Take Me, page 10
He stepped back and let himself be caught in a bear hug by Diego and then Ric. Last was Antonio. What could he say to a man who’d been his best friend and closest ally for most of his adult life? There was no real way to say good-bye. So, he didn’t.
Offering a hand, he clasped Antonio’s forearm. The other man hauled him forward into an embrace. If there were tears in their eyes when they pulled away, they’d never admit it. Antonio cleared his throat and clapped Miguel on the shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger. You’re a part of this family and you are always welcome here.”
“I know. Brother.” But neither of them had any way of knowing if they’d ever see each other again. Miguel was at the mercy of his Pride leader’s whims. He went where he was needed and served as he was told. “I have to say good-bye to Andrea.”
Antonio nodded. “With any luck, she’ll come around…soon.”
“Don’t hold your breath. She’s at least as stubborn as you.” Miguel glanced away. “I think it really is good-bye. I wish things were different, but they aren’t.”
He climbed the stairs, each footstep echoing in his head like a death knell. He just wanted this over with. Having her in his arms and being no closer to having her as his mate than the first moment he’d seen her was more than he could bear. It was time.
Not bothering to knock, he walked into Andrea’s suite. She met his gaze briefly from where she was stuffing clothes in a suitcase and sighed. “Look, you’re not talking me out of this. And don’t tell me I overreacted. You know how—”
Sudden anger whip-lashed through him. All of his frustrations over the last weeks came boiling out. “You’re still waiting for me to betray you. Every second of every day, Andrea.”
Her eyes went wide and she paused in her packing. “I’m not.”
“You are.” He shoved a hand through his hair, ripping it loose from the tie. “You’re treating me as though I were them. Your father. His Second. I have never broken a promise to you, never hurt you.”
“We only just met.” She looked everywhere but him, her fingers fidgeting with a silky shirt.
He shook his head, his anger vanishing as quickly as it had come. If anything, he felt more drained. Grit burned his eyes, pain and loss and too many other emotions for him to sort out ricocheted through his heart. “You don’t even see me.”
“I see you.” She dropped the garment and stepped toward him, some new fear shining in her gaze. “I see what most of the Pride doesn’t.”
“Yes, but is that all?” He lifted his hands and let them drop. “You don’t see that it would kill me to hurt you, but you expect it of me anyway. Always waiting for that other shoe to drop, never trusting me. Or maybe you just don’t want to see. It doesn’t really matter anymore.”
Tear misted her beautiful dark eyes as she walked toward him with her hand outstretched. “Miguel, please. Don’t do this to us.”
“Is there an us, Andrea?” As much as he wanted to hold her, to comfort her, he forced himself to move back toward the door. “Just because we’re mates doesn’t mean we’ll ever be mated. And I’m beginning to believe that maybe that’s for the best.”
Her hands covered her mouth, smothering a sob. He flinched. It ripped his heart out to leave her, but if she couldn’t give them the chance of a future together, then it was torment to both of them if he continued to beat his head against the brick wall that surrounded her heart. Whipping around, he made himself walk away from the only woman he could ever love.
What had just happened? Andrea staggered under the emotional blows that just kept coming. Her breathing was ragged as she tried to force the tears back. He didn’t want her anymore. Oh, God. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she followed him into his room. It couldn’t be over. It couldn’t end this way.
“Is it because I’m going to New York without you?” Her words sounded stupid and childish to her own ears, but her mind spun in confused circles. “Is it because I didn’t ask you first?”
“Your business affairs are your own concern. I told you I wouldn’t interfere with that and I haven’t. If you wanted to invest some actual emotion and commitment into a relationship with a guy, it would be a good idea to talk to him before you make big decisions. Who knows, he might be able to help. I’m sure you’ll remember that for the next man.” His voice held bitter sarcasm, but his eyes were hollow, his face blank. None of the understanding she’d come to rely on was left. He huffed out an impatient breath, turning to walk into his closet and pull out several trunks and a large duffel bag. “It will always be a test for you, won’t it? You’ll never actually trust me.”
