Fame Read online

  Chapter Five

  Meetings were cancelled, and the afternoon was spent in discussions about the new venue. Located down the street from Pride’s Las Vegas Casino, the warehouse-style building had once housed a large dance club. It later became a strip joint, which was almost a deal-breaker for Ariela.

  “I’d like to see the site before we sign anywhere,” Ariela said.

  “We can go there now,” Lane said.

  “No.” Ariela balked at the thought. At the height of her breeding season, the last thing she wanted to do was mate in a parking lot or against some concrete wall while others stood by and waited. Sure, sometimes those carnal acts appealed to her, but not today.

  Her eyes met Lane’s, and she noticed an image in the center of his pupils. Two bodies slammed against one another in a ravenous fuck so lifelike, so real, she gasped. She immediately realized who was captured in that carnal illustration.

  Lane’s devious smiled instantly became quite charming. He leaned back and crossed his thick arms over his chest, drawing her curious nature out all the more.

  He could undoubtedly see their future. How could he sit there and stare at her as if she were a mere stranger when he’d already seen so much of the lives they’d soon share together?

  “We’ll go whenever you’d like to go, Ariela,” Lane said. His tone was noncommittal, but something about his presence made her take stock in that promise. She believed him, and in that moment, she believed he alone had the power to make all her dreams come true.

  Her nipples tingled. Her pussy clenched. Appalled that she would have such a reaction to a man who was no more than a stranger, she squeezed her legs together, hoping Lane didn’t realize he had such a profound sexual effect on her.

  “I’ll let the guys finish here. I’ll be in touch,” she said, quickly rising from her chair. The men rose, too, in a collective gentlemen’s gesture.

  Lane said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like a word with Ariela.”

  Jagger cleared his throat and stood a little taller. “Whatever you have to say to Ariela can be said here in front of us.”

  “I don’t think so.” Lane opened the door for Ariela. “Shall we?”

  Jagger started to follow them, but Leon threw his arm against Jagger’s gut, pushing the weight of his limb against his middle. “We have a few things to go over. Let him walk her to the suite. No harm will come to her.”

  Moments later, they vacated Jagger’s office. Lane smirked, acting as if he’d just won a significant side bet in a major sporting event. “Are you staying at the hotel?”

  “On occasion, we stay in one of the suites.”

  “During your season?” he asked as they entered the elevator together.

  “That’s really none of your business,” Ariela said, punching the PH button. She wondered then, was she some sort of pawn? Was Lane using her to further his position in the business world? What did he hope to gain by having time alone with her?

  If he knew about the lioness-shifter’s breeding bouts, then surely he knew it was very rare for a lioness to breed without her mates nearby. It was also unacceptable and often dangerous for the lion-shifter daring to cross such forbidden boundaries.

  Seconds later, they glided upward. Light dings resounded as they passed one floor and then another. Somewhere between the fourteenth and fifteenth floors, Lane said, “I’m surprised Jagger’s office isn’t on the top floor.”

  “As you saw for yourself, the view from the tenth isn’t anything to balk at.”

  “I’m not balking, Ariela,” he said, obvious in his outward appraisal of her body. His gaze dipped to her breasts and held for a moment at her cleavage before he cocked his head to the side and checked out her ass. “No ma’am. I am not shying away from the scenery here at Pride’s Casino. That’s for damn sure.”

  Tremors of excitement left her with goosebumps on her arms. The guttural way in which Lane spoke to her was enough to make her curious, and when Ariela was curious, she typically pried around for information until she found out whatever it was she wanted to know. At the moment, she longed to touch Lane, to watch and see if her fingertips raking across his skin left him visibly aroused. If they were destined to be mates and lovers, could she shatter his control, destroy that self-preservation with one simple touch?

