“Speaking of rolling around . . .” Bart began to say as he lunged for his mate and swept her up in his arms while she shrieked in embarrassed delight. “See you chumps later,” he called out as he barreled up the stairs towards their private chambers in one of the castle’s towers.
Caleb shrugged, and then with the quickness of his wolf he grabbed his own mate Magda, kicking open a side door and carrying her out.
Finally Adam turned to his mate, his eyes flashing with fire, heat, and single-minded purpose. “Time for your punishment, you bad, bad bear,” he whispered, rubbing his hands together as the curtain slowly came down on the white castle floating on a sun-bathed island in the Caspian Sea.
And then the prologue was done, and it was time for Chapter One.
1
THE BOBCAT TWINS
“Dear Lacy and Tracy,” said Lacy, raising her eyebrows as she read the letter out loud. She glanced up with an amused half-frown. “Hey! Did we sign up for some online contest?”
“Probably,” said Tracy, rubbing her forehead as she stared at the empty Tequila bottle on the wooden coffee table of Lacy’s sprawling ranch-style house on the outskirts of Denver, Colorado. She groaned as she reached for the two lipstick-stained shotglasses, pushing them away from her as she wrinkled up her nose. “Just so you know, I’m never drinking tequila again.”
“You said that last week,” retorted Lacy. “Three times last week, if I remember right. Not that I remember right, of course. Oh, shit, my head hurts. I’m never drinking tequila again.”
Tracy giggled, and Lacy joined in until they were both in hysterics. Then Lacy cleared her throat pointedly as she looked down at her younger sister. Technically they were the same age (twins usually are), but Lacy had popped out first, and she never failed to remind Tracy of this claim to superiority. Still, they were two of a kind. Inseparable. They weren’t identical—Lacy had brown hair to Tracy’s golden locks. But they shared those same sharp eyes, round faces, and big butts.
Lacy chuckled as she glanced at the empty tequila bottle and thought about all the crap they’d pulled while drunk out of their minds. But this, she thought as she read through the letter once more . . . yes, this was weird. Different. Sure, they could’ve signed up for this thing while messing around on the Internet after downing shots and looking for funny cat-videos online. But it felt like a hoax, and the bobcat inside her tensed up as Lacy’s sharp human mind begin to kick into high gear. She’d made her money on the Internet, running a web-design company that paid for her ranch-house, her three cars, a penthouse in Downtown Denver (which she rarely visited), and all the tequila she and her sister could drink. She was smart, and even when drunk out of her goddamn skull Lacy wouldn’t have entered her name and address in some random Internet contest.
But this moron might’ve, she thought with a sigh as she watched her bobcat-sister writhe around on the floor, groaning and grunting like she was dying of some horrible disease. Lacy looked down at the contest material that had come via FedEx. The plane tickets were legit. And so was the circus: She’d looked it up online, and even though both the woman and the animal in her had risen up in anger when she saw that it advertised animals as part of the show, it was clearly a real circus, with a schedule that matched up with the plane tickets in her hand.
“What did we win?” said Tracy through a groan as she finally went up on her knees, sticking her large ass up in the air as she began to crawl towards the kitchen. “Breakfast, I hope. I need something warm and hearty. Preferably deep-fried.”
“There are some jalapeno poppers you can microwave,” said Lacy.
“Um, nope. I ate them last night after you passed out,” said Tracy with a sheepish grin. She let out a soft, feminine burp and raised an eyebrow. “Yup,” she said, nodding very seriously. “Definitely ate them last night.”
“Eww! Gross!” said Lacy, swiping one paw at her sister as Tracy flopped down again on her back and started giggling. Soon both of them were once again giggling like fools, clearly still half-drunk, and Lacy just shook her head as she reminded herself that she’d always been the one in charge of their little two-person team. Tracy followed her lead. Tracy did what she said. Tracy trusted her twin’s judgment.
And so Lacy blinked away the nagging feeling that something was off with this whole circus-contest thing and just made a decision.
