Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) (18 page)

She backed up, stumbling over the shoe she'd pulled out earlier. Slade was on her in that instant, his hands closing around her hips as he pulled her against him. His body was hard and hot against hers, bristling with a feral energy that made adrenaline pump through her.

Instinctively, she leaned into him, attracted to the side of him that was more than human. Both her feline side and her human side craved him, but it was more now, a silent, powerful calling that wouldn't cease. "Damn you," she whispered, even as her hands slid over his bare chest. "We don't have time for this, and I'm not going to shift."

"I'm not either. The scent lingers, and I don't want it on me when I go back to the warehouse." He slid his hand in her hair, his fingers digging in, almost as if he already had claws for fingers. "I need to go, but before I do, I need to do this." He bent his head and kissed her, a bruising, claiming kiss that plunged deep inside her, calling to her leopard. Her body hummed with the energy he was pouring into her, a deep vibration almost like a deeply sated cat purring as it wound its way around its prey. She gripped his shoulders, struggling to block herself from responding, but he was ruthless, just as he had been in the bar when he'd kissed her.

Only this time, it wasn't her soul he was trying to steal. It was her humanity. Her self-control. Her safety net. Her identity. "Stop!" She shoved at his shoulders, pushing him back so hard he actually moved.

His eyebrows went up, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You're getting stronger. Tapping into her."

"I'm not— God. Stop!" She turned away from him and pushed her hair off her face, trying to regroup. "Don't you understand? My safety depends on me holding my secret forever."

"You can't hold it forever." His voice was low. "She's a part of you. She needs to be free."

She spun back toward him. "If I let her go, then neither of us will be free. We'll be locked in some cell like my mom and Marjorie. Like Julia." The thought of Julia made her stomach turn. With Slade awakening her leopard, Julia's fate became even more personal. "Why are we standing here anyway? We need to get back to the warehouse to find Julia!"

Slade allowed her to put distance between them, but he watched her carefully as he bent to retrieve his pants. "Whoever is at that warehouse arrived there after the security system alerted them. I needed to give them time to search thoroughly and find no one. They're good enough that if I was there, they might sense me." He pulled his pants on, a silent, black fabric that seemed to disappear into the shadows. "Once they decide they're alone, that's when I go back."

Anya snatched one of his dress shirts and pulled it on while he got dressed. She didn't want to be naked right now. With her leopard so close to the surface, and all the secrets she'd shared with Slade, she already felt vulnerable. She needed clothes. Heck, she needed a bulletproof vest and an arsenal.

His eyes darkened as she pulled on his shirt, and she went still, her heart starting to hammer when his eyes glittered with possession. His pants still unbuttoned, he walked over to her and gently removed her hands from the buttons. Slowly, with tantalizing gentleness, he clasped the front of her shirt and buttoned the bottom button. The backs of his hands brushed against her bare belly as he fastened it, making chills rush down her spine. "I like you in my shirt," he said as he buttoned the next one. His voice was low, almost a growl, an invisible caress along her spine.

She swallowed. "Did you touch me with your mind at the bar? I felt someone slide their hand along my back."

His fingers stilled, and he wasn't able to hide the flicker of surprise on his face. "You felt that?"

She nodded. "That was you?" She wanted him to say yes. The touch had been intimate. She didn't want to think that anyone else had been touching her like that, even if it had been only psychically.

"It was." He resumed his work on the third button, his knuckles brushing against the underside of her breasts. His brow was furrowed, giving him a contemplative look as he focused on the buttons.
You heard me talking to you as well, didn't you?

Intimacy prickled over her skin. "Yes."

Say it in my mind.

"I don't know how."

"You've done it before. You do know." He lifted his gaze to hers.
Just open yourself to me, and think it.

"But I don't want you in my mind." She was responding to him so strongly that she needed space. She wanted distance from him...but at the same time, she wanted to grab onto him and hold tight, keeping him so close that he'd never be able to walk away. She loved the feeling of his voice settling in her mind. It felt familiar, like the healing rays of sunshine on a spring day.

I can only hear what you offer to me.
His gaze darkened.
If we can do this, then I can find you more easily. It's easier for me to keep you safe.

She raised her brows. "Now, you're manipulating me, trying to use my fears to get me to bond with you."

He grinned unabashedly. "Is it working?"