“I—I trust you. Look what I let you do to me.” Hadn’t she trusted him enough to let him tie her up and spank her? To give in to the fierce sexual needs that she’d denied for so long? Without him to push her, it might never have happened.
“Because you want it as much as I do. And that’s only in the bedroom. When I agreed to that, I didn’t mean that our whole relationship began and ended at the door. But you never trusted me beyond that.”
“That’s a lot of trust.” Tears blinded her and she swiped at her eyes. Desperate fear flooded her mouth. She watched him walk back and forth across the suite collecting his belongings. God, he was leaving her. Her breathing hitched so hard it hurt. “It’s more trust than I’ve ever given anyone else.”
“It’s not enough. I want more. I want it all. I’m not going to settle for less than everything you have to give.” His tone was so distant, so cold it made her shiver.
To let him in. To let him all the way in as a part of every aspect of her life was to lose part of the independence she’d worked so hard for. It was something she’d avoided all her life. “I—I can’t—”
“I know.” He dropped a stack of folded shirts into a trunk.
“Where will you go?” She hated the weak quaver in her voice, but she couldn’t stop it. She felt like she was crumbling.
He didn’t look at her. “Back to Argentina.”
“When will you be back?”
There was a long pause. “I don’t know. My grandfather passed away last night. Things will be reshuffling in the South American Pride. I may not be able to come back.”
“Not…coming back?” She swayed on her feet, feeling all the blood rushing out of her face. If he left, there was no chance of them being together. Ever. She had to stay with her family until after Antonio’s heir was born. And Miguel had to leave. “I—I see. Then I’ll…let you get back to your packing.”
He nodded, his movement stiff. “I hope everything works out for you.”
“Thank you.” Awkwardness crept over her. How could something that had been so wonderful come crashing down around her so soon? She wanted to scream at him that this was worse than anything her father had ever done. Her father hadn’t changed her whole world and then left her. Alone.
She heard him swallow, saw the way a muscle ticked in his jaw. “In New York, I mean. Good luck smoothing out the problems in New York.”
“I…” But what could she say? There was nothing. No way to fix this, no way to stop the political machine from grinding them both under. No way to make herself someone else, someone who could love and trust easily. “Good-bye, Miguel.”
Spinning on a heel, she fled and didn’t let herself look back. Just as she cleared the doorway, she heard his quiet answer. “Good-bye, my mate.”
Chapter 7
Miguel dropped the shirt he was holding in his hand and strode out of his suite to follow Andrea. Frustration and desperate anger mixed with impending loss and more desire than he could ever have imagined feeling for one woman.
He caught her sitting room door just as she swung it closed and pushed inside. She turned to look at him and he saw in her eyes what he couldn’t put into words. Damning himself and her for everything they’d never be, he knew he’d take her, touch her, one last time.
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but her soft mouth set in a firm line. Her hand reached out, fisted in his shirt, and hauled him around so that his back slammed against the closed door. “No more talking. Just fuck me now.”
“This doesn’t change anything.” He caught her hand in his and pried it off his shirt.
She pressed her body to his, her breasts crushed against his chest, and her tongue slid up his neck before she whispered in his ear. “I know.”
A groan jerked from his throat. He couldn’t wait. The woman was a detriment to his control. He turned to lift her against the smooth wooden surface of the door. If someone walked by, they’d know exactly what was going on in here and he didn’t give a damn.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, already writhing in the rhythm of sex. Her pupils dilated, the edges of her irises shimmering with flecks of gold. He loved her this way, wild and unrestrained in his arms.
He reached between them to unzip his pants, his knuckles brushing against her pussy. Her dampness clung to his fingers as his fly opened. He kept his hand there, stroking her slick lips until she whimpered and twisted to get closer.
