Passion's Prey

moment. Besides, watching gave him a new buzz that he was just beginning to explore.

This dude said his name was Rolando. He definitely had the look of a man from India with his dark brown skin and ink-black hair. His accent was here and there, as if he’d taken great time to master the English language. And his eyes, Darel didn’t trust them. Not one bit.

The one he called his companheiro was a stripper here at Athena’s. She was new. Darel had seen her on a couple of occasions. He’d known she was a shifter and was waiting until the perfect moment to let her know that he knew. It seems that moment would be tonight as Rolando was intent on having her.

Sabar had given Darel precise commands in this area. Check them both out to see if the distinctive companheiro calor was there, then, if it was, bring them both to him. If it wasn’t, kill Rolando and bring Sabar the girl because there had to be a reason this foreign shifter was looking for her.

Darel wasn’t totally sure how he was going to handle the situation. As of late he’d decided to play things by ear. Sabar wasn’t handling his business the way Darel thought he should be. Especially not since Bianca’s mysterious arrival.

When the lights went down, Darel took his seat. He motioned with a nod for Rolando to do the same. Thunder and Black would remain standing, ready at the drop of a dime if some shit should jump off.

For the first few moments of the act all the men watched in silence. Probably all touching their elongated dicks as the Goddess worked her magic on the pole. As Darel inhaled deeply he scented that not only was Rolando excited by the show, he was enraged. Darel couldn’t help but smile, figuring he’d be jealous as hell if it were his mate on that pole shaking her ass for all these men to see and toss her some money.

Darel had seen her before, knew her routine, the swell of her breasts and the curve of her ass. She was attractive, there was no doubt, and alluring, he’d say, given the way his fellow Rogues seemed transfixed by her.

But all that changed when Darel caught a whiff of something—no, someone—else in the room. He stood, looking down into the dark crowd. With the night vision of his cat he could see as if it were daylight. And the one he searched for stuck out like a cub in a den of lions. Only this cub had massive balls, probably because he was the second hand to the East Coast FL.

Darel smiled again. Tonight was going to be a good fucking night.

* * *

After years of searching, hunting, waiting, he’d found her. Rolando looked through the glass, down to the platform where she stood, moving her body, showing herself, and cringed. She was for him, dammit! Only for him!

His companheiro. He’d told her this over and over again, and she’d lied to him. Looking him in the eye, declaring her undying love for him, taking him into her body. Then leaving without a word, taking with her a piece of him he’d ever since craved.

But now he was here and there she was. He would have her. He’d traveled far, had begged reprieve from his leader to search for the one who would complete him. He had only a limited time to return or face the wrath of his leader—a thought that was not desirable. So he would not waste time.

Standing, he turned toward the door in which he’d entered. But the two jaguar shifters moved with him, blocking the exit.

“I must get her,” he said with intent.

“Sit down until the show is over,” the lead shifter here, the one they called Darel, said without turning around.

He was watching her, watching Rolando’s mate with a hunger that sickened Rolando. He wanted to tear that bastard’s throat out for daring to disrespect him in this manner. But he had specific instructions from his leader not to cause a scene, not to expose himself here in America. Rolando hoped like hell he could keep that promise.

“I want to go to her now,” he restated.

“When she’s done making my money, you can have her,” Darel said.

The two at the door simply smiled, looking beyond him to see his companheiro once more.

“Do you not have any respect? She is my companheiro,” he told them.

The one with the skin as dark as night smiled, his teeth a bright contrast with his coloring. “She’s entertainment right now, homeboy.”

At his sides Rolando’s fingers clenched and unclenched, his claws stinging just beneath his skin as they pressed forward, determined to break free. He bore down so hard on his teeth, his temples began to ache. With a cool and what he hoped was a controlled gaze, he looked through the window once more, watching as Caprise moved across the stage, just about naked. Taunting him with her betrayal and deceit, daring him to come and get her.

Rolando never turned down a dare.

Chapter 4

The door closed, the clicking of the lock sliding into place echoing loudly in the small room. Caprise immediately wrenched her arm free of X’s hold. It wasn’t easy and had her stumbling back a few steps. But that was good. Space was good.

“How dare you!” she said through clenched teeth. “Do I come to your job to manhandle you? Big idiot! That’s what you are,” she raged. Then she made a colossal error, and truth be told, if she’d claimed more of her shifter heritage she would have known better. Her instincts would have been heightened, her nostrils alert to the scent of danger.

He’d grabbed her again before she could say a word. Spinning her around and lifting her off her feet, he slammed her ass down on the dressing table with no mercy.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re a freakin’ shifter, an elite breed, and you’re stripping in front of horny men for money. I should paddle your ass good for this stunt. What do you think your brother would say if he saw you tonight?”

His hands gripped her forearms, shaking her every so often as if to reiterate the words he spoke—which really, with a man the size and build of X, was not at all necessary. But there was something else about his touch, another reaction besides the general irritation at his audacity. It was one Caprise had felt with him before, the one that evoked a feeling in her she did not readily accept—desire.

“If you don’t get your hands off me you’re going to be very sorry,” she told him in a low, serious tone.

All sorts of things were roaring through her body: intense lust, pierced by anger and by the interest that Xavier Santos-Markland had been sparking in her since the moment he’d locked her in that room.

“So I can’t put my hands on you, but you’ll allow strangers to get their rocks off looking at your naked ass!”

He was angry, his cat’s eyes said that much. Yellow-rimmed, with a muted green inner layer and pitch-black centers that narrowed to almond shapes and had her swallowing hard. But his touch, even though she’d told him to get off her, this was what was driving her insane. It was making her skin itch all over, had her nipples puckering, her center pulsating. She inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and that only made matters worse.

“It’s my ass” was the only reply she could come up with.

His scent confused her senses, pushed her buttons until she felt almost frantically out of control. She should be scratching his eyes out, yelling and screaming for help. But she wasn’t. Instead she was looking into dangerous eyes, feeling an embrace that was stern, hard, almost painful, and she liked it.

“What if I told you I didn’t like you showing off your ass?” His words were punctuated by hoarse chuffing noises that were loud and scraped against a foreign part of her.

Inside, that beast of hers that Caprise ignored on a daily basis rose from its normal perch and stretched. “Not your call,” she told him defiantly.

Then he let go of her arms and Caprise almost moaned with missing the contact so swiftly. She should have known he wasn’t finished with her. His thick hands roamed down her back until they were under her cheeks,