Julie Kenner
This section of the Audubon Zoo had been her favorite place to escape since she’d moved to New Orleans nineteen months ago. How many times had she come here, walking alone through the famous Garden District to get to this solitary spot? The zoo provided a peace she couldn’t find in her job or in herself. The cages and habitats, each specifically designed for a unique species, provided an ordered respite from a world that never quite made sense. A world where Cate just never quite fit in.
But the world would provide no cage for Caitlyn. She’d find no safe haven, and there were no easy answers. She’d spent her whole life stalking demons, the kind on the street and the kind that lived inside her. But still they came. Night after night she hit the streets, hunting down the killers and the rapists and the vandals. And day after day she testified in court. The stalwart detective. Just the facts, ma’am. No need to get emotional. No need to let the jury know you saved their children by getting that monster off the street. Why bother? There would just be another monster to take his place tomorrow.
But no matter how futile, Cate did her job. And she did it well. She had to. How else could she prove that the voice in her head was wrong? That familiar low whisper with her mother’s southern drawl. You’re a bad girl, Caitlyn. A cursed girl. You shouldn’t never have been born.
Amazing that the voice could persist even after the woman was gone. The day Cate had graduated from high school, her mother had walked away, taking her anger and her superstitions with her, and leaving seventeen-year-old Cate to fend for herself.
It hurt, yes. But it was also a relief.
The woman herself was gone.
But the voice in her head remained, and so Cate came here to the zoo to escape that proclamation, to silence that persistent voice. And hour after hour she’d lose herself in the sweet pleasure of doing nothing but watching the great cats move about. Their lives were her escape, and she loved them for it. But it was the one called Midnight that she loved the most. Even more aloof than his counterparts, and certainly more violent, the cat had been relegated to private quarters—a smaller habitat off the main panther area. And Cate had kept silent vigil, watching the cat, feeling absurdly, pathetically, as if there was a bond between them.
Today, she’d once again succumbed to the urge to come here, ignoring Adam’s offer to buy her a beer and his protest that it wasn’t right to spend her birthday alone. She sighed. He was probably right. She probably should have accepted her partner’s offer, but she just couldn’t handle company or the false camaraderie. Not now. Not when she was alone and turning thirty.
With a tug, she hefted her backpack into her lap, then pulled out a package wrapped in gold paper. It was from Kimberly, the only person in the world Cate might actually call a close friend. They’d met in Los Angeles, and for some reason Kimberly had taken a liking to Cate, managing during the years Cate worked for the LAPD to break through one or two of Cate’s thick stone walls.
Cate twisted the package, examining its sides and corners, and imagining that it held something fabulous. Unlike Cate, who’d happily shop at Goodwill for the rest of her life, Kimberly had good taste and knew how to wield it.
With a little sigh, Cate allowed herself to wish that Kimberly was at home by her telephone. But her friend was out of reach, happily tripping through Europe, and Cate had no idea how to locate her. And despite her law-enforcement connections, using Interpol to track down a girlfriend for a birthday-blues chat seemed a little extreme. Even for a thirtieth birthday.
“Besides,” she said, looking once again toward the panther, “I’ve got you.”
The cat stopped stalking and cocked his head, those copper eyes peering at her over the wide, flat nose. Cate shivered, suddenly certain the beast had understood her. She licked her lips. “I hope it’s okay if I spend my birthday with you.”
A few more seconds passed, and the cat’s gaze never wavered. Then he blinked—a gesture Cate took as acquiescence—and resumed pacing the habitat. Cate scowled, shaking her head at her own foolishness as she turned her attention from the cat back to the package in her lap.
She found an untaped section of the thick gold paper and slipped her pinkie nail—the only one she hadn’t bitten off—under, edging it along until the tape peeled up. Slowly, she urged the tape away, careful not to let any of the gold color catch on the adhesive. The box was small, but Kimberly had used a lot of tape. It took almost ten minutes, but finally Cate managed to remove the wrapping paper intact. She folded it into a square and tucked it into her purse before turning to the box.
Her unwrapping ritual was grueling and probably a little silly, but Cate loved it. Loved the anticipation that came from peeling back layer after layer of colored paper and tape to get to the goody buried deep inside. With a present, you always knew the digging was worth it. With people, you simply couldn’t be that sure.
Now that the paper was off, she lifted the cardboard box lid slowly, revealing an understated wooden box with tarnished hinges. The wood was polished to a high sheen, but other than that, the box was wholly unremarkable. Even so, there was something wonderful about it, as if beneath that simple lid lay the treasures of the universe.
Ever so carefully, she plucked the box free. The wood seemed warm in her hands, and for just a moment she closed her eyes, pretending that this was the crowning gift of a fabulous birthday party and she was seated at the head of an ornately laid table, thirty or forty of her closest friends raising their flutes in a champagne toast to her, her parents sitting tall and proud at the head of the table.
“Utter nonsense,” she whispered, her eyes straying toward the cat. The panther blinked, but didn’t reply.
Cate scowled, irritated by her own foolishness, both in talking to the cat and in fantasizing about large, unwieldy parties. She didn’t like crowds. She didn’t need parents or a cadre of friends. She was doing just fine.
She swiped the edge of her thumb under her eye, warding off the tears she simply wouldn’t shed. Hell, maybe she should have taken Adam up on his offer. But no. It wasn’t a casual drink or polite conversation she wanted. True, Adam might fix her up with one of his friends, but if she wanted to get laid she’d have to arrange it herself. In that regard, at least, New Orleans was the perfect city, and she knew how to work it.
She was a bad girl, after all, and isn’t that what bad girls did? Had wild, hot, demanding sex with gorgeous men who never called again? Men who, no matter how much she secretly wanted them to, never bought flowers or candy or told her she was special. Why would they? She was who she was, and no man could save her any more than she could save herself.
A tear slid down her cheek, and she roughly brushed it away. “It’s only a birthday,” she said, her soft whisper directed toward the panther.
The great cat stared back, then settled himself on the cool stone, his regal head resting on crossed paws.
“Well, time to see what I’ve got here,” Cate said. At midday in the summer heat, the zoo was almost empty, so no one would hear her talking foolishly to a cat. As she lifted the lid on the box, though, all thoughts of idiocy left her head, replaced with an intense sense of wonder.
There, nestled in the velvet-lined interior of the box, lay the most beautiful glass perfume bottle Cate had ever seen. The product of fine artistry, the bottle evoked an erotic sensuality, warm silver intricately intertwined through cut, cool crystal. “Oh,” she whispered, the word little more than a sigh, as she lifted the bottle out.
Obviously an antique, the bottle was more solid than it looked, and despite its almost ephemeral beauty, she didn’t worry that she would break it by handling it. This bottle had seen the world, probably decorating the dressing tables of royalty, holding specially commissioned perfumes or scented oils for a king’s mistress. The bottle had witnessed both grand passion and grand intrigue.
Kimberly couldn’t have picked a better present.
Although the bottle was empty, Cate couldn’t resist the urge to tug at the stopper but it was stuck fast. Not that it really mattered. The bottle was bone dry, and probably had been for some time. And it wasn’t as if she’d ever take the time to fill it with her favorite fragrance. That was hardly her style. Though she was happy to add the beautiful bottle to her dressing table.
She held it up to take a closer look at the fine crystal. The facets caught the light, breaking it into a rainbow of color.
In front of her, the cat raised itself, then stood rigid, its nose twitching and its eyes near-slits.
“What is it,” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”
The cat didn’t answer. And Cate realized that, in fact, she’d actually expected it would. Absurd.
Instead, it began pacing, more frenetic than before. It circled the habitat, faster and faster, as if searching for a heretofore unnoticed exit.
Still holding the bottle, she stood, then moved to the fence. The cat stopped, turning to face her. Their eyes met, and she lost herself in the deep color of the beast’s irises. She stood, mesmerized, as the seconds turned to minutes, the minutes to hours, the hours to eternity. She’d been drawn in, and now the panther was filling her head, overwhelming her senses. She was the panther. Stalking. Caged. Anquished.
Wanting. Needing.
Needing her.
Gasping, Cate jumped back, the spell broken.
She glanced at her watch; barely a minute had passed. Had she drifted off into her own daydreams? Or had the panther called to her, reaching out to meet her mind?
Nonsense, of course. But Cate couldn’t help the overwhelming sense of foreboding. The sense that she was not the hunter, but the hunted.
There were demons in the dark, and they knew her name.
“Do you know?” she whispered to the panther. “Do you know what’s happening?”
And then, drifting on a wind that was surely born of imagination, Cate heard the whispered reply—I know, Caitlyn. I know that you are mine….
SHE WAS THE ONE .
From within his feline prison, Luc Agassou watched as the dark-haired woman fled down the path, her backpack slung over one shoulder and a wooden box clutched to her breast. He’d watched her for almost two years now, suspecting but not certain that she was the one. His mate. The one woman in all the world who could help him control his curse.
She’d first appeared nineteen months ago, as he was beginning the second year of his self-imposed sentence. He’d noticed her sitting on the bench in a torrential rain, a yellow slicker and rain hat her only protection from the elements. For the first few months after his confinement, he’d examined each female visitor with an intensity born of desperation. Was it her? Or her? Or perhaps that lush blonde over there?
But disappointment after disappointment had hardened his heart, and he’d quit looking, telling himself that if she came, he would certainly notice. And if she didn’t…well, then one such as he deserved this dark and solitary confinement.
When this woman had sat on the bench, he’d noticed. That had been his first clue. The fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off her had been the second.
He’d almost summoned the change right then, so desperate was he to take his human form again. But he couldn’t risk it. If he took this woman—if he mated with her—and she wasn’t the one…
He’d trembled at the possibility of succumbing to the change while she was still in his bed. Could he, in the madness that took him as he changed into feline form, prevent himself from mauling that perfect specimen of female flesh? He didn’t think so. He was a killer, a beast. That was, after all, why he’d confined himself to this private hell, a majestic black panther who lived only to entertain the masses that wandered the paths of the Audubon Zoo.
He, like all the unknown others of his family, went through life in the body of a man but with the soul of a panther. And at times, the panther fought to get out. When the curse came, it was hard and brutal, attacking both body and mind so that Luc lost all control. He would lose minutes, sometimes hours, and when his senses returned, he’d find himself in feline form, often hungry and on the prowl.
The change could never be predicted, sometimes not coming for weeks, other times coming twice or three times in one day. But once the madness passed and self-awareness returned, he could shift back into human form at will. That was how he’d stayed at the zoo for so long. He’d simply refused to shift back and, instead, had stayed a panther.
Before he’d come here, he’d tried to live a normal life, tried to pass as truly human. It had been easier before his parents had died. Geneticists, his parents had adopted him after his birth mother had committed suicide, leaving him and his identical twin. The infant boys had become wards of the state, and eventually, his brother had been adopted. Luc often mourned their separation, and hoped that his brother had been as fortunate as Luc. The couple that eventually took Luc into their home and their hearts truly loved him. Even more, as scientists, understood him.
Genetics, they’d said. Not magic. But Luc knew it didn’t matter what they called it. There was only one cure: sex. And even that wasn’t a real cure. To stave off the change—and then only temporarily—he had to have sex with his life mate, a woman then unknown to him.
A curse, he’d said.
Science, his parents had answered. Pheromones and hormones and all controllable with time, with practice. When puberty hit, they’d put bars on his room, so that when the change came he would be out of harm’s way.
Life had been bearable while his parents had lived. They’d tried to teach him control, to keep some shred of humanity during those first lost moments during the change. And they’d promised him that a permanent “cure” did exist. They just didn’t know what or how.
After his parents had died, his world had been turned upside down. He’d searched for his mate each night, instinct telling him that she was in New Orleans, that she would find him. But his efforts were to no avail, and he was careful to spend every night in his cage. Such precautions were insufficient, however. On one tragic day, the change had come, fast and furious, and Luc had been unable to grasp the control his father had sworn was possible.
He’d failed. He was cursed. And he’d confined himself in this feline habitat, hoping against hope that somehow, some way, his mate would wander past his cage.
His days had been filled with disappointment. Until, that is, he’d seen the dark-haired woman.
He fought the urge to take human form immediately. Best to wait, to bide his time until he knew for certain that this woman could quell the fire that burned within him. That her humanity, meshed with his own, could stifle the demons in his soul.
Today, though, his suspicions had finally been borne out. Today, he’d seen into her soul, felt her being, and somehow he had simply known.
She was the one. His mate. His cure.
And he would have her.
The pad of footsteps reached her ears, soft and steady, and Cate’s breath caught. She reached for her gun, wanting to turn on her stalker once and for all, but he wasn’t there. She wore a silky negligee, and though the streets were empty, golden eyes peered from windows that looked down on the alley. The wind whispered with a dozen voices. Give in, Cate. You are his. Give in…Give in…
Her heart pounded in her chest as she twisted, trying to see her tormentor in the shadows. No one. And no sound in the night except the whisper of the wind.
And then he was there, his hand on her breast, his lips on her neck. “Mine,” he whispered, as he pushed the loose strap of her negligee off her shoulder. The garment slid down, the soft material cool against her hot skin.
Her nipple peaked and he rubbed it with the pad of his thumb through the material. Then he lowered his head, his mouth closing over her breast, his teeth teasing and taunting her.
She wanted to take his head in her hands and lift him up to face her, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lose herself to the heat swirling in her body. She hadn’t even seen his face, and yet she welcomed him with her body, with her soul. And with one low, desperate moan, she shifted, spreading her legs as she felt his hand cup her heat.
Her sex throbbed, and she swallowed a scream of frustration. She wanted him, wanted him inside her, filling her, possessing her.
“Mine, Cate,” he whispered again. “Remember that you are mine.”
And then, without warning, he was gone, and she was knocked to the ground by the force of a leaping panther. The panther lashed out, attacking the man who’d been following her. Not her lover, but someone else. A dark man, with ragged hair and a dirty face. A flash of dark fur and claws, and then the stalker’s knife clattered to the ground. It lay there in a pool of the man’s blood as Cate screamed, the sound of her own voice drowned out by a single word that filled her brain, scaring her even more than the attack. Mine.
