touch. Not wanting to be any part of him. Of his world. She didn't want to hear what he had to say. He caught her chin firmly, murmuring soothingly in Italian to her. His thumb touched one of the cuts on her face and he turned to look at Paolo. This time, the censure was there. Paolo glanced at the floor, managing to look ashamed.

“I didn't know what I was doing, Tonio,” Paolo said. “For a moment, I lost control.”

Paolo hadn't apologized. He hadn't lost control, not in
the way he meant. She wouldn't forget what he'd said to her. His threat. She could be an adored wife or his slut, and he would treat her according to her choice.

“Rafe Cordeau has disappeared, is presumed dead, and that has left a vacuum in the business world—a world you don't yet understand, Siena.” With a sigh, her grandfather smoothed back her hair and returned to his seat. “Our world is made up of great danger. You know that. My son and your mother. Lost to me. To us. You nearly taken
twice
. I had to move to protect us. Elijah Lospostos is a man who would take what is not his.”

A low growl rumbled in Paolo's chest. Her gaze jumped to him. She was fearful, in spite of the fact that she still wanted to rip his face off. In spite of her defiance and the famous Arnotto temper he had aroused in her. She didn't want him to hit her again. Or kick her. She already hurt enough, and truthfully, she was afraid of him and what he might do to her.

“You used me. Not only to target Elijah, but four other of our friends, men I knew from the time I was a small child. You're right, Nonno, I don't understand this world, nor do I want to.” She lifted her head and stared him straight in the eye. “This man”—her hand swept toward Paolo—“this man punched me with his fists. He kicked me in the ribs with his shoes. He hurt me, and you do not punish him, you do not even reprimand him, and in failing to do that, you condone what he did. You speak of a marriage between us . . .” There was total contempt in her voice. “You show me I don't have your protection or his.”

“You do not understand. After your marriage . . .”

She glanced at Paolo, her arm once more sweeping out, her hand shaking. “This is the man you want me to marry? Seriously? A man who would do this to me? You approve of him and his behavior?”

Her grandfather's gaze softened and he shook his head. “Paolo is headstrong. Passionate. He didn't want you to go to the house of Lospostos, but I insisted. He knew better. He knew you were close . . .”

“Close? Close to what? What I'm close to doing, Nonno, is leaving and never coming back.”

Paolo moved then, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet as if he would stop her. Her grandfather held up his hand, and Paolo froze in place.

“This is not your fault, Siena,” Antonio said softly, his voice weary. He pushed his hand through his hair. “Forgive an old fool for his egotistical leanings. I wanted to send a message to my enemies and I used you to do it. This isn't Paolo's fault either. He warned me but I didn't listen to him.”

Her legs weren't going to hold her up anymore. Blood trickled down her face and onto her T-shirt. Her ribs hurt with every breath she drew. In her life, no one had ever raised a hand to her and to have a man she knew, one she thought cared about her, beat her so severely was terrifying.

Siena wrapped her arms around her middle to try to ease the burning pain, breathing shallowly in an effort to control it. She was swaying, trying to hold herself upright.

Paolo took her arm and she winced, trying to pull away from him. She hadn't heard him move, but she knew, she didn't want him touching her. She jerked again, a slow hiss escaping. “Get away from me.”

“Let me help you,
cara
,” he insisted softly, his fingers tightening, although his hand was gentle as he tugged her to the chair beside her grandfather. “Listen to him, Siena, but if you don't sit, you will fall down.”

“Please don't touch me. Not ever again,” she whispered. “I mean it, Paolo. You raise your hand to me again, and you'd better kill me.” She didn't look at him. She didn't care if he believed her or not, but he wasn't ever going to touch her again and live through it unless he killed her.

“Y
OU
must forgive Paolo, Siena. We are not what we seem,” Antonio informed her. “We are much more. We are shifters. Leopards. The leopard lives inside of him, and we have those passionate traits. Good and bad. Paolo knew you had been with Lospostos because he smelled him on you, and the scent was offensive to his leopard. His leopard reacted, driving him with his hot temper.”

Siena closed her eyes and shook her head. Her grandfather's voice was matter-of-fact, as if he were telling her a truth and not something totally crazy. Now she was supposed to believe in fairy tales. Shifters. Leopard people like in a Tarzan novel. Did he think she was a silly schoolgirl, ready to believe anything he chose to tell her to justify Paolo's reasons for beating her? He had justified his own actions of murdering his friends, so she supposed he would believe anything and expect her to as well.

“The next thing you're going to tell me is that you had
to kill those men, using me as a distraction because some leopard made you do it.”

“You do not believe me.”

“I lived in this house for years, Nonno. At no time did I ever see a leopard.”

“You lived in boarding school. You came home on holidays. We have control of our leopards and we made certain they stayed locked up tight.”

“Control?”
She spat the word at him. “Is that what Paolo had tonight? Control? Because if that is what he had, I'd hate to see him lose control.”

