Panther's Promise: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance Read online

  I just wish that all of me felt the same way.

  Out loud, he added: “And I hope you feel the same.”

  Irina looked down at their intertwined hands, and the tension in her face eased. “Um. Yes,” she muttered, her cheeks growing red. “I didn’t think—I don’t know. This is all so… different. Good different, I mean.”

  She looked up again and stared into Grant’s face with a searching look in her eyes.

  He didn’t know what she was looking for, but he stared back at her, hoping with all his heart that she would find it.

  “So,” she said eventually, breaking the silence, “How about that coffee?”

  ***

  After they had finished eating, Grant found himself searching for excuses to keep Irina around. He told himself it wasn’t so that he could delay dealing with what would happen next.

  Having her in his house felt so right. Whenever she looked around, taking in the luxury furniture and fittings, Grant had an overwhelming feeling of… rightness. As though all along, the penthouse had just been waiting for her to arrive, and now that she was here, everything had fallen into place.

  Unfortunately, life wasn’t that simple.

  “Can you see my other shoe?”

  Grant was tempted to say, no, he couldn’t, and to kick the offending footwear further under the sofa. Instead, he fished it out and handed it to Irina. He caught her slight grimace as she looked at the spindly six-inch heels, and hid his own smile as she quickly exchanged them for another pair of much more sensible-looking shoes, which had been stashed in her bag.

  He even managed not to sigh as she put the sensible shoes on and slung her handbag over her shoulder.

  They had already exchanged numbers, and schedules, and enough brief touches and kisses that Grant wanted nothing more than to drag her back to the bedroom.

  “I’m working tonight,” Irina had protested when he suggested they meet again for dinner that evening. “And I don’t get my schedule for next week until Monday morning.” She frowned, clearly frustrated. “I can see if someone else can take my shift, but we’re really short-staffed at the moment.”

  “I understand,” Grant said. At least, part of him did. He worried that the part of him that didn’t might be his panther side. He—or it—wanted to keep her here, in the warmth and safety of his home—not let her go, out into the cold, and potentially not see her for days. Days!

  She rubbed the strap of her bag as she gave him a hopeful smile. “I’ll see if I can switch Monday out, at least.”

  Monday? But that’s two days away!

  “I’ll see about making dinner reservations for us,” Grant said, hoping his—or his panther’s—impatience didn’t show on his own face. “Anywhere in particular?”

  Irina laughed. “Anywhere except…” she rattled off a list of restaurants, some of which Grant recognized. “...because if I negotiate Monday off and then make my workmates serve me dinner, they are going to be pissed.”

  “Understood.” Grant pulled her to him for one last kiss. She was tall enough in her heels that he barely needed to bend down at all to capture her lips with his. “Until Monday, then.”

  “Until then.” A smile hovered around Irina’s lips. “Good luck tracking down your friend.”

  Right. Mathis.

  As the door closed behind Irina, Grant tried to convince himself that he hadn’t completely forgotten about his quest to pry Mathis out of wherever he was hiding the moment he’d set eyes on her.

  Grant was clearing the remains of their breakfast away when he heard the front door open again. He spun around, hoping it would be Irina—and saw Lance striding through the door.

  “Boss.” Lance greeted him with a brief nod before he made an efficient survey of the room. His grey-green eyes, which always looked so startling against his dark skin, took in the dirty plates and coffee mugs, the burnt pan in the sink—and then flickered towards the bedroom.

  Grant was almost certain that Lance couldn’t see through the solid wood of the bedroom door, but that didn’t stop him from staring pointedly at it, and then raising one suggestive eyebrow.

  “Did you have a good night?”

  “I don’t think that’s an appropriate question to ask your employer,” Grant retorted, delaying the inevitable. He took a steadying breath. “She’s—”

  “Your mate.” Lance’s tone was matter-of-fact.

  “How—” Grant’s mouth twisted. What a question.

