The Leopard King Read online

  Proud. Imperious. Impassioned.

  Until three years ago, those words applied to Dominic Asher, the leader of Ash Valley. His family has ruled the feline branch of the Animari for hundreds of years, guiding the pride through perilous times. Unspeakable loss drove him into seclusion, a feral beast nobody can tame. Now he’s wrecked, a leopard king in exile, and he wants nothing more than to die.

  Fierce. Loyal. Determined.

  Fortunately for Dom, those words still apply to Pru Bristow, his dead mate’s best friend. She’s had her heart broken too, but she never quits. With the conclave approaching, alliances with the Pine Ridge pack and Burnt Amber clans on the verge of collapse, she’s prepared to do whatever it takes to drag their leader back, before his second can start a war.

  At best theirs seems like a desperate alliance, but when their mate bond turns hot and fierce, there’s no end to the questions and the doubts. Neither of them expects to fall in love. But sometimes people don’t know what they’re looking for until they find it.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Author’s Note

  THE LEOPARD KING

  Ann Aguirre

  For Karen, Fedora, and Pam.

  Your passion fuels my courage.

  Thank you, always.

  Copyright Information

  THE LEOPARD KING

  Copyright © 2016 by Ann Aguirre

  EPUB Edition

  Edited by Sasha Knight

  Cover art by Kanaxa

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form whatsoever, without written permission from the author except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles.

  Acknowledgments

  First of all, thanks to Bree Bridges for giving me the courage to try. She held my hand from the first scary steps all the way to the end, and now I’m exhilarated by the possibilities. There has always been such joy in writing, and romance is my first love, so I’m thrilled to be back.

  Thanks to Sasha Knight, my editor. She polished my prose and asked the hard questions, so readers could enjoy the fruits of our labors. I also need to thank Karen Alderman for devoting so much time, love, and expertise to this project. Thanks to the phenomenal designer Kanaxa, who knew what I wanted before I asked for it. She did a splendid job of bringing my ideal to life.

  In general, I couldn’t write or work without support from my friends and colleagues, who inspire me, fill me with warmth and admiration, and push me to aim higher. In particular, thanks to Donna J. Herren, Lauren Dane, Megan Hart, HelenKay Dimon, Tessa Dare, Courtney Milan, and Yasmine Galenorn for the friendship and sisterhood. I mentioned Fedora Chen and Pamela Webb-Elliot in the dedication, but they deserve another mention here. My beta readers excavate time in their busy schedules to read my chapters, and for that I couldn’t be more grateful. They also brainstorm with me, cheer me on, and fuel my writing engine with their love of romance.

  For my family, I have only boundless gratitude. My husband and children never question that important work is, in fact, occurring when I’m in my pajamas on the porch swing. Thank you for your patience and understanding and for accepting that I cook more between deadlines.

  Readers, I appreciate you saving a space for me by the fire. I have wandered through other genres and come home weary, ready to write about love and sex and happy endings. I hope you enjoy the Ars Numina series as much as I do.

  Thanks for supporting me, and as always, read on.

  1.

  This lonely mountain was where the leopard king had come to die.

  The house built atop the desolate aerie might as well be a fortress, as the only land approach came by way of the steep, foreboding steps carved into the cliff, worn smooth by decades of wind and rain, green with moss. Overhead a leaden sky threatened to dump a deluge on her, and Pru shivered. It might even be cold enough for sleet or snow.

  Hunching deeper into her down jacket, she started the long climb. The Ash Valley pride hadn’t seen their reclusive leader in almost three years. When he delegated day-to-day affairs to his second, Slay, they’d all expected Dominic to grieve and return. So no one had protested when he packed his things and left his quarters at the hold, eschewing companionship in favor of the solitude at the retreat ancient seers had used for meditation.

  But true to his nickname, Slay didn’t excel at diplomacy, and with the conclave approaching, they couldn’t afford to have him in charge of peace talks with the Golgoth and the Eldritch. There was resentment over the way the territories had been divided, and border skirmishes since then had claimed lives on all sides. Delegates from the Pine Ridge pack and the Burnt Amber clan were already waiting to discuss strategy, concerned that the Animari would lose ground in the coming negotiations. So far, Ash Valley had avoided any admission of how completely Dominic had withdrawn, but she only had a few days, a week at most, to accomplish the impossible—to bring him home.

  Pru understood why he’d left. The hold echoed with emptiness for her too. Dalena had been her best friend, and the silence after her death sometimes seemed unbearable. She hadn’t wanted this mission, either. In fact, she’d argued with Slay when he ordered her to go.

  “Why does it have to be me?”

  “You know why.”

  Then Slay had given her a look that made Pru wish she hadn’t asked. Heat washed her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze. Two reasons, then. As Dalena’s closest friend, she had the best chance of reaching Dominic, and if she couldn’t, if he’d gone feral, well… As a Latent—one who’d never mastered the art of changing forms—she was also the most expendable. So if she pushed their grief-maddened leader too far, Ash Valley could afford to lose her.