"No." Yes. No. "Go away."

He finished buttoning her shirt, leaving the top three buttons undone. "I'll be back in an hour or two. Don't leave here. Don't make any calls. Don't answer your phone. Don't go online."

Fear rippled over her at the thought of him leaving. "You're sure no one can find me here?"

"My home is a fortress. That's why I brought you here. It's the only place I feel safe leaving you." His gaze didn't waver from hers, and she sensed a protectiveness from him that she hadn't felt before. More determined. More personal. More...committed.

He turned away, drew on socks and boots, both of which were black, seeming to fade into shadows as soon as he put them on. He dragged a turtleneck over his chiseled upper body, and finished buttoning his pants. When he turned to face her again, clad in black except for his head, he seemed to blend into the darkness of the closet.

She blinked to clear her vision, but he still looked slightly out of focus, as if her eyes weren't working quite right. "Is that you, or the clothes?"

"Both." He walked over to her, his hands sliding to the back of her head and tangling in her hair. The moment she felt his hands on her, she relaxed, his touch providing reassurance that he was real, and he was present.

He kissed her softly. "My sweet white leopard," he said quietly. "You need to free your cat."

"No."

He didn't respond. He just kissed her until she melted into his embrace, her entire being responding to what he stoked in her. It wasn't until they were both breathless that he finally pulled back. "I need to go. I'll be back as soon as I can." He searched her face for a long moment, his eyes dark and inscrutable.

She frowned. "What is it?"

"I haven't come home to anyone since I was a kid." There was an edge to his voice that she couldn't quite interpret.

"Is that bad?"

His fingers tightened in her hair. "Probably," he finally said. "I'll let you know."

And then, before she could respond, he slipped past her, disappearing into the bedroom. She hurried after him, but by the time she reached the room, he was gone. A feeling of emptiness infiltrated the air, and she knew he'd left the condo, leaving behind a void that would remain until he returned.

T
en minutes later
, Slade was stretched out on the roof of the neighboring warehouse, studying the three cars in the parking lot where he and Anya had been such a short time ago. Two Escalades and a stretch limo. They were parked haphazardly, as if they'd arrived in a hurry. Two men were leaning against the hood of the limo, and both of them were carrying significant hardware.

He concentrated on the nearest one, lightly testing his mental shields. The moment he touched the man's mind, the thug stood up and swung around, searching the parking lot. Slade swore and backed off. Not only did the guard have shields, but he'd also been sensitive to Slade's delicate touch.

Frowning, he tried the other man, and he had the same reaction.

Instantly, both men were on alert, scanning the darkness for him.

Slade knew he was nearly invisible on the roof, but he still didn't like how ready they'd been for him. They'd been prepared for a psychic attack. Not that he'd attacked them, yet, but they'd been ready.

Slade focused his attention on the warehouse, letting his energy pulse through the building. There were at least eight people inside, two of them in the main warehouse area, and the others in the cellblock. Ten people to respond to an alarm?

That seemed to be overkill to him...unless they knew something. Had there been a camera he missed? Had they somehow figured out who had slipped through their fingers?

Shit.

He didn't like this.

There were too many variables he didn't know.

Tonight wasn't a night to go in. It was a night to learn...but even as he thought it, he thought of Anya back at his place, of her best friend somewhere in the clutches of these men, of his own mother's ordeal at the hands of bastards just like these before his dad had found her.

If they thought the place was compromised, they would never be back.

The trail would disappear...until they came hunting for Anya. He had no doubt now that they would. She couldn't stay at his place forever... But he couldn't stop the rush of satisfaction at the idea of it.

He liked the fact she was at his place.

He liked the fact she was waiting for him.

He liked the idea of her never leaving...

A movement on a distant roof caught Slade's attention. He sent out a pulse of energy, trying to determine what it was. It was a man. Moving fast. Leaping from one roof to the other—

Holy shit.

Slade froze in disbelief as he watched the man racing across the rooflines. He recognized the build, the gait, the aura. He recognized them, because he'd seen it a hundred times in his life, always from a distance, always from the shadows. His brother. Killian Cross.
Killian was here.

He reached out with his mind, seeking Killian's.
Stop.
He sent the command out across the night with such force that Killian stumbled and went down.