Her grandfather sighed. “That was unfortunate, Siena. The circumstances . . .” He broke off. “You need to understand. A male has his leopard almost from birth, but a female, that is much more complicated. She does not come out until she wants to do so. She is capricious. Her male must wait for her. Sometimes that waiting is long. Your leopard is close, Siena, and she wants out. When that happens, the passion is hot and the hunger doesn't let up. It burns through you and there is no denying it.”

That was the first thing he said that made her pause. She had never looked at a man and wanted him with every breath in her body. Her body had never burned relentlessly, insistently. Not like this. Not like now. Not the way it had for Elijah.

“Show me.”

“When we shift,” Paolo warned, “we do so without clothes.” Already, his hand was at the buttons of his shirt, clearly eager to show her.

She didn't look at him. She couldn't. If he thought having some leopard inside of him would make her forgive him, he was insane. Her grandfather was insane. She had no intentions of forgiving either of them. She was leaving the moment she could, but she realized by the way Paolo was acting, so proprietary, that he wouldn't let her go so easily. Even if she convinced her grandfather—and she knew he loved her in spite of what and who he was.

She licked her lips and tasted blood. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, a huge golden leopard crouched in front of her, its malevolent, greedy eyes staring straight at her. Wholly focused. She should have screamed. She should have fainted. She should have done anything but what she did. Later, she recognized that she was in shock, that one too many things had happened and her brain couldn't assimilate them. She leaned toward the leopard, one arm still wrapped around her ribs. “You should have killed me, Paolo. I will never forgive you, leopard or no leopard.”

The animal snarled, showing large teeth. A blast of hot air hit her face, and she realized what she was doing. She sat back, her heart accelerating. Maybe if she were really lucky, the large cat would kill her right there.

“Paolo,” her grandfather said sharply. “Enough. You showed her. She knows we are telling the truth.”

The leopard stared at her for a long time before suddenly leaning toward her, the tongue coming out. He licked up the side of her face, tasting her blood. The tongue felt rough. Hot. Obscene. She shuddered. Her heart pounded so hard she had to press her fist over her chest in an effort to try to still it.

Something like satisfaction gleamed in the leopard's eyes before he turned and moved off, back to the pile of clothes Paolo had placed on the chair to her left. Just out of her vision. She didn't turn her head to watch him. She knew now what she was up against. Paolo had made it as plain as he could make it. He intended to have her, and he would treat her the way he saw fit in spite of her grandfather. What he didn't seem to understand was Siena would rather be dead than give herself to him.

“You see now,” Antonio said. “We are leopards. Passion runs deep. Tempers as well. We love well and often with our mate, but the fighting, that is something we cannot always help. Your leopard is close, Siena. She will come to you soon and you will need a man. Paolo wants to be that man, and I want that for you.”

When she simply stared at him, her grandfather shook his head. “It will be Paolo or Alonzo. I need someone strong, Siena. You will need protection. Our business must survive my passing, and without a strong hand at the helm, it will be consumed by our enemies.”

She stood up on unsteady legs, avoiding Paolo's hot gaze. She could feel it. The demand. The fury building in him that she continued to deny him what he wanted, and in front of her grandfather. Just movement alone took her breath and sent waves of pain crashing through her, hardening her resolve.

“Nonno, you have two choices here. You can hand over everything you own to Paolo or Alonzo and disinherit me. I'm fine with that. I have my money from my parents and Nonna.”

“You are my beloved granddaughter, my only flesh and blood,” Antonio protested. “I leave everything to family. To my blood. You will marry and have children. That is what you will do, Siena. Our bloodline is strong.”

“Then choose another for me to marry, Nonno. Or let me choose. I will never, under any circumstances, accept Paolo or Alonzo.” She looked at Paolo for the first time, her eyes meeting his. She saw the fury there and didn't care. She shivered, knowing she was riling him all over again. She also knew without a shadow of a doubt that at some time he would do his best to retaliate—hurt her again for this night.

“Never,”
she hissed. “You knew,” she added, looking at Paolo with contempt. “You knew what was driving me and still you beat me. And you called me a whore and a slut. As did you, Nonno. You knew there would be no controlling what happened this night and still you said those awful things.”

“My leopard reacted—” Paolo started.

She shook her head. “Don't. If you can't control it better than that, I would be terrified for our children. You were thinking of yourself. Only you. It didn't occur to you I would be scared and humiliated and needing reassurance and someone to hold and comfort me. You knew what was
happening to me and I didn't. Still, you felt the need to use me for a punching bag.”

“You don't know what you're saying, Siena,” her grandfather said softly. “Sleep on it. Think about it before you make a decision.”

She shook her head. “
You
need to think about it, Nonno. You had better reconsider if you truly believe that this man would be good to me. Protect me. Put me first. He's going to have affairs, beat me and force me to do whatever he wishes. Is that what you want for me? A man who wants my money and estates, not one who loves and cherishes me?”

