“Thank you.” She clenched her fingers around the rental car’s steering wheel to still their shaking as she drove through and parked. Her claws slid forward to scrabble against the leather covering the wheel and she shivered, concentrating on retracting them so she looked like a normal human instead of what she was—a Panther, one of a rare species of shapeshifters. On so many levels, she wished she were normal. She wouldn’t be in this mess if she were. If she were human, Enrique would never have known her, noticed her, hurt her.

Terror whipped through her again, and she suppressed the awful memory. Her stomach knotted tightly. Flicking her tongue forward, she pressed it against the points of her fangs. A glance at the rearview mirror confirmed that her eyes had begun to shimmer from their normal pale brown to pure gold. Mierda.

“Get a hold of yourself, Isabel.” Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and reached for calm. Acting like an irrational freak wasn’t going to help her make her case with Solana. When she looked back in the mirror, her eyes were brown again.

Forcing herself to breathe deeply, she stepped from the car to face the mansion that housed the North American Panther Pride.

Would Solana be able to help her? They hadn’t seen each other in almost twenty years—since they were both children in the European Pride—but she was Isabel’s last chance. Her heart slammed in her chest as she approached the massive double doors. She shivered, huddling in her coat. San Francisco was so much colder than Barcelona at this time of year—but Spain was the last place she wanted to be now. One of the doors swung open just as she mounted the step to the porch.

“Ms. Rivera.” A man with long dark hair tied back stood on the threshold. Everything about him said contained. He looked her over before he stepped back to let her inside.

Though he hadn’t posed it as a question, she answered anyway as she entered the mansion. “Yes, I’m Isabel Rivera.”

“Miguel Montoya. I’m mated to Andrea Cruz.” That would be Solana’s sister-in-law, the former model turned clothing designer. He offered her a hand to shake. His palm was surprisingly strong and warm. He moved around behind her to take her coat and said nothing more.

His quiet demeanor made her jump into nervous speech, her hand smoothing down her skirt. “I’m, um, here to see Solana. I left a message for her yesterday, and she returned my call, only I was on the plane so I couldn’t pick up because I had to turn my cell phone off, but she agreed to see me. So…here I am.”

“She’s in her office with her new baby.” He motioned to a hallway off the main foyer and Isabel fell into step beside him.

She swallowed. “I don’t mean to intrude. I know she only gave birth a few weeks ago.”

“Two, actually.” He smiled, and while she sensed he was still in absolute control of the situation, she also found that steadiness comforting, and she relaxed. It didn’t hurt that he was mated and therefore would have no interest in her. He swept a hand toward a closed door. “She’s a Panther though, she healed quickly, and Antonio is having trouble keeping her resting. Any distraction is a good one.”

“That’s nice to know. Thank you.” Right. Solana was a shifter now, which was the only way she would have been able to conceive. A shapeshifter had to be born, they couldn’t be made, no matter what Hollywood said. And the only way to make a Panther child was to be mated and to breed in cat form. Solana had once been a Panther unable to change forms, a non-shifter—persona non grata in most Prides. It was the reason Solana and her father had fled the European Pride and settled in North America.

As far as Isabel knew, Antonio’s father Esteban had cast Solana out. It wasn’t until Antonio had returned to take over the Pride after his father’s death that Solana had mated with the new leader and rejoined the Panther population. There were many rumors bouncing around about how a non-shifter had become a shifter. Much had changed for the woman Isabel used to know. Now she ruled a Pride alongside Antonio Cruz. A fresh wave of panic rolled through her as she realized just how high ranking the people were that she was asking to see. Oh, God…what was she doing here? Miguel opened the door for her and ushered her in.

“Isabel.” Solana’s easy smile was so different from the cynical teenager Isabel remembered that she almost turned around and fled. Coming to another Pride for help could be the biggest mistake she’d ever made. She would have been better off on her own, on the run.

Stepping into the room, she placed her hand over her heart and bowed her head slightly, as befitted Pride leaders or their mates. “Solana. It’s good to see you again.”

“And you. Please, sit down.” A small squeak erupted from a bassinet in the corner. Solana hopped up from her desk to scoop a tiny baby from the deep fuchsia bed. She laid the infant against her shoulder, bouncing a little until the crying quieted. “Shh, Orelia. That’s a good girl.”

“I’ll have some refreshments sent in from the kitchen.” Miguel stood with the doorknob in his hand; he gave Solana a look of mock severity. “Don’t overdo it, or I’ll send Antonio in to tie you down.”

Solana smoothed a hand over the back of the dark-haired baby’s head and stuck her tongue out at Miguel. “Whatever. Go pick on your own mate.”

“I will, ma’am. Thank you for the invitation.” He winked at her and closed the door behind him.

When they’d settled into a pair of comfortable chairs by the window and Isabel had a cup of hot coffee in her hands to warm her, Solana spoke again. “What brings you here? This isn’t a social call, and if you were sanctioned to come, your Pride leader would have contacted Antonio.”

Isabel nodded and took a deep breath. There were two options open to her at this point, breezily laugh and leave as quickly as possible, or explain the entire situation. She chose the second option. What more did she have to lose? “I would prefer that the Garcia family not know where I am.”

