Hunted & Seduced

  HUNTED & SEDUCED

  Shelley Munro

  House of the Cat, book 4

  Table of Contents

  Note to Readers

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Excerpt – Festive & Seduced

  Excerpt – My Scarlet Woman

  About Shelley

  Other Works by Shelley

  Copyright Page

  Note to Readers

  Readers first met Ellard Tetsu as a secondary character in Claimed & Seduced. To be honest, he was a bit of an ass toward the heroine, then Ellard faced a world-changing betrayal and his life became very different. He faces other challenges, and now, his life is about to contain even more upheaval because he’s met Gweneth, one of the Indy crew members. I hope you enjoy their romance.

  If you enjoy my writing, I hope you’ll join my readers’ group. The perks? Well, firstly, you’ll receive two free books—one contemporary and the other a paranormal romance. You’ll get previews of new stories and see my covers first. I’m a big reader, and I like to recommend the books I’ve enjoyed plus there are contests, and going forward, there will be access to short stories and ARCs. So, what are you waiting for? Join my readers’ group today.

  Happy reading,

  Shelley

  Blurb

  Love at first sight…

  When she arrives on the planet Viros, Gweneth Swithin takes one look at royal bodyguard Ellard Tetsu and her inner feline—the one she didn’t know existed—falls for the silent, alpha shapeshifter. She’s thrilled and excited at the way her half-feline side has made her existence known and trusts her instincts when it comes to Ellard. He is her mate, and maybe she can have it all…if only the stubborn male would stop running.

  The heart wants what the heart wants…

  Ellard can’t understand why the young and beautiful Gweneth is interested in him when she could choose one of the many handsome or powerful males who reside in the city, one who is whole and not broken. Despite the attraction he feels, he makes himself scarce, but Gweneth has a plan to stake her claim and isn’t above maneuvering behind the scenes in order to have a chance with Ellard.

  A royal assignment, undertaken together, changes the stakes into an adventure that can make or break this fledgling relationship…if they manage to survive.

  Warning: contains a headstrong virgin heroine and a handicapped hero, a ghost or two and alien villains. Mix and see the sparks fly.

  Chapter 1

  House of the Cat castle, Viros City, Planet Viros

  Ellard Tetsu’s nostrils flared and a shudder zapped down his spine, each of his feline senses under assault. A sneeze built and built until it exploded free with cosmic force. He wiped his streaming eyes and stalked along the corridor linking the public reception area in the castle to the council meeting room, his blurry gaze sweeping every small alcove he passed in case it harbored a woman—one of the Indy crew.

  One of the unpredictable females who seemed out to get him this cycle.

  Flowers. Stinky flowers and a maze of chemicals followed him as close as a tail. He stunk, positively reeked of floral scent. No chance to change before the council meeting commenced. He’d already been running late due to a training snafu when those women had accosted him with perfume bottles. Grata! He lifted the hem of his tunic with his Stores—his artificial right arm—and promptly sneezed again.

  Those women were a phrullin’ menace and Gweneth Swithin…

  For once, her beautiful and mischievous face remained absent and he scanned the alcove to his left, every instinct alive with suspicion. She wasn’t hiding behind the feline statue. The fact should have relaxed him, but then he wondered where she was, what she was doing, and worse, who she was gifting with her presence.

  His feline stirred beneath his skin, agitated at her absence while he—the man—was glad. She…no! He increased his pace and jogged the remaining distance to the House of the Cat council room.

  The ornate timepiece, imported by the previous queen at great expense from the planet Tempo, rang out the cycle portion, the tiny jeweled figures within the dome jerking into a programmed dance. He burst into the council room and came to an appalled halt.

  As he’d suspected, he arrived last. His brother and friends wore irritated expressions while the council members already sat around the large oval table. A variety of refreshments covered the surface and the more efficient males had readied their personal comp pads to take notes. Light and heat poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the stink of the perfume made his nose twitch in a familiar manner. A sneeze burst free before he could get out a greeting.