  Shaking off the thought and ignoring the satisfied smile on Lane’s face, Ariela stepped off the elevator. She swiped her keycard down the side of a panel and turned to thank him. “We’ve had an interesting afternoon. Thank you for seeing me to my room. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

  “There are a few other details I’d like to discuss,” Lane said, holding out his arm when she opened the door. “May I?”

  Ariela’s body went rigid. Something in the pit of her gut told her to send him away, to make him go, because it wasn’t time to consummate their relationship, but there was also that nagging tug, and that desire to be near another one of her mates drove her to say, “Of course you can.” She watched as he walked into the center of their grand foyer. “You can do whatever you want.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Lane wheeled around and faced her.

  She jumped back, realizing what she’d said and how passionately she’d expressed herself.

  Before she could answer, Lane’s high cheeks flexed and those full lips turned up in a smile. “I like the sound of that invitation, Ariela.” He wagged his forefinger in the air. “You’d better be careful with that one. I might just take you up on your offer. It has been said time heals all wounds and in my case, time is also like the fountain of youth.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He moistened his lips and those barely visible wrinkles crinkled around his dark, nearly black, eyes. “We shifters have many secrets, and some of us have more than others.”

  Her body defied her then. This time, her physical reactions were overbearing, demanding. Her pussy lips throbbed. Her channel ached, practically quivered for a first stroke. Her breasts were painfully full. Arousal made every inch of her flesh all the more sensitive. As she walked across the foyer, she was all too aware of her lace panties rubbing against her clit, stroking her opening with temptation, provoked need.

  “Can I fix you a drink?”

  Can I fuck you?

  “Sure,” Lane replied, shrugging off his jacket and placing it on the edge of the sofa. “Scotch on the rocks.”

  Ariela felt as if she were serving one of her father’s friends, or one of those investment bankers who often came to visit, pitching their lines of bullshit in hopes of snatching their business, and then later calling in loans so they could take their property.

  Bankers had always amused her. They didn’t gamble at the casino, but they always wanted a piece of its action.

  Her hand locked around a crystal tumbler as soon as her mind wrapped around the thought…and expanded upon it.

  Lane’s only interest in her was a vested business play. Lane Livingston wasn’t the kind of man who strolled into Pride’s Casino without an appointment, without all the fanfare and glory of arranging a full-fledged meeting.

  The distinguished businessman had earned his notoriety among the old-timers as being a shark. In a city known for catering to the whales, the fellows who flew in on private jets, gambled like crazy and flew out after they’d turned a few million or more, Lane stood out as the guy to call in to troubleshoot situations even the city’s shrewdest businessmen viewed as unfixable.

  Lane was feared and considered one of the most powerful players in Las Vegas, maybe even the world. This was a fact she’d only just discovered, because after she’d met him in the desert a few months ago, she’d wanted to know more. She’d hired a team of private investigators, and they’d all turned up with the same information.

  Mr. Lane Livingston was old money, with power and influence. There were only two things he didn’t have—fame and family. The first was apparently debatable, given his legendary status as a Vegas sh
ark. The second appeared to be something he didn’t desire. In the pride’s language, he was a nomad. Yet he didn’t seem like a nomad. He seemed content with his life, potentially stronger because of the choices he’d made. Nomads were often viewed as vulnerable. Lane stood as a man with extraordinary strength, a fellow who didn’t mind to take what he wanted because he already assumed it belonged to him.

  Ariela was even more turned on than before. Was the biggest player of all trying to run his game on them, now? What was his motive?

  His eyes sparkled like gorgeous gems. The lines encasing them narrowed and his lips bowed in a seductive smile. Age, as much as the sun, left time’s lines scattered in strategic places on his face, but his leathery skin wasn’t necessarily a turn-off. If anything, it was a constant reminder of the powerful shifter who had history on his side. He’d lived long enough to learn valuable lessons.

  She shivered in delight as she imagined herself in bed—literally and figuratively—with such a legendary male.

  If he’d lived long enough to learn those lessons, she couldn’t help but wonder. Had he learned from other women? What kind of education had he received from the opposite sex?