“We won tickets to a circus,” she said clearly and loudly. “And we’re going.”
“A circus?” said Tracy. “Like with trapeze and clowns? Jugglers and fools?”
“Trapeze and jugglers for sure,” said Lacy with a smile. “The clowns and fools will be present once you arrive.”
“Haha,” said Tracy drolly, rolling her eyes at Lacy. “Cheap shot.” She paused for a moment, squinting and then closing one eye as she grabbed the tequila bottle and tilted it. “Speaking of shots, I think there’s just enough for one more round. What say? Come on, sis!” She clapped her hands and sprang up to her knees like a cat, her face alert and earnest. She looked up at Lacy, her expression a mixture of pleading and pure mischief.
“All right,” said Lacy after a sigh. “Serve it up. Because unless I’m mistaken, alcohol is banned in Morocco.”
“Morocco?”
“Yup,” said Lacy, raising her glass and downing it in one swift gulp. “Casablanca, Morocco.”
“Casablanca!” said Tracy, slamming her empty shotglass back down on the table. “We gonna find our mates there? Alpha bobcats who claim us as their fated lovers?” She clasped her hands together and swooned comically.
“You know we’re the last of the bobcat Shifters,” said Lacy with a smile that was tinged with melancholy. “And we might well be the last Shifters in general. It’s just the two of us. Like it always was. Like it always will be.”
But even as she finished her sentence, she felt her cat move inside her, its restlessness making her frown. It had been years since she’d gained control of her animal. Both her and her twin were in firm control of their animals, in fact. They Changed back and forth at will. They controlled their needs when their animals went into heat, sequestering themselves in Lacy’s isolated ranch-house just so they wouldn’t be tempted at the bars and clubs in Denver.
Not that temptation had ever been a real problem, Lacy reminded herself as she smacked her lips and exhaled, the aroma of the strong tequila sending a warmth through her that calmed her animal down. Or drugged her animal into submission—she wasn’t sure which one it was. No, neither of them had ever been really tempted by a man, even though there’d been plenty of offers dating back to middle school! It was strange, really. They were both healthy, hearty women of the mountains. And when their animals went into heat, the need to mate was strong, fierce, undeniable. When they were younger they’d go out to the bars and clubs, their animals sniffing the horny studs of Denver and then rejecting them with extreme disdain.
He is not our mate, her cat would reply pompously even though Lacy could sense the animal’s soaring heat, feel her own feminine wetness soaking her panties like she couldn’t control it. We will not be touched by anyone other than our mate.
It had been frustrating in the early years, feeling that conflict between wanting sex but still rejecting every man who came close. It had taken both sisters close to insanity at one point. It had made Lacy wonder if she was really in control of her animal. The creature seemed to submit to every command of the human. But on this one matter it wouldn’t budge. It simply would not allow her to mate with a man!
He is not our mate.
He is not our mate.
He is not our mate!
The refrain had been whispered by their animals so often that Lacy had just put an end to it by deciding that both of them would lock themselves away in her ranch house when it came time for their animals to go into heat. That would show their bobcats who was boss. You want to reject every guy? Well, now t
here won’t be any guys! Who’s in control now, bitch?!
Lacy smiled as she walked over to the kitchen, reaching for the fridge to see what fryable items she could find for breakfast. Her gaze rested on the calendar marked up in pink highlighter, and she paused as she scanned it quickly. It was the calendar she’d drawn up to show when she and her twin were in heat. It had started off as a kinda-sorta joke, and in fact it had ended as a joke too. Both of them knew themselves and their bodies well enough to know when that time was approaching.
“That’s weird,” Lacy muttered as she counted out the days, flipping through the months until she got current.
“What’s weird? Your butt?” said Tracy, gurgling with laughter. “Lacy’s got a weird butt! Lacy’s got a weird butt!” she yelped, slapping her own big thighs as she sang her ditty.
