Taking the Stage

Chapter Eleven

Roseâtre sprawled under the great weight of the man buried deep inside her. His mouth nuzzled the bruise on her breast, his tongue tracing the pattern left by his teeth. Her muscles were soft and loose. She didn’t think it possible to want him again, but his quiescent cock was already stirring to life, tormenting the swollen walls of her sex.

She clenched as his beard rasped against her too sensitive nipples. He bit her again, gentler, but no less possessive. He suckled hard, pulling pleasure from the turgid tip until she arched her body upward, begging for more.

She slid her fingers into his hair, holding him fast. The pleasure was becoming pain, insistent and demanding. Deep in her mind, the warrior within her shouted at her to resist, but he chose that exact moment to thrust and the world came apart again.

It was mindless, this need to possess and be possessed.

He carried her boneless form to the pool and plunged them both into the icy water. She clung to him as he bathed them both, obeying when he urged her to the shore.

“Hold the rocks,” his command compelled her, but she was already reaching out to grasp them. He refused to let her explore, to touch him as his hands stroked the fever in her body. He held her hips as his cock drove into her, every stroke wringing more pleasure from her and his second mark took the back of her neck.

This wasn’t the man. This was the tiger.

And she came apart for him.

Anthony stretched alongside her, one hand resting possessively on her hip. He admired the mark on her breast and the faint shadow of the one he left on the back of her neck. Mine. Fierceness swept through him—fierceness and a sense of belonging he hadn’t experienced in too long.

“What are you thinking about?” The soft question surprised him. He thought her asleep.

“You.” It was like coming up for fresh air. “I was drowning before I met you.”

She rolled onto her back and looked up at him. A quizzical little frown wrinkled her brows. “You’re a cat…you have your Pride. How could you be drowning?”

He waited for the shame to crawl through him. “My Pride is here…all around us. All I have left.”

“But they aren’t weres…” Curling an arm behind her head, she studied him.

“No, they aren’t.” A hint of regret coated the back of his throat, but the shame didn’t assault him. “I asked you for a truth, now I’ll give you one, if you wish.”

“That’s a loaded offer.” She trailed her fingers across his stomach. He allowed the caress, the cat settling. The stomach was a vulnerable area, too vulnerable to allow casual contact with an outsider.

But for his mate? For his mate, he would bare his throat. She should know his shame.

“It’s merely a truth. Are you really not curious?” He rolled onto his side and braced his head on his hand. He enjoyed watching her. So many thoughts collided behind the murky forest of her eyes. He wanted to delve into their secrets until he knew her as well as himself.

“Curiosity is for cats.” She protested too swiftly.

“Very well.” He settled down, burying his face into her hair. Inhaling her scent, he sighed. The silence stretched between them. She fidgeted, but he feigned relaxation.

“Really?” she asked in a burst of sound.

“Hmm?” He traced a circle around one reddened, swollen nipple. It was fat and full from his attention.

“You’re not going to tell me now?”

Smiling against her neck, he gave a little shrug. “You weren’t curious.”

She growled and he found himself on his back with her straddling his hips. “I didn’t say I wasn’t curious. I said curiosity is for cats. You’re a cat.”

“So you do want me to tell you?” Amusement filled him. Frustration flickered in her eyes and she bared her teeth. The gods were kind to provide him with such a powerful mate.

She pinched him. “Yes.”

Running his hands up and down her thighs, he laughed. “Say please.”

Her eyes widened, irritation flashing across her expression. Her mouth opened, but instead of the rebuke he could see boiling through her, she merely said, “Please.” And scowled.

“Sorry, princess,” he soothed, rising up to cradle her against him. “I couldn’t resist.” Tweaking his mate was only fun when she enjoyed it too.

Her stiff shoulders relaxed. “I do want to know, Anthony. If you’ll tell me. Why aren’t you in a Pride with other weres?”