Slade tensed, watching as he waited for Killian to get up.

He did, slowly.

Go home.
Slade sent the command forcefully.

This time, however, he got an answer.
Nice try, big bro, but you don't get to ditch me this time.

Slade froze, stunned. Big bro? No, surely he'd misunderstood.
What did you just say—

The cold barrel of a gun pressed into the back of Slade's neck. "It's about time you showed up, Cross."

The voice brushed over Slade's skin like a knife blade, sliding beneath his skin. For a split second, he was sucked into the past, when he was nine years old, listening to that voice taunt him, trying to draw him out as his dad lay dying in the living room.
The bastard who'd killed his family was behind him.

Fury roared through him, and Slade lashed out with his mind. His psychic attack hit something solid and rebounded back at him. Swearing, he threw up his own shields, barely protecting his mind before his own violent energy crashed into him. The force of the blow thrust him backward, over the edge of the roof, out over the asphalt parking lot, six stories up, careening down toward the ground in a free-fall.

It was too far. Too fast. He knew he couldn't land safely...as a man.

Instinct took over, and he shifted, changing from man to cat in a millisecond. His clothes floated behind him as he righted himself, focusing on the ground as it came up to him. The man on the roof was shouting, and the guards by the cars were racing toward him, raising their weapons.

He was helpless while he fell, a white target in the dark night. Gunshots rang out, and he twisted and turned in midair, using his psychic energy to track the bullets. No, not bullets, darts. They were trying to
capture
him.

He spun around, arching his back as one whipped past his shoulder—

A sharp pain hit his foot, and numbness spread through his leg instantly. Swearing, he grabbed the dart with his teeth and ripped it out, hurling it aside when he landed. The minute his paws touched ground, he took off, using every last bit of his preternatural speed to disappear, fighting against the lethargy spreading viciously through him.

His legs felt like lead, and every muscle seemed to be made of clay. He knew he had only seconds to disappear. He gave it all his strength, racing against time, down the street, through an alley, over a Dumpster. He leapt to spring over a chain-link fence, but he slammed into it.

He hit hard, landing roughly on the hard alley floor. He tried to move, but he couldn't. His muscles were paralyzed, completely frozen. His mind was numb, and he couldn't focus. Distantly, he heard a car's engine, and then headlights flooded him.

Footsteps crunched on the pavement, racing toward him. Slade tried to lash out with his mind, but he couldn't concentrate. Somehow, they'd interfered with his ability to attack psychically, his one defense in this situation. Helpless, he could do nothing but lay there, like the prey he'd hunted his whole life. How in hell's name had he let this happen?

His brother.

His
brother
had distracted him.

Nothing
had ever distracted Slade before in his entire career. Nothing...except Anya's kiss when the demon had killed him. And now his brother. Both times, fatal mistakes. See? He was right. Caring about anyone was the worst choice he could have made, and now he was going to pay for it and so was Anya, because he wasn't going to be there to help her.

Never again. Never ever again. He was going to wipe his own mind of his brother, and not hold back this time, something he should have done long ago.

A face appeared above him, blocking out the light. Slade blinked, trying to make out the features, but the silhouetting effect of the headlights was too bright. He focused again, and dug deep to summon the last reserves of his psychic energy. He thrust it outward, not even able to control its direction. It was a blanket assault, spiraling in all directions, but he felt it hit its target this time. His assailant grunted, and went down on his knees beside Slade.

"That's how you treat the brother that's here to save your ass? You want us both to get caught?"

The voice was familiar, so familiar that Slade's world seemed to suspend in frozen time. Killian was there? How was that possible? How had he tracked him so quickly? Or at all?

"Come on, Slade. Let's get out of here." Killian lurched to his feet, stumbling from the effect of Slade's attack. He grabbed Slade around the chest and dragged him across the pavement, moving the massive leopard with far too much ease.

What the hell was going on?

His brother hoisted Slade into the back of a Suburban, then leapt inside. He gunned the engine and peeled out. The momentum slammed Slade against the side of the car, but he didn't even feel it through the drug.

All he knew was that he was helpless, and utterly at the mercy of the brother he'd abandoned when he was a year old. How had Killian figured out who he was? Why had he been there tonight? And whose side was he on?

