Feral Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Berkley Heat titles by Sheri Whitefeather

  MASQUERADE

  WEDDING FAVORS

  (with Nikita Black and Allyson James)

  PRIVATE DANCER

  DEMONIC

  FERAL

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand

  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2011 by Sheree Whitefeather.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  HEAT and the HEAT design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Heat trade paperback edition / December 2011

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Whitefeather, Sheri.

  Feral / Sheri Whitefeather.—Heat trade paperback ed.

  p. cm.

  ISBN : 978-1-101-55287-2

  1. Shapeshifting—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3623.H5798F47 2011

  813’.6—dc23

  2011028164

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Prologue

  LATE NINETEENTH CENTURY, MEXICO

  Lareina stood in the shadows, churning with hunger.

  She had been stalking him, watching him—this one called Noah. She’d heard that his people possessed some sort of special magic, or “medicine,” as they called it, and she hoped that this would keep him alive after she was finished with him. Not for his sake, but for hers.

  She moved forward, and as she did, her dress swished around her ankles. She was naked beneath the embroidered fabric, and she knew that she was beautiful. In her human form men desired her, yet none had lived to tell of her charms. She needed someone to survive, to become the creature she was.

  She headed for the cantina, where Noah was spending his evening.

  Barreling through the door, she held her head high. Women were prohibited from entering drinking establishments in this area. But Lareina didn’t care if anyone tried to stop her.

  The cantina wasn’t crowded. Only a handful of men gathered at the bar. They all turned to gape at her, including Noah. She returned his gaze. She smiled at him, too, her lips curving ever so slightly.

  The proprietor, a thick-bodied man with his stomach hanging over his pants, waved his arms at her.

  “No whores!” he said.

  She stared straight at him. “I am not a whore.”

  He looked her up and down. “You are not a lady, either.”

  That produced a round of chuckles from the patrons. Annoyed by their male foolishness, she returned her attention to Noah. He wasn’t laughing.

  The proprietor bellowed at him, “Get your slut out of here.”

  “She doesn’t belong to me,” Noah responded, without taking his gaze from Lareina’s.

  No one believed him. But why would they? Especially now that she was striding toward him.

  She stood next to him. He smelled of soap, salt, and tequila, the combination strangely stirring.

  “Who are you?” he asked, as the others watched.

  She didn’t give her identity away. Instead, she touched the side of his face. He was young and handsome, with strong features, deep-set eyes, and shiny hair falling bluntly to his shoulders.

  “Out!” the fatty man snapped again.

  She wanted to growl at the intrusion, but she couldn’t. Maybe later she would come back to kill him. Or maybe later it wouldn’t matter. Her priority was Noah.

  Since the trap had already been set, she turned and walked away, exiting the cantina. She waited a moment, her immortal heart thumping.

  Footsteps sounded behind her.

  She proceeded toward the woods, aware that Noah followed, his now-familiar scent swirling in the breeze.

  Once she was safe within the trees, she stopped and turned. He approached her, and she beckoned him, peeling off her dress and tossing it aside.

  He pulled open his shirt and undid his pants. Apparently he no longer cared who she was. He didn’t say a word and neither did she.

  Anxious, he grabbed her, and they tumbled to the ground, crushing leaves in their lustful wake.

  He freed his erect penis and plunged into her. She smiled like the seductress she was. He was deliciously carnal, but he was no match for her. She thrust back against him, creating a brutal rhythm.

  His breaths rasped against her ear, and she rolled her tongue along the cords in his neck and down the front of his chest, where his shirt spilled open.

  He groped her flanks and hammered her into the earth. Dirt stuck to her bared flesh, twigs jabbing her backside.

  She flipped their bodies until she was on top, riding him, her legs taut around him. In his excitement, he roamed his hands over her, fondling her breasts, pinching her nipples, pushing a finger into her navel.

  She kept moving, creating friction. He groaned his pleasure, and she relished the feeling.

  Eager for more, she bit at his lips, drawing specks of blood and making herself climax. Heat ripped through her veins just as Noah shuddered and his seed burst from his loins.

  Relentless, she bit at his lips again, only now her fangs pushed through her gums with knifelike precision. Her nails turned to claws, and her muscles elongated, her body getting bulkier, stronger.

  Transforming until the animal emerged.

  Moonlight shimmered through the branches, manifesting a soft light and allowing her prey the opportunity to witness what was happening to him.

