On the Prowl (15 page)

Seizing her temper with both hands, she fought for enough self-control to speak. There was one very important message she needed to get across to her mate before he disappeared back into his office, thinking he had solved all of their relationship issues with one ignorant decree.

“Nicolas,” she ground out, stopping him just as he stepped across the threshold.

He paused and turned his head back to her, one eyebrow arching in supercilious response. “Yes, Saskia?”

She kept her tone very even and polite, an effort that had her trembling with the strain. “I’d just like you to know, Nicolas, that as far as I’m concerned, you can take your relationship rules and choke on them. I agreed to be your mate, not your Stepford wife broodmare. If that’s what you’re looking for, then as far as I’m concerned, this engagement is null and void.”

He turned on her, fury rising on every line of his face. “That’s not the way this works, Saskia,” he bit out. “The engagement is sealed. We
are
mates. This isn’t like a human relationship where you just tell me you’ve changed your mind, you give back the ring, and we each go our own merry way. We were bound together the minute you took me into your body. There is no going back.”

“Trust me, I know what having sex with you means,” she hissed, her own fury rising. After all, she was the one who would suffer as a consequence of their mating, not him. “Do you think I’m an idiot? I’m fully aware of the way my own body works. When you mated me, you induced my ovulation. Sometime in the next two or three days, I’ll be as fertile as a bloody earth goddess and as horny as a rabid mink. But you know what? I’ll get through it, because I will kill you before I will let myself be impregnated by and permanently bound to a mate who has so little respect for me, he can’t even treat me like a person in my own right.”

The force of her words finally gave her the strength to move, and she rose to her feet as she spoke until she stood before him, spine straight, shoulders back, chin up, her whole body vibrating with pride and defiance. She waited for the explosion, the ultimatum, the lecture. Every muscle tensed to spit and claw and do whatever it took to convince her mate of her sincerity. She had drawn her line in the sand, and now she would hold back the tide, if that was what it took.

“I have never treated you as less than a person.”

“You’ve treated me as less than you. Isn’t that enough?”

She expected the explosion; what she got was ossification at lightning speed.

In the space between one heartbeat and the next, the man in front of her visibly turned to stone. His jaw set, his body hardened, and his expression solidified into something about as warm and welcoming as a slab of rough-hewn marble. When he spoke, she expected something to crack, like the earth’s crust above a fault line.

“We’ll see,” he said tightly, and exited.

Saskia watched the door long after it had closed behind her mate, and blew out a deep breath. The strength went out of her in a rush of cascading adrenaline, leaving her groping for support as she lowered herself back into her chair.

“Okay,” she breathed. “That went well.”

Then she lowered her head between her knees and stared blankly at the floor.

What the hell had she done?

Six

What in God’s name had he done?

Nic left the apartment in self-defense, like the proverbial rat, only what he’d fled wasn’t a ship; it was his engagement, and it wasn’t sinking. It had just gone up in flames.

“Holy hell.”

Just what had he thought he was doing, issuing his mate those sorts of ultimatums? Was he out of his mind?

Completely, he acknowledged, pacing down the sidewalk with long, angry strides. He had no idea where he was going at the moment; he just needed to get away from the mess he’d created of his own life. He knew he’d just screwed up on an epic scale, and he even had a pretty good idea about why—it was all Sass’s fault.

The minute he got within ten feet of his fiancée, he lost his ever-loving mind. He didn’t know how it happened; he just knew that one minute he was a sane, logical, amiable fellow and then his mate appeared and in an instant he became a jealous, irrational, possessive, controlling Neanderthal nightmare not sufficiently evolved to beat his own chest or pick his own ass. All he could do was bellow at the cause of his insanity, as if raising the volume on his inane ranting would make it sound any less ridiculous. How had this happened?

Just at the moment, he would have been perfectly content to blame the whole thing on Rafael De Santos, the absolute bane of his existence. Nicolas had never had a nemesis before, but the head of the Council had just won the title in a single round of unanimous voting.

It had started at the engagement party.

Nicolas had been on guard before that, of course. He’d known before Preda Industries ever made the decision to relocate its headquarters to New York—a purely practical decision based on the city’s position as de facto center of the business universe—that the Council of Others would not likely roll out the welcome mat for an influx of Tiguri. He had planned to remain civil, though, to prove to the Council and its head through his actions that he had no interest in and no intention of wresting control of the paranormal community from the hands of those currently in charge. Nic had enough on his hands, between running the company and starting a new phase of his life, complete with a mate and the new family they would start together. Why would he want to get mixed up in politics? As far as he was concerned, they were a thankless endeavor. He’d much rather concentrate on making money and cubs. He knew he was good at one and had no doubt he would thoroughly enjoy the other.

At the party, though, De Santos had set Nic’s downfall in motion by the simple and seemingly innocent fact of his conversation with Saskia. While Nic had been occupied by another guest, the slick werejaguar had moved in and engaged his mate in a seemingly idle conversation, all about how pleasant the party had been and how pleased she and Nic were that De Santos could attend. Nic had heard the words, but more important, he’d heard the tone within them and his attention had immediately snapped from an important business acquaintance to the woman at his side and the way the eyes of Rafael De Santos had raked over every inch of her lovely form.

The fierce rush of jealousy had startled Nic. He’d wondered at himself, not previously having experienced such an intense feeling of possessiveness over any woman, and although Saskia had agreed to become his mate, they had yet to form any real bond between them. That was supposed to come later that night, after they were alone. And naked. He had tried to tell himself not to act like an idiot, that he had nothing to worry about, but then the Felix had smiled at her, and Nic had seen the predatory heat behind the charming gesture, and he had known he had every reason for his jealousy. De Santos had all but devoured Saskia with those damned yellow eyes of his, and Nic had seen the moment when she became aware of it. He’d drawn her closer and attempted to diffuse the situation by deflecting the other man’s attention to himself, but he suspected now the plan had backfired.

