Brooke, Leah - Panthers' Prey [Black Panthers 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2

  The intoxicating scent that nearly drove him out of his mind became almost completely overshadowed by another scent, one that had the beast inside him shaking with rage.

  Terror.

  Primal instinct took over as the beast fought for control.

  Before he could prevent it, a low growl, one filled with lethal intent bubbled from deep inside his chest. The remaining small animals stilled with terror and scurried away.

  James came to a stop beside him, sniffing the air and turning toward him. Baring his teeth, he growled in his throat, his entire body tense and alert.

  A loud sound splitting the air, making them jump and heightening the tension even more. The sharp crack that echoed through the trees couldn’t be mistaken.

  Gunshot.

  Marc crouched and stilled as a slight breeze carried another unmistakable whiff of the same scent, this time stronger.

  Woman. Fear.

  And something else. Some indefinable scent that created an answering urgency inside him that couldn’t be ignored, one that raised his hackles and had him struggling to hold back another growl in an effort to be as quiet as possible.

  He had to get to her. Nothing in his life had ever been as important as getting to her.

  Filled with urgency, he forced himself to remain still when other sounds permeated the thick woods. Listening intently, he caught the rustle of movement, the unmistakable sound of running, and slipping, footsteps over damp earth and dead leaves, coming from at least two miles away.

  Two sets of feet, one light and one much heavier.

  A woman was in his woods, and in danger.

  The rage inside him exploded.

  He leapt in that direction, already at a dead run with James close beside him when he heard the unmistakable sound of a feminine scream splitting the air.

  And the beast inside him broke free.

  * * * *

  Ignoring the stitch in her side, Bailey Knox ran as fast as she could, struggling to get enough air into her lungs. Stumbling yet again, she managed to catch herself and jumped over one of the large roots that, in the dimming light, seemed to reach out for her, like gnarled fingers curling into the damp ground.

  She choked back sobs, hardly able to believe this could really be happening. He’d actually shot at her, the shot hitting the tree in front of her and sending shards of bark flying.

  The farther she ran, the denser the trees got, making running more dangerous by the second.

  Concentrating on just staying on her feet, she raced through the woods, dodging tree limbs as she ran for her life.

  But, no matter how fast she ran, the footsteps pounding into the damp earth behind her got closer and closer. She braced for him to shoot again and for the pain that would slam into her if he didn’t miss this time.

  The muscles in her legs felt rubbery, making her clumsy, but she knew if she tripped, he would be on her. Her breath came out in short, sobbing pants as she raced on, almost falling several times. Her hands burned from the countless times she’d had to grab on to tree trunks to stay upright.

  “You’re pissing me off! How long do you think you can run from me, bitch?”

  His voice came from directly behind her. He was too close and seemed to be gaining no matter how fast she ran.

  Choking back sobs, she fought her panic and ran on, digging deep for the burst of speed she needed to put some distance between them. The muscles in her legs burned as she raced up an incline, another panicked sob escaping when she stumbled, almost losing her balance.

  The heavy tread of running footsteps behind her seemed to get closer every second, increasing her panic until it felt as if her heart would burst from her chest.

  Small branches slapped at her, but she barely felt the sting, too intent on getting away from the evil closing in on her from behind.

  The reality of her situation hit her hard.

  She was in the middle of nowhere with a psychopath chasing her through woods that grew darker by the minute and that were completely unfamiliar to her. He kept gaining on her, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he caught her.

  She couldn’t get enough air. She couldn’t run fast enough.

  She couldn’t believe that her life may actually end in the next few minutes.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  The inner voice inside her screamed at her to run faster, but with all the roots, trees and brush, she couldn’t gain any speed.

  Making a sharp turn, she cut between two trees in a vain attempt to lose him, hoping that if she could for even a few precious seconds, she’d be able to hide in the darkness until he gave up or she could get some help.

  Inwardly cursing that she couldn’t seem to gain even an inch of distance between them, she choked back another sob.

  The pain in her scalp caught her by surprise as he grabbed a handful of hair, the sharp pull unbalancing her and jerking her neck backward. She screamed, a scream she knew no one would hear. In desperation she grabbed at a tree trunk to keep him from pulling her to the ground. Ignoring the pain, she held strong and somehow managed to get her legs under her again.

  Oh, God! She couldn’t let him win. She had to fight and keep fighting.

  If she gave up, she would die.

  She screamed again, struggling to keep from sliding on the slick leaves. Flailing her arms for balance, she somehow managed to hit his arm and miraculously loosened his hold just enough for her to shake off his grip.

  She heard a curse and a dull thud and realized she’d somehow also managed to knock the gun away from him.

  It gave her hope and with it, renewed strength.

  Thankful that she’d managed to get rid of the threat of being shot, she made a break for it, but her sudden burst of speed cost her.

  Her foot hit one of the large roots and turned sideways, her ankle twisting painfully, and then went numb, collapsing under her. Screaming in pain and horror, she fell hard, facedown on the damp ground. Terrified, she screamed and tried to scramble to her feet again, but he landed hard on top of her, knocking the breath from her and effectively cutting off her screams.