CATE JERKED BOLT UPRIGHT from where she’d fallen asleep on the couch. Her heart beat so hard she was certain her ribs would crack. She tried to catch her breath, tried to slow her pulse, but the dream still held her in its clutches, and all she could feel was fear.
This was too much. Ever since her birthday two weeks ago, dreams had been haunting her. Each time she closed her eyes, her head filled with dark, erotic thoughts of need and lust and possession. Someone wanted her, was looking for her, would find her.
Even in her dreams she couldn’t hide.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Those dreams had become familiar friends in contrast to the nightmares that came more sporadically. There’d been three so far, including the one she still trembled from. Each nightmare was awash in violence and blood, and in each one he seemed to be coming closer to possessing her completely.
Except she didn’t know who the hell he was.
And, worse, the horrific foreboding in her mind was seeping out into real life. The sensation that she was being followed. That something was happening to her. That the world as she knew it was about to change, horribly and irrevocably.
Cate shivered, the warm sunlight streaming in from her window no defense against the cold inside her.
She was in so much trouble. And she didn’t even know why.
The sharp ring of her cell phone brought her back to her senses, and she levered herself off the couch then crossed the small room to grab her phone off the top of the television. She checked the ID, saw that it was Adam calling, and knew immediately what he was going to say.
“It’s happened again,” she said, her voice flat. Of course it had. Another brutal attack. The third. She knew, of course, because she’d seen it. In her dream. She’d been right there, watching. Just as she’d seen the others over the past ten days. Unable to do anything, to save anyone. Entirely powerless to help.
“About an hour ago. The bastard clawed up some homeless guy this time. Looks like our victim may have been about to pull a gun on a tourist, but no one deserves the slashing he took.”
“Where? Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you.”
“Not necessary. Riz and Beauchamp took the call. I’m heading to the hospital to take a statement. But I can cover it on my own. I know tonight’s your big night.”
Cate took a deep breath. “Right. Sure. No problem.”
Adam laughed. “You’re the only person I know who’d rather go to a hospital and interview a vic doped up on morphine than go to a black-and-white ball.”
“I have to give a speech,” she said.
“Just thank the nice people for your award and shake a lot of hands.” To his credit, he didn’t even try to tell her she’d be great. Despite trying to drag her out on her birthday, Adam knew she hated crowds. She loved kids, however, and the one community project that had drawn her in was the All Children’s Fund, a charitable organization that helped out underprivileged kids. She gave them her time and her money, and had logged the most volunteer hours in the past year. For that, she got an award.
And had to give a speech.
The thought of standing on that podium talking to all the adults in black tie—the kids weren’t even going to be there, just the sponsors and volunteers!—was more terrifying than all her dreams put together.
Her dreams. For a few moments, she’d actually pushed them from her mind, but now their memory—and that constant looming sense of being watched—returned.
Forcing the dark thoughts aside, she headed into her bedroom, saw the black floor-length dress she’d laid so carefully across the bed. With a little frown, she stripped down and stepped into it, twisting her arm into an awkward angle to do up the zipper in the back.
Finally dressed, she headed toward her dressing table and the single bottle of Chanel No. 5 she’d been hanging onto for years. She dabbed a bit on her pulse points, her eyes drifting toward the birthday bottle from Kimberly. She’d been tempted to pour the perfume into the bottle, but she’d stifled the urge. A bottle like that was a showpiece. If it was ever going to hold perfume again, it would be some zillion-dollar-an-ounce Paris concoction.
Not that she ever intended to put anything in the bottle. It was too special, too different. Too—
The bottle!
The dreams had started when she’d received the bottle. She licked her lips, wondering why the hell she was thinking crazy thoughts. After all, the dreams had started when she’d turned thirty, and that was a far better reason for nutty behavior than a perfume bottle, no matter how old or beautiful.
With a wry grin, she picked up the bottle. Color swirled in the glass, drawing her in like some hypnotic dance. She stared, losing herself in the color. Reds meshed with purples, gold danced with green. And there, deep in those transient swirls, she saw the coppery eyes of the panther—watching her, and seeing all the way down into her soul.
LUC TURNED THE SHOWER ON , then paced between the bathroom and the connecting bedroom as he waited for the water to heat. Tense and sore, his muscles screamed in pain. His pulse was rapid, his skin burning hot. He couldn’t remember where he’d been for the past three hours, but still he knew. The blood on his hands was testament to his whereabouts. To his sins.
In the bedroom, he grabbed the remote and aimed it at the wall-mounted television. Sure enough, the local news was already covering the attack.
“…marks the third mauling in the past ten days. This latest victim, whose identity is being withheld pending further police investigation, is currently in stable condition at University Hospital. While the community lives in fear, both police and zoo officials continue to search for the black panther that escaped from the Audubon Zoo…”
The video cut to a shot of a uniformed officer on the steps of the police station. A young, blond reporter held a microphone to the officer’s face.
“We have not confirmed that the panther is the culprit in these attacks. While our forensic team confirms that many of the scratches are feline in nature, other factors such as location suggest a human culprit.”
“Someone taking advantage of the panther’s escape?” the reporter asked.
“Could be. At any rate, we won’t know for certain until the culprit is apprehended or a victim recovers consciousness and can give us a description. In the meantime, we advise all citizens to stay on alert and to contact the police if—”
Luc clicked off the television. He’d heard enough. The nature of the maulings suggested a large feline had made the attacks. But some of the evidence pointed to a human. It was a conundrum, and one the police weren’t prepared to answer. Never would they suspect that the culprit was both man and beast. But Luc knew. And the truth ate at his soul.
He stepped into the shower and let the now-hot water pound away at the guilt…and the blood. With a deep, guttural groan, he pressed his hands against the smooth white tiles and faced down, letting the pulse of water pummel the back of his neck. His body shook as he released the flood of tears. Damn him. He should have moved to South America years ago and lived out his life in the wild. But he’d been selfish, wanting to harness his curse, believing he could find his mate. And so he’d stayed in New Orleans, waiting and watching. And then, two weeks ago, he’d finally found her, only to lose her again. But he knew she existed, and so he’d taken human form to facilitate the search. He’d end his curse; he was sure of that. But at what cost?
Once before he’d tried to wrangle control, relying on his parents’ belief coupled with his own will and obstinate personality. But his parents had been wrong. Without his mate, control wasn’t possible, not really. And in the end, his hubris had almost killed a child. That was when he’d confined himself to the zoo. Damn him to hell, hadn’t he learned anything while he’d been in that self-imposed prison?
He lifted his face to the stream, letting his tears mix with the water. He’d go back to the zoo. Tonight, he’d instruct Martin that when the next change came, Luc was to be restrained and captured. Even the possibility that he’d found his mate couldn’t justify remaining free. Days had passed since he’d taken human form, and still he’d been unable to locate the woman.
Decided, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower stall. He was adjusting a towel around his hips when Martin knocked at the bedroom door, not waiting for a response before he entered.
“Sir,” Martin said with an almost imperceptible nod toward the open double doors leading into the master bathroom. Ostensibly the butler, Martin was in fact so much more.
Luc stepped into the bedroom, meeting Martin’s gaze. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he said. “This time, I don’t intend to return.”
“I saw the news,” Martin said, going to the closet and pulling out Luc’s tuxedo. “I don’t believe you are the culprit.”
Luc crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No, sir.” The butler smoothed a wrinkle on the tux, then glanced at Luc, his expression meaningful. “I don’t.”
“Then you’re an old fool,” Luc said. “Or have you already forgotten that you let me in the back door not thirty minutes ago naked and covered in blood?”
“You have more control than you let yourself believe,” Martin said. “You’ve always had more control.”
A sliver of anger cut through Luc’s gut, and he thought of Clarissa Taylor, the little girl whose life he’d almost taken. “You don’t know anything.”
“On the contrary, sir. I know everything. That’s why you keep me in your employ.”
There was more truth in that than Luc wanted to admit. Martin had worked for Luc’s parents, and had been a constant figure in the Agassou household. In fact, it had been Martin who had “donated” the black panther on behalf of millionaire recluse Luc Agassou, who, Martin assured the zoo, was taking several years to tour Europe or else he would have been happy to attend the dedication of the new panther habitat.
So, yes, Martin did know most of Luc’s secrets. But not all. The man was too loyal, believing the best of Luc when Luc was quite aware that it was the worst that had been manifested over and over again. How else could he explain these maulings?
“I’m going back,” he said. “You’ll be the city’s newest hero when you bring me in.”
Martin sniffed. “Nonsense. You’re not going anywhere except to the All Children’s Benefit tonight.” He held up the tuxedo shirt and shook it.
“Martin,” he began, his tone laced in warning, “these attacks—”
“Will stop once you’re with the woman.”
Luc cocked his head. What was Martin trying to tell him? “You…?” He trailed off, unable to get his hopes up. He’d searched for a week, but had no clues. Had Martin succeeded where he had failed?
“I took it upon myself to visit the police station three days ago, following the last attack.”
“Dammit, Martin.”
The butler ignored him. “I spoke with one of the detectives working the case. Caitlyn Raine. A lovely young woman. Apparently she enjoys visiting the zoo….”
But by then Luc wasn’t listening. Caitlyn Raine. The name cut straight into his soul. She was the one; he was certain. His Caitlyn. His mate.
The fact that she was a detective—assigned to find him, apparently—snarled his plans up just a bit, but Luc wasn’t worried. This woman belonged to him, and he would have her. He smiled. Perhaps he’d been too hasty in planning a return to the zoo after all.
“You know where she is?”
“Indeed I do, sir.” Once again, he shook the tuxedo jacket. “And if you would get dressed, you might even make it to the function on time. I would hate for you to arrive so late that the lady has already left.”
Luc would hate that, too. He had no idea when the change would come again. Which meant he needed Caitlyn in his bed.
And the sooner he got her there, the better.
Truly a miracle, but she’d actually struggled through, made a speech to a roomful of people, and hadn’t dropped dead to the floor from mortification. Not only that, but at least a dozen people had told her how moved they’d been.
Amazing. In the last five hours she’d lost herself in an erotic, terrifying dream, seen a panther in a perfume bottle and survived a keynote address. On the whole, she really didn’t know which was the most shocking.
A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, and she traded her empty glass for a fresh one. She wasn’t exactly drunk, but she’d had a few more flutes than common sense would dictate. Then again, if common sense were running the show, she wouldn’t have agreed to make a speech in the first place.
At least the speech had taken her mind off the dreams and the visions. For a few moments she’d experienced something even more terrifying…and she’d survived.
A few more people came up to make small talk, complimenting her on her speech and asking about her involvement with the organization. She answered the questions, managing to put away another flute of champagne in the process.
The room spun a little, and she eased up next to a marble pillar, grateful for its support. She knew she ought to mingle a bit more, but she’d already reached her capacity for small talk. Better to stand here looking interested. If anyone approached, she’d try her best to be witty and friendly. And if they all left her alone for the rest of the night, well, that was fine, too. After all, it wasn’t as if there was anyone here she was dying to meet or—
And then she saw him.
She swallowed, taking an involuntary step away from the safety of the marble pillar and toward the exotic man in the perfectly tailored tuxedo. The crowd parted to let him pass, but he looked neither left nor right as his long steps carried him across the ballroom toward her. Right toward her.
Cate gasped, then gulped in air as she realized she’d forgotten to breathe. He was close now, and she could see his eyes—copper with flecks of gold. She’d seen those eyes before. In her dreams. Staring down at her as warm hands stroked her body, bringing her to the brink over and over again.
This was the man. This perfect male specimen had been filling her nights with erotic fantasies and decadent dreams. Dreams that often faded into the violent nightmares that had made her afraid to fall asleep at night.
She shivered. Despite the nightmares, she was never afraid in his arms. Her blood never ran cold until the panther leapt through the sky. The lover in her dreams kept her safe. And until this moment, she’d had no idea who he was.
But this man couldn’t be her dream lover; the possibility was absurd. Even so, her body and soul knew exactly who he was, and her body was more than happy to respond accordingly. Her nipples peaked, hard nubs that rubbed against the soft silk bodice of her simple evening dress. Her stomach filled with a liquid heat that seemed to shoot down into her thighs. Her knees were weak, and she wished she was sitting down.
Somehow, her dreams had become reality. Either that, or this man had been invading her dreams, moving into her secret fantasies, her decadent longings. Both ideas were impossible, of course, and yet here he was. This man. And she knew him. She really did.
“Caitlyn,” he said, his voice somehow familiar. He was right in front of her now, so close she could feel the heat from his body and smell the musk of his cologne. His hypnotic eyes drew her in, and she took a step toward him, barely conscious of her own movements.
“I’m not…this isn’t…” She didn’t know what she wanted to say, knew she wasn’t making sense.
“Isn’t it?” His voice was low, husky, with the slightest hint of a Cajun accent. His words surrounded her, flowing over her like warm honey. Her thighs tingled, a moist heat building at their apex. She fought the urge to slip her hand under her dress and stroke herself over her damp panties. She wanted release, needed it, and God help her, she wanted it right then, right there, with that man.
“It’s time, Caitlyn.” He held out a hand.
Inside her head, she screamed at herself to run away. Far away, and never look back. She didn’t know this man, this stranger who had peeked into her soul.
But then she tilted her head back and once again looked into those eyes. And that was when she knew the truth. She did know him. She didn’t know how or why, she only knew that she did. Somehow, some way, she knew everything about him even if, at the moment, she didn’t even know his name.
That didn’t matter. All that mattered was the heat that filled her body, the longing for his touch and only his touch, and the need to merge with him, to be with him.
To mate with him.
Oh, dear Lord, where the hell had that come from?
She didn’t stop to analyze. Instead, she put her hand in his and, as his fingers closed around hers, all rational thought left her head, replaced by the need to touch him.