  A sharp pang of jealousy, true envy, made her double over in pain. The thought of this man in bed with another woman greatly disturbed her, yet as she dropped one cube of ice into the glass and then another, she realized the obvious—she didn’t have that right. She didn’t even have the right to wonder about his affairs, the women who had changed or shaped him.

  Digging around in the ice bucket, she used the tongs to grab another cube. She was only vaguely aware of the chunks falling against the glass.

  Lifting the decanter, she let her mind trail further. Had fate chosen this man for them, or had he asked fate for her favor and chosen them? In recent years, casinos had faced devastating financial hardships, but she and Jagger had somehow managed to keep their businesses profitable. They didn’t turn to investment bankers to pay their bills or to fund their expansions. Had their business savvy earned them Lane Livingston’s interest?

  “You missed the glass,” Lane said.

  His voice jolted her to attention. She shook off her thoughts watching as he knelt to the carpet and plucked the cube from the floor. She stilled as he straightened his back again. Unable to tear her gaze away from his, she held her breath in anticipation, already knowing, truly understanding, what he planned to do with the ice in his hand.

  Lane reached around her as if he meant to toss the cube in the small sink, but then deliberately changed his course of action.

  Cupping his hand, he cradled the large cube as if he were holding fine china. Inching closer, he whispered at her ear, “This is exciting isn’t it?”

  She whimpered. She wasn’t able to answer him, but that fact alone likely provided the only reply he needed.

  He rubbed his knuckles across her breast, slowly raking his fingers between her mounds as the moisture from the ice coated his fingers. He used his free hand to brush her hair out of the way. Lowering his lips to her nape, he whispered, “Can you already imagine us together, Ariela?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I…I don’t think about it.”

  A dry, raspy chuckle rang out. “You don’t think about it, huh?” He pushed his hand underneath her blouse. Rubbing the outline of her bra, he stroked the slight slope of her breast, deliberately taunting her as the ice melted in his hand.

  “No,” she breathed, afraid to consider their future then or why Lane had insisted upon walking her to her room, or why Leon stopped Jagger when he tried to intervene.

  No, she wouldn’t let herself ponder those things or the way Lane so easily manipulated her lust, controlled it like the speed of a faulty timer. He stalled above her nipple, rubbing the back of his hand across her breast until the cold moisture finally dripped down the cup of her bra, seeping into her skin and making her jerk with the tantalizing sensations.

  One drop of water drifted over her nipple and then another. She shivered again and her bottom bumped against the defined outline of his rigid cock.

  “You belong to me, Ariela,” Lane rasped at her ear. “You know this. You understand how powerful our connection is.”

  She wanted to shake her head, deny the attraction and how sexy he made her feel when he touched her. Did he realize he’d ignited a new passion inside her? Did he already know his touch left her burning, aching for only him?

  As if the truth slapped her with the kind of reality she feared she didn’t have the strength to face, she shuddered, wishing then he would place some space between them but realizing she certainly didn’t have the will to move away first.

  He lowered his head to hers and stared into the mirrored wall. Standing cheek to cheek, he whispered, “Look, Ariela. Watch.”

  This time, his fingers dipped inside her bra. He rubbed what was left of the ice cube over her extended nipple. Her body came alive under his touch. Her nipple ached with a pain she’d never known. Her pussy quivered. She clenched around the emptiness and cried out, clamping down on her lip immediately as if to silence the hateful beast that had become temptation as much as resolution.

  A subtle moan fell from her lips. She shrugged her shoulder and peered over it, biting down on her forefinger in an effort to keep from shouting out her need, every last one of her desires.

  She had just started to close her eyes when Lane shifted his weight behind her. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look in the mirror once again. His eyes were still, focused. He tightened his grip on her chin and pinched her nipple.