“My father led our Pride for many seasons, he was a fine warrior, and a cunning leader. He died when I was sixteen…a car accident of all things.” Anthony shook his head. His father met so many challenges during his reign, invaders, wars and a world speeding headlong into a technological age. He adapted and thrived. “He was decapitated.” An injury no tiger could recover from.

“I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arms around him, offering comfort. Cats thrived on touch and Anthony was no different. He pulled her closer, sealing her body to his. The contact kept him grounded.

“It was a difficult time, made more so by my belief that as my father’s eldest son, I should be Alpha.” An assumption many in the Pride shared. Many, but by no means all. “My mother didn’t want me to make the claim, she asked me to let it go. To let others…to let the older males sort it out. True leadership can be found anywhere, and I was still untested and unblooded in battle.”

Her lips pressed against his shoulder, the lightest of kisses. It eased the sting he knew to be coming. The telling of it once eluded him, but his soul quieted, ready to unbind the wound in his soul.

“I didn’t listen. I wanted to be my father’s heir, I wanted to be as admired and as fierce as he. I wanted to know that when I walked in the room, all eyes would turn toward me and that they’d listen when I spoke.” Arrogance and pride were his chosen poisons. “I threw my name into the ring. Only a handful sought the mantle of leadership. But no sooner did I announce my claim than my uncle announced his.”

His father’s brother never indicated any interest until that moment. Old resentments surfaced and Anthony ran his hands up and down her back, in part to remind himself where he was and in part to soothe.

“What happened?” It didn’t matter that the answer was obvious, she gave him the grace of explaining it.

“Many of the contenders withdrew when my uncle announced. He was—is still—well respected within the Pride. He is not an evil man, just…an ambitious one. Only one contender did not withdraw.”

Her quiet sigh was nearly his undoing.

“I thought I would lose face and he was my uncle, not the rightful heir. I was younger, stronger, faster. He was past fifty, I had to have the advantage.”

His Amazon leaned back until their gazes met. “Youth and skill?”

“Unfortunately, neither proved as much of an advantage as I would have liked. My uncle ordered me to stand down, I refused. He ordered me a second time…and I attacked him. My pride cost me my Pride.” His jaw flexed, she eased his loneliness, but the echo of it remained.

“But losing…losing would have just meant he led, not you.” She understood Pride politics.

Pleased, he kissed her gently. “Yes. But I wouldn’t bow to him. I refused to acquiesce the fight. He could have killed me, but out of love for my mother I think, he settled for banishing me.”

“But you were young.” She scowled. “Too young to just be thrown out.”

He expected disgust or at the very least disappointment. “I was old enough to challenge him and old enough to believe it was my right to lead. I think…I think they all hoped I would come crawling back. But if I wasn’t strong enough to take my proper place, I refused to beg for it. So I was alone in the world…and it isn’t a friendly place. I found Nalini in a zoo in Bucharest. I stole her…and I wanted to return her to the mountains, but she wouldn’t leave me. One by one, I found the others…”

“And you started your own traveling circus.” Rose shook her head.

“We’re hardly a circus.” He nipped her lower lip. “They are my Pride now. I couldn’t win the one I was born to, so I built my own. So now, you know my shame.”

Leaning back, she studied him. “Will you go back and challenge him now?”

Another uncomfortable truth, but she deserved to know. “When I realized you were an Amazon, I thought I might. Delivering you to the Pride would be quite a demonstration of strength and it could give me the leverage I need to prove my leadership in battle again.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know that I care enough about leadership to tempt that fight especially when I care more about you…and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me.” Saying it made it real. He didn’t want to disappoint, but it was his truth.

She laughed and hit him in the shoulder. “Leadership isn’t about winning, silly cat. It’s about doing what’s best for your Pride or in my case, my Tribe. You couldn’t follow your uncle, so you didn’t stay. I get that.”

Flipping her over, he leaned down and nuzzled her throat. The slave collar tasted metallic against her skin. He found freedom in baring his soul. He needed to find her freedom next. “I have my cats…and now I have you.”

