“Shit.” Bayon exchanged a frustrated glance with Keira. “There could be a dozen and we would never know.”
“There’s a way,” Savoy said in soft tones.
“Tell me,” Keira commanded.
“The priestess demanded that we be marked to prove our loyalty,” the older female admitted.
Keira lifted her brows. “What mark?”
“The soles of our feet.”
Together Keira, Bayon and Parish moved to stand beside Talon, all of them studying the outline of a raven that had been branded onto the meaty flesh of their heels.
Keira shuddered. It wasn’t the full Mark of Shakpi, but Vincent and Savoy should have suspected that it represented their ancient enemy.
Parish sent her a questioning glance, clearly asking permission to take control. She gave a discrete nod. She hadn’t just been trying to avoid confusion among the Hunters as to who was their leader when she said she was happy to let Parish remain in his position of authority.
It would take her time to fully recover from her years of being held captive by the humans. And just as importantly, she was determined to track down every bastard who’d been responsible for attacking their homeland and make them suffer.
“Talon, you need to find a way to begin searching for that mark without letting anyone know what you’re doing,” Parish commanded the younger male Pantera.
“Are you shitting me?” Talon protested. “I can’t start randomly inspecting people for a brand without making them suspicious.”
“Just do it.”
“Christ."
Talon rolled his eyes, but obediently headed toward the doors. Keira was one of the very few who’d ever been a match for Parish when he was in full commando-mode.
Vincent cautiously reached out to take his mate’s hand. “What will you do to us?”
Parish nodded a head in her direction. “Keira, it’s your choice.”
She shrugged, the brutal need for revenge fading beneath the sight of Savoy’s cowering body.
The two would have to be punished; maybe they would even be condemned to death. But that was something that would be decided after the danger to the Pantera had been effectively destroyed.
“Take them to the elders,” she ordered.
Parish arched a dark brow. “No one would blame you if you want to—”
“No.” She leaned against Bayon, absorbing his strength as her knees threatened to collapse. It was going to take a few days for her to fully regain her strength. Until then, she had utter faith she could depend on her mate. It was a knowledge that banished the last of her bitterness. The past was the past. It was her future with Bayon, and the future of her people, that mattered. “Just before Bayon arrived, one of my captors let slip the fact that my time in the cage was coming to an end. He believed that whatever they were plotting was about to happen. And that they were going to succeed.”
Bayon rubbed a comforting hand on her lower back. “They never gave a hint what that plot might entail?”
“No.” She pointed toward the traitors. “But they might have information we need.”
“Fine.” Parish gave a grudging nod, his lust for blood still lurking in his golden eyes. Shoving the gun into the holster at his waist, he reached to grab the two kneeling traitors by their hair and jerked them to their feet. “Let’s go.”
She watched as her brother hauled Vincent and Savoy from the room before snuggling against Bayon’s chest, breathing deeply of his familiar scent.
“Are you all right?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her as he laid his cheek on top of her head.
She smiled, kissing the strong column of his neck. “I will be, once we have answers.”
“We will,” he said without hesitation. “The Pantera are nothing if not stubborn creatures.”
“True,” she agreed.
For now, a shadow continued to hang over the Wildlands, but she fiercely held onto the belief that someday soon they would defeat their mysterious enemies and the magic would once again heal their land.
And their people.
Bayon rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Can we go home now?”
She planted another kiss on his neck, needing to be alone with her mate. “The caves?”
“Actually I thought you might stay with me.” He lifted his head to study her weary face. “At least until we can decide where we want to live.”
Her hand pressed against his cheek, her gaze drinking in his male beauty.
She’d been an idiot to ever doubt her ability to be with an alpha male. Bayon didn’t threaten her independence.
He only made her stronger.
“I don’t care where we go as long as we’re together.”
His eyes held a love she felt to the very depths of her soul.
“For all of eternity, honey.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alexandra Ivy is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Guardians of Eternity series, as well as the Immortal Rogues. After majoring in theatre she decided she prefers to bring her characters to life on paper rather than stage. She lives in Missouri with her family. Visit her website at alexandraivy.com.
JEAN-BAPTISTE
By Laura Wright
Chapter 1
The Suit looked like shit.
Jean-Baptiste stood with his back to the window of the Medical facility, and watched the blond male pace back and forth in front of a large cypress. The leader of the Diplomatic Faction had always given off a controlled, unruffled vibe, but as the sun died around them in a glow of pale orange fire, Raphael’s true state of mind was revealed. His clothes were wrinkled and hanging off his tall, lean body. The skin on his face was pulled tight over the bone, his eyes looked exhausted and sunken and desperate, and his hands were clenching and unclenching as he stalked from one end of the lawn to the other.
“You need to release your cat, Raphael,” Jean-Baptiste said, the irony of his words clawing at his guts, while the Nurturer inside of him—the one who was an expert on mental issues for the Pantera—pressed on. “When our minds grow weary with stress, our cats are trained to take over, give our human side a break. It’s how we survive, how we’re built.”
“Can’t,” Raphael muttered.
“I get that you want to guard your mate, but your cat can be just as effective.”
Raphael just shook his head.
Damned stubborn shifter. It seemed to be a personality flaw all Pantera males suffered from. “You won’t be able to remain in your human form the entire pregnancy without losing it.”
“You don’t understand.” The words were curt, and flung at Baptiste like they were coated in alligator dung.
Jean-Baptiste didn’t have a female—and it was looking more and more like he never would—but he knew how puma males were when something was wrong with their mate. The levels of crazy ranged from “manageable” to “batshit.” But for Raphael, and what he was dealing with, it might very well be “rocket ship to the moon” time. His mate, Ashe, carried the fate of the Pantera within her womb, and if she had truly been attacked inside the Wildlands as Bayon had claimed…
A low growl erupted from Jean-Baptiste’s throat, but he shut it down instantly. The last thing he needed right now was to allow his cat even one claw out of its cage. Even if it was to sniff out the bastard who’d had the balls to touch a Pantera’s pregnant mate on Wildlands soil. But the fantasy of catching and carving a long and deep “P” across the intruder’s chest was the kind of revenge Baptiste and his cat were hungry for.