Shadow’s Edge

flabbergasted she would dare speak to him this way. To stand up to him. He most likely could not remember the last time anyone had done so, if ever in his life.

He was Alpha of the Ikati, a leader of beasts that paraded as men, a deadly, revered warrior, a lord and a master and a ruler of all he surveyed.

He was absolutely, unequivocally beyond question, beyond reproach. It was their way. It was his birthright. It was the Law.

And she was nothing but a woman.

“You will prove to us all, right this minute, whether or not you are one of us,” another man from the circle insisted. This drew nods of agreement around the room. “If you do not—”

“Show them,” Leander said roughly, moving out of the shadows to pace toward her. He felt the rising tension in the room, saw the looks of cold calculation on the faces of the men, sensed something ugly and dangerous beginning to unfold.

“No.”

Her eyes met his, but her face had closed off, the stubborn defiance was there again. She wouldn’t listen to him, he knew. But he had to make her listen, because she was putting herself in terrible jeopardy.

“If you don’t, there will be consequences, my dear,” Viscount Weymouth said, his voice wavering. He looked stricken by some unnamed terror. He hadn’t moved from his chair, though by now the entire room was on its feet, energized by the growing conflict. He cleared his throat and spoke again, his tremulous voice now gone quiet. “Very, very unpleasant consequences, I’m sorry to say.”

“Jenna,” Alejandro began, his tone soft and capitulating though his face was dark with something Leander didn’t like at all, “meu caro, perhaps you do not understand.”

He moved a step closer to her, reached a hand out toward her but thought better of it when she stepped back with a grimace. He smoothed the hand over his hair instead and smiled to hide the fleeting look of anger that crossed his face.

“We mean no disrespect. We do not wish to alarm you, or to harm you, for that matter. We are only here to get a few answers, as friends.”

He slanted a calculated look toward Durga, who took the hint. He lowered the arm he still held out toward Jenna and sat down heavily in his chair with a look of astonished outrage. But Leander knew it was all a ruse. They would harm her if she didn’t obey, and quickly. He was at her side in ten paces, angling his body between her and the roomful of silent men.

He had to make her understand. He had to protect her.

“I’m well aware of how you treat your friends,” Jenna said coldly just as Leander reached her.

“Don’t do this, please.” He said it low into her ear, his fingers resting on her forearm. “All they need is a simple confirmation of the truth. There is no need for this.”

“I’m not afraid of them.” Her eyes were as sharp as her voice.

“You would be wise to be very afraid of them. They don’t know you as I do. To them you are only a threat, an unknown quantum. They are not as...fond of you as I am. And they will not be as lenient with you. They won’t be lenient at all.”

She hesitated, lowering her gaze to his fingers on her arm. Then she looked up at him, her gaze clear and guileless, all traces of anger and posturing gone. “They want the truth? I asked you for the truth, and look where that got me,” she said, her voice gone small. “I don’t know if the truth is all it’s cracked up to be.”

With a flash of intuition, Leander knew what he had to do.

“Fine,” he said roughly, tightening his fingers on her arm. “Don’t know.”

He pulled her against his chest, took her face between his hands, and kissed her hard on the lips.

For a moment there was nothing between them but her body rigid with anger and shock, her lips flattened, her face twisting away. He held her face in his hands, hearing the murmurs of surprise from the gathered men and the sharp intake of breath from Alejandro, and kept his lips pressed against hers.

He felt her heartbeat, pounding wild, angry. He heard the little sounds of protest she made in her throat, felt her hands balled against his chest, trying to push him away. He thought she would never relent.

But then something softened between them, just barely. A shade of tension eased from her neck, her lips turned from stone to velvet. Her arms, braced so hard against his chest, began to release, then draw up around his neck. Her body arched against him and she drew in a breath through her nose.

Her lips parted.

She took his tongue into her mouth, and he slid his hands into the glossy weight of her hair, cradling her head, feeling the warm, lush length of her body against his. She slid her fingers up his neck. They tightened in his hair, drawing his head down further, deepening their kiss.

She made another low sound in her throat, but this one was purely erotic.

He forgot his hasty plan to save her, forgot his jealousy and worry and everything else in the universe. Only a single thought remained as he tasted the honeyed sweetness of her mouth and held her in his arms, so slim and firm and real against him. Unbelievably real.

Mine.

She finally pulled away, her eyes still closed, her lips brushing against his as she breathed out a single, ragged word.

“Bastard.”

And then, for the second time in four days, Leander was left staring at Jenna’s empty dress as it slithered to the ground at his feet.

18

In all her life, Jenna had never been so humiliated. Or so angry. He kissed her. He forced her to Shift. In front of everyone.

But the worst part, the most agonizingly wretched part, was the way she had responded.

She hid her face in her hands and groaned as she remembered it. The way her skin began to tingle and flush even as she was trying to fight him off, her mouth opening to accept his tongue, his scent filling her nostrils, his hands an inescapable vise around her face, the hard length of him suddenly pressed against her, holding her captive.

Arousing her. Making her lose control.

In front of them all.

Damn him.

Thank God it was dark in here. She didn’t have to look at herself in the mirror; she didn’t have to meet any more jeering, hostile eyes. She could hide. She wished she could hide here forever.

She buried her face into the arm of a heavy wool overcoat. She burrowed into it, slipped it off the wooden hanger, wrapped it around her naked body. She folded up the collar and turned her nose to the silk lining. It smelled like him. She groaned again and fell back into the dark, plush haven of the row of hanging coats, their heavy folds providing layer upon layer of sanctuary and warmth.

Even in the pitch dark confines of Leander’s cavernous dressing room, Jenna knew her face burned bright red.

She knew she’d be safe here for a while at least, much safer than in her own rooms. Though the guards outside her door would protest, if questioned, that she was still inside, that she hadn’t gotten past them. It wasn’t really their fault. Morgan had pushed them into her will with the power of Suggestion, telling them all to let her pass and forget they had seen either of them.

Which, of course, they so obligingly did.

And escaping to the forest, well, she might as well just send out a flare to announce her whereabouts. With the number of Ikati in the drawing room, in the ballroom, swarming through the entire mansion, following her into the woods would be easy.

But here, in Leander’s chambers, no one would follow, even though they must sense she had fled here.