Predator's Refuge (2 page)

Ryland would have no reasons to regret putting her in charge.

“Kate,” she called to a colleague down the hall. “Did the pub get restocked with Molson Canadian? We go through that stuff like water.”

“Yes, Marci,” the woman replied as they passed.

She smiled and carried on outside toward the security office. Once there, she strode in and addressed the two security guards on duty. “Lloyd, Connor. Any issues today?”

Lloyd, a burly bear shifter, grinned. “All quiet on the western front, boss. Not even a splinter.”

“You guys are awesome.” She exited the office with a happy wave, her heart swelling with satisfaction. “Keep on keepin’ on!”

On her way back to her own cabin for the night, she picked up Ryland’s walkie-talkie and called over to the housekeeping department. “Moira, it’s me. Were you able to send up the extra pillows and blankets to the Vaughan family? Their little girl gets cold at night.” She waited for Moira’s crackly, affirmative response and thanked the housekeeper. “Perfect, thank you. Talk to you in the morning. Over and out.”

With a click on the walkie-talkie button, Marci reached her cabin door. She unlocked it but took one last look back at the property she’d come to love, probably just as much as Ryland. The old oaks and maples were now fully robed in autumn splendor, and the forest seemed awash in tones of gold and scarlet. She breathed in. With her enhanced lynx senses, she could smell smoke from several cozy fireplaces and smiled at the thought of guests warming themselves inside their cabins. She turned her gaze toward the small portion of Lake Gemini visible from her vantage point, and it glistened under the setting sun.

The most beautiful place in the world.

After spending her formative years on the resort, it felt more like home than her parents’ house did. Nothing would give her more contentment than doing it justice while she was in command, so when Ryland returned, it would remain the peaceful haven he’d created.

She exercised control over each aspect of the business and things were going swimmingly. In fact, they couldn’t be any better. Safe in the knowledge all was well on the resort, she entered her cabin and closed the door behind her.

As soon as she was alone, her back still to the door, exhaustion set in and her smile faded. An invasive tickle crept up her spine.

Immediately her inner voice, that of her lynx, began to taunt her.
You might think you’ve muzzled me, friend, but just you wait…

Go away
. A drip of perspiration materialized on her brow and dripped down her temple, landing in her cleavage.

Marci only shifted for the first time a few months ago, and her lynx seemed to be under the impression she had a different vocation. Specifically, that of a dedicated porn star. Her libido, absent for much of her adult life, had recently kicked into overdrive. Most days, Marci’s temperature ran so hot she wondered if she’d skipped her twenties and gone straight to menopause.

Even Ryland knew her shame because she’d propositioned his brother Soren. While naked.

That hadn’t gone over well. Luckily Soren had a forgiving mate, one who’d become her friend since the odd encounter. It still didn’t mean she didn’t grimace internally every time she spotted Gioia around the resort. Thank God the couple was vacationing in St. Lucia right now, meaning one less thing to cause stress in her already overloaded system.

Marci had spent months sucking back embarrassing pangs of lust in the presence of unmated men. It wasn’t as bad as it used to be, but the ominous purrs of her lynx let her know the animal still sought to appease its hunger. Nevertheless, her job meant the world to her. Determined to remain professional, she ignored the fact her heat-consumed lynx seemed to think every unmated male was a special sexual delivery.

At least her virginity had been ruled out as an issue. Before she’d lost it, her lynx had been insatiable, causing a dreadful ruckus every time one of her male colleagues happened by, to say nothing of the lodge customers.

Luckily, she’d been able to rely on her old pal Killian Moon. The jaguar shifter, one of the other mentors in Ryland’s program, stepped in when he’d witnessed Marci’s agony. She’d asked him to take her virginity, knowing there wouldn’t be any awkwardness afterward. After all, they weren’t interested in each other romantically. She’d just needed to scratch a terrible itch. Okay, it might not have been professional to sleep with a colleague, but Killian was the only one Marci trusted to help her through the transition. They’d been friends for years, since their school days on the mainland.

It helped. A little bit.

