A. Arthur: Passion's Prey

Caprise.

His fists clenched on his thighs as his dick threatened to break free of the zipper that held it back. Questions filled his mind, but Caprise alone filled his sight. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t move to grab her ass off that stage, and couldn’t open his mouth—now salivating with lust—to yell at her.

Once again she bounced on the pole, this time extending her legs forward, then opening them so her crotch was displayed—luckily covered by the shorts, he thought with only minor relief. That was short-lived. In the next second she was off the pole, ripping the shorts from her ass to reveal a tiny string with more sparkles disappearing into the curvy cheeks of her ass.

A man tried to jump onto the stage, money in hand. His mouth was hanging open, eyes all but bulging out. X felt his cat roar and slapped a hand on the table in front of him. A bouncer grabbed the man by the collar and yanked him back, dropping him into his seat. X let out a quick sigh. When his gaze returned to the stage her bra had been removed to reveal pasties on her nipples, more sparkling, as if that were what he was supposed to look at. She was basically naked, he thought, swallowing hard in an effort to regain his senses. When her hands grabbed her breasts and she leaned over shaking them to the crowd, X’s sharp teeth pricked his lower lip. He wanted her. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. She licked her finger, traced it along the small patch of material at her juncture, and X had to drag a hand down his face.

The rest of the show was lost on him as he’d stood and made his way to the side of the stage. There was a bouncer there giving him the don’t-even-try-it look. On impulse, X flashed his FBI badge and the bouncer, intelligent character that he was, took a step back. Vaguely he realized her music had ended. He was more focused on the fact that she was sashaying her naked ass off the stage. Because the bouncer had taken a hike, X was able to slip through the STAFF ONLY door and was right there the moment Caprise stepped those sex-on-stilts shoes of hers on the floor.

He grabbed her by the arm. “Don’t say a word,” he warned when she looked up at him in surprise. “Not one fuckin’ word!”

This was not the career Caprise Delgado had in mind for herself. Truth be told, she’d never given a whole lot of thought to what her career goals and aspirations were. Hence the reason she was buckling the strap on her five-inch-heeled Manolo Blahnik sandals in a costume that looked like it was meant more for the hotel room than the stage. There was a contrast here, one Caprise hoped nobody picked up on. Why would a woman who could afford Blahnik shoes be on a stripper pole?

None of your damn business would be her definite reply.

This was her life and she was going to lead it however she damn well pleased. Even if it meant running from the truth.

For Caprise, complaining had been deemed futile a long time ago. For one reason: There was no one for her to complain to. Her parents were dead, and until last month she hadn’t seen her brother in five years. Friends weren’t on her list of priorities; generally, any type of long-term connection to people was off limits to her. Why? Because pain was an emotion she was too damn familiar with.

She had a trust fund that she’d come into the day she turned twenty-one. Ten million was hers to do with as she pleased. This meant she didn’t have to really do anything. But her parents had worked, both of them. Her father had been an architect, her mother a registered nurse. Her older brother, Nick, even though he’d come into his own trust fund when he turned twenty-one, also had a law degree and ran a very successful law firm with his partner and best friend, Roman Reynolds. Just because the Delgados had money didn’t mean they were pampered. And it hadn’t escaped her that an architect and a registered nurse were actually millionaires. Just one of those questions regarding her family she’d refused to scrutinize.

“Ten minutes, Cee.” Yandy Linch, the night floor manager, opened the door to the dressing room she shared with two other girls, said what she had to say, then closed the door again with a bang.

That’s how things went at Athena’s, hustle and flow, dance and make money. It wasn’t the best place in the world to work, but it gave her the chance to do something she’d always loved to do, dance. It had been one of those hidden indulgences, started when her mother had enrolled her in ballet at the age of seven. From there her love of the solitary art had grown, until now she was willing to put on this ridiculous costume and take it back off again, just for the release of dancing.

She’d auditioned for the Dance Institute of Washington when she’d finished college, and had been accepted. Then her parents had died, and her perspective had shifted. Just recently she’d gone back to the institute to see if there were any teaching or intern positions she could take—anything that would keep her in touch with what was once very important to her. In the meantime, she’d slake her need, her one true love, by doing this.

It wasn’t all bad, she’d told herself when she’d checked the mirror one last time and left the dressing room. Here at Athena’s they loved the Goddess—that was her stage name. Patrons began lining up at the club at nine just to see her eleven-thirty show. She only did one show four nights a week; that’s all she’d committed to once she’d come back to town. The owner of the club, Bam Milton, had known her for years. Actually, he’d been one of the only constants in her life so far. But Caprise wouldn’t call them friends—more like associates who bumped into each other a lot.

As she walked gracefully on the heels, clicking through the small hallway that led to the stage, she thought about her brother and what he’d think if he knew what she was doing. He’d flip the hell out without a doubt. Then again, Nick was famous for flipping out all the time anyway. Just recently he’d lost it over his female being kidnapped.

That had been wild—these last few weeks, that is. How Caprise had been drawn into the world of the Shadow Shifters once more she had no idea. She’d never owned up to being a shifter, never wanted to and didn’t want to now. Yet she was stuck with Seth, the cute and generally nice shifter guard who clung to her like glue and was right at this moment probably lurking around some corner in the club. She was living at Havenway, the new headquarters for Rome, the head of the Stateside Assembly, and his First Female, Kalina. Caprise was not only drawn into their world, she was smack in the middle of it.

Still, to be honest, she didn’t hate it all that much. She got to see Nick almost every day. And she was getting to know her sister-in-law, Ary, who would be giving birth to her niece or nephew in the next few months. So there was some benefit to that hulking goof of an FBI agent and Shadow Shifter, Xavier, keeping her locked in that room at Rome’s mansion all those weeks ago. He really irked her, X did. Each time she saw him, each time he opened his mouth to speak to her, something inside her moved. His voice slid through her entire body like something infecting her. She couldn’t quite put the feeling into words but hated it just the same. Some days she’d go so far as to say she hated Xavier Santos-Markland even if she didn’t have an explainable reason why.

Her music started and Caprise closed her eyes, stepped into the world of the Goddess, the persona that was her alter ego. The woman she really wasn’t, but secretly was.

As she danced, all thoughts cleared her mind; there was only the music. She always picked slow, sultry songs with piano or violin solos that pulled at the heart. Reached out and grabbed anyone listening, making them pay total attention to her and what she was giving them.