Parish grinned wickedly. “I look forward to being chased and caught by my Doc.”
“Are you ready to run, my love?” Genevieve asked her male with a teasing grin.
Growling, pulling the blond female closer to his side, Jean-Baptiste nuzzled her cheek. “I will never run from you, Genny. It’s time wasted when you could be ravishing the shit out of me.”
Everyone laughed, even Raphael. It was good to see, Xavier mused. The ghost of a male letting down his guard. But it didn’t last long. He turned his weary gaze back on Xavier.
“I know you met with the PI. Did she have something of interest? How are things progressing with Chayton? Any leads?”
Though most of the Pantera knew about their search for Ashe and Isi’s father, it was the Suit leader who Xavier was reporting to. The male had become the reluctant go-between for the elders.
“I went through a shitload of sales records today from several different camera shops,” he said with a snarl of frustration. “I want to figure out where this camera came from and who put it there. I don’t think it was our enemies or human tattoo artist, Derek.” He shook his head. “But you know me, whoever it is, I’ll get them.”
Raphael cuffed him on the arm. “I know you will. And hopefully it will lead us to Chayton.”
Just then, the door beside Raphael opened and Parish’s mate, Dr. Julia, poked her head out. “She’s asking for you, Raphael.”
Instantly alert, Raphael gave them a quick nod. “See you later. We should all take the night off and celebrate our birth, and the magic that continues within us despite those who are trying to destroy it.” He eyed Xavier. “Even you, X.”
As Raphael disappeared inside the room of his mate, Xavier and the rest of the group offered quick goodbyes before disbanding. Walking down the hall toward the front doors, Xavier thought about the Suit’s words. A night off to celebrate the birth of his kind. He wanted that. Wanted to be a part of that. But time was ticking away. He had to find out who had placed that camera, and he had to find Chayton before those assholes did. Before they found him and used him to wake Shakpi.
If Xavier did his job right, there would be many more purple moons to celebrate.
CHAPTER FIVE
Butterflies inside her stomach and ants crawling up her spine, Mal put the finishing touches on her makeup, then stood back and took a long, hard look at herself. Not bad. For a first attempt. Lipstick, eyeliner and mascara were definitely not her thing. In fact, she’d felt kind of clueless putting it on and had needed to use one of Xavier’s computers to look up a tutorial on how to apply makeup without looking like a clown.
She grinned at herself.
Normally, she went all natural. The Hunter look: jeans, tank, boots, clean face, easy and ready to shift into her puma. But tonight, she really wanted to make some heads explode. Well, one head. One very gorgeous, very stubborn head.
She was just finishing up washing her hands when she heard the front door open. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she fumbled with the towel. This was it. The great reveal. Not only had she put on makeup, but her dark hair was brushed to a shine and hung down her back in gentle waves, and the ultra-feminine dress she wore didn’t even remotely resemble Hunter gear.
“Honey, I’m home!” Xavier called, the dark humor in his tone obvious. “Where are you? I brought dinner. I’m warming it up.” The mild crash of a pot hitting the stovetop rose above the sudden silence. Then, “Aristide said you don’t cook, or you can’t cook. I can’t remember which.”
With one last look in the mirror, she released the breath she’d been holding and opened the door to her room. She spotted Xavier right away. He was bent over the kitchen counter, staring at the screen of his computer, something heating up in a pot on the stove, a rugged blue flame shooting off sparks beneath it. She swallowed, smoothed the front of her dress and walked toward him.
“Which one is it?” Xavier called, still staring at the screen. “You can’t cook or you don’t?”
“Both,” she said.
Courage, Female. You hunt bad guys and badass animal prey all damn day, and this male’s reaction to your new look is making you sweat?
“But I won’t be eating dinner,” she added, moving toward him, her heart pounding in her chest. “Not here anyway.”
“What are you talking about, Female?” he asked, tearing his gaze from the screen to look up.
When he did, when he saw her, when his eyes traveled from her shiny hair all the way down to her strappy sandals, a strange sound exited his lips. It was like a cross between a wheeze and a growl, and ended with a ferocious lip curl. She waited for him to say something, move. But he didn’t. He just stood there, hands balling into fists, ice blue eyes turning frosty—and his puma vibrating beneath his skin.
Forcing her nerves aside, Mal strode toward him. “Puma got your tongue, Xavier?”
His gaze remained fixed on her as she moved. “What are you wearing?”
“That’s the first thing you’re saying to me? Seriously.”
“Hell yes, seriously,” he growled. “Deadly seriously.”
She stopped directly in front of him and lifted her chin. “It’s a dress, Xavier.”
His nostrils flared and she felt his cat’s heat radiate off his body. “And why are you wearing a dress?”
“I’m going out.”
His lip curled, and he slowly shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere. Not like that.”
“Like what exactly? Dressed up? Looking hot?”
His eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She grinned, then turned in a slow circle in front of him. “I do look hot, right?”
His jaw was so tight, Mal thought it might shatter into a hundred pieces.
“Doesn’t matter, Amalie,” he said icily. “You’re not going out. Not like that, and not alone.”
She looked up at him through her lashes. Her curled and painted lashes. “I’m not going alone.”
This time, he moved. Closed the distance between them in one stride. He was so tall, so broad. Fearsome and sexy. Why couldn’t he just lift her up and plant a killer kiss on her eager lips? He was so goddamn frustrating. “I have a date.”
“No.” He said the single word without heat.
She cocked her head to the side and chewed her lower lip. “I’m not asking permission.”
“Good, because you’re not getting it.”
Her gaze flickered past him, to the stove—to the raging blue flame. Something caught her eye; something bubbling out of control. “Your sauce, or whatever it is you’re making, is burning.”
Cursing, Xavier whirled around and rushed to the stovetop. Without thinking, he grabbed the handle of the pot, then cursed again when the metal burned his hand. He tossed the pot into the sink and slammed on the water.
Forgetting the irritation-slash-flirtation from a moment ago, Mal hurried to the sink and to his side. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” he growled, fisting his hand.
“Let me see it.”
“It’s nothing.”
She grabbed his hand and forced his fingers open. “Stop being a stubborn ass.” Angry red welts decorated his palm. “Let’s get some cool water on it.”
He didn’t fight when she guided his hand under the faucet, but hissed when the water met his skin.
“You’re mothering me, Amalie,” he said on a growl. “I don’t need it.”
She looked up at him, met those crystal blue eyes that always made her weak. “Welcome to my world, Friend.”
He snarled gently. “Last thing I’m trying to do is mother you.”