  Desperately grabbing for something solid, she tried to dig her knees into the ground, but the large, hard roots under her made it impossible to get any leverage.

  After several long seconds, she finally managed to gulp precious air into her lungs. On her second breath, she tried to scream.

  “Get the fuck off of me, you piece of shit. Ow!”

  Even though her voice came out low and breathless, she was proud of the anger she managed to inject into it.

  He yanked her long ponytail, and she just managed to turn her face to the side before he slammed her head into the damp earth.

  She tried to scream again, using her arms as leverage to lift herself in an attempt to ease the pressure on her chest, but the heavy weight covering her made it impossible. She used the little bit of air she had left to curse at him again.

  His hands came around her neck and tightened, cutting her air off altogether.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  His fingers squeezed into her throat in a bruising, punishing hold, and although she clawed at them, she couldn’t manage to loosen it at all.

  Adjusting his position, he held her down with a hard arm in the middle of her back, pressing her face into the dank earth and making it almost impossible to get even the smallest amount of air anymore.

  He moved to her side, holding her face against the ground, and grabbed her hip, ripping her shirt as he forced her to her back.

  Grabbing desperately at the hand at her throat, she fought to get free, terrified because she couldn’t get any air at all. Her mind screamed in horror at what was happening, and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

  His silence and the evil intent in his eyes as he stared down at her would be the last thing she would ever experience.

  No! No! No!

  Oh, God! He was killing her.

  Her vision blurred and
darkness began to close in, but as hard as she fought him, she couldn’t get any air.

  Deprived of air, she panicked and fought with everything she had, but her struggles grew weaker and weaker until they became almost nonexistent. Desperate, she tried to kick at him but couldn’t reach. She dug her nails into the hands around her neck, trying to pull at them until she had no strength left to fight him at all. Looking up into the face of her killer, the man whose features she could barely discern now, she felt the rest of the strength fade away. No matter how much her mind screamed at her to fight, her fingers lost their grip on his hands at her throat and dropped to her sides.

  Her vision dimmed, the faint slice of moonlight penetrating the thick trees becoming smaller and smaller.

  It was then that her mind started playing tricks on her.

  The vicious growling she heard sent cold chills of terror through her already horrified system.

  Growls of a wild, tortured beast.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter Two

  Bailey woke in small increments, savoring the feel of warmth surrounding her. Stretching, she groaned at the various aches and pains that seemed to be everywhere.

  Stilling, she frowned, wondering why the hell she felt as though she’d been run over by a truck. She smiled again at the delicious feel of softness brushing against her skin, feeling pampered and warm.

  It took several seconds before she realized that it brushed over every inch of her skin.

  She never slept naked.

  A sense of urgency filled her, making her heart race and every muscle in her body tense, which brought all of the aches back with a vengeance. With a moan, she froze, blinking her eyes open against the dim light coming through the French doors.

  French doors?

  She blinked again and took in the dark, masculine furniture—furniture more expensive than anything she could ever afford. Alarmed that nothing around her looked familiar, she stiffened, listening for any sound that would tell her where the hell she was.

  Fighting panic, she tried to remember.

  She’d been driving to her new home in Denby, anxious to get start cleaning and remodeling the bar she’d just bought and—

  With a gasp, she grabbed the sheet and jerked upright, whipping her head around in search of her attacker. Oh, God. What the hell had happened to her?

  She didn’t know where she was or how the hell she’d gotten here.

  Frowning, she rubbed her head, eyeing the closed door and trying to figure out what had happened. The last thing she remembered was her attacker staring down at her, smiling as he choked the life out of her.

  He wouldn’t have stopped and brought her here, but nothing else made any sense.

  Was she dead?

  No, if she’d died, she wouldn’t have all the aches and pains. Would she?

  The more she thought about it, the more it made her head hurt, but she didn’t have the luxury of lying here trying to figure it out.

  She had to find her car and get to town.

  First, though, she had to get the hell out of here.

  She started to get up, wincing when her foot fell from the pillow it had been propped on. Moving it tentatively, she bit back a groan at the throbbing pain, knowing she had no choice but to walk on it. Biting her lip to hold back a cry, she tried to be as quiet as possible as she eased her way to the edge of the bed.

  “Don’t try to get up.”

  With a cry of surprise, she yanked the covers up from where they’d fallen to her waist and spun toward the dark corner where the deep voice had come from.

  She hadn’t seen anyone there before. Cursing her own stupidity at thinking herself alone, she tightened her grip on the covers and kept her eyes glued to the corner.

  What she’d thought a shadow came to life as a dark form separated itself from the wall and moved toward her. Dressed in dark clothing, and with dark hair and glittering blue eyes, the mesmerizing man seemed almost ghostlike as he moved, his footsteps silent on the wooden floor.

  Hard.

