Rolling over in the large bed, she knew instinctively that he was gone.
Last night … her thoughts trailed off, assembling slowly like pieces to a puzzle. Last night she’d been attacked or something. There were eyes and roars and … there was Rome.
She was in his bed, her traitorous body telling the rest of the story. Aching thighs gave way to a center still pulsating with need and Kalina wanted to smack herself.
She’d slept with Rome. Her suspect.
Pulling one of the many pillows over with her arm, she dropped it on her head, screaming into it. “Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!”
How could she have been so stupid? She’d compromised her case by sleeping with the enemy.
More important, how had she been so naive as to think he’d be here in the morning?
It was his spot, yes, so a part of her figured he’d stay for that reason alone. But, not.
He was gone and she was here, alone. Just as she always seemed to end up.
It was ridiculous really, to have allowed herself to believe, to feel for even a fraction of a second … actually she’d believed from the moment she’d opened her eyes to see him watching her, the moment she realized he was enjoying the sight of her touching herself. She’d believed that he wanted her, that on some level he needed her. That want and that need had felt so good that she’d dropped all the pretenses, let the barriers she’d placed around herself all her life fall to the side. She’d welcomed him, giving him every part of her body he asked for.
And he still hadn’t stayed.
The thought stung, burned like a fireball in the center of her chest. Tears stung her eyes. Then she shook her head, a defiance rising in her she’d never quite experienced before. Sitting up on the bed, she pressed her palms to her eyes and took a steadying breath.
To hell with him.
So they’d had sex. It didn’t change a thing. He was still a suspect and she was still the cop who was going to bring his lying drug-dealing ass down!
Climbing down off the platform bed, she grabbed her clothes, which had been neatly laid on a leather recliner. Purposely she avoided checking out the room, experiencing his personal space. She didn’t give a damn about the personal life of Roman Reynolds. How he lived, who he fucked, none of that was her concern. She had one agenda and some strange-ass events had veered her off that path momentarily, but now, as she stalked into the bathroom, slamming her hand on the wall pad to switch on the light, now she was about her business.
So Roman Reynolds had better watch his back!
“Finally, you grace us with your presence, Faction Leader Reynolds.” Elder Alamar sat at the head of Rome’s conference room table with all the regality of a king. His double-breasted brown-striped suit fit him well but was no match for the cool dominance of the head of the Topetenia Tribe.
Elder Alamar ruled the jaguars and served on the Assembly as their liaison. He was a man just reaching his midfifties, a powerful cat with cunning and killer instincts as fine and astute as the day he was born.
“Good morning, Elder,” Rome said, nodding toward his two seconds-in-command, who’d called him on his cell phone only half an hour before to tell him about this meeting.
Later he’d ask why he hadn’t known that Alamar was here—in his house, at that. Baxter had arrived just seconds after the call with Rome’s suit and a dim expression on his face. There was no doubt the old man knew Kalina was in Rome’s bed, just as there was no doubt he knew what had happened between them the night before. What Baxter thought about that situation Rome wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t going to find out right at this moment.
“There is movement in the forest,” Alamar began without preamble. His dark hands flattened on the smooth surface of the table as his gaze pierced the three men. “Whispers of a revolt have reached the Assembly. Fear is mounting.”
X nodded, sat back in his chair, and folded his hands. “There’s something brewing here as well.”
By the look on Alamar’s face, he already knew that. “Supply shipments are being raided, most of the items not reaching the village. And there have been many killings.”
Nick sat up, instantly alert. “Cats?”
Alamar shook his head. “No. Other forest residents, but their deaths are not normal. The brutality is obvious, like they are trying to send a message.”
“Like the murders here,” Rome added. “We’ve had a few brutal killings here. And just the other night we were approached by Rogues.”
“You have seen them? Who are they? From what tribes?” Alamar asked.
“Jaguars,” Rome said.
“And a cheetah.”
“They do not fight together normally” was Alamar’s reply.
“With all due respect, sir,” Nick added, “this isn’t a normal situation.”
Rome interjected. “They’re after something.”
“No doubt about that,” X added. “But what?”
They all looked to Alamar. “Power. It is what drives them. What they could not have in the forest is what they seek here. They will begin from the bottom and build their way up. Creating an army is what they are doing.”
“And it’s easier for them here because they perceive the humans to be the weaker species. They don’t expect a fight—and even if there is one, the humans would never win,” Rome stated.
“And once they have control?” X asked. “We’re all shit out of luck.”
“Well, if they want some,” Nick said, his face drawing into a frown, “they can come and get it! I’m not going down without a fight.”
Rome held up a hand to silence him. “None of us is going down without a fight, Nick. But we’re not going to fight like animals in the street. We have to be the smarter or our secret is out to everyone.”
X nodded in agreement with Rome’s words. But his face was grim; he was clearly thinking along warrior lines just like Nick. “We found the Rogue that was there last night,” he offered.
That immediately had Rome’s attention, almost shifting his calm and precise leadership into the beast within that craved a fight. “Who was it?”
X continued. “His name’s Chavez. He’s the cheetah we faced in the alley the other night.”
“Who sent him?” Instinct told him the group had been sent by another Rogue. If the Rogues were building an army they’d need someone in charge, someone with the vision to create this legion of evil. The Croesteriia cheetahs were fast runners who hunted by vision instead of scent like the Topetenia. They were not from the Gungi; that there was a Croesteriia in the mix with the Rogues gave them all an idea of how volatile this situation was fast becoming.
“He’s not real talkative right now. But that’ll change,” Nick said.
“He was at the party looking for the woman. And he was at that house last night trying to take her again. They want her bad,” X said.
Nick looked at Rome. “You have to ask yourself why?”
“He is looking for a companheiro,” Alamar stated slowly, his gaze narrowing on Rome.
“Who’s looking for a mate? The Rogue?” Nick asked.
Alamar kept his eyes on Rome as he stood, moving closer to him. “I believe they both are. The joining is very strong, it links shifters for life, making the couple much stronger than either on its own. Joined shifters are almost undefeatable.”
“This battle is not about a woman,” Rome stated, even though thoughts of a woman occupied most of his time lately. Still, what Alamar was suggesting was more than Rome wanted to consider.
“No,” Alamar said, stopping behind Rome. “Not just a female. A companheiro. The lifetime partner of a shifter, the one who will complete the joining.” He put a hand on Rome’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and nodded. “You have found your companheiro.”
Hell no!
Rome stood to make the protest but watched as Alamar’s nostrils flared, his head bending so that his face almost touched Rome’s chest.
