Laura Wright - Raphael/Parish

“Release me,” he growled, his eyes glowing with a luminous gold in the darkness.

“Goddammit, Raphael.” Bayon shared Rafael’s golden good looks although his hair was a shade paler and his eyes held more green. He was also built on bulkier lines. “Leash your damned animal and listen to me.”

Raphael battled through the primal instincts that had nothing to do with humanity and everything to do with raw, animal desire.

Holy hell.

Of all the Pantera, he was the one who’d had the best control over his primitive nature.

It was the reason he’d been chosen by the elders to become one of the most trusted diplomats for his people, traveling away from the Wildlands to meet in secret with various world leaders. At least that was his public persona. In truth, his primary duty was heading up his peoples’ vast network of spies who infiltrated the various governments and scientific communities.

He could travel for weeks away from the reservation without being debilitated by his need to shift. And more importantly, he’d developed the ability to mimic the humans so he could function in their world.

He was still a feral feline at heart, but a feline with manners.

Now, however, he was at the mercy of savage need that thundered through his body with the force of a tsunami.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” he growled. “Let me go.”

Bayon leaned in until they were nose to nose. The bastard was one of the few who had the cojones to get in Raphael’s grill.

“This has to be a trick,” the younger warrior snapped. “We’ve tried for the past fifty years to discover human women who can carry our seed—”

“You don’t have to remind me of our history.”

And he didn’t. Raphael knew better than anyone the struggles of the Pantera.

It’d started slow.

Fewer and fewer females going into heat. And those who did were unable to carry their babes to full-term.

At first the elders believed that it was the fault of the human contact with the Pantera. They shut off their borders and became increasingly isolated from the world.

When that didn’t work, they began to fear it was a genetic anomaly. The Pantera had, after all, interbred for centuries.

So discreetly selecting the finest specimens of human females who agreed to become surrogates at an enormous price for their secrecy, they’d brought the women to their high-tech medical facilities. They were the rare few who realized the Pantera were more than mere myths.

The human females, however, had been unable to breed with the Pantera. Not even with the most potent fertility drugs.

So his people had no choice but to seek answers outside the Wildlands.

Keeping a low profile, a handful of Pantera scientists had covertly gained employment at various research facilities, seeking information from the humans’ work on DNA.

At the same time, the ‘Suits,’ or Political Faction of the Pantera, had sent spies to infiltrate the various governments.

They needed to know if there was some physical change that was affecting the magic of their land.

Toxic waste. Global warming. Bio-chemical warfare.

It could be accidental or deliberate sabotage, but if the humans were involved then Raphael intended to uncover the truth.

He had just been returning from his latest trip abroad when he’d stopped at The Cougar’s Den, needing to blow off some steam before traveling to the Wildlands and making his latest report.

The elders weren’t going to be pleased with his lack of progress.

Hell, he wasn’t pleased.

The last thing he expected was to be blindsided by a human female. Or to find himself returning to the decrepit bar week after week in the hopes of spotting her again.

And now…shit.

Giving Raphael a shake, Bayon glared at him, his anger causing the temperature to spike.

“Then you realize it’s impossible for that female to be pregnant with your child.”

Raphael met his friend glare for glare. “Impossible or not, I know what I smelled.”

“Think about it.” Bayon’s eyes glowed with golden power. “A strange woman just happens to stroll into a bar where the Pantera gather. She magically stirs your mating urges despite being human, and now she deliberately parks her car close enough that you were bound to pick up her scent before driving away like a madwoman.” He gave Raphael another shake. “Does she have to have T R A P tattooed on her ass for you to get it?”

Raphael made a sound of frustration. His friend wasn’t saying anything that Raphael hadn’t already told himself.

Hell, he’d be shocked if it wasn’t some sort of trick.

But until he discovered exactly what was happening, he wasn’t going to let the female out of his sight.

Or out of his bed , a treacherous voice whispered in the back of his mind.

“There’s one way to find out.”

With a strength that caught Bayon off-guard, Raphael shoved them away and headed toward the road.

“Wait,” Bayon called. “What are you going to do?”

“To find my woman and discover exactly what she has tattooed on her ass,” he snarled.

“Christ, Raphael.”

Focused on the rapidly fading scent, Raphael jogged away from the bar, his dark jeans and black tee allowing him to disappear among the shadows.

He expected the female to head to her house. The more respectable citizens of the small town tended to be tucked safely behind closed doors as soon as the sun went down. They might not logically believe in voodoo or ghosts or even the Pantera, but they were smart enough to know that strange creatures crawled out of the swamps at night.

No reason to become easy prey.

But instead of heading toward the wooden houses that ran in tidy rows facing the red brick schoolhouse and attached community center that doubled as a church, she turned in the opposite direction toward the town square that was framed by a handful of small shops.

At last she parked her car next to the three-story hotel that was squashed between the beauty shop and post office. Raphael stood beneath the draping branches of the weeping willow in the center of the square, watching the slender female enter through the glass door.

Did she work at the hotel?

Or was she there to meet someone?

Some man?

A low snarl rumbled through his chest, his cat twisting beneath his skin with a primeval fury.

The woman was his.

Branded by his passion and bound to him by the babe she carried in her womb.

Mine. Mine. Mine .

The words whispered through his soul as he strolled across the street to enter the cramped lobby of the hotel.

His nose wrinkled at the stench that clung to the ugly green and yellow diamond-patterned carpet and the mold that had multiplied into a thriving community behind the warped wood paneling. There was a wilted fake plant shoved in a corner and a reception desk at the back of the room. Currently a bleached-blonde woman was leaning on the desk as she flipped through a glossy magazine.

Lifting her head at his entrance, she gave a low whistle, her chubby face flushing with pleasure as her blue gaze made a slow, thorough survey of his body.

“Can I help you?” she murmured, tugging at her loose top to better display her massive rack.

Clearly the middle-aged woman thought her breasts worthy of putting on public display.

A delusional belief, but Raphael wasn’t a trained diplomat just because he could travel away from the Wildlands.

With his most charming smile he strolled forward, halting near the desk so he could covertly take note of an office to the left where two small dogs were yapping at his arrival and, to the right, a back door that led to the alleyway.

“I was passing and I thought I saw a friend come in here.”