  Lance gave him an incredulous look. “How do I know? Did you look in a mirror at all last night? Of course I know. Moss knows. His two waitresses know. I’m sure Francine knows, from the way she was glaring at you both. Hell, everyone who saw you last night must know something was going on, even if they didn’t understand what it was.” He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and waved it at Grant. “I rerouted your calls through my phone after you two disappeared last night, and it’s been ringing off the hook.”

  Grant paused. “Ringing? Who calls someone at a time like this?”

  “All your friends’ parents,” said Lance flatly. “And my aunt. You’d better be giving me a bonus for that conversation, by the way.”

  “Oh.” Grant leaned his elbows on the granite countertop and put his head in his hands. He took a deep breath. Speaking of difficult conversations… “Right. I need a plan.”

  There was a click as Lance set a tablet down on the countertop. “I have had some thoughts along those lines. Shifters mating with humans isn’t that uncommon, and I’ve prepared several options for strategies going forward. From my research, most shifters reveal their true natures to non-shifter mates very early in the relationship, so I’m assuming you’ve told her—”

  “No.” Grant held up a hand to stop Lance. He pulled the tablet across and scrolled through a few pages. “I haven’t told her. And these aren’t going to work.”

  Lance was staring at him. “But you have to tell her.”

  “No,” Grant growled again.

  “Grant—” Lance sighed and pushed his reading glasses up his nose. “You hired me to advise you on keeping your shifter nature secret, fine. But you cannot keep it a secret from your mate. I know you weren’t brought up in a shifter family, but—”

  “Enough!” Grant slammed his hands on the countertop and stalked away. He rubbed his forehead, grimacing.

  Not brought up in a shifter family? That was one way of putting it.

  “All your—plans. They all involve telling Irina about the bond between us. I won’t do that.”

  Lance’s brow creased. “You’re going to keep it from her? Obviously, it will be a difficult discussion, but she’s your mate. You’re meant to be together. Even if it’s a shock, she’ll see that it’s meant to be.”

  “Really? Some man she met less than twenty-four hours ago tells her she’s his soulmate, and she has to just go with it? I don’t know what your research says, but I know for a fact it doesn’t always work that way.”

  Not for shifters like me. Not for panthers.

  Grant’s heart was hammering. He stalked around the room, feeling trapped. As trapped as Irina now was.

  “So, we need a new plan. All right.” Lance’s voice was steady and calm. Everything Grant wasn’t. “You’re not going to reveal your shifter nature to this woman. Not yet, or not at all?”

  There was a hint of warning in his voice. Grant shook his head. “Later. I will, later.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Lance’s fingers flew over the tablet’s screen. “Well, it will take some additional effort to keep your shifter activities discreet with a partner in the picture, but it won’t be impossible. Do you have an end date in mind for your subterfuge, or…?”

  Grant ground his teeth. Lance’s professional attitude was infuriating, but he had to admit it was useful. It forced him to face up to what he was doing.

  “I’ll court her like a normal human. And then—if this does go anywhere, between us, as humans—then I’ll tell her. But only then.”
r />   Lance snorted softly. “If? More like when.”

  “If,” Grant insisted, and added silently: And if I can love her. Truly love her, as a man, and not a faithless panther.

  9

  IRINA

  Irina set off down the street in a dream. Her body ached in a thousand good ways, and even though she hadn’t ended up getting a lot of sleep, she felt completely relaxed and refreshed. All the little worries and stresses that had preyed on her mind since she returned from the mountains had been washed away by one night of incredible sex.

  Irina snuggled down into her coat. She supposed this was technically a walk of shame, but she was feeling anything but ashamed of going home with Grant the night before.

  Irina inhaled slowly. She had showered off all traces of last night’s fun, but it wasn’t like she had brought a change of clothes to the party. Her skin smelled of the spicy-scented soap from Grant’s shower, and her dress still held traces of his scent. It felt intimate. Erotic. She could still feel Grant’s hands on her body, cradling her weight, sliding her dress up her thighs.

