CHAPTER ONE

“Ladies and gentlemen, in preparation for landing, please turn off and stow your portable electronic devices at this time,” the flight attendant’s pleasant voice echoed over the intercom.

Marc DaVaca tipped the lid closed on his laptop. He felt like he was jumping out of his skin, and he still had over four hundred emails in his inbox that he hadn’t been able to look at, despite the almost-five-hour flight. No, it was partly because he was feeling a little claustrophobic. Air travel wasn’t his preferred method of travel, but he felt the need to get to New York as quickly as possible as soon as he’d found out that was where Kelly had gone.

His life had been upended in a matter of less than a week.

Four days ago, he’d thought that his life was settled, and he was content. He’d successfully transitioned into the alpha role of the DeVaca clan two years ago. Things were going well with all of the clan’s businesses, both those that were legal and illegal. He had a good life with his clan in Las Vegas. They were respected and feared, which was just the way that he liked it. But then a chance encounter with a mysterious beauty had changed everything literally overnight.

Someone touched his arm. He turned to the woman sitting next to him in the first-class seat. She threw him a professional “come hither” kind of look that came to him as a rather lecherous smile. Her eyes gleamed with pure lust. She was probably close to thirty, an attractive brunette with impeccable makeup and selfie-ready, bleached white teeth. Judging from the designer skirt suit that wrapped her lithe body, she could be a young executive on Wall Street or some corporate fat cat’s trophy wife.

“We’re almost there. I thought perhaps you’d like to get a drink in the city later?” she asked in a seductive fuck-me voice.

Marc wasn’t interested in the woman next to him.

He glanced at her fingers. No wedding ring. This woman had tried to gain his attention since they boarded in Vegas. Marc simply ignored her with headphones on his ears—a universal sign of “don’t fucking bother me.” Later, he immersed himself in his work. Because they were preparing to land, he had to put his headphones away and her invitation was unavoidable. Sure, he’d had his fair share of flings over the last several years. Until he found his mate, sowing his wild oats was practically a given. The woman next to him would have done for casual, overnight company, but his mind and senses were filled with the memories of someone else now.

Kelly.

The call for her was so fucking strong. It’s as if every fiber of his being was screaming for her, it drove him crazy.

He couldn’t get her out of his mind…

He would never be at peace until he saw her again.

“Thanks, but I have some business to attend to,” he politely declined.

“Hmm? But you have to take a break eventually, yes? I know an excellent restaurant on the Upper East Side that serves fantastic sushi. Let me buy you dinner.”

“I hate fish.”

She blinked, taken aback. But she didn’t give up. “How about steak? You know New York has the famous Peter Luger Steak House?”

What a pest. This woman didn’t know when to back off. “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

The woman’s mouth turned down into a slight pout, and he wanted to roll his eyes. It aged her face by at least ten years.

“Your loss,” she said under her breath.

If it wasn’t for his innate sense of hearing, he probably wouldn’t have heard the comment at all. That was it. She was due for a lesson. Marc abandoned his laptop and turned fully toward her. She perked up. The woman provocatively pushed her chest out toward him, no doubt thinking that he was perhaps changing his mind.

“What’s your name?” Marc asked.

“Amanda.”

“Listen, Amanda,” Marc spoke quietly as he used his gift of the power of persuasion on her. The woman’s eyes quickly glazed, deeply entranced. In his jaguar clan, Marc was the only one who possessed the ability to make others do what he wanted simply by uttering some words. As the boss of the Las Vegas underworld, his gift was quintessential in dealing with disagreeable individuals. His half-brother, Reid, had the power of speed, while his cousin, Alex, had the power of healing. His second-cousin, Juan, had the invaluable knack of finding people and things. Together, the DaVaca clan ruled over Vegas from behind the scenes. “Face forward, put your hands on your lap and don’t talk to me anymore,” he ordered.

She obeyed his command instantly. If Marc ordered she should stop breathing, she’d do it in a heartbeat. But Marc had never done the extreme, even when he meted out judgment to the offenders of his domain. He preferred the old-fashioned ways—fist, baseball bat, or gun.

Marc continued, “As soon as you get off the flight, you’re going to go home, and go straight to bed. You’re not going to wake up for three days. Then, you are going to go to work without taking a shower, putting on makeup, or combing your hair. You will wear your oldest pair of sweatpants and shirt. If anyone asks why, just say you’re tired of all the maintenance.”

The woman blinked at the end of his sentence, and kept gazing blankly at the headrest in front of her.

Marc knew he shouldn’t use his powers of persuasion for something so petty, but he had been crammed up in this tiny tin can for five hours with her overbearing and unwelcome company. The woman had been nothing if not an annoyance, like a fly that he couldn’t quite swat away. He thought taking her overt self-confidence down a notch or two would probably do her some good in the long run.

As soon as the plane’s wheels touched the tarmac, he felt the loosening of the tension inside of his chest. Marc wasn’t a comfortable flyer on the best of days, and he could feel his inner feline scratching at his subconscious: Get me out, get me out, get me out of here.

“Almost there,” he said more to the beast than to himself. Werejaguars weren’t meant to fly in the sky. He preferred travelling by ground if he could help it. His kin had roamed the arid landscape of Nevada since the Native American Paiutes inhabited the valleys of the Great Meadows. They were ground creatures through and through.

He badly needed a stiff drink, but that was going to have to wait. Now that he was in the same part of the country, he couldn’t wait to find his mate. She’d already eluded his grasp for too long.

Marc hadn’t even bothered packing a bag. He didn’t intend on staying in New York long. Just long enough to locate Kelly and convince her to move to Las Vegas with him as soon as possible. He knew that this was going to be no small task. She was human, and he would have to convince her that not only were they fated to be together, but he was going to have to let her in on the secret of what he really was: a werejaguar. That would probably prove to be even more difficult for her to swallow than the first part, though it was the easiest to prove.

Tags: Lizzie Lynn Lee Paranormal
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