  Still, she’d tried to protest. “You should go. Dominic trusts you, or he wouldn’t have made you second.”

  “If I go, we’ll fight. And we both know how that ends. I don’t want to kill my best friend. I want to lead Ash Valley even less. Please, Pru. Do this for me?”

  Slay had known she couldn’t resist a pleading look, not that he deployed it often. He also knew she was weak where he was concerned, a truth she could neither change, nor deny. As his golden gaze softened, she remembered how her parents had attempted to match them and he passed. She couldn’t face Slay for a month afterward, and he was the first of four rejections. After that, Pru had begged her parents to stop
trying. Her heart pinched.

  Of all potential partners, he was the only one whose answer had truly mattered. It was also why she’d reluctantly agreed to this fool’s errand—because she’d do anything for Slay. So she’d sighed.

  “Fine. I’ll go.”

  Slay had smiled. “It’s been more than long enough. Cats don’t mate for life, so he needs to stop wallowing. Bring Dom home, all right?”

  Easier said than done.

  Pru’s thighs burned as she approached the summit. The air was thin and crisp. A panoramic view offered some compensation as she gasped for breath, then she turned to study the house. Built of ancient stones, it looked about as inviting as the stairs leading up to it. There were no lights on, no signs of life within. Nobody had seen Dominic in six months, the last time Slay had come to report, though he sent guards to stock the fridge regularly. Setting her shoulders, Pru hurried toward the heavy front door. There was an actual brass knocker, so she slammed it repeatedly against the wood.

  No response.

  She hadn’t expected it to be that easy. The door was locked, naturally, but circling revealed two more entrances. They held firm too. Someone else could have kicked down the door, but she had only human strength, a result of Latent status. The first shift enhanced speed, strength, and agility, but she’d never joined that elite group. She’d nearly killed herself more than once, trying to force the change.

  The stinging cold reminded Pru of the slap Dalena had delivered, knocking the razor out of her hand. Metallic clink as the blade tumbled across the bathroom floor—Dalena was strong enough to leave Pru’s head ringing. Firm fingers settled on her shoulders, shaking her.

  “You may not care about your life, but I do. Understand? I won’t let you kill yourself. You’re too precious. Please, please stop this. Shifting doesn’t matter. You do.”

  Tears burned in contrast with the bitter wind as Pru wrapped her arms about herself, just as Dalena had done, rocking her on the bathroom floor. She’d cried a lifetime of tears into her friend’s shoulder, letting go of an impossible dream. After that, she loathed her Latent status but she didn’t carve any fresh scars. Dalena saved me. I wish I could’ve done the same for her.

  Now she accepted her limitations, but she was still shivering in the cold when she should be inside, starting her well-rehearsed speech. She banged on all the doors for an hour. By this time, the threatened rain arrived, only it came in a mixture of water and ice, lashing at her like stinging needles.

  Desperate measures it is.

  Pru grabbed a stone from the rock and topiary garden and chucked it through the nearest window. She expected an alarm to sound, but after the shattering glass, there was only silence. Dread rose in her like floodwater as she reached over the jagged shards and unlocked the frame; she lifted it easily and scrambled over the sill onto the counter, toppling the stacks of dirty dishes piled everywhere. You could tell a lot about a person from their kitchen, and it looked like Dominic was in disarray that bordered on complete destruction.

  Other people expected him to be recovered by now, but she understood how much he’d loved Dalena. Not every Animari was lucky enough to find their fated mate, but Dominic and Dalena’s magnetism had been instantaneous. Though Dom had gone to her parents for permission, if they had objected, Pru had no doubt he would have carried Dalena off and started his own pride. From the moment their eyes met, their love was magical… legendary, even. Dominic and Dalena weren’t just perfectly matched; they were also the ideal leaders of the Ash Valley pride.

  And then everything ended.

  The kitchen reeked of rotting food. She stepped over the glass fragments and picked a careful path into the next room. Overturned furniture, more broken glass, and claw marks made the place look as if a fight had gone down, but she didn’t smell blood. Some of the damage was obviously days or weeks old with dust settled on the wreckage. Her pulse kicked up a notch when she glimpsed a flicker of movement farther into the gloom.

  She steeled herself. “Dominic…?”

  At first, he didn’t answer, but she recognized the sound of him prowling closer. Once she’d spent almost as much time with him as Dalena. Pru’s first glimpse of the leopard king in exile stole her breath. He’d always been lean, but now he’d dwindled to gaunt with pain lines carved into a face that looked more like granite than flesh. Sunken eyes gleamed with a febrile light, glinting citrine from beneath heavy brows. At his best, Pru wouldn’t have called Dominic Asher handsome, but he’d radiated a certain calm strength, and his smile could quicken anybody’s pulse. Now, he was all angles and anguish. Not long ago, he must’ve shaved his head, resulting in ebony and silver bristles. Her throat closed at his aura of pure intimidation.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  At first, Dom thought he was hallucinating.

