The scent of wolves hit him fast and hard. Great. Now he had to deal with wolves and hyenas, after getting the shit kicked out of him by low-class lions. Man, what a suck-ass Christmas Eve.
But the woman seemed to take the sight of a large She-wolf rather well, cocking her pretty head to one side and asking, “Sissy Mae?” The wolf yipped in response. “I’m lost and he’s running out of steam.”
Perhaps the biggest understatement of the night. He’d start coughing up blood any second, which was always such fun.
Screams, roars, and the lovely hyena laughing howl—like nails on a chalkboard—reminded him they were quickly running out of time. Mace’s female had played it smart and pointed out to the head of the hyena Clan exactly who had killed her lion lover. That had focused hyena attention on the three bastards who were seconds from shooting him in the back of the head like some goddamn human. He’d find the whole turnabout thing pretty funny if he weren’t dying.
The She-wolf put her head back and howled, calling to her Pack.
Either the dogs appeared quickly or he passed out for a while because suddenly he was standing on his own two feet, using the tunnel wall as leverage, and a good number of canines were standing around him. Two males shifted into human and grabbed hold of his arms. Normally, he’d never allow some canine to touch him, but under the circumstances beggars really couldn’t be choosers.
Besides, he was going downhill fast. Things started going dark as soon as they took him to the stairs. Then he smelled trash, coffee, wet New York streets, and…and something else. Something wonderful and powerful and delicious enough to make his mouth water and his dick get hard. Kind of a miracle with him, ya know, bleeding to death. But, man, talk about giving him a reason to live.
He somehow managed to open his eyes, and that’s when he looked into the prettiest face he’d ever seen. Beautiful hazel eyes more yellow than brown, a pug nose he had the feeling had been broken once or twice. Plus a spattering of freckles across the bridge and a little less on her cheeks. Her lips were full and promised all sorts of wonderful skills, and when she grinned at him he knew he might be falling in love.
Then she said, “Don’t you worry about nothin’, darlin’. We’ll take good care of you.” While the rest of her Pack completely ignored their conversation, her grin turned wicked and so blatantly sexual, he thought he might come right there. Those pretty eyes swept him from head to foot. “I can’t allow this body to go to waste, now can I? It would be unfair to female-kind.” Her hand reached out and swept across his brow. Such gentle, cool fingers. Soft and caressing. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful before. “Close your eyes, darlin’. Sleep. When you wake up, I promise you’ll be safe and breathing.”
Unable to fight it anymore, Brendon Shaw closed his eyes and let wonderful blackness come. He didn’t really know if he’d ever wake up again, like she said. But he did know one thing…he was definitely in love.
Chapter One
That scent hit him first. His nostril twitched and his lips drew back over his fangs. His body felt on fire.
The fever. Hurt bad enough, shifters would get a fever that nearly ripped them from the inside out. Once it finished moving through the system, though, the chances of surviving what would kill a normal human increased about eighty percent.
Brendon knew a really bad fever had him by the balls. His body shook and his hands kept clenching and unclenching into fists. It would be a long, strange trip back to normal, but his other options were much less pleasant.
And that goddamn scent only made things worse. It called to the lion buried inside him. Much more and he wouldn’t be able to hold it back.
Much more and he might come all over his sheets.
Biting back a snarl, he forced his eyes open. He knew by the way everything around him looked, his eyes were lion’s eyes. His hands damn near claws. He could feel the tips tearing into his palms when he clenched his hands.
He didn’t care, though. He didn’t care his entire body hurt. He didn’t care the fever raced through him like some kind of California wildfire. No. All he cared about? The owner of that scent.
Scanning the hospital room he now realized he was safely in, he found her by the window. She sat in a chair, turned so he could see her profile. She had her oh-so-long legs stretched out in front of her and her extremely large boot-covered feet in another chair opposite from her. A big hardback book rested on her lap, but apparently it didn’t hold her interest since she seemed quite entertained by throwing nuts up into the air and trying to catch them in her mouth. She wasn’t very good at it, and he found that kind of surprising. Dogs could usually catch anything in their mouth.