He leaned down, the coarse remnant of his beard brushing her cheek. “Come with me.”
She nodded, her entire body tingling with anticipation, his mere touch sending electricity coursing through her veins.
They moved hand-in-hand through the crush of people, the crowd parting as if in awe as they passed. She heard a few murmurs, saw a few deferential nods, and then, as they left the ballroom, one of the benefit’s hosts stepped into their path, his hand outstretched.
“Luc. Mr. Agassou. We’re all so glad you’re back.”
Cate drew in a breath, stopping short, her fingers still trapped in his hand. The host’s greeting still rang in her ears. Innocuous words, but with a particular meaning to her—she was leaving the party with a man whose name she had learned from a stranger. Even for Cate, who’d had her share of one-night stands, that was a first.
“I—” she began.
“It’s good to see you again, too, Armand.” Luc smiled, but irritation reflected on his chiseled features, and that whiskey-smooth voice held an edge. “I apologize for stealing Detective Raine away. We have business to take care of.”
Armand stepped back, his entire manner deferential. Cate started to back away, too. Second, third and even fourth thoughts were coming at her a mile a minute. What was she doing, and who was she doing it with? Had she gone insane? Were her dreams the product of some latent madness?
“I shouldn’t be—”
“Come with me, Caitlyn,” he said. His fingers stroked her arm as he spoke, and all reason left her head. It was as if she belonged to him, as if he’d tuned in to some primal frequency in her soul, and she was simply on automatic pilot.
For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she had the moral strength to pull away. But the truth was, she didn’t want this moment to pass. The pull of the dreams was too strong, and she wanted to feel that intensity of passion in real life, not just in her fantasies. She was bad, after all. Why not be bad all the way?
“Where are we going?” she asked, as he led her onto the elevator. Her voice sounded timid, and she cringed. She was a detective, for crying out loud, not some shrinking flower of a woman. She drew in a deep breath and moved closer, pressing her body against his. “Not far, I hope.”
Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes. He cupped the back of her neck with his hand, and she stifled a shiver. “I like your enthusiasm. I’d thought perhaps I would have to entice you. I’m pleased to have been mistaken.”
Once again second thoughts filled her head, and she took a step back from him, protests and apologies dancing on her tongue. “I shou—”
He pressed a finger to her lips even as he reached around her to push the emergency stop button on the elevator. “Don’t disappoint me, Caitlyn,” he whispered, then closed his lips over hers.
All thoughts of objection evaporated. Her knees turned to rubber, and she clung to him, her arms linked around his neck to prevent her from collapsing to the ground in a heap.
His mouth, hot and demanding, worked a magic on her lips like nothing she’d ever experienced. She gasped, and his tongue slipped inside, tasting and teasing. One hand stroked her back while his other hand slipped between their bodies, his fingers expertly easing the silky material of her skirt up to expose her legs.
The pad of his thumb stroked the back of her bare thigh, and she melted a little bit more. She was hot and cold at the same time, a mass of need. Her hands slipped over his shoulders and fisted in the lapels of his tuxedo. She was probably ruining the jacket, but she didn’t care. All she cared about, all she wanted, was this man. She wanted to possess, to be possessed, and the depth of her need both thrilled and terrified her.
His thumb eased up, finding her now wet panties. He pushed aside the elastic at her leg, and she gasped as his finger found her core and slipped inside. She gripped him, pulling him in, wanting to take all of him inside her and never have this moment end.
His mouth brushed her neck. “Now,” he whispered, “I must have you now.”
She nodded, unable to respond any other way. And when she heard his last murmur—“Soon, it will be too late”—her mind was too full of heat and lust to ask what he meant. Instead, she did the only thing she could do. She simply succumbed to his touch.
LUC STIFLED A GROAN , fighting back both a wave of lust and the persistent tingling in his bones that always signaled the change. His need for her was like a living thing, and the depth of his want disturbed him. He had known that he would feel a connection with Caitlyn and an urgent need to mate. Need, yes. He had expected that. But this wanting, this desperate longing for her, had taken him by surprise.
And he did want her. Wanted to touch her, wanted to taste her, and most of all, wanted to bury himself deep inside her. Not to forestall the change, but because he wanted to.
His lack of control fired an anger in him, and he pulled his hand away from her sweet folds, his hands instead gripping her at the wrists as he pressed her up against the side of the elevator. She gave a little gasp of surprise and pleasure, and his body stiffened even further, responding to her desire. The reaction fueled his anger. Was he entirely unable to control his own body? First the change, and now this woman? Everywhere he turned he was forced to succumb to some primal urge. And, damn him, unlike the change, he would willingly succumb to this urge.
She was pressed up against him, her breasts soft against his chest. The insistent pressure sent a heat shooting through his body, settling in his cock. He was hard and hot, and the time was now.
“Caitlyn,” he said.
“Now,” she whispered. She tugged her wrists free, then explored him with her hands. Her fingers snaked inside his shirt, finding bare flesh.
He groaned, reaching out to slip the thin strap of her gown off her shoulder. It fell free, exposing the swell of her breast. He bent, pressing his lips to her soft flesh. He knew he needed to just do it, to slam himself inside her, to hold the change at bay.
Even now, he was dancing with danger. The change was coming upon him, pushing at the back of his head, emerging from his muscles and his skin. Soon, he’d lose his tenuous grip on control. He had to simply take her, without pretense, with none of the courtship that human females so desired. Later, there would be harsh looks and recriminations—and he would make all the appropriate explanations. He would soothe the way for making love to her fully and completely. Now, though, there was no time.
“You’re mine, Caitlyn,” he said. “Now, and forever.”
She gasped, but said nothing, and he covered her mouth with his, forestalling any protests. As he did, he tugged her skirt up to her waist, sliding his hands between her legs. Once again, he slid into her wet heat. His cock hardened when her slick muscles gripped him as he withdrew his finger. With a guttural growl more feline than human, he ripped off her panties, then tugged his zipper down.
He eased between her legs, her slick heat stroking the tip of his cock. She moaned, little mewling sounds that only made him harder. His fingers tightened on her ass, and he lifted her just slightly, planning to impale her on him, to let her take as much of him as she could.
The elevator jerked and shuddered, and he lost his footing. They tumbled to the floor, their clothes and bodies tangled.
He got to his knees, then reached down to help her. As he did, the lights flickered, and the elevator started to move, controlled by someone who’d overridden the emergency stop. Her eyes went wide, her mouth forming into a little O as she adjusted her clothes. She stood up, backing away from him as she shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have—I wasn’t thinking. Please, I’m so sorry, but I have to go.”
Her words were like a slap. She couldn’t leave him; she was his mate. She was necessary. And, damn him, he wanted her.
She turned toward the elevator door, but there was nowhere for her to go. He tugged at her hand. “Caitlyn. You can’t go.”
He could see the last remnants of the spell break. Her features turned hard, those gentle blue eyes turning to ice. “Watch me.”
She punched a button on the elevator, and it jolted, then stopped, and then doors slid open, revealing a deserted lobby.
She stepped off, then turned back to look at him, her stiff demeanor laced with confusion. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t understand what happened tonight, but I am sorry for letting it go so far.”
And with those words still hanging in the air, she turned and ran across the lobby and out into the stifling heat of the New Orleans night.
Luc watched her go, his mind blank, entirely devoid of emotion. Later, he knew, he would think about her departure, and it would anger him, probably even bewilder him. But right then, he felt nothing except a need to run. He was in that place between human and feline. And soon, very soon, Luc knew that he would follow in Caitlyn’s footsteps, loping on four legs behind her as he succumbed to the change and wandered loose through the city in search of one more victim in the night.
The night hung around her, heavy with the scent of magnolias. Heated and sensual. A night filled with longing and need, and she’d lost herself in it. Lost herself to him.
Cate raced toward Jackson Square, finally stopping and leaning against the iron fence that surrounded the area. Her breath came ragged, and not from exertion. No, her body was hot. Needy. And now it was rebelling because she’d run away from what it had wanted most. Him. Luc Agassou.
She closed her eyes, drew in a breath. Tourists and locals passed, eyeing her curiously, but she dropped her gaze, focusing on the battered pavement. How many times had she come here before, a detective hiding behind her badge and her gun? Now she stood here in her evening gown and heels, feeling stripped naked for all the world to see. She’d exposed herself to that man, made herself vulnerable.
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, her grip tight around the fence post, as the night settled around her.
What the hell was she doing?
Even on her wildest days, she’d never gone at it with a stranger in an elevator. And this wasn’t even about the sex. A one-night stand was one thing, but this was…She shook her head, not sure what it was, only knowing that it was more. More heated. More sensual. More enticing. More desperate.
More everything.
And so help her, she wanted everything she could get.
Her body tingled, and she looked around, staring out into the night, past the corners and shadows, past the clumps of tourists, past the inviting lights of Café Du Monde. She was looking for him, not sure what she would do if she found him, only knowing that she had to look, even as her head told her to get the hell out of there as fast as her legs could carry her.
A sharp crack sounded behind her, and instinctively, her hand went to her hip where she usually wore her gun. It wasn’t there, and she turned and saw a couple. The man bent down to pick up the cell phone he’d dropped and then they continued walking toward her, hand-in-hand.
She exhaled, a sense of longing welling in her. She was on edge. Antsy. And she needed to get home. Put on some coffee. Play some Little Feat on the CD player. Revel in the trappings of normalcy.
With purpose, she started walking again, cutting diagonally across the intersection so that she could head back to Canal Street and catch the streetcar back home. The side street was dark, the businesses closed up, the street vendors gone for the night. She walked toward the lights on Decatur, toward the horse-drawn carriages and a vibrant civilization she’d never really been part of.
As she walked away, she caught a shadow out of the corner of her eye and she shivered. A great cat. Watching. And waiting.
She blinked, then looked again, sure she’d been mistaken, and this time it was gone.
A trick of the light, surely.
And yet, somehow, Cate knew that wasn’t true. The cat was there. It was waiting for her.
She should be scared, but she wasn’t.
And that’s what scared her most of all.
BLOOD .
On his hands, his face. Everywhere. The metallic stench of it consuming him, tormenting him.
Naked, Luc collapsed on his back lawn, the twelve-foot stone fence ensuring his privacy. He pressed his face to the grass, his hands outstretched in front of him, a penitent praying to a god he no longer knew.
Forsaken.
Tears clogged his throat, and he pressed his eyes closed, helpless against the onslaught. He remembered nothing more than touching her. She’d calmed him, stilled the raging waters inside him. And then she’d abandoned him, leaving him to the horror that was his life. To the horror he’d been inflicting on the city.
Her taste still hung on him. When their lips had met, nothing else in the universe had mattered. His curse had disappeared. He was only a man wanting a woman.
But he wasn’t that man, and he knew that he could never really have her in love, only in need. For, truly, what was there to love about him?
He sat back on his haunches, his face toward the sky, his bloodied hands lifted in front of him. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was his.
He had to have her.
He would have her.
Tonight.
Before anyone else got hurt.
H ER EARLIER CHAMPAGNE BUZZ HAD burned off, extinguished by the heat generated between her and Luc Agassou. And though she knew she should simply crawl into bed and lose herself to sweet sleep, Cate couldn’t do that. For her, sleep was no longer sweet. And so she opened her freezer, took out a bottle of Smirnoff, and poured herself a shot.
She slammed the drink back, the thick, icy liquid immediately setting her blood to burn. She closed her eyes, felt the warm tingle of alcohol, and knew she was a coward.
She poured another shot, just to prove to herself that she didn’t care. She should work. Should review the case file and skim the reports and crime-scene photos. But, dammit, she couldn’t do that. Not tonight. Not now.
No, she wanted to sleep tonight. No dreams. No nightmares. Just sleep. And if it took an entire bottle of vodka, then dammit, that’s what she was going to do.
Another shot. Then another. Until her entire body felt warm and malleable and her eyelids drooped. She poured one last glass, this time mixing it with water, and went in to settle on her bed. On the way, she plucked the perfume bottle off her dresser, then sat on top of her comforter, squinting at the delicate, curious glasswork.
So beautiful. Swirling patterns of color, the intricate design, the delicate filigree—
She blinked, startled by something she hadn’t noticed before. She turned the bottle upside down and blinked a few more times, trying to get her hazy mind to focus. Sure enough, there was some sort of inscription etched into the glass.
Drowsiness had been creeping up on her, but now it was shoved aside, replaced by curiosity about the bottle. She couldn’t make out any words, though, and finally she crawled out of bed and stumbled to her desk. She rummaged around until she found a magnifying glass, then examined the bottle again under her desk lamp.
The words seemed to float in front of her. Definitely not English, but not any language she recognized, either. She frowned at the bottle, but not in annoyance. The mystery had pushed past the blur of alcohol and was keeping her awake, yes, but it had also filled her head, edging out thoughts of Luc and the way his hands had felt on her. The way she wanted to pick up the phone and find him, go to him.
Frustrated, she drummed her fingers on the desk. It was already past midnight. She knew she should just go to bed, not get involved in some project. But knowing and doing were two different things, and instead of going to sleep she booted up her computer.
Less than a minute later, she’d copied one of the words into a search engine and pulled up a single hit. She started scrolling through, her brow furrowing as the web page announced that the language was Romani.
Romani? That sounded vaguely gypsyish, but she was hardly an expert. And she certainly couldn’t translate the inscription.
She scrolled through a few more pages and finally came across a reference to some professor in Georgia. She scribbled down the woman’s name and number, Dr. Evonne Baptiste, an anthropologist with some sort of specialty in Romani. Automatically, she reached for the phone, then realized what time it was. With a sigh, she put the receiver back down. Tomorrow. She’d call the woman tomorrow.
As she headed back to the bed, though, she had to wonder why she was even going to bother. It was just writing on a perfume bottle after all.
But as she snuggled under the covers and pulled the sheet up tight, she knew that she would call. The dreams had started with the bottle, and the nightmares. Somehow, the bottle had opened a door in her soul, and she simply had to know.