  Fear flashed across his handsome face, distorting his already bloodied mouth.

  Lareina ripped into him, shredding his flesh. Ribbons of red streamed down his virile young body. He attempted to fight her off, but she intensified the attack.

  On and on it went. />
  Harder. Deeper.

  More fang. More claw. More sweet, crimson blood.

  She growled with the power that possessed her, and finally, finally, she released him.

  Barely breathing, he slipped into unconsciousness.

  She peered curiously at him, batting him one last time with her paw. She couldn’t come back and tend to his wounds. She could do nothing to help save him.

  Still in cat form, she ran through the woods toward the hills, leaving him at his own mutilated mercy.

  One

  PRESENT DAY, SANTA CLARITA VALLEY, CALIFORNIA

  The safari-themed fund-raiser presented khaki-colored tablecloths and centerpieces with flowers that grew wild on the property. Lights twinkled in the trees, and cutouts of lions, leopards, and tigers mimicked animals that lived there.

  Jenny had hosted plenty of outdoor dinners before, but tonight she was nervous.

  She stood off to the side, scanning the guests. Earlier in the day, she’d received a generous donation, and the anonymous donor had claimed that he or she would be attending the fund-raiser this evening and providing another substantial sum.

  Enough to literally save this place.

  Her heart hadn’t quit pounding since she’d gotten the news. Would the donor actually come through? God, she hoped so. Big Cat Canyon, the exotic feline rescue her grandfather had founded, was her lifeblood, and she was on the verge of losing it.

  “Any idea who it is?” Matt asked from beside her.

  She turned toward him. With his golden blond hair and noticeable blue eyes, the family resemblance was clear. He was her cousin, but he looked like he could be her brother, maybe even her twin, though they were a few years apart.

  “No,” she said. “Do you?”

  “No, but wouldn’t it be funny if it’s a guy who has designs on you?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because rich men are notorious for using money to get a woman’s attention. Stuff like that happens all the time.”

  She shot him a get-real glance. “The donation isn’t about me. It’s about the rescue.”

  “Really, cuz. I could have stumbled onto something here. The donor is being all cryptic and dramatic for a reason, and the reason could be in his pants. What if he’s setting you up to be his mistress?”

  She refused to entertain the theory. “That’s ridiculous.” Jenny was a zoologist who, most of the time, ran around in dirt-smudged jeans and no makeup. “I’m not the mistress type. I don’t wear glamorous dresses and go to parties.” These fund-raisers were as fancy as she got, and even now she was simply attired in a crisp blouse, a knee-length skirt, and flat boots, with her wavy hair clipped into a tidy ponytail.

  “So maybe he wants to spruce you up. Or maybe he’s into natural girls. Maybe he thinks a chick who rescues exotic cats is sexy. He might even be someone you already know.”

  The anonymous donation didn’t make sense coming from someone she already knew. None of her members or supporters had ever donated that kind of money before. The downturn in the economy was playing havoc with their checkbooks. Their offerings were getting smaller, not bigger.

  “Was it an online donation?” Matt asked.

  “No. It was a check. But it was issued from an accounting firm. A big fancy place in LA. I looked them up online.”

  “Whose signature was on the check?”

  “I don’t know. It wasn’t legible.”

  Once again, she scanned the guests. There were almost a hundred people there, and some had already finished their meals and wandered into the silent-auction tent, checking out the items on display.

  “Whoever the donor is, he or she is a stranger,” she said.

  “Okay, but I still think it could be a guy who has designs on you, especially with that kind of money involved. Oh, wow. What if it’s him?”

  “Him who?”

  Matt gestured with his chin. “The dude at the second table, sitting next to the woman in the bedazzled top.”

  She shifted her gaze to the aforementioned people. The man in question was as ancient as a moldy hill, and the sparkly old lady was probably his wife. “Knock it off.”

  Matt grinned at his little joke.

  She blew out a sigh, and he laughed. She wished that he would take something seriously just once. Her cousin was twenty-six going on twelve. He’d been weaned on the rescue, too, but he preferred the sand and surf. He lived in a messy apartment in Santa Barbara with a zillion other skater/surfers. He visited her and the cats only when the mood struck him.

  “Holy shit,” he said suddenly. “I found him. This time for sure.”

  She refused to follow his line of sight. “Just quit, okay? Stop it.”