“Oh?” The arch challenge in her voice sent his blood racing. “Do you really have me?”

“I’m about to.”

She lost count of their couplings. He took her on her knees, on her back, astride him and in his lap. Everywhere his fingers touched, pulses of pleasure flashed through her.

When he moved down her body, his mouth poised at her thighs, she closed her eyes and surrendered. His third mark seared her inner thigh and she shouted his name, coming even as his breath whispered over her clit.

Finally, they were twined together in the soft grass, a breeze cooling their flesh. Her hand stroked lazily across his chest, exploring the ridges of muscle.

The faux sun had traveled through the artificial sky. Around them, the forest rustled. She lifted her gaze at the first flash of white and stared as the tigers drifted out of the mist curling across the forest floor. One by one, they gathered into the clearing, stretching out to greet Anthony and Roseâtre by turns, until they were sprawled all around them.

It should have unnerved her, this display of power, of unity, of Pride, but she reached out her fingers to caress Nalini’s sweet face. The tiger seemed to almost smile, her raspy tongue swiping across Roseâtre’s fingers in warm welcome.

“They know you’re mine.” Anthony’s husky voice rumbled. The tiger reflected in the cool blue of his eyes. Dear gods, she was his. The thought should have been enough to ice the languid heat still surging in her blood, but she was full to the brim with being his.

“You marked me.”

“Yes, I did. More than once.” A smirk took up residence on his sensuous mouth. Pride at his accomplishment colored his words. He was so damn male.

Her male.

Roseâtre sighed. The soft sound stilled Anthony’s features, chilling the ardor of his gaze.

“Are you unhappy with it?” The question was solemn, out of place in their sensuous stupor.

“I should be,” she admitted, hating herself for the flash of pain that steeled his features. “An Amazon mating is fleeting, lasting only until we conceive.”

“But?” Her cat was wise, she’d discovered, pressing past the surface to probe for deeper answers. Answers she wasn’t always willing to share.

“But you marked me.”

His brow furrowed and he tucked a hand behind his head, stretching his magnificent chest. Did he have any idea what the motion of his muscles did to her? Her hungry gaze roamed over him. She wanted to thump her breast and scream it from the cliff top. He was hers.

Amazons don’t mate for life. Amazons don’t submit. Amazons require men for one thing and then they release them. Roseâtre didn’t feel much like an Amazon.

“You’re crying.” He raised his free hand, gliding it over her cheek, thumb stroking away the moisture she hadn’t even realized was there.

“By marking me, you’ve staked a claim.”

“I’m aware, trust me.” His bearded cheeks dimpled. Pure masculine satisfaction swelling with each word.

“By allowing you to mark me, I’ve submitted to that claim.”

He went still. Hadn’t expected that, had he? She grinned, pleased and rueful at once. It was better that he not become too accustomed to her surrender. It wasn’t in her nature to be passive.

“You’re mine.” Despite the firmness of the statement, a sliver of query hung at the end of the word.

“I wish it was that easy.” The words were simpler to express than she might have imagined. Her body and soul committed where her mind feared to tread.

Perhaps the surrender inherent in her words was enough, because Anthony pounced. “It is that easy. You’re mine. I am not letting you go, and if that means tying you to a bed and torturing you with pleasure until you scream it to the sky, then I’ll do it.”

Her body heated at the seductive promise. “Will you really?”

“Do you prefer satin or silk?” He purred.

Roseâtre’s eyes widened. “For what?”

“To be tied up with. I’ll fetch it right now.”

She dropped her lips to his chest and lapped her tongue across his nipple. Stiffness rolled through his body, the musk of their shared passion drenching the air. She scraped her teeth over his pectoral, testing the flesh.

“Bite me,” his voice was dark, smoky and hot with need.