“CATE .” A brush against her cheek. “Cate, my darling. My one. Cate.”
She moaned, lost in the haze of sleep. Another dream, but not a nightmare. Instead, soft and appealing. A touch. A caress. And the burning heat of desire in her belly, between her thighs, in her rock-hard nipples.
She moaned, arching up, trying to cheat sleep as she pulled him closer.
“Yes, Cate. That’s right. You’re mine. Come to me.”
His hands stroked her breasts, drifting down to cup her waist. His hand eased around her back as he pulled her up into an embrace. Her lips parted, and he feasted on her, his tongue slipping into her mouth, tasting and teasing. Sensual. Erotic. Enticing.
She wanted him. Wanted this to be real. Wanted him there, holding her.
Holding her…
This was no dream!
Cate’s eyes flew open, her heart pounding, her breath in erratic gasps. She scrambled backwards, out of his arms, the sheet clutched to her chest as she rolled sideways toward the night table and her gun. She held it out, aimed at his heart. He didn’t seem to care.
“You.”
A slow, sensual smile eased across that perfect face. “Me.” He was already sitting on the edge of the bed, and now he inched toward her.
She waved the gun, just slightly. “I don’t think so.”
He held up a hand, a silent surrender. “Whatever you say, detective. But I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
Insightful little bastard. She kept the gun level. “How’d you get in?”
That damn cocky smile broadened. “The door.”
“It was locked.”
“Do you really think a lock could keep me away from you?”
“I—” She closed her mouth. Her head wanted to argue with him, to scream, to yell at him to get out of her house and to leave her alone. Her body, though…
Her body was terrified that he would leave.
She tried again. “I—”
He reached out, and she remained perfectly still, her own gaze locked on his haunted eyes. His hand closed over hers, caressed her skin, then gently tugged the gun away. She trembled, just a little, and she felt a single tear roll down her cheek as, finally, she succumbed to this man.
Foolish, perhaps. Dangerous, maybe. But right then this was what she needed. He was what she needed.
With the pad of his thumb, he brushed the tear away. “Darling Cate, don’t cry. We’ve found each other now. My life. My mate.”
His fingertips stroked her lips, and she leaned forward, opening her mouth to him, her entire body filled with need. She was charged up, vibrating with passion. Lust and want filled her veins and pounded through her soul.
She no longer questioned why; she was beyond caring. She’d been reduced to a primal being, driven only by instinct and need.
She reached out, letting the sheet drop away, revealing the simple, threadbare T-shirt that she’d worn to bed. Her hand snaked around his neck, urging him closer. At the same time, she opened her mouth, and his finger slipped in. She pressed her lips around the digit, then moved back and forth, slowly and methodically, building a sensual rhythm, a promise of things to come.
She kept her eyes closed, but his mouth on her breast came as no surprise, and she arched her back, still sucking on him as he tugged and nipped at her nipple, teasing it through the thin material of her T-shirt.
He slipped his hand from her mouth, and she moaned, wanting the taste of him. His hands cupped her breasts, kneading and stroking, the pads of his thumbs flicking over her nipples.
“Cate,” he growled, “I need you.” And he clutched the T-shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it casually aside. Though it was summer and she had no air-conditioning, the air in the sultry, sticky room felt cool against her over-heated skin.
She leaned forward, wanting his lips against her own, but he parried, tugging her down until she was lying on the bed, naked except for a tiny pair of bikini panties. His actions were both rough and gentle, and everything about him, about this wild coupling, turned her on. The panties were soaked, and all she could think was that she wanted more, would beg if she had to.
But she didn’t think she’d have to.
This was a dangerous encounter. The kind she was born for. The kind her mother had always warned her about. Rough and demanding. Hot and wild.
Love and caring and family were for other people, not for her, and with this man she intended to push the envelope.
With a boldness born of pure need, she slipped her hand inside her panties, then slid her own fingers over her hot, slick sex. Her fingertip found her clit, and she danced lightly around it, not willing to go there, not yet.
When she came tonight, it would be with Luc inside her. And, she hoped, again and again and again.
His hand cupped her over the satin panties, stilling her hand. “I think that’s mine.”
The need in his voice came from a place much different than pure lust and sexual desire. But she couldn’t think about that. Right then all she could think about was his cock inside her.
His fingers closed over the panties, and then he tugged them. She gasped as the flimsy material ripped, leaving her completely exposed to him.
His fingers took over where she had left off, and she slipped her own hands under his shirt, her nails raking against his skin.
“Off,” she said.
He did as she asked, then tossed the shirt into the corner. She tugged at the waistband of his pants, desperate to free him.
He complied without question, tugging off his jeans and shoes.
They were apart for less than a minute, but during that short bit of time, her mind seemed to clear, and the reality of what she was doing hit her full force.
She knew nothing about this man. Nothing other than his name.
And yet, when he climbed back onto the bed and pulled her roughly into his arms, she knew that there was no place else for her. No one else for her.
He rolled her over, settling her astride his stomach, her thighs on either side of his waist.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
She leaned forward, wanting his kiss, to taste his mouth, but he eased her back up, one hand slipping between their bodies to stroke her clit, the other reaching up to caress her breast.
She trembled against the onslaught of sensations coursing through her blood.
Her body was calling to him, building toward climax, and she wanted it. Oh, how she wanted it.
A tiny voice in her head told her to pull away, to roll off, to run. She was better than this. You shouldn’t, Cate. Love. You deserve love.
Shouldn’t? The word seemed foolish and Pollyanna, especially with his fingers inside her, stroking and tugging and demanding. He’d fired every nerve ending in her body, and still she wanted more. She wanted it.
She wanted him.
Shouldn’t was a far cry from wouldn’t. And she knew for damn sure that she would.
She’d spread herself wide open for this man. Even more, she’d be devastated if he walked away now.
No, she thought. Shouldn’t was for fools and women without the balls to live the life they were born to. Tonight of all nights, she was grateful she knew who she was. Because with Luc, she wanted to be bad. Very, very bad.
With what she hoped was casual aplomb, she slid off him, rolling onto her back and spreading her legs wide. A demand as much as an invitation. “Take me. Take me now.”
Fire flickered in those golden eyes, and with an almost desperate freneticism, he straddled her. He groped her, his hands claiming her, blazing a heated path for his mouth. He reached the apex of her thighs and spread her legs, so wide her muscles ached, and she bent her knees up, giving herself to him.
He laved her, the rough shadow of his beard scraping against her inner thigh. His tongue danced and dipped, tasting and tempting, pulling her closer and closer to the precipice.
She reached down, her fingers twining through his short dark hair. She bucked against his mouth, wanting him fully, needing him completely.
But he backed away, and she cried out in frustration as he trailed kisses down her inner thigh, then pushed himself up until his face was over her, the hard tip of his cock pressing at the apex of her thighs, so close to everything she wanted and yet a million miles away.
His eyes burned into her, and she slid her hands down until she cupped his rear. She pressed, silently urging him inside her.
“Luc. Please.”
“Please what?”
“Inside me.” She arched up, lifting her head to brush her lips against his.
He took his time, turning to tease her ear with the tip of his tongue. The spot was sensitive, and she gasped, relaxing back down onto the bed and losing herself to his ministrations. Go with it, Cate. Let him take you there.
As his tongue worked one kind of magic, his hand worked another, slipping down her belly, the pressure not so much a caress as a demand.
His finger slipped inside her easily, and her body tightened around him, pulling him in, demanding. Insistent.
Desperate.
“Now, Cate,” he said, his voice raspy with need. Roughly, he spread her thighs, positioned himself over her as he slipped on a condom. She was wide and ready and exposed, and practically tingling with need.
“The time is now,” he said, as the tip of his cock pressed insistently against her wet folds. “I must have you now before all is lost.”
And then he entered her, hard and demanding. He filled her completely, his desperate thrusts everything she’d wanted since the first time she’d seen him in the ballroom.
Why, then, when her body was filled by this man, did she feel so damned empty?
MINDLESS , HE THRUST , harder and harder, fighting to come. Fighting to stave off the change that, inexplicably, threatened once again.
He could feel it. Crawling under his skin. Threatening to burst through. Threatening to consume him. To consume Cate.
No. She was the one. She could ward off the change. He was certain of it. He’d simply waited too long and now he was on the cusp as he rammed himself into her, need and fear driving his thrusts.
A haze engulfed him, and the fear grew to terror. The change. Oh, Lord, no. He couldn’t be wrong. If he changed…with her in his bed…No, no, he couldn’t harm her. Not Cate. Not this woman—
And then the world exploded, and Luc with it.
WHEN HIS SENSES RETURNED he was curled up naked next to her. He sat bolt upright, pulling the sheet back to expose her. Her breasts, belly, thighs.
Unmauled.
Her eyes widened, still heavy with sleep. “Ready for round two?”
He collapsed back against the pillows, felt a crush of tears fill his head and fought them back.
He hadn’t changed. The sensations had been so similar, yet so different. He’d only come. He’d exploded in passion inside this woman and together they’d held the change at bay.
He’d been right. She really was his. His Cate. His mate.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Ravenous.”
He slid out of bed, his hand out to her. She took it, smiling, then followed him into her kitchen. He pointed toward the tiny breakfast table, and she quirked a brow, amused at the thought that the man who’d been in her bed was now in her kitchen. She didn’t protest, however. Just sat down and wondered what he thought he’d be able to find that would even remotely resemble food.
Amazingly enough, he managed just fine, somehow turning five eggs, a frozen link of sausage, and a few other odds and ends into a brilliant omelet.
“I’m impressed,” she said as he slid the plate in front of her.
“Good.” He used his own fork to stab a bite. “That was my intention.”
They ate together in comfortable silence until Cate started to get fidgety. He was watching her, his eyes intense, and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “What?”
“You deserve a better meal.”
“In that case, I need to go grocery shopping more often.”
He ignored the flippant comment. “Tonight,” he said.
“Tonight?”
A hint of a smile graced his lips. “May I have the honor of taking you to dinner?”
“I…” She’d wanted to review the case files tonight. Technically, though, she was on her days off. And, so help her, she did want this man.
She drew in a breath, gathering courage. “Yes,” she said. Then, more firmly, “Yes.”
She’d succumbed to her heart, and it felt good. Even so, when he left, promising to come back for her at eight, she was grateful. She needed some time alone. Some time to think.
She knew nothing of this man. Nothing other than a burning intensity shining deep in his eyes, and a desperate, almost violent need to possess her. To fill her. To consume her.
To mate.
She shivered, her body tingling from the memory of his hands on her, his mouth tasting her, his body filling her.
Oh, dear Lord, she was wet again. Wet and needy and frantically wishing that he hadn’t left after all.
Frustrated, she headed for the bathroom, then turned the shower full-strength on cold water. Still naked, she stepped under the spray, fighting a scream as the icy blast of frigid water pummeled her.
When she’d finally adjusted to the temperature, she pressed her palms against the tiled shower stall. Her head hung, letting the spray pound the back of her neck.
A thousand recriminations danced through her head, but she shoved them all away, a single question rising to the surface—who was he?
Luc Agassou, yes. She knew that. Prominent, apparently, if Armand’s deferential manner was any clue. If she’d been smart, she would have researched him on the Internet, not Kimberly’s bottle.
But she hadn’t, and now Luc remained a mystery. And all she knew for certain was that she craved the man.
CATE GLANCED at the clock above her sofa. Just past two. She’d spent much of her first day off researching Luc Agassou. She’d called in a favor to one of the gals at Division and got her to expedite a search. No criminal record. Not even a traffic ticket.
And her own Internet search confirmed what she’d learned. The man was a pillar of the community, although he’d left New Orleans a few years ago, only to return in the past week. That explained why she’d never heard of him. According to her research, he was the son of internationally known geneticists, and had inherited their fortune when they’d been killed in a car crash almost ten years ago.
She’d felt a stab of sadness for the man who’d lost his family. He’d grown into a well-known philanthropist, donating a huge percentage of his net worth to hand-picked causes. She scrolled through the list—several youth services groups, animal rights funds, literacy programs, the Audubon Zoo, the—
She stopped scrolling, then leaned in closer to the screen, suddenly realizing why his name had seemed so familiar to her. Luc Agassou had sponsored the panther habitat. He’d donated Midnight, the panther that had escaped.
With a start, she sat up straighter, a ridiculous thought occurring to her. She’d been sitting in front of Midnight’s cage the first time she’d heard Luc’s voice.
Slowly, she let go of the mouse and rolled the chair backwards, her eyes never leaving the screen even though her pulse beat wildly, fear-induced adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Luc’s voice. She’d heard it. In her head. Right after she’d opened Kimberly’s present. She’d been holding the bottle and then, as she’d looked at Midnight, she’d heard it. Heard him.
I know, Caitlyn. I know that you are mine.
Mine. He’d said the same thing in bed.
Trembling, she hugged herself, bending over to stop the threat of tears.
He’d been in her head. He’d been in her bed.
And despite everything she told herself, he’d even started to sneak into her heart.
Dear Lord, who was he?
And even more important, how could she hide?
“THE LADY WILL BE MOVING IN with us.” Luc sat at the table, his fingertip idly tracing the rim of his iced-tea glass.
“She is amenable?” Martin looked up from where he’d been fussing nearby.
Luc avoided the butler’s curious glance. “She doesn’t know yet. I’m taking her out tonight, and I intend to be most persuasive.”
Martin didn’t even blink, simply moved closer, the crystal pitcher in his hand. “More tea?”
“Dammit, Martin, it’s the only way.”
“I don’t recall arguing, sir.”
Luc stabbed at a piece of andouille sausage. “The hell you didn’t.”
“You seem put out, sir.”
“I’m not put out. I’m frustrated. It’s entirely different.”
“Whatever you say, sir.”
“I swear, Martin, if you call me sir once more…”
“I understand…Luc.”
Luc pushed back from the table and tossed his napkin on the chair. “I’m out of here.”