His cock ached with the need to be inside her, and he didn’t hesitate. They both groaned when he thrust deep and hard. They moved together without speaking. All the words they didn’t dare say closed in around them. His body tightened as he pushed into her soft wet sex again and again. When her pussy fisted around him, her back arched, and her mouth opened in a silent scream, he couldn’t hold on any longer.
God help him, he loved her so much.
Jolting awake, Miguel groaned as his body bowed in orgasm. Fire shot through him and he came in long jets, his hips rising under the bedcovers. His fists balled in the sheets until they shredded in his hands, and his claws extended until they sliced into his palms. The pain was a welcome distraction from the too-real dream. The same dream he’d had every day for a week. He jerked upright, rolled to the side of the bed, and pressed his thumbs into his eyes. His body shook with the aftershocks of orgasm, the sweat drying on his skin.
It hadn’t happened. He hadn’t gone after Andrea. She’d left for New York and he for Argentina. His mind insisted on playing out the fantasy for him every night. He couldn’t escape it.
Shoving to his feet, he walked through his rooms to the bathroom and washed the smears of blood off his palms. A quick nap would heal it for him, but he didn’t think he could handle the mind-fuck he was playing on himself again. He dug into one of his trunks and pulled out a clean set of clothing. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to unpack since his return to Buenos Aires. Perhaps he would do that after he ate breakfast.
There was nothing for him to do here. He felt at loose ends, unraveling at the seams. It was time to have a discussion with his Uncle Pedro about how he could be of use to the Pride here. He needed to accept that he was never going back to San Francisco. A pang hit his chest at the thought, but he ruthlessly subdued it. There was nothing he could do to change the reality of his life. It was time to get on with it.
As he walked through the kitchen of the hacienda, a babble of English and Spanish—the two languages all Panthers spoke—reached his ears. One of the women working in the kitchen set a cup of coffee, a plate of toast, and bowl of papaya in front of a chair at the table.
“Muchos gracias.”
The Panther female nodded in reply to his thanks and bustled away to stir a pot that boiled on the stove. Sighing, he sat and ate in silence, missing the easy banter at meals in North America with a fierceness that he couldn’t contain.
“Miguel.”
He turned to see his cousin’s daughter, Beatriz, hovering in the doorway to the kitchen. “Abuelo is looking for you. He’s in his office.”
“Tell your grandfather I’ll be in there in a moment.”
“Okay!” A smile wreathed her little face and she spun on her toes to skip away.
Children. Something else he wouldn’t have. Not without being mated. He sighed and shook his head. It wouldn’t help to dwell on this. Taking a last sip of coffee, he pushed to his feet and carried his dishes to the sink.
A heavy frown marred his uncle’s face when Miguel knocked and entered the office. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
Sitting back in his chair, Pedro stabbed a finger at a piece of paper sitting on his desk. “That Cruz boy has humans in his Pride now. As though the non-shifters weren’t bad enough. Humans. Did you know about this?”
“It’s just the one human, and he’s mated to a Panther.” Folding his hands behind his back, Miguel kept his expression smooth.
“This goes against the order of things. Humans cannot know about us.” Pedro thumped his fist on his desk. “This is unacceptable.”
As if his uncle had any say in how Antonio ran his Pride. But that wasn’t a wise thing to say to a man he had sworn loyalty to. He pulled in a deep breath. “I find myself at loose ends now that I am no longer the North American Pride Second. So, how may I serve you, tío?”
“Ha! We have everything we need. Your cousin is a fine heir, courting his new mate in Asia.”
“Congratulations.” As always, there was little use for him here that he didn’t take on himself. He’d kept his contacts in the Pride alive while he’d been gone—he had a few in every Pride. Friends he’d made and kept when he’d toured the Prides at thirty. When his grandfather decided it was time to find out if there was a mate for him in another Pride. A bitter smile curved his lips. There hadn’t been. Not then.
Not now, either. And with the impasse he found himself in with Andrea, not ever.
Pedro sat back and laced his fingers over his flat belly. “We contacted Antonio today, Miguel.”