  “No, really, Jenny. I was just kidding around before, but I’m serious now. Take a gander at the guy coming out of the auction tent.”

  Like an idiot, she glanced in that direction. Then she did what she’d been taught not to do. She stared.

  Moving with the rangy grace of one of her cats, he was tall and leanly muscled, with bronzed skin and long, licorice-black hair. While the wind snapped at his clothes, autumn-tinged leaves fluttered in dust-devilish circles around his feet, as if the environment, the place she called home, were attaching itself to him with magnetic force.

  “You’d better be careful,” Matt said. “A guy like that will fuck you raw.”

  Jenny gulped the night air, blasting her lungs with a much-needed breath. “No one is going to do anything to me.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, he’s coming this way, and if he’s the man with the money, you’re in trouble.”

  It was pointless to ask Matt to stick around. He was already searching for an escape route. Clearly, he didn’t want to get involved other than to dole out unsolicited advice.

  He gestured to the buffet line. “I’m going to grab some chow.”

  “Go ahead.” She wasn’t going to let him fill her head with nonsense. The hunk of burning man walking in her direction wasn’t going to save this place for a piece of tail, least of all, hers.

  She didn’t move forward. She waited for the stranger to approach her. When he did, she plastered a smile on her face and hoped it wasn’t wobbling.

  “Jenny Lincoln?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Noah. My accountant sent a check over today.”

  Oh, Lord. He was the donor, and up close he was even more handsome, with a wildly ethnic edge: deep, piercing eyes and cheekbones chiseled to perfection.

  Before she lost her manners, she extended her hand. “Thank you. It was an incredibly generous donation.”

  His hand enveloped hers, and a jolt of heat, of sheer sexual energy, nearly knocked her off of her feet. She actually planted her boots in the ground to keep herself steady.

  “There’s more where that came from,” he said.

  The heat? she wondered.

  He continued, “But I’m not going to give it to you tonight.”

  She blinked out of her haze. He was referring to the rest of the money.

  “I’d like to meet with you privately,” he said. “And I want you to give me a tour of the rescue.”

  She caught her breath. That was doable. “I’d be glad to show you around.” Why wouldn’t he want to see the facility he was sponsoring before he handed over another check? That made total sense.

  He suggested the when and where. “Tomorrow morning around nine? At the main gate?”

  “I’ll clear my schedule for you.”

  He fixed his dark gaze on her. “Good.”

  Suddenly she realized that he hadn’t told her his last name. She couldn’t Google him later and find out more about him. But she assumed he didn’t want her to have that advantage.

  He smiled, but it didn’t soften the moment. It actually made him seem more predatory.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  “Yes, I’ll see you,” she parroted.

  He didn’t move, so she waited for him to walk
away. Instinct told her not to turn her back on him.

  Instinct?

  Was she making too much of this? Feral as he seemed, he wasn’t one of her cats.

  But still, she waited.

  He finally departed, walking away with the same feline grace with which he’d appeared, light on his feet, his muscles bunching and rolling.

  As he disappeared into the crowd, she put her hand against her heart, struggling to calm the erratic beats. Matt was right. She needed to be careful of the man with the money.

  In the morning, Noah returned to Big Cat Canyon. He parked his truck, climbed out of it, and activated the car alarm. He owned other vehicles, but the four-wheel-drive Ford fit his mood and the terrain.

  He headed toward the front entrance and saw Jenny in the distance. He’d expected her to be on time. He suspected that she’d been early. He’d sensed her nervousness last night, and it was running rampant today, too.

  He closed the gap and approached the gate. They looked at each other through the bars, as if there were a cage between them.

  Noah said, “Hello.”

  She responded with a shaky, “Hi,” and unlocked the gate.

  Her wariness aroused him. Everything about her gave him a rush. He’d been preparing to take her as his lover.

  Take being the key word.

  He lowered his chin and studied her, making his perusal obvious. She was fresh-scrubbed and free of cosmetics. Tendrils of wavy blond hair fought to escape a girlish ponytail. He was dying to see her hair loose, to run his hands through it, to tug on it with masculine vigor.

  She glanced away, but he kept looking at her, enjoying the chase.

  “Tell me about this place,” he said, prodding her to engage with him. “Give me the sales pitch.”

  Her gaze found his, even if her voice wasn’t quite steady. “It’s not a sales pitch. It’s home for captive-bred animals that have nowhere else to go.”