“Why?” Solana’s gaze was open and frank. She cuddled her daughter close to her chest.

Just do it. This was the moment. Isabel’s throat closed, her mouth drying. She took a sip of coffee. “I wish to ask your mate for asylum.”

That earned a raised eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I—I escaped Barcelona against my Pride leader’s wishes.” Her hands were shaking so badly, she had to set her coffee cup down on the table.

“Tell me what happened.”

She swallowed, clenching her hands together in her lap. “Fernando Garcia’s heir—Enrique—has decided he’s my mate.”

A short laugh answered that and Solana’s eyes sparkled with irony. “No one decides who their mate is. Trust me on this.”

“Enrique is obsessed. He insists that it’s true, that I’m his. He’s convinced his father that I’m just playing at resistance to draw out our courtship, that I’m lying about him not being my mate. But it’s true, Solana.” Isabel leaned forward, needing the other woman to believe her, needing someone to believe her. “I swear to God, it’s true. I sense nothing when he’s near me…he is not my mate.”

“I see.”

Her lips shook and tears welled in her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath, struggling for control. “I can’t convince anyone in Spain that I’m not lying. He’s so…convincing. So certain. And he has so much more influence and power than I do.” It was hopeless. She sounded insane even to her own ears. Placing her hands on the arms of her chair, she pushed to her feet. “I’m so sorry for coming to you like this. This isn’t your problem. I should never—”

“I’ll do what I can to help you.”

Isabel froze, still halfway out of her chair. Her legs gave out from under her, and she collapsed back into her seat and stared at Solana. “What?”

She gave a sympathetic smile. “I’ll speak to my mate and his family. I’m certain they’ll agree with me.”

Blinking, Isabel’s mouth opened and closed. Shock rolled through her. It couldn’t be this easy. After all these months of terror in Barcelona, it couldn’t end with so simple a solution. “You are?”

“Yes.” Solana stood and set her daughter in Isabel’s arms. “Here, hold Orelia for a moment.”

Startled, she spread her fingers to support the newborn infant. She weighed next to nothing. It was odd to think that as Antonio’s firstborn, this tiny girl, would grow up to be one of the most power people in the Panther world. Isabel could only hope her parents gave her siblings one day. The Cruz family was exceptionally large—most Panther couples had one or two children, if they were lucky enough to conceive at all. Solana and Isabel were both only children, but Antonio had three siblings. What would it be like to have had someone close to her in the past year? To have family to reach out to when things had spiraled out of control? A brother or sister would have been wonderful. Isabel lifted Orelia until they were eye level with each other. She had great dark eyes, a little rosebud of a mouth, and tufts of downy black hair. Some of the tightness eased in Isabel’s chest just holding the child. “She’s so beautiful.”

“She is, isn’t she? I think she looks like Antonio.” A soft smile curved Solana’s face as she reached for the phone, punching in a series of numbers. “Send one of the twins in here, please. Thank you.”

Solana returned and gathered her daughter back up. “There’s something comforting about holding a baby, isn’t there?”

Allowing herself a grin, Isabel nodded. “Thank you. For everything.”

A short knock sounded on the door before it swung open. A large man stepped inside. He was well over six feet tall with shaggy black hair that brushed his collar, high cheekbones, midnight eyes, and a full mouth she could only describe as sensuous. He was beautiful…but far too young for her.

She offered him a quiet smile, hoping to go unnoticed. His gaze swept over her, and she had a feeling she’d been assessed in that one penetrating glance. She wondered what conclusions he’d come to about her.

Solana leaned forward. “Isabel, this is Ricardo, Antonio’s younger brother. Ric, this is Isabel Rivera—an old friend of mine who needs some help.”

She’d heard of him. Everyone in the Panther world knew of the wild Cruz twins. They liked extreme sports and had done some insane things to risk their lives in the name of fun. The things she’d heard about what they did to women at the same time was wicked even for the sensual Panther people.

They were playboys, both of them. So, no matter how attractive this man was, he was too young and immature for her. She’d had enough of men in leading Panther families…there was nothing she needed more right now than to fly under the radar.

His hand reached out to shake hers. A jolt of shock went through her when they touched, her body and instincts lighting up like a Christmas tree. Mate. This man was her mate. Her sex clenched, dampened with want. A breath caught in her throat, strangling her. Her nipples beaded tight, and heat exploded within her.

A connection snapped tight between them, and lust so deep she couldn’t contain it made her legs shake. His eyes widened and she knew he sensed it, too. His fingers tightened around hers, the rasp of calluses stroking over her palm. Her breath shuddered out.

Oh, God. This couldn’t be happening now. Not with another man in one of the ruling families—spoiled and with more power than he knew what to do with, but no real claim to any kind of responsibility. No. A thousand times no.

Her luck couldn’t possibly be this bad.

“Isabel.” The sound of his deep voice was enough to make goose bumps break over her flesh. Her name was like a lover’s promise on his lips.

She stared at those lips, wanting them on hers, his big hands on her body. All of her instincts were crying out in agreement. Yes. She wanted this man. Here. Now. It was all she could do not to grab his silk tie and use it to drag him to the floor and rip his suit off.