“Act your age, you moron,” Lacy said with a raised eyebrow. She looked back at the chart and shook her head. “No, according to this chart, our animals aren’t due to go into heat for at least another month. But I swear I feel . . . I mean, it feels like . . . I mean . . .”
He is our mate and we are ready for him, came her animal’s whisper from inside her, and Lacy almost choked as she felt the excitement in her bobcat’s voice. Excitement like she’d never sensed. Excitement that rippled through her core in the most delightfully ferocious way.
But it was also excitement that scared the crap out of her, because in that moment she got a sense that her bobcat had been waiting patiently for years, submitting to the human’s every command as it stubbornly refused to budge on this one single thing:
Its mate.
Its fate.
Its destiny.
Lacy frowned as she sniffed the air, picking up the unmistakable scent of herself and her sister. It wasn’t just her bobcat that was on the verge of going into heat—it was Tracy’s too! How?! Why?! What?! When?! WTF?!
She glanced down at the two tickets in her hand. Tickets to Casablanca, Morocco. A city irrevocably linked to love and romance—at least in Western consciousness, thanks to that old movie. Then she took a breath and sniffed the air again, feeling her cat snicker in triumph, like it knew love was in the air, like it could smell the future, smell its own fate, its own mate.
2
Smells like Shifter, thought Darius the Lion as he raised his thick, muscular arms and then cracked his whip toward the raucous crowd. They cheered and clapped, whooped and whistled, making more noise than any group of animals could. Usually Darius loved the attention, the devotion, the awestruck faces of the humans as they watched him step fearlessly within a circle of fourteen lions, any of which could rip a man to shreds in a heartbeat. But today he was distracted by the scent coming to his finely tuned nostrils, making his lion rumble inside.
There are Shifters in the crowd today, Darius thought as he prolonged his traditional walk around the edge of the ring so he could scan the faces of those in attendance. He hadn’t been around a Shifter in months—not since Murad the Black Dragon had disbanded the army and sent all of them back into human society. He blinked as he tried to remember what the Black Dragon had whispered to the Shifters in that deep, low voice that seemed to speak directly to the darkest part of their animals. Something about a mission, a duty to hunt, to stalk, to kill.
Darius could feel his lion moving inside him as he moved to the Southern end of the ring. The scent of Shifter blood was strong here, and he narrowed his eyes as he followed it like a trail. There. Sitting there in the third row, smiling like a goddamn fool.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered through his crowd-pleasing smile. “Everett the Tiger! What the hell?”
The two of them had bonded during the year they’d spent together training in Murad’s army, and Darius was glad to see him. But they’d both been sent to different parts of the world, hadn’t they? What the hell was he doing in Morocco? What had drawn him here?
Slowly Darius turned back to his lions, all of which were waiting patiently for their master’s commands. The beasts were like housecats when he was present, and although sometimes it broke Darius’s mighty heart to see the majestic animals living in cages, he knew they were better off with him than with any other lion tamer. He was one of them and they knew it. They respected it. They even loved it.
Love, whispered his lion from within as Darius prepared to go on with the show.
“What?” growled Darius, gritting his teeth as he cracked his whip in the air, signaling to his lions to begin their stately parade around the ring.
Love is in the air, said his lion. You smell it? You smell her? She is here. She is in heat. And she is ours. Take her now.
Shut up you moron, Darius said to his animal. But then he picked up the scent. The scent of Shifters, but not his fleabag buddy Everett. This was feminine scent. Female Shifters. More than one.
Darius flicked his head to the right, and immediately he saw them: Two women sitting in the VIP section of the crowd. They were clearly sisters, twins perhaps—though not identical. They were both pretty, but Darius’s gaze was unmistakably drawn to the woman sitting on the right, and the moment he looked into her eyes, his lion roared inside him like it was trying to burst out of him.