She didn’t feel the need to maul passing men in the hallways anymore, but her lynx prowled inside her, still restless. It threatened her regularly. It sought … something different. Sought it everywhere.

Which was why Marci had embarked on a campaign to silence the animal. As much as it hurt to ignore her primal instinct to seek out a mate, she slapped a lid on her bothersome lynx. Every time the animal so much as cracked open its eyes, Marci forced it into a virtual corner of her being. So far, in public, her scheme was working.

But in private…

Now that she hid behind closed doors, the fever set in, rampaging through her like a bloody horseman of the apocalypse. Her lynx reared its lascivious head and let out a cry of sexual frustration.

“Feed me!”
it screamed.

She might think she had the animal under control, but during those quiet, vulnerable moments, the beast attacked her again and again, demanding she listen. Demanding she provide the man it so obviously craved.

“I don’t know who you want,” Marci spat in disgust. “Leave me alone!”

The great cat banged against her insides, clamoring for attention and satiation. Swallowing past the thick walls of her throat, Marci dashed into her bedroom and threw the walkie-talkie to the carpeted floor. She collapsed onto her bed. Kicking off her skirt, she ripped a hole in the crotch of her pantyhose and shoved aside the elastic of her panties.

With a frenzied cry, Marci slid her fingers between her sore, swollen lips and rubbed herself to orgasm to the sounds of her lynx moaning. As the animal in her howled, presenting its ass to some invisible partner, Marci bit down on her bottom lip and stifled a primal shout. Even after coming, her orgasm a mere shadow of the one building in her system, she felt no relief. Her lynx wasn’t satisfied and wouldn’t stop crying.

It wanted more. It wanted a man.

Well, it would have to wait. She had a job to do.

Marci sat up and wiped at her clammy face, and then supported her pounding head. She stared at her ripped hose, frowned, and let out a long sigh.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up.

* * * *

Anton Gaspar disembarked from the Gemini Island ferryboat. Before doing anything else, he touched his fingers to his brow, chest, left and right shoulder in sequence, in the sign of the cross.

Old habits die hard
.

Sighing, he tossed his duffel bag over his shoulder, and then clutched the two large suitcases that contained the most essential of his worldly belongings. A few outfits, his fencings foils, some toiletries, and his Bible were all he needed. As the ferry made ready to pull away, he stole a moment and took in the surroundings of his new home and work.

Gemini Island, Ontario, such a long way from Budapest, jarred him in its differences. In this tree-covered place, he could spy no majestic historic buildings nor delicate bridges. No statues to dead royals, ornamented in bird excrement. No fountains and picturesque roads.

Perfect
. He breathed long and deep, and the brisk autumn air found a home in his lungs.

He made a few other quick comparisons between the island and the seat of his family’s power. There was no corruption here; he could smell its absence. Unlike home, Gemini Island seemed free from the stench of long-dried blood and betrayal. In this more innocent place, he would not always have to constantly swallow the acid tang of violence as it clung to every wall and every person.

God help him, he’d make sure it stayed that way. He needed to know places like this existed in the world.

He flexed his Siberian tiger muscles and began the walk to the Ursa Lodge, ready to begin. No looking back.

Szabadság
. Freedom reigned here.

If only he could free himself from the vile clutches of his memories.

As he marched along the well-marked path to the lodge, a hundred reminiscences replayed in Anton’s mind like a ridiculous film reel of shame. Thirty years spent in the bosom of a family who didn’t think twice of betraying their own kind. Almost thirty years as the older brother to a man who valued status and power more than family and love. Thirty years as son to a bloodthirsty dictator.

Thirty years too long. He should have done this a sad decade ago.

Never mind. His nightmares would have chased him wherever he went. Even now, he could not erase the horrible imagery from his mind. The clouded visions of him locked in a cage with his brothers, taunted by their sham of a father. The same hateful pictures had tortured him from youth, making him crave retribution. At least here, away from Budapest, he would be out of temptation’s grasp.