“About the human?” Miguel kept his face blank, always the best approach when dealing with his uncle.
“No. We’ve demanded that your mate join you here. Didn’t think I knew about her, did you?” He winked. “I let them know that you wished it, because mates should be together. The two of you will work through whatever problems ail you when she gets here.”
Miguel’s jaw clenched tight, and he felt some of the blood drain out of his face. Resignation gripped his belly. Andrea would certainly believe the worst of him—that he would try and control her through someone more powerful than either of them. Would Antonio force her to come? What would he do if she did come?
A deep craving crawled through him. To see her. To touch her again. He needed her more than his next breath. He swallowed, pinning his gaze to the floor. “I wish you hadn’t done that, tío.”
“Ah, my nephew.” Pedro sighed and flashed an indulgent smile. “Always the quiet one. She just needs to know—”
Miguel jerked his chin to the side. “She won’t come. Not of her own will.”
“She’ll come if she knows what’s best for her Pride. Antonio isn’t so foolish as that. This will only solidify his alliance with us—a good-faith move toward my leadership.”
Shit. Making this a political maneuver to force Andrea into moving to South America was…ingenious. The perfect way to get a young breeding couple to add to his Pride, and the highest-ranking family in his Pride. It was a winning combination. For his uncle, his family, his Pride, but not for Miguel. Not for Andrea.
She would never forgive him for this.
He should have seen it coming. He was usually good at reading people, situations, Panther politics. It was his gift, Antonio said. To always know things first. Andrea would never believe he hadn’t had a hand in this. In cornering her.
Some tiny piece of his soul had hoped that she might come to see that they were truly meant for each other, that he could be trusted never to hurt her. He clenched his fists. Now, that hope was dead. And he had a very angry mate coming with claws bared. His uncle was as conservative as her father had been. She wouldn’t adjust well to being contained, controlled, used.
Heaving a sigh, he nodded to his uncle. “I understand you’ve done what’s best for the Pride. Excuse me and I’ll see that rooms are prepared for her.”
“No need.”
“Your mate has taken care of it?”
A booming laugh was his answer. “No, my boy. She’ll be sleeping in your suite.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You can’t tell me you haven’t sampled her yet. She is a model, a very beautiful woman—the humans love her face.”
“She’s also an intelligent businesswoman. She hasn’t modeled in years.” Now his fists balled for another reason. The kind of comments Pedro was making made it clear how much respect Andrea would get here. He felt as though he were riding on a runaway train with no recourse but to watch a collision happen.
Pedro continued to chuckle, good humor and triumph shining on his face. Yes, his uncle was a Panther who’d maneuvered circumstances to get exactly what he wanted. Apparently, it was a family trait Miguel had never realized he inherited. “Money, babies—I’m sure she has many great talents. Fate has gifted our Pride with a wonderful new addition, yes?”
“Of course.” Miguel blinked down at his uncle, wondering if the man had ever known him. If he’d ever want to. He thought Miguel quiet and shy, needing help in bringing his mate to heel. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or punch the older man, so he did neither. He turned and left the room, shutting the door silently behind him.
More than three decades in this house and he felt less at home here than he had after only two years in San Francisco. His grandfather had been the person he had been closest to in this Pride, but he was gone, and Miguel now longed for North America. He wondered what the twins were up to—they hadn’t an ounce of caution between them. How long would it be before Solana had her baby?
Andrea. How was she doing? The question nagged at him. He hoped she was well. A sigh slipped passed his throat. Damn, he missed her.
Andrea flew to New York and worked like a fiend for days on end, but it was never enough to exhaust her into sleep. Never enough to distract her from the way her chest felt as though a huge gaping hole had been left in it.
It was for the best. They would never have made it. Her inability to trust, to connect, made her a poor candidate for a mate. Miguel was better off without her. She told that to herself over and over again every time she thought of him, which was only every other minute. A million times she reached for her cell phone, intending to call his office and tell him about something that happened during her work, only to remember that he wasn’t there anymore.