“May I ask where you’re going?”
“I’m going to go get the girl,” he said, feeling like a total prick even as he said the words. He headed to the garage. The girl deserved to be romanced and seduced, but he needed her hard and fast and right where he needed her when he needed her. Feral. Wild. Violent coupling to staving off even more violence.
The most vicious of circles, and he was perpetuating it.
His gut ate at him, a tinge of humanity coloring the instincts that drove him. He moved silently through the garage and slid behind the seat of his Porsche, then fired the engine. The garage door was still down, and for a moment, he just sat there.
So easy.
It would be so easy to end the suffering. His own. His victims’…
No.
He’d found his cure. He’d found Cate. He could have her. He could have life. And he’d give her as much romance as possible. And even if it wasn’t perfect, so what?
Luc had seen enough of this world to know that very little ever was.
He drew in a breath, then another, seeking strength. Then he lifted his hand to the visor and pressed the button to open the garage door. The mechanism kicked in, raising the door and letting the late-afternoon sun filter into the room.
Eerie shadows danced on the walls, but Luc ignored them. Shadows didn’t disturb him. He already knew where the monster lived.
With a violence born of frustration, he slammed the car into reverse and peeled out, leaving rubber scorch marks on the polished concrete and the pale asphalt driveway.
He maneuvered the street in a frenzy. The change didn’t tingle in his blood right now, but even so, he was desperate to see her.
Her apartment topped a garage in the Garden District, and he parked in front of the stairs leading up to her home. He got out of the Porsche, not bothering to close the door behind him, and climbed the stairs two at a time.
He pounded on the door, anxious for her to answer, desperate to touch her once again.
Nothing.
He pounded again. And still Cate didn’t come.
After a moment, he simply broke in as he had the day before.
Her rooms were dark and had an abandoned feel.
He shook his head, sure he was simply being foolish. It was after three; she’d probably simply gone to work.
He crossed to the phone and dialed the precinct, his confidence not dwindling until the receptionist told him that Detective Raine was on one of her days off, and could someone else help him?
No. There was no one else.
Silent, he hung up the phone, then walked to her bathroom as if sleepwalking. No toothbrush. No hairdryer. No deodorant.
Damn it all to hell.
She’d left him.
“YOU WANT TO TELL ME again why you’re camping out in my guest room?”
Cate shook her head, avoiding Adam’s stern gaze. “I’m sorry. Bad date. The guy makes me nervous. I…I just thought I should make myself scarce for a while.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, tugging his wife, Alice, down beside him. “Shit, Cate.”
Alice smacked him on the thigh. “Adam!” She rose and went to hook an arm around Cate, steering her to the bed and shoving Adam aside. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. I completely understand.” She flashed Adam a meaningful look. “Men can be such asses.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey! What the hell did I do?”
“Nothing,” Alice said. “Yet.” She stood up, pulling Adam along with her. “We’ll leave you to unpack or whatever. If you want to join us in the living room, feel free. We’ll most likely be watching some television program that drips testosterone.”
Adam pointed to himself, an affronted expression drawn on his face. “You see? You see what I put up with? I tell you…”
Alicia rolled her eyes and tugged him from the room with one last sympathetic look in Cate’s direction. Alone, Cate curled up on the bed and hugged the pillow, willing herself not to nibble away another nail. The horrible truth ate at her. That was what she wanted. What Adam and Alicia had. Love. Camaraderie.
They were soul mates, and Cate was certain that, no matter what, they’d always be together.
Would she ever find her soul mate? She licked her lips, her arms tightening around the pillow as the real question seeped through her soul. Had she already found him and then run away?
Restlessness tinged her blood, and she slid off the bed, determined not to think about it. She’d made the decision to stay at Adam’s place and it was a good plan. She needed distance, needed to think. And she wasn’t about to second guess her own choices.
She glanced at the clock. Not quite six. Time to unpack and then pop into the living room and join her friends. Adam had said something about ordering pizza, and her mouth watered with anticipation. She lived in New Orleans, city of amazing food, and yet a super cheesy pizza always sent her right over the edge.
She hadn’t packed much, so it didn’t take long to put everything away. Underwear. A few pairs of jeans. A couple of T-shirts. Some slacks and tops for work.
And there, in the little side pocket under a pair of socks, she found the bottle.
With a tiny bit of trepidation she pulled it out. She didn’t even remember packing it, and yet for some reason, her subconscious had thought it was important. Why?
She didn’t know, but she was determined to find out, and so she rummaged through her purse until she found the name and phone number of that professor in Georgia. Most likely the woman wasn’t in her office—or wouldn’t have any interest in talking to a superstitious cop in New Orleans—but Cate was just desperate enough to make the call.
With the bottle resting beside her on the bed, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed. One ring, two, five…
She was just about to hang up when a woman answered with a crisp, professional tone, “Evonne Baptiste.”
A wave of foolishness crashed over Cate. What was she doing? What difference did it make what the inscription on some stupid glass bottle said? This was stupid, foolish, completely—
“Hello?”
“I, um, I—I’m sorry to bother you.” Cate closed her eyes. She was stammering like a fool.
“No bother. Who’s calling, please?”
The woman’s voice was so smooth, so pleasant, that Cate’s hesitancy evaporated. “I’m Caitlyn Raine. I’m a cop in New Orleans and, well, I have a question.” She found herself babbling out the entire story. How she got the bottle, how she’d noticed the marking, how she’d become curious about what the inscription meant. She didn’t relay the strange wash of sensations that had invaded her soul since she’d unwrapped the bottle. That little tidbit was simply too personal.
“I copied a word into the Internet,” Cate said, winding down. “And it came back as Romani. Gift. I also ran across your name and so, well, that’s why I’m calling. I’m curious to know what the full inscription says.”
Silence hung on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Cate thought the professor had hung up.
“Dr. Baptiste? Are you there?”
“You say the inscription is on a bottle? Glass with integrated silver?” Her voice held a thread of awe, and she went on to describe the bottle in such detail that Cate was compelled to pick it up and feel the delicate weight in her hand.
“How did you know?” Her cop instincts leapt to life. “Oh, good Lord. It’s not some sort of stolen artifact, is it?”
“No, no.” The professor rushed to reassure. “It’s just, well, it’s just old gypsy stories.”
“Gypsy?”
“Of course.”
“Gypsies speak Romani?” Her voice came out tight.
“Is something wrong?”
Cate shook her head even though she knew the other woman couldn’t see her. “No, of course not. It’s just that my mother believed in gypsy curses.” Her mother’s superstitions had been almost crippling. And while Cate knew that her mother’s beliefs had been one of the reasons her mother had shunned her, knowing the excuse didn’t lessen the hurt.
“A lot of people believe in curses.”
Cate licked her lips, not willing to press that issue. “Would you mind translating it for me?”
“Read out the letters.”
Cate complied, and when she was done, she heard the other woman’s sharp intake of breath. “It means ‘the strength of the gift.’” The professor paused. “Ms. Raine. Caitlyn. Would you mind giving me your phone number? There’s something I’d like to look up. An old legend.”
“About my bottle?”
“Maybe. I need to do some research.”
“Sure.” Cate gave her the number, then laughed, trying to sound amused, but sure she simply sounded nervous. “You’re not researching gypsy curses, are you?”
The professor didn’t return the laugh. “Not exactly. But Caitlyn, if you have any, well, gifts, you might want to be careful around the bottle.”
“Gifts?”
“Paranormal gifts. Some say the bottle will enhance them.”
“Oh. No. I’m as normal as they come.” Except even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true. She’d thought she was normal, yes. But ever since Luc’s words had filled her head, she’d known that something extraordinary was going on.
Now she knew what.
She was cursed.
And she needed to stay as far away from the bottle—and Luc Agassou—as she possibly could.
Bonnie had always been sensitive, and she’d made use of her gifts in her career. Some sort of shrink, Cate recalled. Now, though, Cate didn’t really care about the details of Bonnie’s professional life. She just wanted the dreams to stop. And since she hadn’t yet heard back from Dr. Baptiste, she was sending the bottle to Bonnie. “Trust me. It’s supposed to enhance paranormal powers or some such nonsense. It’s right up your alley.”
And not at all up Cate’s. She might as well pass the thing off. If Dr. Baptiste ever called back, she’d give the professor Bonnie’s number. And Cate would hope like hell that passing the thing off meant passing off its effects as well.
“It does sound intriguing,” Bonnie said. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” They chatted for a few more moments until Cate found a good point to ease out of the conversation. In truth, she was more interested in the papers spread out in front of her than in the bottle and its mystical properties. As soon as it hit the mail, it was history. And thank goodness for that.
She hung up, then walked the package to Adam’s mail box. Once it was safely secured for its journey, she headed back to the patio and lost herself in her work, barely even noticing as the shadows falling across the pages grew and shrank with the movement of the sun.
“Take a break, Cate.” Adam seemed to materialize behind her. He plucked one of the dozen files off the patio table and leafed through it. “Even you have to eat sometime.”
Cate frowned, reaching back to lift her heavy hair off the nape of her neck. She was damp and sticky, but she hadn’t even noticed until Adam had interrupted. She’d been too absorbed in her work.
“I need to figure this out,” she said. “I need to catch him.”
“You’re supposed to be taking time off.”
“No shit,” she said.
Adam sighed and took the chair opposite. They’d been working this case since day one, and they’d both kept photocopies of all the relevant reports and key evidence. She’d spent the morning reviewing the documents once again, hoping they’d missed something before and she’d find the clue they needed.
“Okay,” he said. “What have you got?”
She met his eyes. “Our perp is feline.” As much as she hated the thought that the panther she’d spent so many afternoons with was a mauler, she knew there was no other explanation.
Adam frowned. “There are some suggestions that the perp might be human.”
She grimaced. “I know. But…” She drew in a breath. “Adam, I know I’m right.”
“Tell me.” The playfulness was gone from Adam’s voice, and his expression was totally serious. All cop. He nodded toward the evidence spread out on the table. “Tell me what you see in the evidence.”
And so she did, trying to convince him without telling him the biggest clue of all—that, somehow, she’d seen the attacks. She wished she could simply write it off to her subconscious, her mind processing the details of a case as yet unsolved. But it was more than that. So much more.
And there was no denying that the culprit was a great, black cat.
THREE DAYS .
For three days, Luc searched for her, and three times the earth turned on its axis without any sign of his Cate. He didn’t know her friends, didn’t even know who her partner was. He’d talked to her landlord, but he’d had no more clue than Luc did. He’d gone to the precinct, but these were her days off, and while they’d offered to have her paged, he’d declined. He knew well enough that she wouldn’t return the page.
Something had scared her off. He’d scared her off.
But he needed to get her back, and soon. Feline instincts were clamoring just below the surface. He’d gone days without the change, but soon…soon…it would come again. And without Cate, Luc was certain someone else would get hurt.
He’d hit the point of desperation. She was gone, and if he wanted to spare any more victims he needed to lock himself in the basement at his house. A prisoner, but out of harm’s way.
With a deep groan of frustration, he stood in the middle of St. Charles Street, his arms to the side. He turned in a slow circle, his head tilted up to the sky. He stood on the cable-car track, but there was no car coming. He wouldn’t have cared, anyway. His fate was sealed. This was his one last-ditch effort to find her. If it didn’t work…well, he’d worry about that when it happened.
Closing his eyes, he let nothingness fill his consciousness. Somewhere, in the depths of his soul lay the heart of a great beast. And a heart that sang with Cate’s. He called to her now, reached out, his mind finding that silken thread that connected their souls.
Searching, longing, needing.
The cable car approached, easing down the track toward him, but Luc neither knew nor cared. All his focus was on this mission. He had to succeed. He had to find her.
His mind found the thread and he held tight, following it through the dark and dank shadows, the hidden places. Further and further as the cable car groaned closer and closer.
A house. A room. A man and a woman. And there, finally, he found her.
He opened his eyes just as the car approached. And as the car glided over the spot where Luc had stood only moments before, he was already racing across the street, heading toward his Caitlyn.
“CATE .”
Startled, she looked up from her notes into Luc’s copper eyes. She expected anger, a sense of violation, instead she felt almost giddy to see him again.
“How…” She trailed off, the question not worth asking. Somehow, she was his. Of course he’d found her.
“You ran,” he said.
She nodded. What had earlier seemed like a survival instinct now seemed kneejerk and foolish. She wanted to be with this man. Wanted to soak up his heat-filled gaze and lose herself in the protection of his arms. She took a deep breath and decided simply to tell him the truth. “I was scared.”
“Of me?”
“No,” she said honestly. “Of us.”
“You feel it, too.” Deep relief tinged his voice.
“Didn’t you know?”
“I couldn’t be sure.” He took the seat that Adam had sat in earlier, then pulled one of the folders to him, ignoring the bright red Confidential stamp.
“Those are police files.”
“So I see.”
She didn’t object further, even though she should. Instead, she just watched as he flipped through the papers.
“Will you catch him?”
She propped her chin on her fist. “Him? Not it?”
His expression was unreadable. “Human or cat,” he said, “it doesn’t matter. Both are attacking.”
“I know. And, yes, I’ll catch it.”
“It? Not him?” he said, tossing her question back at her.
“Our perp is a panther. The panther that escaped from the zoo.”
His eyes darkened. “I didn’t realize the police had confirmed that yet. The news reports suggest that a human culprit is still being sought.”
“This is my theory.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “I’m keeping an open mind, of course. But I’m sure I’m right. And in the end, I will catch the panther. It’s…personal.”
His gaze seemed to bore into her. “Personal?”
She felt her cheeks heat. “I’m sure that seems foolish to you, but I used to go to the panther habitat.”
“And you feel betrayed.”
She squinted at him, surprised he could read her so well. “I…yes. Yes, that’s it.” She started to gather her papers. “At any rate, I will catch him. It’s my job. And I owe it to the people he’s hurt.”
