Panther’s Claim (Bitten Point #2)

Cynthia: So I met a man.

Mom: Is he single?

A panther likes a good rub.

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Welcome to Bitten Point, where danger lurks and you might just lose your heart.

Hitting on the wrong woman finds Daryl regaining consciousness in a motel taped to a chair. Things were looking up—and not just below the belt.

A sexy, cocoa-complexioned veterinarian—with killer curves—wants answers, and he’s only too happy to give them to her, for a price, say a kiss, or something more, from those luscious lips.

The problem is Cynthia isn’t the type to fall for flirty words and panty-dropping smiles. She tempts Daryl into helping her. Teases him into acting. Claims his heart without even trying.

But that was okay because…She’s mine…and someone was trying to hurt her.

Hell no.

This kitty isn’t afraid to unleash his claws and rescue the woman he wants.

Genre: Paranormal/Shapeshifter/Interracial Romance

Bitten Point Series: 



As omens went, finding himself bound to a chair, fully clothed, didn’t bode well. Not that Daryl had anything against bondage. It should be noted that were he naked and with a lady friend, he would totally be up for it.

Alas, he wasn’t being prepped for an erotic experience by a hottie in a latex suit. So if I’m not tied up for sex, then why am I a prisoner?

There was a light somewhere behind him, probably a lamp given it didn’t come from overhead. It provided enough illumination to see his odd situation. He was seated in a straight-back, metal-framed chair with a plastic bucket to cradle his large frame. The kind of chair most often seen in cafeterias and, judging by the wobble when he swished his hips, not too solid.

That’s method number one to escape.

Two was snapping the tape that bound him to the chair. A simple twist of his large upper body should do it.

Onto the third item, what of his hands? Those were, surprisingly enough, taped in front of him.

By who, fucking amateurs? Don’t they know how dangerous I am?

Who the hell secured a deadly predator with their hands in their lap? It wasn’t conceit to think of himself as perilous, just fact.

Daryl tested the tape binding his wrists together, only a few strips thick. Too easy, yet, he didn’t break it right away. Never act too hasty, not if he wanted the element of surprise and more information. But he almost forgot his own rule when he noted the duct tape was patterned with…ducks?

What the heck?

He peered down and, sure enough, more of the happy yellow rubber duckies swam across his chest on the tape layered there.

Mmm… Duck. His feline did so enjoy a well-roasted one.

Apart from feeling a little peckish, Daryl was wondering if this was a joke. After all, this was the least intimidating abduction he’d ever heard of. When he recounted this story to his buds, he’d have to make sure he changed the ducks to sharks because at least they had big teeth. Or maybe he’d tell them he broke out of chains.

Yeah, big silver chains. That would impress his friends.

The dim light barely illuminated the place. Probably a good thing given he was pretty sure the pink carpet, worn smooth in spots, was a relic from the nineties while the television, in its hulking, plastic case should have collapsed the dresser.

A classy motel, probably on the side of the highway somewhere, used as a quick pit stop by truckers and those looking for a place to wash and rest on a journey to somewhere.

But how did I get here?

That was the question because last he recalled, he was chatting with that lovely cocoa-skinned woman—and he meant woman, with curves that fill his palms, luscious lips that would look perfect about waist height, and dark, curly hair that spilled over her shoulders.

Hair that I wanted to pull, which was why I asked her if she wanted to go somewhere quieter.

To his surprise, she’d readily agreed, and they’d gone outside. Whereupon she fucking stabbed him with a needle!

So wasn’t it any wonder when she walked in, not even two seconds after his recollection, he blurted out, “You’re the bitch that drugged me.” And despite what she’d done, he still found her freaking hot, even if she did have a gun pointed at his face.

“There’s no need for nasty names.”

“Says the woman who drugged and kidnapped me.”

“This is your fault. You left me no choice.”

“No choice but to accost me?” How dare she attack him with her lips and sensual nature!

“What else could I do? You shouldn’t have tried to get me drunk and force me to make out with you.”

Forced? The pliant lips beneath his and the hot pants were anything but. “You could have said no.”

“That’s the problem. I couldn’t, which is totally your fault and why I had to abduct you.”

The logic went right over his head. He blinked. It still made no sense, especially the fact that she appeared irritated with him for being…too attractive? “I think this is the first time in my life I’ve been tempted to throttle a woman.” And then kiss her.

The gun waved in the air. “You go ahead and try it, darlin’. But I warn you. I can feel my finger getting twitchy.” She canted her head to the side and smiled as she threatened. Spoken with confidence, yet he caught how she licked her lower lip, and her breathing was a little fast.

“I have something to cure that twitch and a whole lot of other things.” And, yes, he made sure she got what he meant with a wink.

What he didn’t expect was that she would laugh and say, “You wish you were man enough to handle me.”

A dare? How he loved a challenge, just like he enjoyed this repartee. If he’d found her appealing in the bar when they flirted, now she was downright scrumptious. “You probably shouldn’t have said that.”

Time to up the stakes and show her who truly was in control. He smiled as he snapped the tape holding his hands. Let his lips quirk as he stood, with the chair stuck to him, and flexed, sending it crashing to the floor.

She slowly backed away, the gun never wavering, a touch of fear finally sparking in her eyes, but not enough to worry him, not when he could sense her skin heating as well.

What game did she play? Was this a prank? Something concocted by his buddies? Did they wait nearby, ready to mock him for having been taken down by a woman?

He didn’t really care.

Wanna play. And it wasn’t just his inner kitty that thought it.

“I’ll give you a five-second head start,” he offered.

Because this cat did so love a chase.


Instead of bolting, though, she pulled the trigger at almost point-blank range.


Content Editor: Devin Govaere
Copy Editor:Amanda L. Pederick
Line Editor: Brieanna Roberston
Cover Artist: Yocla Designs