“I want to,” she confessed against his skin. It was easier to admit if she wasn’t looking into his sinful blue eyes. “But I am sworn by oath, Anthony.”

“Oaths can be broken.”

“No.” Her heart cracked at the idea. “I’m a princess. My oaths are in my blood. No matter what my body desires. No matter what my soul hungers for. I cannot break with my oath, it would destroy me.”

Nothing he said to her seemed to change her mind. He made love to her body, but she held hostage that last piece of her soul. He wanted to celebrate their mating, but no matter how strong the bond between them grew, she held herself aloof when they were among the other dancers. When Heidi summoned her away from rehearsal, he crouched on the stage and stared down at the key in his palm. The bite of bronze stung at his nostrils and he flicked his gaze up to stare at the second Amazon in the theatre’s lineup.

“She won’t choose you.” Anthony couldn’t hold back the snarl. He didn’t understand Cerveau’s name. It was French for Brain. Who named a child brain?

“She already has.” Challenging an Amazon’s possession was not the smartest decision he’d ever made, but he wouldn’t retreat from the challenge in her cool blue eyes. Unlike Roseâtre’s passionate hazel, with their promise of the dark forest and deep pleasure, Cerveau’s were like chips of ice, unrelenting and unmoved.

“No. She has given you her body.” The ice in her regard slithered over his skin. “Admittedly, I see the appeal. But she will not choose you, no matter how many times you mark her.”

The tiger in him stretched, claws dragging against the inside of his skin. He didn’t bother to disguise the cat staring out from behind his eyes. “You can’t force her to stay where she doesn’t want to be.”

“And you can’t force her to go where she doesn’t want to go.” The blonde’s mouth tightened into a parody of a smile. But despite the tough expression, fear lingered in her scent, coating the back of his throat. She didn’t want to be left behind.

He sympathized, but he wouldn’t be intimidated. Rising, he tipped his head to the side and lifted his brows. “I would never force her to be something she isn’t, nor would I demand she serve a master to save me.”

The black scowl creasing Cerveau’s forehead promised swift retribution. “I asked her for nothing.”

“No. But you are the reason she’s here.” He knew it as surely as he knew his mate by her scent, her walk and her touch. Her loyalty to this one Amazon kept her trapped in slave bands, prisoner to the Arcana Royale—a royal hostage. His heart swelled with admiration and respect for Roseâtre’s giving heart. But his soul thrashed at the idea of her submission.

It was not just the Amazon princess the Overseers held now, but his mind. Neither he nor his cat would settle for this slavery.

Not for her.

The key on his chest burned against his skin. She’d refused every attempt to remove the bands. And she also refused the gift of potential freedom when he tried to give it to her.

“I did not ask her to do this for me.” Cerveau recoiled, her mouth open as though she intended further speech when Roseâtre appeared. Her hazel eyes snapped at him, hot and furious.

He held up a hand, palm forward, but her temper washed through him like a hot summer breeze. “Cerveau, we’re supposed to be practicing.”

Anthony considered placating her or at least making peace, but the blonde Amazon surprised him, she twisted to face the princess. “Did you stay here because of me?”

“Cerveau…”

“Rose. Answer me.” The little mouse with the ice-cold eyes had spine and while he couldn’t see her expression, no one could mistake the edge of steel in her voice.

“I stayed because of me. Don’t listen to the cat. He’s mad because I won’t choose him.” The words lashed at him, scoring deep. “We need to practice—”

“You did stay because of me. Dammit, Rose, I’m not a child.” Cerveau waved off Roseâtre’s hand and stalked away, her posture stiff. But it was her scent that pulled Anthony—terror mingled in sadness.

“How dare you?” Roseâtre growled at him and pivoted to stalk after her friend. The man in him recognized that he should let her go, he’d pushed her temper, but he caught her arm and tugged her back against him. Her rigid posture refused to yield even when he nuzzled the back of her neck.