  “There we go,” he rasped, his pupils dilated, showcasing his male lust. Perhaps, like her, Lane realized it was a waste of time to try and conceal his need. Maybe he didn’t want to bury what he felt, what he needed from her, what he already knew they were destined to provide one another.

  Comfort. Admiration. Love.

  Oh, God.

  He slipped his fingers around her nipple again, teasing her. “What would you do to have me, Ariela?”

  Her head bobbed a little to the side but he forced her chin steady again. He wouldn’t let her hide from him. He wouldn’t let her change the course they were already on, already treading down like two lovers running toward the wild.

  Ariela longed to grab hold of that sacred beginning. She wanted to act like paired fated lovers with the glorified right to explore one another, love and frolic in the open lands, lands even a man like Lane Livingston couldn’t enjoy without a partner, without her!

  Grabbing onto the edge of the counter, she defiantly lifted her head, realizing now that she wanted Lane to finish her, to complete her. Still, she was desperate to hold onto something real, too, something to remind her of the love she shared with Jagger, the way they loved one another without conditions and rules. She squeezed her eyes shut and cursed that lie.

  She and Jagger had a mutual understanding. He permitted the placement of her mates. He allowed for it because he knew to fight it was a senseless cause, but yet he had plainly stated his feelings about Lane Livingston after he’d gone to visit him in the desert.

  He didn’t want Lane to join with her. He would fight him every step of the way.

  Ariela muttered, “But he didn’t fight.”

  “No, Ariela,” Lane said, as if he translated with ease. “He didn’t fight because he knew he couldn’t win the battle. He wouldn’t win the war.”

  “This isn’t right.”

  “Your definition of right would vary from mine and mine would certainly differ from Jagger’s or even Leon’s.” He fingered the clasp of her bra. “What feels right, Ariela?”

  She rubbed her lips together, watching his arm disappear inside her shirt as he heightened her arousal, deliberately pushed to see if he could find those boundaries, the barriers he seemingly expected her to place.

  Rubbing the full peaks of her breasts, he whispered. “This feels right to me.” He snapped the clasp between his fingers and freed her b
reasts.

  At the same time, a breeze from the overhead vents shot into the room and provided a cool stream of air. She rubbed against him as shivers ran up and down her body. His fingers tightened around her nipple. He pulled at the throbbing point, crushing the ice remains against the underside of her breast before dragging the miniscule chips ever-so-slowly over the now-numb peaks.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered. Her lips were parched. Even though the occurrence brought about a mouthwatering experience, the fact that her actions might hurt those she loved most left her gasping for strength, drawing on whatever limited willpower she possessed in hopes of maintaining some element of self-control.

  A slow smile crept across his lips. He dropped his arm and took a deep breath, one seemingly weighted down by troubles she couldn’t understand or perhaps they were troubles she’d caused him, issues he now had to face because of their destined association.

  Grabbing his drink from the bar, he walked to the sofa and sat down, splaying his legs as if he wanted to draw her attention to the large bulge centered in his slacks. “I noticed you dropped a cube of ice, Ariela. It would’ve been a shame to let opportunity melt away before I demonstrated what I plan to do to you when the time is right.”

  “And what is that exactly, Mr. Livingston?” She must’ve been crazy to ask. Still, she wanted to hear him tell her. She needed to know what he held in store.

  “I will not only own your body, Ariela, but I will live in your heart and soul. You already feel our connection, too. Perhaps you have already accepted me as your true mate—”

  “Jagger is my true mate,” she snapped, realizing how desperate she sounded as she interrupted him. And even then as she spoke the words, something struck her as painfully true. Jagger’s touch, while familiar, hadn’t spun the kind of carnal desperation she had instantly felt with Lane. Pained by that realization, she tried to make excuses for herself in her head. Failing miserably, she quickly added, “Jagger and I belong together. We’ve been lifelong mates, brought together at a young age and destined to live together until death parts us.” She pointed at the third finger on her left hand. “We’re married, you see.”