  The word popped into her head and seemed to describe everything about him. His hard, masculine features appeared to be chiseled from stone. His body didn’t appear to have an inch of flab anywhere. He moved gracefully across the large bedroom, the strength and purpose in his slow, careful stride more than a little intimidating.

  The fierce intent in his eyes shook her, eyes so laser sharp and beautiful she couldn’t look away, his dominant presence both alarming and fascinating her.

  Those cool, assessing eyes stayed on hers, watchful and patient as he approached, using slow, cautious steps, the way one might approach a wounded animal.

  No amount of stealth could hide the barely leashed power emanating from him. It was a power unlike anything she’d ever witnessed before, one that he exuded with no apparent effort at all.

  Intrigued, and alarmed just enough to be irritated, she gripped the sheet tighter between her breasts and held out a hand as though that would be able to hold him off.

  “Stop right there.”

  Surprised that her voice came out as a hoarse bark, she swallowed, annoyed to find her throat hurt. Realizing it was a result of being choked, she lifted a hand to her neck, never taking her eyes off of what had to be the most captivating male she’d ever set eyes on.

  To her relief, he stopped several feet from the bed. Standing there, he appeared to study her, the strangest look coming over his face. His nostrils flared, his expression becoming hard and tense for several heart-stopping seconds before he closed his eyes, a muscle working in his jaw. When he opened his eyes again, she sucked in a breath at the unadulterated lust swirling in the deep blue. Although his body remained tense, he extended his arms, as though trying to prove himself harmless.

  A soft bubble of hysterical laughter fought to break free.

  Never in a million years would anyone looking at him consider him harmless.

  As she swallowed the sound, some of the hard lines of his masculine features softened, the small smile he allowed making her toes curl.

  “I won’t hurt you. You need to stay in bed. You’ve been injured.”

  The soft huskiness in his tone touched something deep inside her, scaring her more than even his presence.

  Bringing her other hand to her chest, she swallowed heavily, grimacing that the pain in her raw throat made it difficult. Keeping the covers pulled high, she fisted her hands to hide the fact that they shook. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she surveyed her surroundings, looking for a way to escape. The stark masculinity of the room matched the man, dark, solid, and undeniably sleek, telling her that this must be his bedroom.

  Scanning the room, she searched unobtrusively for her clothing, her unease growing when she didn’t see a trace of her things. Wrapping the sheet more tightly around her, she slid a glance at the French doors, weighing her chances of making a getaway. She considered using the sculpture of an eagle standing on the dresser as a weapon, if necessary. It looked heavy enough to do serious damage, but probably too heavy for her to swing with enough force.

  She had no idea how she got here, wherever here was, or how she’d come to be naked, and hated the fact that not knowing terrified her. She also didn’t know if the man watching her intently was a friend of the man who’d attacked her last night or had simply found her.

  Had he found her naked? Or had the other man done more to her than just choked her?

  What had the man who attacked her done to her after she passed out?

  Taking a deep breath to hold back her panic, she tightened her hands on the sheet and cleared her throat, wincing again at the burning.

  “Who are you? Where am I? How did I get here?”

  Her voice, scratchy and hoarse, came out low, probably too low for him to hear, and she opened her mouth to try again, but he surprised her by answering.

  “My name’s Marcus Brand. Marc. We’re in my house. You’re in my bed. As for how you got here, I carried you.”


  Swallowing again, she tightened her hold on the sheet, trying but unable to tear her gaze from his.

  “Last night—”

  Shaking his head, he started toward her again.

  “Last night is over. All that’s important is that we got to you in time. I need to take a look at that ankle.” He started around the foot of the bed toward her, the aura of power and danger surrounding him overwhelming her already shaky system.

  In a surge of panic, she leapt from the bed, keeping a death grip on the sheet.

  “Get back!”

  Her breathless shout, barely audible over his bit-out curse, hurt her throat even more, as did the husky cry that followed. Pain shot through her ankle and she crumbled, her other foot tangled in the sheet and making her lose her balance. Instinctively, she let go of the sheet and grabbed for anything that would stop her fall.

  Unfortunately, that something turned out to be Marc.

  He’d somehow crossed the several feet that separated them and caught her with a speed that made her blink. Cursing under his breath, he tightened his arms around her for several heart-stopping seconds, burying his face in her neck.

  “Christ, your scent’s driving me crazy.”

  Bailey froze at the low guttural tone, so out of place after his calm demeanor just moments ago. Breathless at the strength and heat surrounding her, she gripped his shoulders, her fingers flexing on the hard muscle there.

  She’d never before been held by a man who made her feel so amazingly feminine, and she surprised herself by letting down her guard and reveling in the delicious feeling.

  Closing her eyes, she breathed in the warm scent of him, the scent of male and the outdoors. She froze as a strange sense of inevitability hit her, as though everything in her life had been nothing more than a buildup to this moment.

  Her breasts swelled, naked against his broad chest, her body softening in his arms and molding itself to the harder contours of his.

  This is where she belonged.

  Shaken by the outrageous thought and her body’s automatic, almost instinctive, response to being held against his, she started to pull out of his arms.