  “Ah.” Prince Jarlath, Ellard’s closest friend grimaced, his handsome face frozen as he attempted to breathe yet not smell the stench. “They sprayed you too.”

  Beside him Lynx, the current king, and Shiloh, Ellard’s brother, were bare-chested, their tunics dumped in a heap in the far corner of the room.

  Ry Coppersmith, the tall and fit captain of the Indefatigable and a new addition to the Viros council, added his tunic to the pile of laundry. The feline shifter, formerly of the planet Ibrox, let out a snort that held a smidge of humor. “Stinks like an Ornum whorehouse. What were they thinking?”

  Six council members sat around the cloth-covered oval table, their expressions ranging from irritated to distasteful. Ellard caught the beginnings of a smirk from a younger one.

  Unable to stand the pungent flowery scent a sec longer, he whipped his tunic over his head and tossed it into the corner with the others. If he wasn’t so irked with the women’s prank, he might have celebrated the way his Stores cybertronic arm moved so fluidly. After coping with one arm for portions of the last rotation, the Stores made him feel normal again. Most strangers never noticed his artificial limb, despite the lighter gold, which didn’t quite match his natural skin tones.

  “I’ll ring someone to remove our tunics,” the secretary, one of the six council members already seated, suggested. He rose and stalked to the newly installed com system, his back rigid in distaste. A sneeze burst from him as he stabbed the call button for a servant.

  Ry opened every window and door but the stillness of the cycle and the balmy weather seemed to intensify the stench.

  Shiloh edged closer to him, his nose wrinkling. “Phrull, they got you good. How is the arm? Apart from the slightly paler color, it blends well with the stump. I can’t see much of a joint.”

  Ellard flexed his artificial arm, still amazed at the real sensation. Initially, he’d hesitated about going through with the operation because the medics told him it was a one-time thing. If something went wrong, the attachment method meant…no! The chances of failure or catastrophic loss were low. The medics had assured him of that. “Almost as workable as my other one. I’m doing the exercises the cybernetic man told me to complete each day. The worse thing is having to compensate with each shift since it doesn’t transform. They’ve designed the arm so I can remove it before a shift. Almost knocked myself out the cycle before when I started my change before I remembered to detach the Stores. I thought Jarlath was gonna split his sides laughing.”

  “I heard.” Lynx joined them and slung a casual arm around Shiloh’s shoulders.

  He stared for a sec, still amazed his brother was mated with the king of the House of the Cat and a woman—a c
ommoner and a previous slave. Things were changing rapidly on Viros, and while some of the elders and a rebel faction of naysayers preached about tradition and maintaining the same course they’d always followed, Ellard thought life had improved. He had friends—loyal companions—but the new informality at the court was taking time to become used to—at least for the older felines. He numbered a prince, a king, a duke and a queen amongst his friends, and they insisted he call them by their names instead of their titles.

  The previous queen—Jarlath and Lynx’s mother—hated the changes so much she’d moved from the castle into an expensive home adjoining the castle grounds. She spent a lot of the rotation off-planet visiting friends since her mate had died. Yes, things were different now.

  A brisk knock on the door heralded the arrival of a cheerful servant. He stepped into the room and promptly sneezed, the sound explosive and sudden, his spiky black hair and bright green eyes reminding Ellard of a ruffled cat. “Ah, what is that stench?”

  “According to my mate, it is a designer perfume from Earth,” Lynx said. “Please remove our tunics and take them to the laundry for washing.”

  “Of course, your highness. Do you require fresh tunics?”

  “No, we’ll collect them after our meeting.” Lynx gestured everyone to their seats. “Thank you. Leave the door. We want the stench to disperse.” He stalked to the head of the table and dropped onto a gel-seat.

  Ellard took a seat beside Jarlath, a part of him still amazed they thought him worthy of inclusion in the planning sessions.