It took every ounce of Darius’s willpower to turn away from the woman in the crowd, and even when he managed to move on with the show, he couldn’t get the image of her face out of his mind. She had the brown eyes of a cat—sharp, focused, confident. She was clearly the leader of the two, and she was clearly his. There was no mistaking the way his lion had locked in on her like there was no one else in the world, in the universe. He’d heard about fated mates from Caleb the Wolf Shifter. He’d seen it at play with Bart the Bear Shifter and his mate Bis the Black Leopard. But he’d never believed it could be true for him.
The rest of the show went by in a flash, with Darius barely able to focus on his lions. His mind was spinning with the image of that woman in the crowd, and by the end of the show he could smell nothing but her heat, see nothing but her face, imagine nothing but taking her back to his cave and doing what came naturally.
“Darius the Lion Tamer!” came the ringmaster’s voice through his stupor. “The King of the Ring! Give it up, ladies and gentlemen! Give it up for the King of the Ring!”
Darius forced a smile, blinking his eyes back into focus as he bowed for the crowd, cracked his whip once more over his head, and then led his lions back to their cages even as his own lion rumbled in disapproval.
But then just as he stepped behind the heavy velvet curtains, Darius heard screams from the crowd. Screams followed by the hissing of animals, the growling of big cats, the roar of a tiger, the rumble of his own lion.
“No!” Darius shouted, leaving his lions and breaking into a dead run, feeling his Change coming on as every hair on his golden mane stood up. Again snippets of what the Black Dragon had whispered to all the Shifters before sending them off came through: Seek out the Shifters. Hunt them down. Kill them. Send their animals back to the Darkness so they can live forever, live free, free from the burden of human morals.
Shit, was that why Everett was here? Had he been stalking his prey? Tracking his targets? Had he followed these women all the way down to Morocco? That was how big cats—tigers especially—hunted. Slow. Methodical. Toying with their prey until it was time to finish it.
Darius burst back out into the arena, knocking over the paunchy ringmaster, pushing aside the clowns, hurdling over the jugglers as he launched himself off the stage, Changing into his lion in mid-air, unleashing an unholy roar as he saw Everett the Tiger already in animal form, closing in on the two women.
Except it wasn’t two women anymore. It was two bobcats, each of them Changed and ready, backed up against each other, their tails standing straight up, slowly twitching from side to side as they bared their claws and showed their teeth.
By now the arena was clearing out, and Darius l
anded on his paws, roaring at the tiger as he came up behind him.
“Are you insane?” he growled. “You’re doing this here? In front of a thousand people?”
But Everett didn’t even turn sideways towards Darius. His eyes were locked in on the bobcats, and Darius felt a chill go through him when he realized that Everett had singled out one of the bobcat sisters—the one who’d been sitting on the left. Instantly he understood that Everett wasn’t hunting these women—not in that sense, anyway. He hadn’t tracked these women here—not intentionally, anyway. His animal had led him here. Led him to his mate. Just like it had led these bobcats to their mates.
Excitement ripped through his lion as Darius stared at the bobcat on the right, the one he’d singled out by pure instinct, the one he knew was his, his mate, his woman, his destiny. Her brown eyes were narrowed and focused, and although he could tell she was highly aware of his presence, she was also deeply protective of her sister.
As she should be, whispered his lion as he slowly padded closer toward the standoff. She and her sister are in danger.
“Bullshit,” Darius growled under his breath as he padded closer to his buddy the Tiger. “Everett isn’t here to hunt. He’s here to mate! Coming face to face with our mates has broken the hold that Murad’s Black Dragon had on us, on our animals, on you. These bobcats have nothing to fear from us. So long as they accept that we are their mates, of course.”
I didn’t say they are in danger from us, whispered his lion.
“What?” said Darius, whipping his massive maned head upwards and sniffing the air. And then he smelled them: More Shifters. Dark Shifters. Dangerous Shifters. “Shit!”
Everett seemed to have picked up the scent at the same time, and then suddenly both big cats did an about face, their backs now turned to the two bobcats, the tiger and the lion crouching down, coiled like springs, ready to pounce, ready to protect.
Tamed for the Lion Page 2