Slade fought to concentrate, trying to will away the effects of the drug while Killian drove. He could attack his brother again, but then he'd probably crash the truck, assuming Slade could even manage to focus enough to do it. Right now, Slade was helpless, and if the men at the warehouse caught him, he would be in deep shit. He had no choice but to let his brother drive, and hope he was taking him in the right direction.

Anya.
He reached out with his mind, trying to make contact with her, wishing that he'd forced her to build the psychic connection between them. Relief rushed through him when he realized he could still communicate telepathically, despite the drug, but the relief was quickly chased away by the fact that Anya didn't reply.

Shit. He couldn't reach her. How long would she wait before she decided to come after him?

He knew it wouldn't be long. He'd told her a couple hours, and he doubted she'd wait much longer than that. He had to get back to her, and fast...if he stayed alive long enough to do it.

Tentatively, afraid to do what he'd avoided doing for so long, he reached out with his mind to his sole living relative.
Killian?

He felt his brother's surprise, and for a long moment, there was no answer. A sense of desolation flooded Slade, an emptiness so great he felt as though he were free-falling into a greater darkness than he'd ever experienced before. His brother had known him, and for a brief moment, Slade had felt real again, connected, hopeful...which made the silence a thousand times more oppressive than it had been for all the years he'd lived it.

Then, just as tentatively, just as carefully, came a reply.
Yeah, Slade. It's me.

Emotion flooded Slade, so overwhelming that for a moment, he couldn't breathe. His lungs seemed to close down on him, crushing him.

Where can we go?
Killian's voice in his mind again, more easily this time, not wasting time on a reunion when they were being hunted by the man who'd destroyed their family. Survival first, a lesson he should have been too young to learn before Slade had left him at the church.

They needed a safe house. Slade had seven of them within reach, but there was only one he wanted to go to, the one where Anya was. But could he bring his brother there? He didn't even know him, other than a blood tie that burned deeply. Could he expose Anya to him? Expose his own safe house to him, the one sanctuary that kept him sane when the emptiness threatened to consume him?

They're tracking us, bro. Can you feel it?

Slade reached out with his mind, and immediately caught the dark, violent energy of the men pursuing them. The need to stop the car and face them, to take them apart one by one, burned through him, but he knew he'd lose. They were prepared to defend against a psychic attack, and he was physically helpless, with his only protection being the brother Slade had given up to keep safe.

Now wasn't the time to stand and fight.

It was time to regroup, because the time to live in the shadows was long gone. The war had found them, and it would come looking for them fast, hard, and deadly.

Slade? We're running out of pavement here.

Slade knew there was only one choice to be made. Only one choice he wanted to make. Only one choice that he wanted to be right.
321 Phoenix Street.

* * *

S
omeone else was
in the bedroom.

Anya remained completely still as she awoke, listening to the soft tread of footsteps on Slade's carpet. It wasn't Slade. Already, she knew the sound of his footsteps, and it wasn't him. Her heart started to pound, and she cracked her eyes open.

A man was crouching in front of her, his face inches from hers, his deep brown eyes riveted to her face. She jerked upright, scrambling backwards. She tumbled off the side of the bed and leapt to her feet, grabbing a lamp from beside the bed.
Slade!
Instinctively she reached out for him, trying to open the connections she'd refused such a short time ago.

It's okay.
His voice brushed over hers, but it sounded fuzzy and sleepy.
It's Killian. I told him not to wake you if you were still sleeping.

Killian?
She stared at the man on the other side of the bed. He hadn't moved from his crouch, but he'd raised his hands up, as if to show her he meant no harm. He was ripped with muscle, his jaw angled and hard, his dark hair cropped short. He looked dangerous and deadly, just like Slade... Her heart fluttered. He
did
look just like Slade. Younger, leaner, but he had the same jaw, the same nose, and the same dangerous eyes.
Your brother? How—

I don't know. We haven't had time to talk. Can you come out here, please?

Killian still hadn't moved. "Did Slade explain?"

"Yes." She didn't lower the lamp. How was Killian there? What had happened? "Where's Slade?"

"In the living room."

"He's
here?
" He was present, but he'd asked Killian to get her? Fear knifed through her. "What's wrong with him?" Not waiting for an answer, she tossed the lamp on the bed and raced out the door and down the hall.

She ran into the living room and spun around, searching for him. "Slade?"