Cougar

by Cougar (lit)

  Demon made the call.

  For bourbon.

  What a dumb ass.

  He traded Sierra's safety for Gods-be-damned liquor to appease his sire.

  Or so things would appear to have gone down that path. Tornado had better wake up and reassess his choice of heirs.

  And just who in the fucking hell had the balls to jack with a Shifter's tank? Or had Sierra disobeyed and left the secured vehicle? If that was the case, Demon wouldn't handle the disruption from his task, the death of locals, or her lack of respect well. I leapt from where I ran along the length of a weathered red building's wall to cover the four strides to the tank in two heaving breaths.

  Something moved beyond the tank's boxy form and tracks.

  An enormous bastard holding Sierra's flailing limbs blindfolded her eyes with one hand.

  His stinking mouth covered her ear.

  If the fool only realized how deadly that kiss was.

  "No," she screeched and blindly kicked one of his friends between the legs.

  Lucky strike. The two others had tucked her weapons into their waistbands at their lower backs and stood with their backs to me. Now, one buckled over, holding his crotch.

  They weren't watching for us.

  Ignorant carcasses.

  How had they gotten a hold of Sierra with her little firearm fetish? I'd find out in just a minute. I plowed through the first echelon of idiots and hurled a fist at the side of the mangy bastard's head who had yet to retract his tongue from her ear.

  The juicy thwack from his skull did all but knock him on his ass.

  He lost his grip on her head though.

  She blinked and stared at me with those stunned blue eyes.

  Oh, I never wanted to see the terror I saw there again. I grabbed the bastard's arm and tried to peel the flesh from her waist.

  Men grunted behind me.

  My half-brothers were tending to the smaller fools.

  She kicked backward, into the big bastard's shins.

  He groaned and wobbled.

  She shook loose from her captor.

  And he was all mine.

  I waited.

  Just until he looked into my eyes.

  He needed to know who killed him.

  That he'd made a deadly error in touching Sierra.

  The man's dark gaze locked onto mine.

  The stinking Prophet, a member of the clan of Normals who fancied themselves seers. Unfortunately, the course of today's events proved this handful of Prophets were frauds. "You're about to pay for that little play of tongue."

  The man pulled himself together, sliding into a boxing stance, arms wide like he couldn't decide whether to grab me or punch. "I'll stick my tongue elsewhere as soon as I finish with you." He flicked his tongue out rapidly against his upper teeth in a disrespectful manner I hoped Sierra didn't witness.

  First a challenge.

  Then insult.

  Time to rip his head off. I lunged, ducked, swung, and hit his hard-ass jaw.

  He gasped.

  The slow fuck. How couldn't the moron see me coming?

  The Prophet caught a foothold, lowered a glare, and threw his weight into me.

  Hitting home with pain. I shoved his smelly ass backward, twisting a leg around his, knocking him off his feet. Down.

  He was dead. I fell on his soft belly, straddling the weak flesh, and pounded his face.

  "He's dead, Jackal," someone's voice finally found my ears. "You're shifting. Stop."

  Not until I ripped the bastard's head off.

  "Jackal," she shouted, "it's over. Stop."

  Was she hurt? I turned to where her voice had been.

  The small trading post's occupants had started forming an observation ring around us.

  A good fifty feet away.

  Sierra stood, fully dressed, nothing torn. No blood.

  She's okay. Okay. I sucked in a deep breath to settle my racing heart and choke back my rising Wolf.

  "Time to leave," Demon said where he stood beside her.

  He didn't look upset with her.

  Good.

  The other two thieves were sprawled out across the ground, motionless.

  "Come on, Jackal." Demon turned toward the tank, ushering Sierra along by the elbow.

  She watched me for a moment, then climbed up and into the tank.

  * * * *

  Attacked by that stinking Prophet and limited to the extent she could safely react, Sierra almost choked on her heart until Jackal had arrived to deal with her oversized attacker. But things worked out, she noted, settling down against the safety of the tank's inner cool hard wall, reclaiming a seat beside the duffle filled with firearms.

  The other Guardians planted themselves along the walls as well, their Shifter eyes glowing in the shadows of the vehicle's interior. Demon sat at the vehicle's controls, revving up the engine. None of them had sprouted Shifter fur like Jackal though.

  Jackal's hairy form dropped from the open hatch onto the resounding metal floor. His furred legs hadn't shifted enough to burst through his clothing. But he knelt like a wild man and eyed her over with those glowing yellow eyes-the telltale first sign of a shift. "Did they hurt you, little one?"

  The growl in his voice gave me chills.

  "No." I wagged my head for emphasis in case he wasn't truly listening in his transitional state.

  But his eyes said more than enough. Their absolute concern replaced the empathy I always found in those green orbs.

  Nothing angry.

  Nothing implying anything else either. I almost felt a little embarrassed because I had to wait for help instead of saving myself. Or give away my identity by fighting too well.

  But just what was he thinking?

  That I was his?

  He hadn't made any threatening moves to indicate he claimed me for his own. Not that I cared for or adamantly refused to be claimed by Jackal. He'd killed a man to save me. Rather, beat his face to a pulp in a rage. But Shifters protected those left in their care. And with the loss of John, feeling safe wasn't any small wish. Mind you, the only wish I could manage at the moment. And Jackal's partially-shifted stare made me feel safe.

  The tank rolled forward.

  With human facial features staring me down, Jackal splayed his fingers against the floor to hold steady where he squatted in his combat boots. Just an enormous mass of muscles somewhat-covered in dark shaggy Shifter fur. He sighed and slid his gaze to Demon's back. "No more stops, little brother," he insisted with a commanding final growl.

  "Everything's fine, Jackal," Demon replied. "I've got everything under control."