Very few people had paid attention to De Santos flirting with Saskia. She was a guest of honor, after all, and the head of the Council had a reputation as a notorious Romeo. People almost expected a little bit of charged banter; but when Nic stepped in, the dynamic changed, all of a sudden becoming a lot more interesting for the nonhuman guests still present. More than one person had taken note of the ruthlessly restrained confrontation between the two men, neither Nic’s jealousy nor De Santos’s appreciation of Saskia’s charms going unnoticed. Nic more than suspected that the exchange had only fed the fire of suspicion against him once word got around of the attack on the head of the Council. Who had a stronger motive for attempted murder than a jealous mate publically challenged?

Nic supposed he should be grateful that no one thought to suggest that he’d been anywhere other than at his apartment during the time of the attack. Everyone knew that to say a newly engaged Tiguri would be out roaming the streets looking for revenge when he had a new mate waiting for him at home, ready and willing to seal their relationship in the most intimate manner possible, would do nothing other than make the one suggesting such a thing look like a fool. Especially when the mate in question looked like Nic’s Saskia.

And there Nic’s mind brought him full circle back to his current dilemma. What was he going to do about Sass?

He contemplated turning right around, crawling back into the apartment, and begging her forgiveness, but he saw one major flaw in that plan. Other than the possibility that she would take one look at him and slam the door on any and every protuberant part of his anatomy. Right now he might be thinking rationally, but all he had to do was get in the same room with Sass and he’d bet his entire business that his capacity for logical thought would once again fly right out the window. In other words, while he might go in intending to apologize, he had a sick, overwhelming feeling that once he caught sight of her he would once again transform into an ignorant jackass and only manage to further alienate the one woman he most wanted to keep happy.

How was that for a kick in the balls?

Nic grumbled to himself as he turned yet another corner and found himself in a familiar neighborhood. He recognized it instantly, even though he had last approached it in the wee hours of the morning. There, on the next block of the upscale, tree-shaded street, lay the classical stone edifice of the Vircolac club.

His lip curled in a snarl. From what he had heard, every other Other in New York City considered the private club to be a home away from home. Every respectable Other, that is. Membership only required that a being prove to be Other or to be mated to one. Inside the walls, vampires and shifters, changelings and magic users all congregated and enjoyed what was rumored to be truly outstanding service, including a highly regarded restaurant, private and public meeting spaces, select guest accommodations, and one of the finest bars in the city. In the basements, however, a whole other level of socialization took place—all run by the Council of Others.

The Council chambers took up at least half of the sprawling building’s underground space. Nic had gotten an impression of the size of them during his rather unwilling visit the other night. Decorated more like a medieval dungeon than a state building, the room had possessed an atmosphere that suggested one would be well served to remember that civilization was merely a construct of human history and not something to which the Council of Others felt itself bound. Needless to say, Nic had not enjoyed his visit.

The memory sparked a surge of resentment. At any other time and in any other city, a private club for Others would be falling all over itself to open its doors to Nicolas Preda, member of a noble supernatural race,
ther
of his streak, business owner. If the owners were looking for bloodlines, power, and conspicuous wealth, Nic possessed all those in abundance. There was no logical reason why he shouldn’t be welcomed into such a club, but the fact remained that he felt barred from the place as surely as if the owners had erected a fence around the building, something with heavy iron bars and about a hundred and twenty volts.

He felt about that level of shock when he saw the doors to the club open and a familiar figure step out into the afternoon sunshine. Nic blinked, but the sight didn’t change. He’d crossed half the distance between them on pure instinct before he even realized he was moving.

“What’s going on? What happened?” he demanded.

Stefan Preda fixed his son with an icy stare and jerked his head slightly toward the club. “The Council ‘politely requested’ that I return this morning to answer a few more questions,” he sneered. “They detained me for almost three hours demanding explanations for the most errant nonsense I have ever been forced to endure hearing. I had to cancel two very important meetings, and now I’m about to be late for a third because my driver couldn’t obey a simple instruction to
wait. Here.
”

“Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“There was no time.” Stefan glanced at his watch, then down the street where a sleek black town car had just turned the corner several blocks away. “One of their little functionaries came to my home to escort me this time. I wasn’t even permitted to call my secretary. I had to have Robert call about rearranging my schedule after he dropped me off.”

Oh, the indignity. Nic heard the subtext; he just didn’t care at the moment. “Then she should have called me.”

“Didn’t she? Then how did you know I would be here?”

He returned his father’s frown. “I didn’t,” he admitted. “It was purely a coincidence that I happened to be walking by when I saw you come out of the building.”

“You were out walking?” Stefan’s voice rang with incredulity.

“I needed some air.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You
need
to be making use of the time you cleared in your schedule for your new mate and ensuring that she becomes pregnant as quickly as possible.” The town car pulled up to the curb and Robert climbed out to open the door for his employer. “You agreed to this arrangement, Nicolas, and now you need to follow through on your commitment. You have a responsibility to the future of our streak.”

As if he didn’t realize that, he thought, biting back a stinging retort. Sometimes he wondered if his father had paid any attention to the man Nic had become, except, of course, when he needed Nic to do something, like take over the company so he could retire or take the daughter of his old rival as a mate to further the purity of Stefan’s bloodlines.

“I’m more than aware of my responsibilities, sir,” he said, keeping his voice even with effort. “I’ve yet to fail at any of them.”

“Good.”

Stefan slid into the backseat of the car, clearly finished with the discussion, but there were a few things Nic still wanted to know.