He nodded, somewhat thoughtfully, then held out a hand. “Come with me, Cate. I think it’s time we talked.”
“I—”
“Cate. Just come.”
All thoughts of argument abandoned her. She knew she would go with him. Hell, from the moment she’d left her apartment, she’d known she would go with him if he found her. That was, after all, why she’d run in the first place.
But she wanted this; she truly did. There was something comforting about his presence, and she wondered if that’s what happened between soul mates. This soothing, easy compliance. No thought, simply feelings and trust.
The trust frightened her. Except for Adam, and perhaps Kimberly, she’d never trusted anyone. She’d learned from her mother that loyalty was an illusion and that trusting was the easiest way to get burned.
With Luc, though, trust had bloomed, despite the frantic lust that sparked between them. Or, perhaps, because of it.
Whatever the reason, she did trust him.
The trouble, of course, was that now she expected to get burned.
“WOW .” Cate turned in a circle, taking in the splendor that was his home. “Wow,” she repeated.
Luc couldn’t help his grin. Some of the homes in the famous Garden District had started to fall into ruin. But not the Agassou mansion. The house was his only link to the happiness he’d once enjoyed with his family; he could never let it fall into disrepair.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s stunning.” She crossed to the inlaid credenza and picked up a vase that she was sure must be worth more than a year’s worth of her salary.
“My father inherited it. His family moved to New Orleans from France, and he can trace his roots back to the fourteen hundreds.”
Her eyes widened. “It must be amazing to feel all that history tugging at you. All I know about my father is that he was vile. And my mother ran away when she was sixteen and never told me a thing about her parents.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “It’s my life and I’m used to it. But I do envy you.”
The irony of her words twisted in his stomach. “Believe me, you wouldn’t want to share my heritage.”
Her questioning glance was so sincere, so full of interest, that he felt compelled to tell her the truth even if that light might fade in her eyes. Some form of the truth, anyway. “I’m adopted.”
She blinked, confusion washing over her face. “But this is still your family.”
“But they’re not my ancestors. My ancestors are—” He cut himself off. He couldn’t simply blurt out the truth. “I don’t know anything about them.”
“You know they exist.”
He nodded. “Ever the pragmatist. Yes,” he confirmed. “I know they exist. I even know that I have a sibling. A twin brother.” He’d often wondered about his brother. Was there someone else out there who shared his curse? An ally he’d never met? Or had his twin escaped the pull of genetics, leaving Luc to bear the burden of their heritage?
Most likely, he’d never know. “He was adopted first. I assume he lives somewhere in the States, though I suppose he may have moved back to our homeland.”
“Where’s that?”
“South America. My mother and father were from there.”
She nodded, apparently satisfied, then moved across the room, her fingers twined with his. “I think you put too much stock on blood ties. Your parents adopted you. They loved you, cherished you and took care of you.” A tiny smile touched her lips. “I think that you can claim their ancestors as your own.”
So sweet. He brushed the side of his hand across her cheek. “You’re a good woman, Caitlyn Raine.”
Her eyes darkened and she shook her head. “You don’t really know me.”
“I know enough,” he said. “I know you’re a cop. Cops help people.”
She lifted one shoulder, but didn’t meet his eyes.
He stepped closer, compelled to stroke her hair, wanting simply to comfort her.
We’ll find a cure, Luc. His mother’s voice rang in his head, and he saw her there in his mind, holding fast to his father’s hand. We’ll find a cure and you, my darling baby boy, I promise you will find someone to love.
He wanted to cry out, a low moan of pain and longing, a cry to the mother he’d lost and the life he’d always wanted but had never been allowed to have.
Instead he held tight to Cate, to the promise and hope she represented. He knew her, fully and completely, and yet in so many ways, he didn’t know her at all.
Even so, she was his. His life, his mate. And, he hoped, the love his mother had promised.
“Luc?” Her voice was soft, muffled by the pressure of her mouth against his chest.
He stepped back, rubbing his temples as he shook his head just slightly, hoping he looked normal but certain that every ounce of pain was reflected on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to overwhelm you.” He took his hand, pressed it to his heart. “But you overwhelm me, Cate. You fill me. You’re everything to me, and the knowledge that you are here with me, now, in this house, is—” He broke off, once again skirting dangerous territory. “Well, let’s just say that I’m very, very glad that you’re here.”
He could tell that his words pleased her, but almost immediately she tamped down her reaction, a tiny self-deprecating smile playing on her lips. “I…I don’t really understand what’s happening between us. But you should know that I’m not the woman you think I am. I’m not remarkable. I’m not even very good.”
He moved closer, edging against her, breathing deep of her glorious scent. He bent, lifting her hair to press a kiss behind her ear. “I think you’re very, very good.”
She didn’t answer in words, but the tremor that passed through her body spoke volumes. He wanted her then. Wanted to cherish her, to seduce her. To start on her toes and kiss all the way up to those beautiful lips. This wasn’t about need; he had not even a hint that the change was upon him. He simply desired this woman, this mate that destiny had brought to him.
He had told her they would come here to talk, and though they’d spoken of their lives, he had yet to tell her the truth about them—about him. He had planned to, yes, but now his resolve faded. He was the beast she hunted, the beast by whom she felt betrayed. He would have to tell her sometime—he knew that. But not now. Not yet.
First, he wanted to court her, to date her, to win her heart as men had done with women through the ages.
He wanted to be a man with her, not a beast.
He wanted to love her.
And he wanted her to love him. Because only if she loved him would she be able to find it in her heart to forgive him.
His arms encircled her waist and he drew her close to him. He tilted her head back and her eyes, wide and full of desire, looked up at him. Her lips parted, and he didn’t wait to discover if she was about to demand that he stop or beg him to continue. He took her mouth with his, his tongue demanding entrance with a force born of purely sexual need. A man’s desire flooded his veins—pure human, pure lust—and the only thing feral was the wild demand that fed him, thousands of years of mating instincts driving his need to take this woman, to make her his own, once and for all.
She melted under his touch, her willing acquiescence to his demands arousing his passion even more. He didn’t wait—he couldn’t—but instead urged her toward the parlor doors, his fingers fumbling for the button of her jeans. He had to have her; he couldn’t wait. And she was as desperate as he.
They tumbled to the floor, rolling over an antique Turkish rug until he was straddling her. She wriggled her hips and he jerked her jeans down, taking both the denim and the soft satin of her panties.
She lay before him, exposed and glistening, and her lips formed just one word. “Now.”
He didn’t hesitate. He was too hard, too ready, and he clambered out of his own clothes, then spread her legs, his cock teasing her slick folds. He played with her, just a little, but he couldn’t stand the strain. And he thrust inside her as she begged for him to take her.
His climax was fast and sure, and Luc exploded inside her. He rolled over, taking her with him, his lips seeking hers. And as he kissed her, soft and sweet, a new reality settled around him. His cursed bloodline bound him to Cate, it was true. But also, Luc knew, he was bound to her by the ties of love.
BY LATE AFTERNOON , Cate realized that she didn’t know herself as well as she thought. She’d always believed she was tough. Certainly not one of those women who bought into the whole Cinderella fantasy.
But she was buying into it now, and the more Luc treated her like a princess, the more she found herself enjoying the role.
They’d spent the afternoon in Luc’s castle, because there really was no other way to describe the stunning mansion or the flower-filled gardens. Cate knew nothing about either fine furniture or fantastic horticulture, but she knew enough to recognize the effects of both care and money. And the Agassou estate reflected both. They’d walked slowly through his backyard, her hand tucked inside his, the broad branches of the magnolia trees sheltering them. Fabulous purple flowers spilled out of oversized stone pots lining the walkway, and he’d plucked one, then made a show of tucking it behind her ear before brushing a soft kiss on her cheek.
It had been silly and sentimental and she’d fallen for it utterly.
Because it was New Orleans, the heat was close to unbearable and they now sat at a small metal table tucked into a fragrant corner of a shady arbor. Martin, Luc’s charming butler, had brought them tall, cool glasses filled with mint juleps. The whole afternoon had been thoroughly decadent and Cate had enjoyed every minute of it.
She licked her lips. She hated herself for doing it, but she couldn’t help second-guessing something that seemed too good to be true.
“Luc?”
He’d been telling her about the history of the house, but she’d tuned him out, simply content to hold his hand and lose herself in her own thoughts. Now he stopped talking, a question in his eyes, but no accusation. Even so, she was certain he knew that her mind had wandered. He squeezed her fingers, the intimate gesture his only response.
“I—I don’t understand this.”
A grin danced at the corner of his mouth. “It’s quite simple. My father brought in two tons of dirt and raised the backyard. That let him—”
She whacked him on the knee, but couldn’t stifle the laugh that bubbled out. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“I know.” This time his voice held no tease, and when he squeezed her fingers, the touch was purely sensual. Her body fired in immediate response and she pressed her legs together, unwilling to let a visceral reaction to this man control every waking moment.
“I don’t understand what’s happening between us,” she elaborated.
He regarded her quietly for a moment, then traced the line of her jaw with his fingertip before curling a strand of her hair around his forefinger. “Must you understand everything?”
“It’s my nature.”
“And we must all behave in accordance with our nature.”
It was a statement, not a question, and so she didn’t respond, simply sat, her eyes focused on his face, as she waited for him to continue. Somehow, she knew that he would.
“I won’t say that I love you, Cate, because that might scare you away.”
She swallowed, not nearly as frightened by his words as she imagined she should be.
“But I will say that we are connected, you and I.”
“But that’s exactly it.” She leaned forward, happy to grasp onto something other than love. Right then, it was a word she feared, a word that hit just a little too close. “Why are we connected?”
He grinned, a sudden mischievous look. “Perhaps if I found the connection unpleasant I would seek out a reason. But since I have no complaints, I’m content to accept the inevitable.”
“The inevitable?”
“You,” he said simply.
She swallowed, the implications hitting her. Luc was inevitable. For reasons she didn’t understand, this man was tied to her future. And damned if she didn’t want him there.
But as much as he filled her soul, violent images still filled her head. Even though she’d sent the bottle to Bonnie, the dreams hadn’t stopped. Darkly erotic dreams. There’d been no more nightmares—thank God—and no more maulings to investigate, either. But the cat was still loose, and she knew she couldn’t rest until it was found…and the dreams faded into nothingness.
“Cate?”
Those copper eyes were focused intently on her, and she feared that he had managed to read her thoughts. She swallowed, shaking her head. “Sorry. Just thinking.”
“The maulings.”
“You’re very perceptive.”
His fingers brushed the bare skin on her arm and once again she fought the urge to tremble. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I only understand you.”
He gathered her into his arms, and she clung to him. “Perhaps there won’t be any more attacks.”
He spoke with an intense conviction, and she wanted to kiss him simply for trying to make her feel better. As it was, his strong assurance was contagious, and she nodded, almost against her will. “I wish I could believe that, but—”
“Believe it.”
She met his eyes, found them clear and determined. “Why?”
“Because you have no reason not to. There’s been no attack for several days. It’s your day off, right?”
She nodded. “It’s ridiculous. I’ve got a huge caseload, and the bureaucrats are making me take two stinking weeks.” She hadn’t wanted to take them, but the department bean crunchers had finally insisted that Cate, and a few other detectives who’d been squirreling away vacation time, needed to use it. Cate had ignored the memo from brass for three months. But when her captain had finally put his foot down, she’d had no room to argue.
“Then enjoy those days.”
“I want to,” she said. And she did. She really did.
“Good.” He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her lips that, while not decadent in itself, offered so much. “Because I intend to make sure you enjoy yourself. And I thought we’d start with a late-afternoon siesta…”
CATE DIDN’T ACTUALLY GET to rest during their siesta, but as she stretched naked on the satin sheets after an hour-long bout of lovemaking, she definitely felt sated and relaxed. Across the room, Luc was pulling on slacks in front of the closet, and she was watching him, thoroughly enjoying the view and thinking one very disturbing thought—she could get used to this.
A tiny buried part of her dared to hope that the voice in her head was wrong. That she could have the whole dream. A husband. Children. A family that loved her.
No, no, no. She needed to get that thought out of her head. No matter what this thing was that seemed to be filling the air between them, the bottom line remained the same, and the familiar refrain reverberated through her head. Not for you. Never for a girl like you.
“Something wrong?” Luc stood, looking utterly sexy as he buttoned his starched white shirt. Such a short time and already he knew her too well. A blossom of hope dared to bloom, but Cate ignored it, tucking it instead into the darkest corner of her heart.
She shook her head, the lie as natural as breathing. “Just enjoying the view.”
“I’m glad you think it’s worth watching.”
She shrugged. “It’s an empirical fact. Can’t have you thinking I’m an idiot.”
He let his eyes roam over her, and her body tingled in response, the sensation starting at her toes and drifting all the way up to the top of her head until her entire body felt warm and malleable and it was all she could do to keep herself from begging for his touch.
With his eyes lingering on her, he smiled. “I can’t believe these words are coming from my lips, but you really should get dressed. I have plans for you this evening.”
“It’s only five.”
As his smile broadened, so did the heat in her belly. “I have plans for a very, very long evening.”
“Oh.” She licked her lips. Discomfort warring with an intense desire to wrap herself up in this man. A lifetime of putting up walls won out, though, and she licked her lips, at the same time eased the sheet over her bare thigh. “Listen, Luc, today has been, well, it’s been great. But I really do need to get going.”
“Why?”
The question startled her, though she certainly should have expected it. “Well, I might be off from work, but I have tons of paperwork to catch up and evidence to review for all of my cases.”
He nodded, his copper eyes intense as he sat on the bed again. “You’ve already admitted there’s something happening between us. I thought we’d agreed to explore that.”
“I…” She trailed off, then shrugged. How could she explain to him that she was fine with the sexual tug between them? If that’s all it was, she’d stay in his bed forever. Sex she could deal with. But this was more. The way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the way he talked with her—as if she were special, as if they could have a future…she didn’t have the tools to deal with that. All she knew how to do was run.