  Even the memory of his tantalizing, spicy musk made her heart beat faster.

  And he gave you his phone number, she thought, still amazed. The best sex you’ve had in your life, with the hottest, most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen… and he wants you to keep in touch.

  She was so amazed that she wandered for several blocks before she realized she had no idea where she was.

  And she was scheduled to work that evening.

  “Damn,” she said out loud, drawing a few stares from other pedestrians. She looked around, trying to find some landmark or street name that would help her orient herself. No luck. This neighborhood, wherever it was, might as well have been in another city for all Irina could tell.

  Irina groaned and rifled through her bag for her phone. It might be on the dumb end of smartphones, but she might be able to coax the map app open before the whole thing froze up.

  Speaking of freezing up…

  Irina selected the map app and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk so she wouldn’t be in anyone else’s way. While she waited for her phone to wake up, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms to warm them up. Even if the map app opened, it wouldn’t be any good if her fingers were too cold to search for the closest subway station.

  Traffic was slow this morning in whatever-neighborhood-this-was, so she wasn’t paying any attention to the road and didn’t hear the motorbike as it approached.

  “Lady, look out!”

  Irina looked up. A dark-skinned young woman with a cloud of brown hair was running toward her, hand outstretched. Suddenly, the rev of an engine roared through the air. Irina just had time to catch the look of shock in the other woman’s eyes before something slammed into her from behind.

  Irina screamed as she plunged forward, the engine roaring in her ears. A sharp yank on her shoulder pulled her around and she stumbled, trying desperately to keep her footing.

  Her attacker was clad entirely in black leather, down to the leather glove tearing at the strap on her handbag. The pale morning light glinted off his full-face helmet.

  “Hey—ow!” she cried out. Her bag was slung across her chest, and the biker was pulling on it so hard that the strap was beginning to cut into her neck. “Get off, you asshole!”

  “Yeah, leave her alone!”

  Irina ducked as a bag swung into her field of vision and smacked the biker in the face. It must have been heavier than it looked, because the biker jolted backward, losing his grip on Irina’s bag.

  Her rescuer, the woman who’d called out to warn her before, pirouetted unsteadily as the weight of her messenger bag spun her around. Irina grabbed her own bag with both hands and froze.

  Her body was screaming at her to run, but her heart told her she couldn’t leave the other woman alone. Not after she’d come to her help. And if this guy had been willing to run her down, what might he do to her?

  She couldn’t leave, but what could she do?

  The other woman regained her balance and squared up against the biker, readying her bag for another swing. Irina’s heart was beating so hard, she felt like she was about to choke.

  “What’s going on?” another voice called from farther down the street. Even with her eyes fixed on her attacker, Irina could tell that the sidewalk was beginning to fill with interested onlookers.

  The biker leapt into movement, and for a moment Irina was terrified he was about to circle back and run her down. Instead, he swung the motorcycle around and roared off down the street.

  Irina sagged with relief.

  “Phew! What the hell was that about?” Irina’s rescuer slung her bag back over her shoulder and dusted herself down. She looked across at Irina, frowning. “Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  Irina took a deep breath and rubbed her neck. Her feet still felt rooted to the ground. If the guy had sped toward her instead of racing away, would she even have been able to move in time?

  She looked down, taking stock and giving herself a moment to pull herself together. The top of her bag was open, but she didn’t think anything had been taken. One of her high heels had fallen out, but her wallet was still there, and her phone was still in her hand.

  “Uh, I’m fine, I think.” Ow, she added silently as she dropped her phone into its pocket in her handbag. She had been holding onto it so tightly, its edges left little grooves in her palm.

  “You sure?” The woman flexed her arm and winced. “I think my chiropractor is going to have a thing or two to say about my swinging technique.” She patted Irina reassuringly on the arm, and then grimaced and stretched her shoulder again. “Well, I’m glad I was here, anyway. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Irina repeated quietly and shivered. It had happened so fast—the whole thing couldn’t have taken more than a minute. “Just unlucky, I guess.”