And that’s when it hit him. She was Pack.
“Shit.”
The muttered word startled her and she turned to look at him, the nut she’d only moments before thrown in the air slamming into her cheek. She blinked and stared at him.
He stared back.
“What are you doin’ up, darlin’?” she asked softly. “The doc said he gave you enough drugs to knock out an elephant for a week.”
Oh man. That accent. Painfully Southern. Still, that accent with those eyes…all he could think about was her whispering how she was going to come with that goddamn accent.
She dropped a big, fat yellow highlighter and a blue pen in the middle of her book and closed it. He realized she held a textbook. He looked at her face, praying she wasn’t some twenty-year-old. He liked his women a little older. A little more experienced.
No. This wasn’t some boring, naïve kid who expected him to make all the decisions. He really knew it when she swung those long legs out of the chair and stood up. Like most wolf females, she was tall and powerfully built. At least six feet with strong shoulders and arms. No model thinness for this female. She had a body that could definitely handle a rough and tumble time in bed and leave a man desperate for more.
She was what his grandfather would have called a “tall drink of water.” Those long legs encased in worn jeans and her T-shirt washed so many times it wouldn’t take but one little pull to rip it completely off her body.
She ambled over to him—and that’s what it was, an amble—until she reached the bed. Her body close to his, she touched the back of her hand to his forehead.
“Good Lord.” With a worried frown, she put one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his cheek. Such cool, soft hands. “Oh, you poor baby. You are on fire.”
She had no idea.
“I better get the doc.” She took a step away from him, but he grabbed hold of her arm.
“What’s the matter, darlin’? Worried I won’t come back?” She smiled and it almost ripped his guts out. He’d never seen anything prettier. “Well don’t you let it bother you one bit. I’ll be right outside talking to the doc.” Her hand stroked his cheek and he briefly closed his eyes, nuzzling her hand and purring.
“Hhhhmm. That fever must be bad if you’re making sounds I never heard before. The only sounds I usually hear from you cats are roaring and hissing. I better get the doc.” Again she tried to pull away, and Brendon wasn’t having it.
With one good yank, he dragged her onto his lap.
“Hey, hey, darlin’! Now wait a second.”
Brendon pulled her around so she straddled his waist, her generous tits right in his face. To keep her where she was, he gripped her ass and pulled her hard against his growing-by-the-second erection.
“Look, hoss, I don’t want to hurt you…”
He growled, kind of wanting her to hurt him. Within reason, of course.
“…but I will if you don’t get those big cat paws off my ass.”
Ignoring her, Brendon buried his face between her breasts and breathed deep. Wow, she smelled so damn good.
“You need to stop that. I know you’re sick and all but—”
He nuzzled one nipple then the other.
“Stop that!”
“Stay with me,” he groaned against her breast, his voice soun
ding more animal than human.
“I am with you, and if you’d just let me go—”
“Fuck me.”
“Okay. That’s it.”
Strong hands slapped against his shoulders and she pushed herself away from him as much as she could. He still had her around the waist, but her tits were suddenly out of his reach. He didn’t like that one bit.
“You need to get control of yourself, hoss. Right now.”
“Kiss me.”
“No.”
“Kiss me and I’ll let you go.” For the moment, anyway.
Even though her hands were strong against his shoulders, she didn’t give the immediate “no” he would expect.
“I promise,” he persisted. “Just kiss me.”
She pushed away from him again, testing his strength. He held on tighter, not willing to release her. If she thought the fever would make him weak, she was very much mistaken. Instead, it had only made him dangerously strong.
“Dammit.” She let out an exasperated rush of breath. “All right. Fine. But make it quick.”
Reluctantly releasing her ass, Brendon slid his hands up until they braced against her back. He pulled her forward and he leaned in, those pretty eyes watching him, wary and a little bit curious.
Brendon brushed his lips against hers. A small, completely nonthreatening move. She didn’t do anything back. Merely stared at him. Since she didn’t try and rip his throat out, he came in for another pass, this time lingering a bit.