  As much as he’d been drinking and as little as he’d eaten in the last five days, it wouldn’t surprise him. Sometimes, if he fasted and downed enough liquor, Dalena came to him. Not in her last moments with blood trickling from her mouth, but the smiling Dalena with twilight eyes and hair like a swathe of midnight. He wished he had the courage to just… let go and follow her. For the last three years, he’d been working up to it. The real world seemed ephemeral now, so he’d been about to shift for the last time and let himself go feral.

  On the cusp of his final farewell, Pru Bristow had the nerve to break into his sanctuary, standing before him like she had every right. It summoned such a wash of rage that he took a step back as his hands curled into fists. It’s not her fault. Dial it down. Controlling such raw fury came at a cost, however. He swayed a little and caught himself on the wall. Inwardly he cursed as Pru rushed to his side, offering her shoulder.

  Dom shook her off with a snarl. “You didn’t answer me.”

  She stumbled a bit, a round little woman made more so by the puffy jacket she wore. Dom probably should care that her lips held a blue tinge and that her red-brown hair had bits of melting ice in it. He didn’t. As he watched, she shrugged out of her coat and hung it on a hook near the front door. Her heavy boots were sodden too, so she stripped out of them. Beneath, she wore striped socks with bright colors on each separate toe. Dom twitched and fought the urge to eject her forcibly. But he hadn’t fallen so far that he’d treat a pride mate that way.

  Not yet.

  Finally, she replied, “Beren from Burnt Amber is waiting for you at the hold, and we had word from Pine Ridge just before I left. Raff will have arrived by now.”

  “So?” He bit off the question as if he didn’t know damn well what she was driving at.

  Her freckled throat worked visibly before she managed to say, “Slay has carried on without you for as long as he could. It’s time to take care of business.”

  “You’re wasting your time. Ash Valley should’ve ousted me officially two years ago, so let’s cut to the chase. What will it take to make you give up and tell Slay to accept his role as pride leader?”

  Pru lifted her chin slightly. “I can’t go back without you.”

  “Then I suggest you shovel out the guestroom. And don’t expect me to take care of you.”

  Dom slammed out of the den, but his keen hearing still picked up her soft response. “Why would I? When you can’t even look after yourself.”

  Stinging hard from sympathy that felt so much like pity, he downed the remainder of the fifth he’d been nursing, but due to an accelerated metabolism, he had to drink so much to feel it, that he needed his own still. Dom hurled the bottle at the wall and took faint satisfaction in the glass pile he had going. If Dalena knew how he was treating the woman who had been like a sister to her, she’d be beyond furious.

  And that’s the problem. She’s not here.

  Yet seeing Pru after so long brought back a rush of good memories. He couldn’t count the nights the four of them had spent laughing until the sun came up. Dalena had been protective of Pru, conscious that she couldn’t accompany everyone else on regular hunts.
No, Pru was left behind at the hold with the handful of other Latents, ostensibly holding down the fort, but he’d always secretly pitied her yearning eyes as she watched the rest of the pride shift and run, a sweet freedom she could never experience. Now that she felt sorry for him, it burned like a bitch, and he wanted to tear this place apart with his bare hands. The only reason he’d lasted this long without Dalena was the faint hope that he might someday take revenge on the unidentified devil who’d executed her in cold blood. His wife had died trying to give him a clue, and like a useless bastard, he’d only held her in stunned, uncomprehending silence.

  As the days after her murder turned into weeks, the trail went cold and he lost hope. He couldn’t stay at the hold without her, and he didn’t have the fortitude to die. Welcome to purgatory. At first, visitors from Ash Valley came and went, most bearing gifts or sympathetic words. In time that number dwindled to an occasional call from Slay, allegedly looping him in, but Dom knew his friend had really been checking to see if he was still alive.

  And now he’s sent Pru. Fucking prick.

  Pacing—with a door between them—Dom tried to ignore her, but she didn’t make it easy. He picked up the sound of her cleaning: first the scritch-scritch of the broom against the tiles of the kitchen floor, then the off-and-on hiss of the water as she washed dishes. The smell of cleaning products wafted through the rooms between them, prickling his nose. This place hadn’t been lemon-fresh in years, and he couldn’t just hide while she brushed away the cobwebs he’d been cultivating. While he couldn’t throw her into the icy rain, he could make her choose to go.

  But it took another bottle to give him the resolve to face her again. As he got a decent buzz on, she tidied his kitchen, put away all the dishes, and cleaned the floor. It smelled so much better that he stopped to breathe in the freshness. Dom hadn’t even known there was an apron anywhere in the retreat, but she had one, a yellow thing with ruffles that made her look like a half-drowned buttercup.