Authors: AJ Hampton
She
’
d been five the first and last time he
’
d seen her, but he hadn
’
t forgotten her scent.
The murmur of conversation dropped once more, leaving only the heavy strokes of a bass guitar. He set his glass on the bar, turned toward the woman without conscious thought.
His chest tightened at the sight of her. Not so much from lust, although he was man enough to admit her smooth, pale skin, innocent brown eyes and golden halo of loose corkscrew curls made Eva a looker. A surge of resentment wrenched through him, simmered in his gut.
The orphaned brat his father had taken in, had chosen to love instead of him, walked through the throngs of aged tables, much as he had. Only, unlike him, the humans gave her
awkward
condolences, gentle pats on the arm. The leopards bowed their heads in respect, as if she was one of them. She
’
d taken his fucking place. Several men stood, took turns wrapping burly arms around her tiny shoulders. They probably just wanted a cheap feel.
Not one single person, his uncle included, had felt the need to give
him
their sympathies. There was no
“
I
’
m sorry you lost your dad, Peter.
”
He didn
’
t hear a single
“
T
ough break, not being able to say goodbye, to make amends with the old man.
”
As it had been since the day his mother was shot and killed, Peter
had hardly existed
.
Physically his father had been there, but emotionally his old man had checked out.
Peter
’
s
fingers tightened around the glass in his hand. His back molars clenched, ground, sent an ache through the bones in his cheeks.
Eva stepped under a low
-
hanging light. A string of familiar pearls gleamed around her throat. His mother
’
s pearls,
black as the feline that had resided inside her. The necklace was
the first thing his father had ever bought her. The sight gave him pause. Had little Eva grown up to replace more than a son? Sickness swelled. No. Greg might
have
be
en
an asshole, but he wasn
’
t a pervert. What kind of a man took in a child, raised her, and then married her?
Glass to his lips, he watched Eva
’
s nimble fingers work down the line of buttons on her snow-covered coat. She wore no wedding ring. As if her unmarried status gave him permission, he had an unwanted, unexpected vision of those same fingers working the buttons on his jeans.
Three eager men dressed in thick, wrinkle
-
free flannels of blues and browns fought each other to take her jacket. Her full lower lip trembled, one
half of her mouth curling up in a watery, pathetic excuse for a smile. Through the makeup she wore, crescent shadows darkened her liquid brown eyes.
The coat fell away, revealing a black dress. The A-
line
style was elegant, understated, and modest. Silk clung to her waist, outlined the curves of her hips. She walked forward, and the motion fluttered the hem of the skirt against her bared knees. Mesmerized, he couldn
’
t look away.
For a scrap of material so simple, the dress was God damned sexy. The only skin she showed were her long, bare arms and a flash of leg where black fur
-
lined boots ended below the knee and the skirt began.
Why in the hell was he suddenly so turned on? He must be drunk. Perhaps the problem was he wasn
’
t
inebriated
enough.
Blindly reaching for his drink, he belatedly realized he already held it. He took a swig, never removed his gaze from the one person who, in one day and with one blink of her large brown eyes, cracked his father
’
s scarred heart wide open. Peter sipped his whiskey, welcomed the fire moving down his throat.
“
Our Eva
must have been just a girl the last time you saw her,
”
James said.
Peter
forced himself to turn from Eva and spear his elder with a glare. At the weight in Peter
’
s gaze, James took a step back before casting his eyes submissively toward the ground. It didn
’
t matter his uncle was twenty-five years his senior. Peter was dominant,
Alpha,
always had been, always would be.
Age meant shit. The A
lpha
in any group of animals dominated. Period. When an Alpha met your gaze, you looked down or you bared your throat. In their screwed
-
up circle of leopards, there had been two top cats: Peter and his father. The little fuck
-
up from nature
, a side effect of crossing a
leopard
with a
panther
,
had been the second problem between him and his dad. Two dominant males in one house was…explosive.
“
Our
?
”
Peter sneered, brought the glass to his lips but didn
’
t sip. He had more to say.
While he was c
ast out like forgotten trash, both the town and the Pard accepted Eva in his place with wide-open arms. The simmering anger boiled, and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“
She isn
’
t one of
us
.
Was he
fucking her?
”
He knew
his words were cruel
, but he wouldn
’
t take
them
back. Not when anger and jealousy left him vulnerable. The
black hole of emotion tightening his
chest spread to his gut.
The bone
-
deep sorrow in James
’
eyes vanished.