  Irina bent down to retrieve her lost shoe. Thank God I was wearing my work pumps instead of my stilettos, she thought. I’d have two broken ankles by now for sure.

  “Everything okay here?”

  The crowd that had gathered during the confrontation was drawing closer. Irina closed her handbag and adjusted the strap over her shoulder. Now that the biker was gone, and nothing had happened, she felt more self-conscious than afraid.

  “Thanks for—you know, going after that guy,” she said awkwardly. “I—”

  “Dr. Hope!” someone called out, and the woman’s head snapped around. She waved at the newcomer and gave Irina an apologetic grin.

  “Sorry—gotta run.”

  “I thought that was you!” A middle-aged woman with her arm in a cast came up and gave the woman—Dr. Hope—a one-armed hug. “I was just telling Danny, I said, that’ll be the doctor…”

  Irina let the crowd swallow her. Her rescuer was clearly well-known in the neighborhood, whatever neighborhood this was. A ten-year-old boy ran up and started re-enacting the confrontation with added Biff! and Pow! special effects, and it wasn’t hard for Irina to slip unnoticed out the back of the crowd.

  ***

  The apartment door swung open just as Irina reached for the handle. Clare stood with her arms folded on the other side, her nose held as high in the air as she could manage.

  “And just where have you been, young lady?” she demanded, fixing Irina with a stern glare. The effect was undermined by her fluffy Hello Kitty dressing gown and the fact that her face fell as soon as she took in Irina’s appearance. “Shit—are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Irina insisted.

  “You look as though you saw a ghost,” Clare exclaimed. “Are you feeling okay?” She paused. “How was your date?”

  Irina closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. “Amazing. Wonderful. And then some asshole tried to sideswipe me and grab my purse when I was on my way back here…”

  She broke off and let her head thud back onto the wall. “Dammit, he better not have bruised my neck.”

&
nbsp; Clare snorted. “Are we talking about Grant Diaz here, or…?”

  “The mugger. Gross, Clare,” Irina grumbled. She ducked around Clare and tossed her handbag through the open door into her bedroom. “Can I borrow your laptop? I need to check my schedule for next week, and my phone’s had it.”

  “Go for it. Kitchen bench.” Clare followed her into the “kitchen,” which was really just the corner of their living area. The bench doubled as a dining table and study desk, when it wasn’t home to a week’s worth of takeout boxes.

  Irina nudged a pizza box aside and found Clare’s laptop. She nodded at the box as she waited for the computer to boot up. “Celebration pizza or misery pizza?”

  “Celebration!” replied Clare chirpily. “The exhibition was fantastic, you’ll never believe—aha, no changing the subject.” She stood at the end of the bench, elbows on the countertop and chin in her hands. “Talk.”

  “Mugger or date?”

  Clare rolled her eyes. “Let’s say… ten seconds on the mugger, because I’m a lovely person and care about your safety, and then the rest of the day on the date. Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

  “Your priorities never fail to amaze me, Clare.”

  “Ten seconds!”

  Irina gave Clare a brief, slightly edited version of her encounter with the crazy biker. She made it sound like the guy had just clipped past her, not rammed her head-on. After all, it wasn’t like she was hurt or anything. She didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

  While she talked, she found the link for her work app and tapped in her login details. As always, she bit back a grumble of complaint as she waited for her account to load.

  Irina had worked part-time for the same hospitality agency while she was studying before she had to go back home. Back then, the system had been simple: turn up at Ass O’Clock on Monday morning, squint at the schedule posted on the staff-room door, and copy down your shifts for the week.

  By the time she came back to the city, the boss had gotten technological. And, technically, Irina supposed that the online scheduling system was a lot superior to the old bit-of-paper-on-the-door deal.