Still, she didn’t make any moves one way or the other.
Pulling her close to his body, Brendon closed his mouth over hers. Her hands remained on his shoulders, tense like the rest of her, ready to push him away at any moment. He licked her bottom lip, the tip of his tongue tracing a line between. Her hands tightened on his shoulders but instead of pulling him off, she gripped him tight and kissed him back.
And holy hell…what a kiss!
Rhonda Lee Reed, you are a whore!
Yup. She could hear her momma’s voice clear as a bell in her head. Telling her the same thing she told her when she found Ronnie in the backseat of Johnny Patterson’s Pinto with Ronnie’s favorite pair of red cowboy boots plastered to his roof.
And here she was again. Involving herself with the wrong kind of guy. Actually, the wrong species. Plus sick. The man had a horrible bout of fever.
He should be resting. He should be sipping fluids to keep his temperature down and moaning in agony. He should not have some stranger’s tongue down his throat.
So she needed to stop this. Now.
But damn if the man wasn’t an amazing kisser.
Ronnie should have known as soon as she looked into that gorgeous face the night before she was in trouble. Even bloody and broken from the beating he took, absolutely nothing could take away from his raw beauty. Sharp cheekbones and an almost muzzlelike nose did nothing but enhance the man’s sinfully full lips. Lips Ronnie had no problem imagining all over her body.
It was when he opened his eyes and looked at her, though, that she felt every female hormone in her body suddenly zap to life. Those astounding dark gold eyes framed by coal-black lashes completely did her in. Add in that six-foot-six, nearly three-hundred-pound, muscle-bound body and Rhonda Lee Reed was in hog heaven.
So not surprisingly she’d lost utter control of this situation.
One second staring at the blindingly boring Engineering 101 textbook, wondering if her plan to go back to college continued to be one of the better ideas she’d recently had, and the next—in the lap of a damn cat with his tongue in her mouth.
At the end of the day, though, she blamed Sissy Mae Smith for this. Her best friend since she’d turned three, that evil female had gotten Ronnie into more trouble than seemed possible for two good ol’ She-wolves from Tennessee. There were rock stars with cleaner pasts than her and Sissy. Not that they ever did drugs or anything run of the mill like that. Hell, who needed drugs when Sissy had no qualms about getting her drunk on tequila, wrapping a bungie cord around her waist, and shoving her off the side of a building with Sissy’s famous “Would you just trust me” yelled after her? Then there was that slight run-in with the Mexican police, and that little town in Germany that ordered them never to return…
Oh, and those Vegas cops—yeah, they wouldn’t be going back to Nevada anytime soon either.
Honestly, Sissy Mae could start a knife fight in a convent.
Still, Sissy wasn’t the one tussling with an overgrown house cat. She and the rest of the Smith Pack were off enjoying Christmas day while Ronnie stayed behind to babysit. Which, in the big scheme of things, was definitely something his Pride should be doing. Where were those damn females anyway? One had shown up, seeming extremely “put out,” and once the doc told them Shaw would live, she’d skedaddled right out of there. Didn’t even go in to check on him. And that’s when Sissy Mae sucker punched Ronnie.
“We can’t leave him alone,” she’d said. “No one wants to wake up in a hospital alone,” she’d said.
“And?” Sissy’s big brother, Bobby Ray, had demanded. “What are we supposed to do about it?”
Ronnie knew how this would play out and had quickly ducked behind Mace Llewellyn to hide. Like Shaw, Mace was a big buck. So maybe if Sissy Mae couldn’t see her…
“Ronnie Lee will stay. Won’tcha, Ronnie?”
If Ronnie thought she could get away with it, she would have spit the water she’d just gulped down, right in Sissy’s face. Because now that Sissy had picked her specifically, no other She-wolf would stay. So either they all left and Shaw would wake up alone in a strange hospital or Ronnie would have to stay.
