Panthers' Pleasure [Impulse 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (3 page)

Ten minutes later she found herself alone in a roomy bedroom with an attached bath that was hers for the next month. She busied herself putting away the few clothes she’d brought with her, still feeling something was off about this setup. This room was way too sumptuous to be given over to staff usage, especially temporary staff, and the way the guys ran this business made the term
laid back
seem uptight and regimented.

What the hell? She wouldn’t be here for long. Anyway, she had no time left to dwell upon the incongruities of her situation. It wouldn’t do to be late for her first shift. Chantal changed into a tight-fitting pair of denim shorts and donned a pink vest that she knew suited her coloring. Eschewing sneakers in favor of flat espadrilles that were kind to her feet, Chantal rebraided her hair, took a deep breath, and was as ready as she’d ever be to report for duty.

“She’s here at last,” Vilas said with a broad smile that Rafe knew encompassed both relief and anticipation. “I was beginning to think she didn’t exist.”

“Yeah, buddy, me, too. That’s why I sent you such a loud pheromone. I know what you’re like after a night out on the tiles. It usually takes an earthquake to wake you.”

“Not when I knew our mate had put in an appearance.” Vilas sighed. “Finally.”

“She’s the one,” Rafe agreed. “No question.”

“Those eyes, did you ever see such an unusual color?” Vilas closed his own eyes and rattled his tongue against the roof of his mouth in an appreciative purr. “Yellow with a hint of gold, wouldn’t you say?”

“More russet and copper, like autumn leaves.”

“It’s all a matter of perception,” Vilas said loftily. “Still, I’m sure we’re on the same page when it comes to her reddish-brown hair. I lurve auburn hair and always imagined our mate would have a ton of it.”

“Last week you said she was bound to be a brunette.”

“Whatever.” Vilas flapped a hand. “I can’t wait to take her lovely hair out of that prim braid and run my paws through it.”

“We’ve got a way to go before she’ll let us do that,” Rafe reminded him.

“There you go, spoiling my fantasies with details, just like always.”

“I want her as much as you do, buddy, but we have work to do first.”

“I could work on those curves of hers all day.”

Rafe shot him a look. “Yeah, I hear you.”

“Okay,” Vilas said. “I know that look. You’re trying to tell me not to get carried away. Our mate’s turned up, we both know she’s the one, but there’s a problem to fix first, right?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “When isn’t there?”

“How come no one sensed she was here?”

“Because she’s not a threat,” Rafe said. “But whoever sent her is.”

“Our enemies are using her to get at us?” Vilas frowned. “How?”

“Not sure yet.” He picked up the résumé she’d left on the table. “She’s worked at this place in Tallahassee for three years.”

“And Tallahassee is close to where the lions hang out.”

“Yep. I’m betting that they saw her and knew she was the one we were waiting for.”

“Damned lions. Wish they couldn’t pick up our pheromones.”

“I’m also betting that piece about her brother was planted on the net.”

“I’ll check it out.” Vilas picked up the printout Chantal had also left on the table. “We both know her brother can’t be involved with hotel renovations in Impulse.”

“Right.” Rafe leapt from the floor and landed softly on one of the exposed ceiling beams on his fingers and toes, back arched. He draped himself across it, ten feet from the ground, always able to think better that way. It was almost as good as being in a tree.

“Whoever she spoke to about it wouldn’t have been here in Impulse,” Vilas said.

“Exactly. The person who set the trap by dropping that piece on the net was also set to take her call.”

“But they couldn’t have known that she’d go to the gas station and see our ad.”

“No, not unless they’re controlling her actions through mind manipulation.”

Vilas sat bolt upright. “Shit, let’s hope not.”

“We’ll have to check it out. Still, even if she didn’t call at the gas station, it’s a fair assumption that she’d have come here and asked about that hotel. This
is
the social center of Impulse, after all.”

“True.”

“My betting is that she’ll get an e-mail from her ‘brother’ in a few days’ time saying he’s somewhere close by—”

“But not in Impulse where we can protect her.”

Rafe nodded. “She’ll go running wherever the e-mail points her to, having no reason to think anything’s amiss.”

“The lions know we, and the rest of the young males, will go after her, leaving Impulse open to a rogue attack.”

“They’ll be waiting for us when we go after Chantal,” Rafe said. “But they’ll also be waiting to invade Impulse as soon as we leave it unprotected.”

“A double-fronted attack.” Vilas nodded. “Sneaky bastards!”

“It’s what I’d do.”

“So what do we do now?” Vilas asked.

“First off I’ve sent a code-one pheromone out to everyone, telling them to be extra alert.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“That’s the easy part.” Claws sprang from the ends of Rafe’s fingers. He used them to scratch a particularly sensitive spot on his belly where a wound was healing, sighing with relief when he dealt with the pesky itch to his satisfaction.

“That cut still bothering you?” Vilas asked.

“It’s healing, thanks. Anyway, the lions will act quickly,” Rafe said, retracting his claws. “They have no choice. And if it isn’t them, it’ll be the werewolves or the bears using Chantal to get to us. All three gangs want to turf us out and use the place to their own advantage, but my money’s on Boscombe and the lions. All of that means we have just a few days to introduce Chantal to the concept of us being panthers who prefer windows to doors, dislike bright light, and spend our nights roaming the national park because…well, because it’s what we do—”

“That Impulse is a community of large cats and their human mates—”

“That she’s the mate we’ve been waiting years to meet—”

“And she has the ability to restore our dwindling powers.” Vilas growled. “It ain’t gonna be easy.”

“She’ll be repulsed. You know how it was at first for some of the other humans who’ve mated with shifters.”

“But she gets to share us both. How bad can that be?”