  Lynx studied his comp pad and tapped a few buttons, a silent signal to commence. “Right, now that the spaceport is fully functional we need to attract visitors. We must find a way to bring in people who are willing to spend currency on Viros.”

  One of the councilors tapped his pointed turquoise-painted fingernails on the tabletop, his stocky shoulders held perfectly straight. “We need a share of the cash that goes to the casinos on Gramite.”

  “Exactly.” Lynx studied each of them in turn, his green gaze serious and intent. “Ideas. Anything. It doesn’t matter how outlandish or how impossible they appear.”

  Ellard made the mistake of breathing through his nose. He snorted back a tickle and commenced breathing through his mouth. Once certain he wouldn’t sneeze, he spoke. “Is the new hotel ready for guests?”

  “Not yet,” Shiloh said. “But we need to plan.”

  “The workers who have come in from other planets enjoy visiting the colored sands,” the councilor Jarlath had placed in charge of tourism spoke up. “The problem we’ve had is that outsiders have heard of the war between us and the House of Cawdor. They worry they might find themselves in the middle of renewed violence. They don’t want their children playing with ours in case our kittens shift and injure them.”

  Shiloh snorted his disbelief, arms folded across his beefy chest. “Our young never shift at that age.”

  “I told them that, but they refused to believe me,” the councilor said. “I don’t know how the rumors started.”

  Lynx sniffed his arm and grimaced. “What else? Any ideas?”

  “The House of Cawdor is holding a gambling tournament soon. It’s a pity we couldn’t entice some of their clientele over here. It’s a short hop.” Shiloh steepled his fingers, his brow furrowed in thought.

  A squeak from near his feet drew Ellard’s attention, but he mentally shrugged when it ceased. The herd of women inhabiting the castle was making him jumpy. Gweneth and the others wouldn’t dare interrupt the council meeting.

  “Camryn informed me the hotel furnishings are ordered, and some of the shipments are arriving already.” Ry tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “They’re furnishing several of the rooms this cycle.”

  Ah, his question answered. Gweneth was busy this morn. One less thing to upset his equilibrium. He frowned, still not understanding why the woman stalked him. She was beautiful—a young shifter female with everything in her future. He was bodyguard to Prince Jarlath, nothing in the looks department, and to top that he’d lost an arm during the war. He had nothing to offer a woman like Gweneth.

  Nothing.

  He’d tried to tell her. He’d tried to ignore her, and now he resorted to skulking around the castle and fleeing the sec he caught a glimpse of her. After this perfume incident, he intended to dodge her friends too.

  Ry leaned back and his gel-seat strained to conform to his relaxed posture, creaking and groaning and popping. Finally, Ry straightened and the overworked gel-chair sighed. “What about running fitness and security courses? Our soldiers are well-regarded. Perhaps we could pass some of our skills on to others who require them. Run a training school for civilians.”

  Lynx noted the suggestion on his comp pad. “Anything else?”

  “We’re not used to doing this type of thing.” A junior councilor tugged his black beard then reached for his goblet of cacjuice. Spots of the pale green juice spilled when he sneezed without warning. He wiped his nose in a fastidious manner, patted the splashes dry with a kerchief and continued. “It’s a foreign concept.”

  “Maybe so.” Shiloh scowled. “But we need to change and adapt. It’s necessary to our survival.”

  The strange squeak sounded again, and Ellard cocked his head, attempting to locate the source.

  “Maybe we should ask for suggestions from the people,” Shiloh suggested.

  Their oldest councilor—the last remaining from Jarlath and Lynx’s father’s era—gasped, his stern expression appalled. “Ask the people? We’ve never done that before. Who knows what idiocy they’d propose.”

  Another high squeak.

  “What is that noise?” Ry asked. “Has Royal managed to get loose again?” The rare calibore—a type of ape with shaggy black fur, big fluffy ears, sharp teeth and a tail—had attached himself to Jannike during her abduction and transportation to Manx Two. He’d become a firm favorite with the castle residents and visitors.