Vengeance ran in his blood, but he would not be a slave to the same base desires that claimed his family. He needed to begin again, to rise from the ashes of deceit.

He thought he’d found his perfect refuge when he took up residence at the Pannonhalma Monastery near Gyor. For a while, the Benedictine Abbey had been the perfect escape. Silence and peace and simplicity had been the new themes in Anton’s life. Brother Ferenc had taught him the benefits of meditation, of treating one’s body like a temple, and he’d thrived.

It hadn’t been long before the vivid nightmares found him there too. He’d known at that point he needed to get away from his beloved Hungary altogether. As long as he remained in his homeland, there would always be a chance he’d succumb to the evil in his genes. Tigers like him had trouble controlling their urges, fashioned as they were for hunting prey. And his tiger had been on the hunt for some time, eager for payback, for fresh blood.

For that reason, he couldn’t trust himself at home. He wanted nothing more to do with the Gaspar clan, couldn’t stomach being in the midst of their vile machinations. His only hope at living a normal life was to create a new one, despite how much he wanted to clean up after his father and lead his tribe into a safe and happy future.

When he’d heard of Ryland Snow’s unusual resort through shifter acquaintances, something in him snapped into place. He’d known instinctively the Ursa Lodge was where he needed to reinvent himself. His subsequent conversations with Snow confirmed his suspicions. The man owned a lodge for shifters, a place where they could be free to be themselves, unafraid of retribution or prying human eyes. A place where he mentored young shifters and taught them how to be proud of their unique talents.

No one had ever taught him these things.

He longed to be part of this positive environment, away from the sham court created by his father and one sycophant brother Istvan. No more infighting. No more terror. Just freedom.

He would miss Gabi, his other brother, but sacrifices must be made for sanity.

Casting an appraising eye around the property as he approached it, Anton noticed a few teenage shifter males flirting with a group of girls. He would be spending his days helping teens adjust to their unique talents and gifts. Proud to do it, frankly he couldn’t wait to start work. Mulling over a few ideas for icebreakers, he marched toward the front door. The sliding doors swung open for him and he walked in, head high.

Immediately, the fragrance hit him, activating his Jacobson’s organ. He swallowed, tasting it on his tongue and at the back of his throat, and wondered if he was mistaken.

No, how could he mistake the unique scent of a female cat in heat? It was too delicious a scent to forget. Sweetness coated his taste buds, winding a delirious path down his throat. As his head swam, he blinked and tried to clear his thoughts of the sexual imagery racing through it.

The scent did not belong to another tiger shifter, but some other type of predatory cat. One whose perfume he hadn’t sampled before. One who must be particular to this region. Cougar? No. Mountain lion? Surely not.

Whatever she was, her scent teased him with its delicious flavor.

Don’t
, he warned himself. Wasn’t it enough that he spent the last few years of his existence trying to escape the sick wiles of the grasping women at court? And God only knew how hard he’d worked to maintain a state of abstinence at Pannonhalma, devoting his life to meditation. He’d come here to work, not lose himself in a sweet piece of…

Stop it
. This was no time to think of pussy, even though he’d never been more desperate for a taste of creaming woman.

His tiger howled inside him, hungry for that which it had been denied for almost two years.

Still the perfume, more intoxicating than any he’d known, wafted toward him. He wanted to close his eyes and drink it in. The unyielding power of the aroma could make him forget his vows. Granted, he wasn’t really a monk, but he had followed the monastic lifestyle from day one at Pannonhalma. The purity in the monk’s life had been the very thing he’d required to get his life back on track.

So why did he want to find the source of the scent and fuck her until she begged alternately for mercy and for more? Her need seemed strong. Whoever this lady cat was, she must be in dire agony for her scent to be so powerful.

None of his business.

Mentally caging the growling tiger inside him, he shook his head and approached the front desk. He dropped his luggage and cleared his throat at the woman working there. Her head had been down as she read some reports, but she looked up now.

“Welcome to the Ursa…” Her jaw fell open and her sentence hung in the air, unfinished and clearly forgotten.

Well, well. A beautiful little lynx
.