With an entire Pack to protect her, plus three big brothers, her pain-in-the-ass momma, and of course Daddy, Ronnie would never wake up in a hospital alone. The thought anyone would have to go through that, even a cat, made her feel like she had to do something.
Grudgingly, through gritted teeth, she’d agreed. “Fine. I’ll stay.”
Now here she was necking like a horny seventeen-year-old with a man she didn’t even know. Okay, and true, this wasn’t the first time she’d done this. She knew that. Hell, there were a number of .38 Special and Charlie Daniels Band concerts where she and Sissy Mae had left quite the indelible mark. But she’d promised herself three weeks ago, when she’d turned thirty, that those wild days were over. Instead she’d go and get her degree. Try staying in one place longer than five minutes, which meant no more backpacking across Europe, Asia, and Africa with a nutbag—aka Sissy Mae. And no more fooling around with shifters she barely knew.
What made this even worse? The poor bastard wasn’t even in his right frame of mind. She should be pushing him off her and tucking his big—exquisite—body back into the hospital bed so he could get over that fever in peace. She definitely shouldn’t be tightening her thighs around his waist and pulling him closer.
Only whores do that, Ronnie Lee.
There went her mother’s voice again. Lately she hadn’t been able to get that woman’s damn voice out of her head. It was starting to make her crazy!
Slapping her hands against his big shoulders, Ronnie pushed him back. “Stop. Stop. We need to stop.”
“Why?” he murmured, leaning in close to nibble her neck.
“Cause this is…um…” Ronnie had a hard time concentrating with him swirling his tongue against a spot right under her ear, but she had to try. “It’s…um…something.”
His teeth gripped the wet flesh of her neck and bit down. Not too hard but hard enough. Her fangs burst out of her gums as her body shook.
“We have to stop. Right now!” Never had she lost control like this before. Her fangs didn’t just “slip out.” Ronnie Lee always had control when it came to males. Always. That’s what made it so easy to walk away the next morning. And she always walked away the next morning.
“Don’t make me stop,” he begged, his enormous hands trying desperately to pull her back against him. “Please.”
Yup.
Definitely caught in the fever, because lions didn’t ask for anything. They sure as hell didn’t say please or beg. It wasn’t in their nature.
He gripped her waist and yanked her tight into his lap. She could feel the powerful heat of his hard erection rubbing against the inside of her thigh. Much more of this and she’d be lost. Much more of this and it wouldn’t matter if her momma never let her back in the family home.
Ronnie shoved him back while forcing herself in the opposite direction. His grip loosened and she scrambled away from him and off the bed.
“Don’t,” he ordered. “Don’t leave me.”
Trying to get her breath back, Ronnie shook her head. “I’m not leaving you, hoss. I’m just not having sex with you either.”
He growled, baring huge fangs. “Why not?”
Ronnie walked back to her things and grabbed the painfully boring textbook she’d been hopelessly trying to read. “Because I have sense.”
“Your sense sucks.” Lion eyes stared at her from under a gorgeous mane of gold and brown hair that reached his shoulders. Shaw’s big body leaned forward, and Ronnie gave him about ten seconds before he leaped off that bed at her. “Come here,” he snarled.
She did, the book still in her hands. “What?” she asked once she stood near him.
Those gold eyes swept her from head to toe and back, leaving all sorts of interesting tingling in their wake. “Stay with me. In this bed. Now.”
She nodded. “Okay, hoss. Okay.” She stepped closer, brushing his cheek with her hand, and he closed his eyes on a sigh.
Her own fangs bared, Ronnie grabbed the eight-hundred-pound book in both hands and swung. It slammed into Shaw’s jaw, knocking the man on his side and completely unconscious.
Tossing the book back across the room, Ronnie shook her head and sighed. “Damn cat.”
“Is he supposed to be that horny?”
The doctor, a cutie-pie leopard, glanced back at the nurses who had to turn away so they wouldn’t laugh in his face.
“Miss uh…”
“Ronnie. Just call me Ronnie. And answer my question, doc. I mean, I could have been rolled in catnip the way that boy was acting.”
The Mane Event Page 22