“That is not true,” Paolo hissed. “Tonio, you know it has always been Siena.”

She shook her head. “I will never accept you, a coward who beats on women.
Never
, Paolo.
Never.
”

She looked into his eyes and what she saw made her heart nearly stop beating. Rage was gathered there. A kind of killing wrath she'd never seen before. She turned and stalked out of the room as best she could when her ribs hurt with every step she took. As best she could when every single cell in her body urged her to run for her life. She walked, keeping her shoulders as straight as possible. She didn't look back. Not at her grandfather and not at Paolo.

Once in her room, she closed and locked the door and then put the back of a chair beneath the doorknob. She collapsed on her bed, running her hand lovingly over the ruined quilt, wishing her grandmother were there to comfort her. To talk to. She had no one at all. Leopard? She had a leopard inside of her, and when she came out, she would desperately need a man? Who could she possibly tell anyway? Who would believe her? Because she was getting so hot again, her temperature soaring and her joints hurting, she got up and moved the dresser in front of the door before she sat on the edge of the bed and tried to determine what to do.

She had blood on her hands. If she went to the police, they'd probably arrest her. In any case, her grandfather entertained
the district attorney, a councilman and even the senator. She knew he was very connected to the governor. She had no idea if any of those officials were dirty, but she couldn't take a chance. Still, she had money and that would allow her escape. She could leave. Go to Europe. Disappear.

She wasn't naïve. She knew her grandfather would send an army after her. He'd always kept a close watch on her. She'd believed it was to keep her safe. Now, she wasn't so certain.

Siena shivered in spite of the fact that her temperature seemed to be soaring. Beneath her skin, that itch came back in waves. She glanced down at her arm and saw the skin was actually raised as if something moved, pushing hard from the inside out. She bit back a scream and flung herself backward.

Her joints popped. Her jaw hurt. Her fingers curved downward as if she were convulsing. Her ribs, so sore from Paolo's fists and shoes, flashed with pain so that she found herself on the floor. Tears streaked down her face because it hurt so much. She was terrified. Absolutely terrified. A part of her had denied what was happening to her even after she saw the proof of Paolo's leopard. Now, there was no denying anything.

Resolutely, in complete silence, Siena removed her clothes. She wished she'd asked more questions, but she'd been in shock ever since she'd been with Elijah. She closed her eyes, feeling the burn along her ribs again, something pushing, expanding. The pain made her want to black out. She was certain her ribs had gone from bruised to cracked. Her breath came in spasms. Hard. Raw. Desperate.

She slid off the bed to the floor on her hands and knees.
Just come. Take me over. I don't do so well as a woman. Maybe you'll do better than me.

She wanted to disappear, and becoming a leopard was as good a way as any. She just had to be very quiet so those downstairs wouldn't hear. Every now and then she heard raised voices, men shouting to each other in Italian, and she knew Paolo and her grandfather were having an argument.
They didn't do so often, but when they did, it usually got very heated.

Her body contorted. Her teeth ached. Her jaw was painful. Most of all, the pain along her ribs had become agony. She dropped her head down, breathing through it, welcoming the leopard. Wanting to become anything but what she was—a woman so covered in vile filth—a party to the murder of four men and almost a fifth. Her grandfather—the man who was supposed to love and protect her—had done that.

She had thrown herself at Elijah. She dreamt of him nearly every night, and had since she was fifteen years old. Sometimes the dreams felt so real, she couldn't imagine that they weren't already together. Often, the dreams were just silly, the two of them laughing together and walking along a road holding hands. Other times, they were highly erotic, two lovers unable to keep their hands off of each other.

She groaned but the sound came out more of a low growl. The itch increased until she wanted to scream. She tried to bite down on her lip, but her mouth felt strange and then she found herself inside a cocoon, surrounded by another, and she knew her instantly. Her leopard prowled the room, every step painful as her ribs protested the action. She lifted her head and scented the male who had come there. The one who had done the damage to both woman and leopard. Her lip lifted in a silent snarl.

Deep inside the animal, Siena found a kind of solace. She wasn't gone, she was right there and fully aware of her leopard padding softly through the bedroom to the wall where the male leopard had raked deep rivets in the wood. Every step hurt. It hurt to drag in a decent breath, and Siena felt that right along with her leopard. She soothed the leopard, talked to her, told her everything. Part of her was hysterical, thinking she was having a complete breakdown, but it didn't matter to her.

The leopard moved to the bathroom and looked in the full-length mirror there. Golden, with black rosettes, there
was a tinge of fire to her fur. She was beautiful. She had Siena's exotic eyes, and that deep green stared back at her.

You're beautiful,
she whispered to the animal. Her savior. She wished she could put her arms around the little female and hug her tight. If she was crazy, she would be happily so. Much better to live as this beautiful creature, even if she was put in a zoo, than to live as a woman who clearly was no good at being a woman. Being a leopard had to be better than being a woman who was an accessory to four murders.