“I dare because you’re my mate, Roseâtre.” He kept his tone simple. “Mates don’t hold back. Your battles…”

“…are not yours. Dammit, Anthony.” She turned in his arms and slid her own around him, squeezing him. The hostile Amazon in her sharpened, but failed to dilute the woman. “You have to leave this alone.”

“Tell me why.”

“Because if you continue to challenge it…” Her mouth compressed and she sucked in a noisy breath and released it in near silence. “Because you could get hurt. They could come after you and use it as leverage.”

“So now, you protect your shield-sister and you protect me.” The cat in him arched his back, proud that his mate wanted him safe, but they would not let her take the hits for them.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No. I treasure it.” He stroked his finger down her cheek to her throat and then traced the hidden collar. Whatever magic kept it fastened into place also disguised it. “But I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?” The bite in her words barely brushed him and he chuckled, kissing her angry mouth until her lips softened and a sigh escaped.

“No,” he whispered. “Because you’re mine and I protect what’s mine.”

It took great force of effort to let her go, but he did. If she would not tell him the truth—then perhaps her stage manager would.

“You have to make him stop.” Roseâtre planted her palms against Heidi’s desk. Minion bounced from chair to chair until she landed on Roseâtre’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around her neck. The little imp was equal parts annoying and sweet.

“You need a hug,” Minion announced confidently and snuggled closer. She lifted a hand to stroke the little one’s hair, but didn’t take her gaze away from the stage manager writing in the giant monster of a book covering most of her desk space.

“What Mr. diNapoli chooses to do is not up to me, Roseâtre.”

“Of course it is. You manage everything.”

Heidi glanced up from the book and a fraction of a smile eased her expression. Setting the pen aside, she leaned back in the chair and interlaced her fingers over her belly. “What do you want me to do?”

“Get the key back, for one, and convince him that he doesn’t have to free me.” The words left her in a rush, but she managed to clamp down on the request to protect him. Heidi’s impassive expression revealed nothing of her thoughts.

“He has the key because you couldn’t get along with him safely. That was your decision, not mine.” Heidi studied her. “As for whether or not he will free you, that’s his decision—to a point.”

She wanted to bang her fists against the desk, but she curled them into fists, nails biting into her palms. Temper never persuaded Heidi. “If he frees me, you lose two lead dancers in as many months.”

“True and I have an entire chorus line to choose from. Sit down, Roseâtre.” Heidi waved to the chair opposite her and picked up her pen. “You need to think this all the way through.”

To her amazement, Heidi went back to writing in her book. Still holding the snuggling Minion, she obeyed the stage manager and sat. “Think what through?”

“All of it. You’re reacting—a bad habit of yours I must admit. I would think you learned that lesson when you joined the show, but apparently not.” Heidi’s pen scratched along the paper.

“I’m not reacting. I’m trying to protect—” She broke off on that sentence. Anthony said she was trying to protect him as she did her shield-sister. She wasn’t allowing him a choice in the matter.

Nor had she really allowed Cerveau.

But an oath is an oath. I made my choice when I made that oath…

“And now she thinks.” Heidi didn’t look up. She simply turned the page, dipped her pen in the inkwell and returned to her notes.

Minion patted her hair. “You don’t have to think. It’s a lot more trouble than it’s worth.” The little one giggled and bounced off her shoulder to land on the desk—perching carefully lest she disturb the page Heidi worked on. She picked up a puzzle box and began to work the shifting pattern on the top.

“Why is Anthony here?”

“Because I needed an act to help bring more customers inside. We’ve had too sharp a decline since Pandora left.”

“I get that.” Roseâtre tread carefully. “But why Anthony? Why a weretiger when you know my Tribe and his Pride have been mortal enemies for centuries?”

“Have they now? How very Bronze Age of them.” Heidi sighed and set aside her pen again. Roseâtre refused to take the bait of the deflection and stared at the stage manager. “Let me ask you a question. Why are you here?”

“You know why.”