“I’m not proposing marriage, Cate,” he said, once again sitting next to her. He took a strand of hair and curled it around his finger, then flashed a devilish grin. “At least not yet. Just a dinner that you won’t run from.” He stroked her cheek, his hand caressing her face, then tracing her lips. “And maybe a bit of after-dinner entertainment.”
Her buttons. He knew every single one of them. How to manipulate her, how to say exactly the right thing. That reality both frightened and comforted her, and her head screamed that she should run far and fast from this man. That he could get past her defenses, leaving her bare and vulnerable.
She stayed anyway. And she had to wonder if she was being supremely stupid or if, God help her, she was falling in love.
They took a taxi back to his house, and had she been doing her job, she should have cited them both for indecent exposure. In truth, she didn’t think the driver saw anything, but it had taken every ounce of self-control in Cate’s body not to scream in pleasure as Luc made her come, his fingers buried in her slippery folds.
They’d left her panties on the floorboard of the cab. Just a tiny souvenir.
Inside, they’d made a beeline for the bedroom, barely managing to stay somewhat clothed before the door shut behind them, exercising that tiny amount of propriety in case Luc’s butler Martin happened to be about.
All night, Luc’s presence had been taunting her. His scent, the subtle touch of his hand. When he’d finally touched her in the taxi, she’d come right away.
Now, she had no patience to wait.
She reached for his belt, her fingers fumbling as she unfastened the thing, letting it hang open as she moved on to the button. His hands were just as busy, inching her skirt up around her waist, cupping her right there as she clenched her thighs together, allowing no chance to lose his touch.
He stroked her, a single finger sliding along her slippery folds. And when her legs simply couldn’t hold her upright anymore, she fell backwards onto the bed.
He kicked off his shoes and stripped off his jeans, then climbed onto the bed to straddle her. Her skirt was around her waist, her blouse unbuttoned, and she lay there exposed and needy. He watched her, one hand cupping her breast. “You’re beautiful,” he said.
“Tell me later.” She had to force the words out, past a wall of need. “Right now, I want you inside me.”
His face changed with her words, his expression turning possessive. Good. She wanted him to have her, to take her, and dammit, if he didn’t do it right then, she thought that she would scream.
When he thrust inside her, she almost did.
He consumed her, filled her, and when he pounded inside her, she was certain she was going to rip apart. She matched him, thrust for thrust, her hips bucking. They were wild, desperate for each other, as if by this frantic lovemaking they could discover the source of their connection. As if, by the melding of flesh, they could become one.
The orgasm ripped through her, and she clung to him, fingernails clenched into his shoulders, her body bucking beneath him. It was primitive and wild, and with this man, it felt completely right.
Exhaustion took her, and she curled up against him, still half-clothed. His fingers played with the buttons on her shirt, finally unfastening them all and laying the material open to expose her breasts. She hadn’t worn a bra, and now he stroked her, his fingers dancing lazily around her nipples.
“I’d be careful if I were you,” she said dreamily. “I might demand a repeat performance.”
“And I might be happy to oblige.” He kissed her breast, the heat from his lips shooting straight down between her thighs. She squeezed her legs together, prolonging the pleasure, and sighed. “You’re wonderful,” he said.
“No, I’m not.” The words came out automatically. A simple truth. And she rolled sideways, drawing her thumbnail to her mouth even as she spooned against him. She hadn’t meant to bring her past into their bed, but it had come anyway, and now she shrank from the memories.
His hand idly stroked her hip, and she could feel the light touch of his breath on the back of her neck. For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to speak, then he shifted, moving to sit up with his back against the headboard. She stayed where she was, but pulled her knees up to her chest. His fingers found her hair, and he stroked softly.
“I can only report what I see,” he said.
“My father raped my mother,” she said simply, unable to look at him. Tears welled in her eyes and she squeezed them tight, fighting the pain, trying to hold on to reason. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that simply because her mother said something didn’t make it so. But that didn’t change the hole in her stomach when she thought about her life.
His fingers stilled in her hair. “I’m sorry.”
“She tried to end the pregnancy. It didn’t work.” She licked her lips. “There are days when I wish it had.”
She didn’t want to cry. And she told herself she didn’t want his sympathy. But when he whispered, “Come here,” the dam burst. The tears poured out and she rolled over, letting him close his arms around her as she buried her face in his chest. She did want him, dammit. She wanted his sympathy and his support. And for the first time in her life, she not only wanted a man’s love, she needed it. She needed this man’s love.
He held her that way for an eternity, his hands gently stroking her back, his muscles taut and firm under her hands. And when the tears stopped and she was no longer shaking, he said simply, “Tell me.”
And she did. She told him about growing up with her mother, about never doing anything right. Of trying anything and everything to get the woman’s attention until, finally, she’d forgotten just why she’d been acting out in the first place. “I stayed out late, I drank, I was rowdy as hell. I slept around. Anything and everything to prove my mother right. I was a bad girl.”
“You were looking for someone,” he said. “Someone to save you from your life.”
“No—”
“And when you didn’t find him, you became a cop. Now you’re helping other people. Doing for them what no one ever did for you.”
His words shot through her, the touch of truth cold against her heart. “No.” She whispered the protest. “I’m not that noble. All I’m doing—all I’ve ever done—is try to erase my mother’s voice in my head.”
He pressed a kiss to her hair. “The cause doesn’t matter. What you’re doing is noble. You are helping people, and you are doing good.”
She’d been pressed against him, the top of her head to his chest so that if she opened her eyes all she saw was the bed and their bodies. Now she tilted her head up, straining to look into his eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, “because it never ends. I can’t save anyone. Not really. Hell, I can’t even save myself.”
“Perhaps you aren’t meant to save yourself,” he said. “And as for others, about that, you’re wrong.”
“No—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “You can, Cate. You can save me.” He stroked her cheek. “And believe me when I say that you already have.”
SHE WAS OBSESSED with finding the escaped cat, and Luc could do nothing to dissuade her from her job. Even though she was taking vacation days, she pored over records, checked 911 calls for reports of animals in alleys, and checked in with the hospital, hoping that one of the victims had regained consciousness. She was concerned about the victims’ condition, of course. But she also wanted information.
Luc hoped the victims survived, too, though for a different reason. While Cate wanted information, he wanted absolution. He wanted to know that he was not a murderer even though he couldn’t erase the fact that he’d surely put those people through hell.
Most of all, though, he wanted Cate to back off the search. If they survived, and if there were no more attacks, then with time he figured she would walk away. The city would assume the animal had been killed by a car or a shotgun, and that would be the end of that.
Right now, though, he knew that her blood burned with the need to capture the savage who was stalking the innocent on the streets of New Orleans. What would she do, he wondered, if she knew that he was the man she sought, the creature she’d come to hate even though she did not know him?
There was no reason for her to know. The realization came to him in a flash, and he knew that was the only way. With Cate in his arms and in his bed, he was safe. He’d carry the secret to his grave. She need never, ever know the dark parts of his soul.
Indeed, he tried to escape the dark himself. During the day, when he managed to pull her away from work, they walked the French Quarter, sipping chicory coffee and eating beignets at Café Du Monde before strolling down Royal and peering into the windows of the antique stores that lined the picturesque street. They held hands and laughed and joked.
At night, though, shadows loomed, the shadow of his secret most of all. And even when he was spent, exhausted after losing himself in her arms, still he lay awake, watching this woman who was his savior. This woman that he’d come to love. He couldn’t disappoint her. Couldn’t ever let her know. The truth, he vowed, would remain hidden.
As he did every night, Luc watched as Cate’s chest rose and fell, sleep having finally overtaken her. He’d meant what he’d said a few days ago. She had saved him. This woman who didn’t even know her own worth was, literally, his key to salvation.
She deserved his love. And, so help him, she had it.
She murmured in her sleep, shifting against him, and he stroked her hair, saying soft things, wanting to make the world right for her. She stilled, and he simply watched her, amazed that someone so beautiful could doubt herself so much.
They sat like that for a while, him watching, simply absorbing the essence of Cate, until sleep started to overtake him. He was just about to drift off when she tensed, crying out in her sleep and sitting bolt upright, her breath coming in gasps as she clutched his arm. She stared at him, her eyes wild, but she didn’t seem to see him.
“Cate. Cate.”
She blinked, finally focusing, the alarm on her face fading to relief. “I had a dream.”
“A nightmare, more like it.”
She nodded, easing herself up to hug her knees and press her body closer to his. It was a subtle motion, but it warmed him. She trusted him, wanted his comfort. And he wanted to give it to her. “Not as bad as some of my nightmares, though.” She tilted her head a bit, this time aiming a gentle grin toward him. “And not nearly as pleasant as the other dreams I’ve been having. Though I will say that being with you makes those dreams seem pretty tame.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, and his confusion must have shown on his face. “It started a few days before we met,” she said by way of explanation. She licked her lips. “It sounds silly, but I’ve been having these, well, these dreams.”
A bone-deep cold settled over him, and for no reason at all, he feared her words. “What kind of dreams?” he asked, forcing himself to form the question.
Color rose on her cheeks. “At first, just erotic dreams. Very erotic. As if I was being called by someone and I could feel him touching me.”
“I see.” His jaw tightened, and he forced himself not to be jealous of a dream. “And was that the kind of dream that woke you just now?”
She shook her head, her eyes meeting his. “No. Those dreams have stopped since I’ve been with you. I think…” She trailed off, no longer meeting his eyes. “I think I don’t need them anymore.”
Good. But he didn’t voice the thought.
“This was a nightmare.” She spoke the word matter-of-factly, and he realized that this nightmare was something she lived with.
“Your mother?” he asked.
“No. These are…violent. I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.” She shook her head, as if shaking off a memory. “At any rate, I shouldn’t have even called it a nightmare. The real nightmares always have Midnight in them.”
Immediately, his senses were on alert. “The panther?”
She nodded. “He’s there. And he attacks. Violent, hideous attacks.”
Nausea rose in his gut. Him. She was seeing him in her dreams. They were connected, he and Cate, even more than either of them had ever imagined.
He forced himself to form words. “And these dreams. Do they—” He couldn’t finish the thought. It wasn’t necessary. She knew what he meant.
“Yes,” she said. “They seem to coincide with the maulings.” Her face twisted, contorted in anger. “It’s as if he’s taunting me, showing me that he can attack, that he will attack, and that there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.” She hugged herself, trembling slightly. “My part in all this though is more than just the job, you see. More even than that I used to go to the zoo to watch him. It’s like I’ve failed.”
He frowned. “Failed?”
She nodded, clearly miserable. “I see the attacks in my dreams, and it’s like I should be able to do something. But I can’t, and now all those people are in the hospital. I couldn’t save them. Hell, I couldn’t even help them.”
His stomach roiled as he remembered that he was the one who put them in the hospital.
Her features hardened. “That’s why I have to catch him. It’s my job, yes. But I have to do it for me. For my peace of mind.” She drew a breath. “I have to—I will—catch Midnight.”
A chill settled over Luc and he trembled, just the smallest shaking of his muscles. She felt it, though, and her face transformed. Gone was the anger, replaced with pure compassion and total beauty. “Are you okay?”
He forced a smile. “Just concerned for you.” He pulled her into his arms and pressed her cheek to his chest. He wanted the feel of her against him, but he also didn’t want her to see his face. “When did these dreams start?”
“My birthday,” she said. “It was the last time I saw Midnight,” she added. “I’d spent the day at the zoo. I’d opened my birthday present there. I’d even—” She cut off with a shake of her head, the color high on her cheeks.
“What?”
“You,” she said, and his blood ran cold. Did she know? How? How could she know?
“Me?” His own voice was hardly recognizable.
“I think it must be the bottle,” she said. “It did something to me. So many things have happened. The maulings. The visions. And…” She broke off with a little shrug, but a smile danced at her mouth. “And this connection to you.”
“What do I have to do with the zoo?”
She frowned, perhaps hearing the urgency in his voice. Then she licked her lips. “That’s the odd part. I first felt this connection, this thing, between us there. And I heard your voice in my head.”
“My voice? What did I say?”
“That I was yours.” She lifted herself and pressed a kiss to his lips. “And the voice was right. I am.”
He clutched her close to him, terror coursing through his veins. She was right about the connection. What she didn’t realize was that it was all connected. Him, the maulings, everything.
“Do you still have the bottle?” He asked the question more from curiosity. He had no idea what he’d do with the thing.
“No. I sent it to a friend. I thought perhaps the dreams would stop if it was gone.”
“But they haven’t.”
“No.” She frowned. “Well, yes. Since I’ve been with you, I no longer dream of the cat.” She snuggled close to him, her eyes heavy with sleep. “I love you, Luc. I don’t really understand what happened between us, so fast and furious. But I want you to know that I love you.”
His heart wrenched, and he stroked her hair. “And I love you, my Cate. My love.”
She leaned against him, and as the moon rose outside his windows, she slept.
And Luc realized what he had to do.
SHADOWS TAUNTED HER .
She walked barefoot down a darkened alley, the stench of garbage hanging in the dense air. The humidity seemed to envelop her, but even so, she shivered, not from cold, but from fear.
He was out there. He was stalking her. And this time, she wouldn’t escape.
A low growl filled the air, and she spun, looking for the source but finding nothing.
And then, when one of the dark shadows moved, taking the form of a leaping panther, teeth bared, eyes golden and lost in the thrill of the kill, she stood frozen to the spot.
Unable to move, she did the only thing she could do—
Cate screamed.
The sound ripped from her throat, jerking her to consciousness, and she sat up, the cold grip of terror still on her as she fumbled beside her for Luc’s warmth.
He wasn’t there.
She waited, knowing he would have heard her. Knowing he would come running to hold her. To soothe her. To make it better.
But he never came.
And as her pulse slowed, finally returning to normal, Cate hugged the pillow to her chest and told herself she wouldn’t cry. This was expected, after all. The people she loved betrayed her. And Cate could rely on no one in this world but herself.