  “If the furry creature is here, the perfume isn’t bothering him,” the tourism councilor commented dryly.

  “When he’s not in the forest with Kelvin, he’s with Jannike.” Lynx bent to lift the cloth and peer under the table. “Ah! Not Royal.”

  A woman burst from beneath the table, right near Ellard. Big green eyes, sultry pink lips, a tiny black cat tattoo on her right cheek and black hair pulled into a tight hairstyle that confined and flattened the long, luxurious locks. Immediately he wanted to touch, to loosen her hair, and he found himself reaching out with his good hand before his brain jerked into gear.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” He countered his initial instinct with anger. “This is a council meeting. Men only.”

  Shiloh smothered a grin and helped her to stand. His brother’s humor poked at Ellard’s bad mood, making it swell within his chest, and the touchy-feely stuff. He hated seeing another man touching her, and he loathed that he thought that way. What did he need with a woman? Faithless, treacherous creatures.

  What had Mareeka called him? A monstrosity too ugly to view for any length of time.

  The memory balanced some of the angst inside him, placed him on firmer footing. He had no need of a mate, and even if he were in the market, he wouldn’t take one as young and desirable as Gweneth. Most of the young feline women kept their distance and treated him like a dangerous species. Gweneth didn’t behave in the same manner, which confused him.

  “That is a silly rule since it is obvious none of you have a brain.” Her chin jutted upward in clear challenge.

  “Silence,” Ellard roared and leapt to his feet. “Ry should discipline you more often since you clearly don’t know the correct manner to behave. A kitten is better disciplined.”

  The other males glanced at him in surprise.

  “It’s all right, Gweneth,” Lynx said after a fraught silence. “Please tell us why you are interrupting our meeting.”

  “And why you decided to attend,” Ellard added. A thought occurred and his eyes narrowed on
her. “Were you responsible for the perfume saga?”

  Her pink lips pressed together, and she averted her gaze, suddenly fascinated by the number of bare chests in the council room.

  “Gweneth,” he prompted.

  “I wanted to know what you discussed at these meetings. You hold them often, yet don’t seem to get much done.”

  “And you needed the perfume to confuse our feline senses, so we wouldn’t detect your presence,” Ry said.

  Gweneth gave an audible gulp.

  Ry folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll take that as an affirmative.”

  “I have an idea,” she burst out, glancing in Ellard’s direction. Excitement made her eyes glow like jewels, and she’d done something with the stuff the woman called cosmetics. The black edges around her eyes made them more prominent, more enticing.

  Ellard groaned inwardly. He had to get his thoughts off Gweneth. He had to persuade his feline that Gweneth was bad, bad, bad for them. They’d both end up hurt again. No, better to stay far away. “You’d better go and let us get back to our meeting.”

  “But my idea—”

  Lynx held up a hand. “Let her talk. Tell us about your idea.”

  “All right.” Gweneth plonked her pert bottom, encased in the blue trews that Camryn and the rest of the Indy crew called jeans, on Ellard’s seat.

  A snicker sounded to Ellard’s right, and he turned to scowl at Jarlath. He bared his teeth and hissed a feline warning.

  “Stop that.” Gweneth’s tone neared snippy. “I’m trying to talk here.”

  To Jarlath’s credit, he ceased his laughter, but his lips continued to twitch.

  “The floor is yours, Gweneth.” Lynx, too, was trying not to laugh.

  She took an audible breath and puffed it free. Ellard wanted to tell her to spit it out, so she could leave and his feline would cease his agitation. It was getting so bad, it felt as if his skin might split. He leaned against the wall, pretending a calmness he lacked, and glared at her pretty face.

  His sexy green stare held feline frustration. Gweneth bit her lip, wanting to laugh as Jarlath had laughed. Not safe. She didn’t want him to throttle her, but she did want him to look at her as an eligible mate.