“No, here in my office. Why are you here?”

“Because Anthony won’t let it go.” At Heidi’s arched eyebrow, she fumbled and clamped her mouth shut. Why was she asking for Heidi’s help? Just the thought of Anthony made her pulse race. She loved his scent. Adored how he wrapped his arms around her and insisted that she stay in his suite even when the sun claimed her soul.

The pain and torture in his eyes that turned to light when she awoke each of the past four evenings welcomed her, embraced her—seduced her. Working together the last three nights, even as grueling as rehearsal became, were some of the best in recent memory.

In my whole life. To be honest. She didn’t shy away from the truth or the pain. I’ve never felt like this and I don’t want to lose it—or him. So why am I asking Heidi to stop him?

Her heart squeezed in her chest.

“Do you still wish me to intervene?” Heidi and Minion both stared at her, twin expressions of patience and amusement on their faces.

“No.” Roseâtre shook her head slowly and then more firmly. “No, thank you.”

“Excellent. You have rehearsal and I have work.”

Dismissed, Roseâtre stood and gave Minion another pat before walking out of the stage manager’s office and into Anthony leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. His body said relaxed, but the sharp, assessing look in his eyes told her he heard everything.

“I’m sorry.” She thought it would be hard, but the words came out easily.

He tilted his head, brows lifted in mild question.

“I need more time.” It was an evasion, but it smacked of the truth. She wanted Anthony to stop asking her because she wanted to say yes.

But how did she reconcile the desire to be with him and break her oath with the need and in all honesty, the desire, to honor her oath?

“Okay.” He cupped the back of her neck and drew her to him for a kiss as soft as a spring rain, the touch of his lips searing her to her soul. “Cats are very patient.”

She chuckled. “Since when?”

“Since you need me to be.”

Damn. Her heart trembled, another brick shattering from the wall between who she wanted and who she was supposed to be.

“Cat.” Cerveau stared down at him. He’d shifted to get ready for their dress rehearsal, but the Amazon waited just off the stage in the wings where they would be hidden in the shadows.

He studied her face as she knelt down and brought herself level with him. It was a risky position for a warrior to adopt—particularly when he could take her throat out or rake her from breast to belly in one strike. He canted his head, nose twitching. Hints of a familiar scent clung to her—no—came from her. The touch of exotic spice accented the bite of bronze.

Even her eyes were different—warm like the Mediterranean—melting the ice he’d seen there before.

“Don’t let her stay here because of me.” Of all he expected her to say, that was not it. “I don’t understand it most of the time,” she continued, darting a look around to make sure they were still alone. He flicked his ears. No one was close enough to hear her hushed whispers. “But I know she stays because of me. If you can persuade her to go—do it. Don’t let her say no.”

He would love to deny her a choice in the matter. She wore slave bands. He could strip them off tonight when they were done and free her. But that would only infuriate her and if she went into them once, what would it do to him to have his mate submit to it again?

He sneezed and shook his head. He couldn’t force this decision. No matter how much he wished otherwise. He’d tried to corner the stage manager, but she ignored him. Roseâtre asked him for time.

He would give it.

“Please just—” If he hadn’t been watching her, he might never have seen it but the deep blue of her eyes retreated behind walls of frost. The guard returned to her expression and the soft pleading in her mouth firmed to a hard line. “Do as you will, cat, but she made her choice and you won’t change her mind.”

She rose in one fluid motion, pivoted and marched back out on the stage. Anthony sat back on his haunches.

Another clue.

The woman who encouraged him to get Roseâtre out of here was trapped behind another far colder and indifferent one. The flattened scent she left in her wake confirmed his suspicion.

Roseâtre strolled toward him, her hips swaying, and he tipped his head back to catch the flavor of her against his tongue. She brushed a hand across his head and stroked his ear. “Ready to go to work?”

He rubbed his cheek to her leg, marking her with his scent and purred. Yes, he was definitely ready to work for his answers.