Luc glared at Martin from behind the bars in the basement confine. He’d left Cate hours before and gone to his study, unable to hold her while knowing the truth—that the passion with which she hunted him was spurred by more than just her job. It was deep and personal.
He had to tell her the truth. He’d been selfish in thinking he could keep it from her, thinking only of his own pain and not his victims’. Cate was right; he should be caught. Should be made to pay retribution even though he wanted nothing more than to live out his life in peace with Cate at his side.
And so he would leave the choice to her, even though he already knew what she’d do—she would turn him in. In her eyes, Midnight’s attacks were a betrayal. So, too, would be the secret that he’d been keeping from her. And in the end, she’d do what she must. For duty, for the victims. And because, as she’d said, it was personal.
“I’ve made up my mind, Martin. Now can I please have some water?” He was locked in now, an unfortunate necessity, but he’d felt the change coming on. At first, despite his newfound resolve, he’d thought to go to her, to use her, his feline instincts urging him back to his mate. But he’d fought instinct, fought for his humanity to shine through, and in the end, he’d won the battle.
A dubious victory, considering he felt less than human now, locked in a cage, depending on Martin to bring him food and drink.
“You cannot tell her that you attacked those people.”
“I have to, Martin. She deserves the truth. She deserves to find the culprit she’s been searching for.”
“Dammit, man, you did not injure those people. Your parents taught you control. Don’t offend their legacy by not believing.”
Self-loathing consumed him. “It’s not a question of belief. I’ve seen the blood on my hands. I attacked. Just as I attacked little Clarissa Taylor.”
“The child survived, sir,” Martin said.
“I almost killed a five-year-old,” Luc shot back.
“Sir, you are—”
Luc never found out what he was because Martin’s words were lost, buried beneath the pounding of blood in his ears as the force of the change struck him. The world spun out of control, and he rushed the bars, beating against them with his fists.
And then he was gone, the maelstrom sucking him in, pure animal instinct taking over and, once again, he was floating in the blackness of his own soul awaiting the moment when awareness returned.
CATE HAD WASTED half an hour crying in the bed, tears of anger and betrayal, then finally fallen back to sleep. She’d secretly hoped he’d come back; that she’d been wrong and he’d simply gone for a walk because he couldn’t sleep.
She should have known better, of course.
And so she gathered her things and headed for the front door. She’d go back home and bury herself in her job, finding in her work the comfort she could no longer find in Luc’s arms.
Now she stopped at the door and scribbled a note, addressing it only to Martin so the gentle old man wouldn’t worry. She was just trying to figure out the best place to put it, when the man himself appeared beside her.
Cate jumped, her heart pounding. “I didn’t hear you come up.”
“It is a butler’s job to be invisible.” He nodded to the suitcase. “You are taking your leave of us, miss?”
She nodded, but didn’t meet his eyes, afraid that if she did, the tears would start up again. “I need to get back to work. If Luc can’t find the time to leave a message for me, I certainly can’t find the time to wait indefinitely for him.”
He bowed just slightly. “He does have a message for you, Miss Cate. Though it will be a hard one for you to hear.”
“What is it?”
Martin shook his head. “He wanted to tell you himself, but that’s no longer possible. I shall have to speak for him.”
Fear coursed through her veins. “Is he hurt?”
Martin shook his head. “Let me bring you to him.”
Cate squinted. “Where is he?”
“Not far. But it’s not the where that is important. It’s the what.” He held out his hand to her. “Come, my dear. I’ll explain on the way.”
A PANTHER .
Martin had told her an unbelievable story, but his explanation couldn’t be true. It was impossible, absurd. And yet somehow, deep in her heart, Cate knew that what the butler had revealed was absolutely true—Luc had transformed into the sleek black panther that now paced the basement cage.
And she alone was the key to controlling his curse.
Hesitating just a little, she stepped to the bars, pressing her face against the cool metal. Basements were unusual in New Orleans, and from this vantage point she could see that this was new construction, specially reinforced to survive the boggy terrain. She wanted to ask Luc about it, but the man was nowhere to be seen.
It was just her and a sleek black cat.
She drew a breath. “Luc?”
Nothing.
“Dammit, Luc. Martin told me. He told me everything.” She felt like a fool speaking the words, not quite able to get her head around the fact that she really and truly believed it. She did, though. Hell, maybe she’d known the truth all along.
Now, though, she had to see it. Had to see him.
“Change, Luc. If you love me even a little, I need you to change.”
That did it. The cat rose from the ground, muscles rippling under its thick coat as it walked toward her, teeth bared. She stayed where she was, her hands clutching the bars, her face pressed into the space between. If the cat lunged now, she was surely dead. But she held her breath. And trusted.
And then she blinked, not sure her eyes were functioning. But yes, there it was again. A ripple. The cat’s body, changing. Shifting and pulling until—
Luc.
Crouched, naked on the cold concrete floor.
“It’s true.” She whispered the words, then crossed herself.
“You didn’t believe?” he asked.
“I did,” she said. “But to see it—” She drew a breath. “Oh, Luc. Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.
He stood and crossed to her. “Tell you what? That I am the man you seek? A marauder? The attacker of innocents? The cat who stalks in your dreams?”
A tear trickled down her cheek and she didn’t try to stop it. He was everything she’d sworn to fight against, but she loved him.
And, dear God, she could save him. She could end the curse and be with the man she loved.
But to do that, she had to turn her back on his victims. How could she do that, even for love?
“Oh, Luc.” The words were barely a sigh.
“You must turn me in,” he said.
She shook her head, not willing to accept that. Not yet. There had to be a way. “No. I love you. And I can save you.”
“Yes, but you would resent it. Perhaps not at first, but Cate, I’m the evil you’ve been stalking. You cannot tie yourself to me, not and live with yourself. It goes against everything you’ve spent your life doing, all the bad you’ve overcome. It’s not a sacrifice I can ask you to make. Nor one I can accept.”
No. With a sudden clarity she knew what she had to do. She loved him. Even more, she believed in him. For the first time in her life she’d believed in someone other than herself, trusted someone completely. And, so help her, she still trusted him.
And she didn’t believe that Luc was capable of those attacks, even when he was in his feline form. “Martin says you can’t remember,” she said.
“I don’t need to remember. I’ve seen the blood on my hands afterward.”
“You didn’t attack those people, Luc. There’s got to be another explanation.”
He just stared at her.
Damn the man, she wanted to throttle him. “Martin says you have control. That you wouldn’t attack, even during the change.”
“Martin is an old fool.”
She held one card, one secret about which Martin had spoken, and she played it now. “He says that Clarissa survived. That you stopped, and that she lived.”
Pain slashed his face. “I almost killed that child,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
She wanted to wince, wanted to cry, but she steeled herself. “Tell me.”
“It was after my parents’ death. I was dining at the home of friends and afterwards we were in the garden. I felt the change, so I made my excuses, determined to reach home and my cage before it happened.” He described the scene, his voice passionless, monotone. “Inside the house, though, it hit me. More abruptly than I’d expected. My friends’ little girl was in the house, and she was all alone, you see. All alone with the beast.”
“Martin says she survived.”
He nodded. “She did. Scared but essentially unafflicted.”
“You did have control.”
“I don’t know what caused me to stop, to not finish her. And it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have been in a position to harm her anyway.” He licked his lips, met her eyes. “The next day I arranged for the donation of a black panther to the zoo, and began to spread the word that Luc Agassou would be traveling abroad.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears, still unwilling to believe what he told her. “No.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t you. You didn’t hurt those people.”
“Cate. I appreciate the faith, but it’s misplaced.”
“No, it’s—” She stopped, something important tickling at the back of her brain.
And then she knew. Dear Lord, she knew, and she was right, and she could save him. This man that she loved, she could not only end his curse, but she could prove that he was innocent.
But to do that, she needed his help.
DAYS PASSED , and Luc paced his cage, knowing that Cate was somewhere above, making futile preparations to prove him innocent. He wanted to believe her. Wanted to buy into her eager and enthusiastic protestations that he wasn’t killing. That he couldn’t be attacking because she’d dreamed of the panther while he’d been locked in the cage.
One dream, however, wasn’t enough to convince him. She seemed to think she’d been seeing through the attacker’s eyes, but Luc knew that made no sense. Most likely she was seeing raw images, emotions mixed with dreams.
But she’d asked if he loved her, and he’d been unable to lie.
“If you love me, let me try this. Let me try to prove you innocent.” She’d smiled that smile he loved so well, and she’d looked at him with dark, professional eyes. “Let me do my job, Luc. And if I’m wrong, I’ll leave.”
Even though he knew she was wrong, he’d had to take the chance. Because he did love her. And, damn him, he wanted her to stay.
Now they were waiting. Waiting for the fickle workings of his curse to send him prowling the streets again. Waiting—
His soul rippled, and he drew in a breath. Now. It was upon him. Soon, Cate would know the truth.
And just as soon, Luc knew, he would be really, and truly, alone.
“I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH assistance I can be, Miss Cate,” Martin said.
“You’re doing fine. I’ll be doing all the important stuff.” She would have preferred he stay behind, but she did need help and, under the circumstances, asking Adam for assistance was simply out of the question.
At the moment, they were in her car, following a dot blipping on a screen. They’d tagged Luc with a transmitter, and now the wonders of technology helped them follow him as he prowled the streets of New Orleans. A great cat, loose in the dead of night. They intended to follow him, and, Cate was certain, the true culprit would appear. Another panther, stalking in the dark.
Luc didn’t believe her, of course, but Cate didn’t care. She was right. She was certain. And she’d prove Luc’s innocence.
“There,” Martin said, pointing to the screen.
Cate nodded, then maneuvered the car into a space. “From here we go on foot.” She opened the glove box and took out the small pistol she’d prepared earlier. “This is for you,” she said. “Just in case.”
Martin looked at it, his face paling. But he nodded and clutched the gun.
Cate checked her own weapon, then got out of the car, the tracking device in one hand as they walked through the deserted streets near the offices of the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals.
“That alley,” Martin said, pointing to a service road alongside one of the buildings surrounding the imperious courtyard.
They headed in that direction, Cate’s gaze cutting across the open area as they walked. The homeless tended to huddle in the dark corners, finding shelter in the nooks and crannies of the deserted plaza that teemed with life only during working hours. Tonight, though, the place was deserted, and Cate couldn’t help but wonder if someone—or something—had scared off the squatters.
As if in answer, a scream ripped the sky, and she raced forward.
And there he was. A black panther, his muzzle and feet bloody, as his teeth and claws ripped at the leg of a man, mercifully passed out on the bloodstained concrete.
“No!” Her own scream cut through the sky, pure horror pulling the cry from her. The cat turned, ears cocked, copper eyes focused on her.
The nose flared, and she took a step backwards, the movement foolish, as it only provoked the beast. He lunged, soaring through the sky. She pulled her gun, taking aim, frantic to prevent the claws and teeth from rending her flesh.
She didn’t fire, though, because her target was knocked out of the air by a streak of black. As Cate scrambled backwards, she watched, mesmerized, as the two great cats warred, claws and teeth bared, fur flying.
“They’ll surely kill each other.” Martin spoke from behind her, his voice frantic.
He was right. The two panthers twisted, identical except for the collar on Luc. They rolled and grappled, and the rogue cat sank his teeth into Luc’s neck. Luc howled, a bone-deep cry of pain and terror.
“No!” Cate screamed. Any longer and the rogue would kill Luc. She could only hope that she didn’t kill him herself. She lifted her gun, aimed and fired.
LUC CROSSED TO THE BED , his neck bandaged where the panther had latched on twenty-four hours before.
He still couldn’t believe it. She’d been right. Not only that, Martin had been right. Luc had always had control. He had, in fact, been the only reason that the victims had survived and not been mauled to death by the panther who had attacked them.
His twin. His very own brother.
Just as Cate had felt a connection to Luc, Luc had felt a connection to his brother. He’d always been at the maulings because he’d been called there, following in his brother’s path. His feline self had been determined not to allow the carnage intended by his brother, who lacked the control taught to Luc by his parents.
His sibling was gone now. Cate had killed him to save Luc. The police had been called, of course, as well as zoo officials. The terror was over. The culprit caught.
He slid beneath the sheets, desperate to feel her warmth. “How did you know?” he asked. She’d told him already, of course, but only in bits and pieces. Now, though, he wanted to know the full story.
She curled against him. “I realized that since we were connected, the dreams must fit in somehow. It made sense that I was seeing things through your eyes. That scared me at first, because I thought it meant you were the attacker. But then I realized the truth. If I was seeing with your eyes and I was watching a black panther attack people—”
“Then I couldn’t be the one doing the attacking.”
“And then I had the dream while you were in the cage, and I knew there had to be another. Someone that you were connected to. And you’d said you had a twin…” She trailed off with a shrug. “I’m a cop. I trust my gut.”
“You were right.” He leaned over, capturing her mouth with his. “You believed in me, Cate. Even when I didn’t believe in myself.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to believe in yourself,” she said.
“I love you, Cate.”
Her smile lit her face. “I love you, too.”
He held her close, just listening to the beat of her heart. “And, you know, I suppose I should also thank you,” he said after minutes had ticked away. “You saved me, after all.”
“I’m your mate, remember? That’s what I’m supposed to do.” She smiled. “Besides, I’d say we saved each other.” She stroked his arm, then snuggled closer. “Will you miss it?”
He didn’t have to ask what she meant. There was a freedom in being feline, a different perspective on the world. But no, he would not miss it. Now Cate was his world, and that was all that he wanted.
“No,” he said simply.
“Good.” Her grin turned mischievous. “Because I intend to keep you rather occupied in the bedroom. If you did miss it, I’m afraid you’d be out of luck.”
He affected a look of shock. “Are you suggesting, my dear, that you would use me for your sexual pleasure?”
“Indeed I am, Mr. Agassou,” she said. And then she slid under the sheet and began to show him in excruciating, erotic, magnificent detail, just what exactly that sexual pleasure entailed.