Fury and r
esentment turned his uncle
’
s gunmetal gr
a
y eyes arctic blue. Well, well. That got a reaction
,
didn
’
t it? Jesus, Greg hadn
’
t really fucked her
,
had he? Worse, did James hold some sort of claim? Eva wasn
’
t
a blood, nor related to the Marx men, and
thus
c
ould be considered fair game.
A new flurry of unwanted emotions took hold, killed his buzz quicker than a cold shower. A different type of jealousy filled him.
Ours
, the leopard growled
, and it was the first time the cat had ever laid claim on a woman.
The urge to knock his uncle
’
s teeth into the back of his head warred with a possessive instinct to drag Eva close, bend her over the table and take. No. He didn
’
t want her. He only wanted what she had. His signals were crossing, mixing things up in his brain.
“
Eva is family, boy
,
”
James snapped, lifted his head to hold Peter
’
s gaze boldly.
“
If I were you, I
’
d mind yourself and watch the way you speak about her
. It
’
s time for you to leave.
”
Peter swallowed the last of his firewater. Ever so slowly, he set his empty glass down on the bar. Under the counter, his hand curled into a fist. One by one, claws pressed from beneath his fingernails, bit into skin.
“
That sounded an awful lot like an order.
Are you challenging me, old man?
”
From behind him, there was a rustle of movement and an overwhelming flood of otherworldly energy. His fellow shifters were reacting to his leopard, answering the Alpha
’
s call for submission. Peter ignored everything except the person before him.
A muscle ticked in his uncle
’
s squared, scraggily beard
-
covered jaw
as he fought the compulsion to bow
. After a long, tense minute, James answered in a fierce whisper
.
“
No.
”
“
Then
you
mind yourself. The
cat
is spoiling for a fight and I don
’
t really think it cares who with. I was only observing and relaying the facts. She
’
s wearing my mother
’
s God damned pearls. She
’
s attractive, I guess. Given the lack of appealing women in this shit hole, why wouldn
’
t Greg make a pass? He
’
s top cat, ha
d
his pick of the litter
,
so to speak.
”
“
Because he raised her, that
’
s why
.
”
James lowered his voice.
“
No one was good enough for Eva, not even Greg. I don
’
t like the way you
’
re sizing her up.
I
suggest
you l
eave her alone.
”
“
Or what?
”
Peter challenged.
The pattering of footsteps sounded close, too delicate to be male. He and James cut off their conversation
at
Eva
’
s
approach. For some reason, she
’
d decided the seat next to his looked welcoming enough. When she sat, her shoulder brushed his. Her unique, intoxicating scent slapped him across the face. The feline rubbed the inside of his skin, desperate to smell her, to press its nose against her neck and lick.
What the hell was it about Eva that drew him?
He remembered the night a little over twenty years ago when Greg had come home with her. She
’
d been beaten and bruised, barely recognizable through the blood staining her face. He recalled looking into her eyes, feeling the punch to his stomach. Her eyes were just as dark, just as innocent, just as compelling as they were now. At fifteen, a man-boy struggling through testosterone overload and a need to dominate, he hadn
’
t understood the fierce urge to protect her.
Eva had been the third and last problem in the combative, violent, unloving relationship between him and his father. She
’
d moved in, and he, out.
Tapping unpainted nails
on the bar
’
s counter,
Eva
stared straight ahead as if he didn
’
t exist. She must not remember him. Must not recognize his face when he, even after all these years, couldn
’
t get hers out of his memory.
“
Hey, James
. C
an I get a
C
oke?
”
Her voice was husky, sexy, not at all what he imagined she
’
d sound like.
The sex kitten purr laced in her tone surprised, aroused, and drove him just a little crazy. She looked so…angelic.
He turned closer to Eva in order to get a better look at her. When he caught himself admiring the line of her vulnerable throat, he picked up his drink and slammed the contents back. Only, his drink was empty.
“
Make hers a whiskey, and another one for me,
”
he ordered, wondered where the words came from.
She turned in her chair to eye him warily. Her gaze traveled from his beardless face, over the fitted black wool sweater, and down to the dark blue jeans that had been bought on sale in a department store.
“
No, thank you,
”
she said politely.
He leaned into her, and she immediately drew back. The feline took her withdrawal as a challenge. A rush of adrenaline washed through him, quickening the drum of his heart into a gallop. Holding up his hands, he gave her a lazy grin, the one that rendered most females powerless.
If her blank, no-blinking stare was indication, she was immune.
A point in her favor.
“
I meant no harm. I was just getting a closer sniff,
”
he wiggled his nose
.
“
Y
ou
are missing
a certain scent.
”
What she lacked, she certainly made up for in other ways.
She had a sensual mouth that begged to be fucked.