Rafe dangled an arm and leg negligently over the side of the beam. “You’re thinking with your panther brain, buddy. Try getting the human one in gear.”

“We both need to do that.” Vilas seemed unnaturally serious. “Time’s running out. Our enemies are getting desperate, and we’re getting weaker by the day.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Rafe squirmed, rubbing his belly along the beam and purring. “We have to attract her to our human side, make her fall in love with us, and, most importantly of all, get her to trust us.”

“All in a couple of days.” Vilas quirked a brow. “No pressure then.”

“Get to work on the net, Vilas. We need to find out all we can about the ruse they used to get her here so we can try and second-guess them
and
thank them for it later.”

Vilas’s laugher came out as a low, rumbling growl. That shouldn’t happen, which reminded Rafe of the trouble they were both having keeping their panther sides in check due to their loss of power. “You think?”

“Sure, they’ve done us a favor by sending our mate to us. We might never have found her otherwise.”

“And I’d be stuck having sex with you for the rest of my days.”

“Nope, you’d lose your ability to shift is all, and become a full-blown human instead. Then you could have sex with any woman you wanted.”

“Tempting, but not worth losing my panther side for.” Vilas twitched his nose, seeming surprised when his whiskers didn’t move with it. “Besides, sex with you isn’t all
that
bad.”

Rafe rolled onto his back and touched his cock through his jeans. “I seem to remember you begging me to fuck you with this beauty last night.”

“Only because you love it when I beg.” Vilas blew a kiss toward Rafe’s lofty perch. “I did it for you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Stop touching yourself, Rafe. If you need to jerk off, I’ll do it for you. You know how much you love having my lips clamped around your glans.”

“I’ll hold you to that later. Chantal turning up has made me as randy as a domestic cat.”

Vilas flexed his jaw. “That bad, huh?”

They heard footsteps in the corridor leading from the bedrooms. Rafe landed on the floor on all fours, as light as a feather, and was sitting at the table beside Vilas when she walked in.

“Shit!”
Vilas said pheromonetically.
“She’s red hot. Look at those legs in those damned shorts. They go on for fucking ever. Hell, now I’m rock hard, too.”

“Her tits aren’t too shabby, either. When I get my paws on them, she won’t know what hit her.”

“I absolutely can’t wait to have sex with a woman.”

“Not just any woman. Our woman. Our mate.”

“Is something wrong?” Chantal asked.

Rafe realized they’d both been staring at her while they had a mental discussion about her attributes. Not the best way to go about putting her at her ease.

“Not a thing,” he said, turning on the charm. No great hardship where his mate was concerned. “Vilas has a few things to finish up here, but I’ll take you down to the bar and show you where everything is.”

“Sounds good.”

* * * *

As they made their way downstairs, Chantal noticed that Rafe now had shoes on, after a fashion. Cheap canvas jobs with the backs trodden down, like he couldn’t stand to have his feet enclosed. There was a thin layer of dust over both sides of his black vest, making her wonder if he’d rubbed up against something in the storeroom while he waited for her to get settled. Ought she to tell him? No, it probably didn’t matter if there was no one to see him. The bar had been empty half an hour ago and probably still was.

Rafe pushed the door open and Chantal was hit by a wall of noise. The place was packed with people, half of whom appeared to be eating steak as rare as that which Rafe and Vilas had just consumed. None of them had potatoes, bread, or vegetables with their protein, which seemed kinda strange. Then again, everything about this place struck Chantal as a bit weird, which made her have second thoughts about taking this job. If Max had come here and disappeared, would the same thing happen to her? If so, why didn’t she feel more apprehensive about that very real possibility? Why wasn’t she saying
thanks but no thanks
and getting the hell out of Dodge?

Chantal honestly didn’t know why not. There wasn’t much in Tallahassee for her any more. She’d moved there from the Midwest to be with the man of her dreams, but the cheating scumbag had put the kibosh on all that when he literally climbed into bed with his female boss. She still had a cheap rented apartment up there, a job she hated, and no friends because she’d had Jack and he’d convinced her they didn’t need anyone except each other. Although, it seemed that he did, the two-timing shit. Chantal blew air through her lips, wondering how it was possible to reach the age of twenty-five and still be so naive. Anyway, she was here now, and however remote the chance of finding Max in Impulse might be, she wasn’t ready to leave until she’d checked it out.

All conversation stopped as she and Rafe walked into the bar, and she was conscious of thirty or more pairs of eyes assessing her. None of the faces seemed hostile, more curious, and she felt slightly less conspicuous when several people smiled at her.

“Everyone, this is Chantal,” Rafe said.

“We know,” several voices said together.

“Hey, Chantal, welcome,” said several more.

“Congratulations, Rafe.”

A few men patted his shoulder as they walked past. One woman actually rubbed her cheek against his, which seemed an odd way to greet a person. She wondered what they were congratulating Rafe about. She wondered where they’d all appeared from so quickly as well, but had no time to dwell upon these oddities. Rafe sent the guy behind the bar back to the kitchen and showed Chantal where everything was. It was time to get to work.

“It seems pretty straightforward,” she said. “Should I open the blinds?”

“We’ve got them,” someone said, letting up the shutters on one side of the bar only, the side that didn’t face the water or let in the overhead sun.

“Does everyone here drink milk?” she asked Rafe, glancing at the glasses beside the plates of meat.

“Not all.” He nodded toward several other people eating what Chantal considered normal breakfast food—eggs, waffles, bacon, pancakes—and drinking coffee. “Milk’s pretty popular at breakfast time, though.”

“How come the parking lot’s so empty?” she asked a little later when she returned from the storeroom, having taken a quick glance outside. The only car in the lot was hers.