  Brother? Half-brother or step-brother? Talk about confusion. But mating always resulted in puzzling family connections to those unfamiliar with a clan's history because powerful Shifters like their sire, Tornado, undoubtedly mated often if his mates died from childbirth or other causes. Why a younger brother like Demon would be making decisions made no sense though. Jackal was obviously stronger, wiser, and older. Jackal should be leading this mission. I slid my gaze to Jackal's glowing stare.

  He watched me like a rabid animal, minus the frothing at the mouth.

  Maybe I was being oversensitive. Jackal hadn't indicated he would lose control when experiencing Shifter euphoria. Albeit, it had to be difficult kneeling there, watching a female you desperately needed to bite to shove your body's cravings over the edge.

  To give into the shift's desires and completely transform.

  Or simply snuff the sensation altogether.

  But Jackal held steady.

  Quietly watching me with his strange brand of concern. "I'm alright, Jackal." Maybe hearing me say it again would help him settle down.

  He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring, and nodded at me.

  The other two studied us like we sparred.

  Or something.

  The need to pull my knees to my chest and hug them began to make my heart race.

  What was going through Jackal's mind?
>
  Did he need me to pet him again?

  Dare I risk being bitten and raped in attempting to help him squelch his Shifter euphoria?

  He had saved me. And I wasn't going to be any better off when I arrived in his sire's village lacking allies. Remote villages were renowned for their lack of females among other resources. And now that I was returning to the mating market, offering to help Jackal relax and break the tension of the shift just might save my ass in the near future. After all, I'd already granted him such a favor last night.

  He didn't hurt me then.

  But he hadn't been standing on the precipice of transformation like now. Thoroughly furred. I stared into his burning eyes. "I'll help you again. If you want me to."

  His glowing stare pinched, processing my statement.

  Did he think I was frightened?

  It's not like I have anything left to lose.

  So what if he bites me. Screws me. There is nothing in my future except running from hunters and aliens. Making alliances now could do little more than help me. And Jackal's size and compassion made him the Guardian with the most to offer a girl wanting to stay alive and unshared by Normals. I patted the floor next to me. "Come here."

  The pinch in his golden stare squared in understanding, then opened with a flash of doubt.

  "It's alright, Jackal. I won't bite you."

  The other Guardians sitting across the small space burst into laughter.

  Jackal shot them a glare and edged toward the seat at my side using his hands to walk across the floor as he eased over in his crouch. His gaze finally focused on me as he settled on his ass at my side.

  He looked like a wild man. An animal.

  Maybe I was crazy.

  But I'd had my own wild-man mate already. And Jackal's behavior had been exemplary up to this moment. If he hurt me, forced me, I'd just wind up bound to him. Mated.

  At least I wouldn't be sitting around guessing my future. Maybe I'd cry for years after losing John. But I couldn't see Jackal hurting me. Not with the compassion I'd witnessed in his expressive eyes. Maybe I'd just use this moment as a little test… To see if he was everything his body language promised he would be. Then I'd know what to do about my future. Whether or not to stay with Death Summit Guardians or bolt. "Take off your shirt."

  His nose dropped toward the floor. He gazed at me, head tilted, through his eyelashes.

  My heart jolted into a sprint.

  What did that mask imply? Just how foolish a choice was it to try to help him climb down from his imminent shift? Hell, I'd lost my mind back when the disgusting bearded Prophet grabbed me against his disgusting iron-hard body at the trading post.

  Jackal focused on unbuttoning his sleeveless shirt, one small circular button at a time.

  Like he stripped for an audience.

  Torturing them with his slow seductive technique.

  I really needed to stop being so damned stupid when dealing with my life. My freedom. My health and warfare. Gods, Father chewed my tail out about these ridiculous conclusions I came to… Why did I let myself get into this situation? I just seemed to have fallen into the John-less hole in my heart and couldn't see out of it to save my tail.

  Jackal shoved one side of his shirt behind him, withdrawing a massive shoulder and arm.

  Gods the musculature molding his shoulder into existence.

  Then the other arm.

  Fur erupting from his smooth skin.

  Hell, the thought of my touch was making him metamorphose into a distorted werewolf.

  He shot me another sideways glance and let his shirt disappear into shadow behind him.

  Fine. I'd gotten myself into this mess. I'd deal with cleaning up the debris. Appear tough. Intelligent. "Here." I pulled on his furred firm bicep, leaning his unyielding torso toward my lap, and patted on my thighs. "Come on. We don't have all day."

  Redundant point when all we had was all day.

  He watched me with hesitation in those wary Wolf eyes.

  The man obviously feared what he might do. To me. Worried he couldn't control himself. Thank the stars for his telltale eyes. I'd misjudged my stupidity. Helping him was the best thing I could do. Really. It was. "Come on, Jackal." I pulled his firm arm until he gave, leaning, settling upon his side atop my lap.

  Nothing even close to sexual emanated from his rigid body. He laid so damned stiff that he looked like he feared moving as if he'd roll into glass shards or a cactus.

  Or something equally horrible.

  He had to be at least thirty. And how could a Shifter built like him housing a handy dose of intelligence not have used a female's touch to bring him down from a shifting high yet? If anything, he had been mated for years by now. He wouldn't rape me. No, he'd try to protect me. Like the good Guardian he is. I could even see that in his resolve not to hurt me now.

  And, it's not like I planned to spread my legs for him in front of the other Guardians. Certainly he realized that much. Even more so, he probably hated my touch because I wasn't his mate. I'd show him I had as much self-respect as he had. "Just relax. This is all about calming down." I draped a palm over his shoulder and ran my fingertips down his arm, scratching through his coarse fur.

  His thick wiry hair hid the sculpted muscle I knew to be there.

  Maybe it was better I couldn't touch it?

  I used to think I was cursed with unnatural sexual desires. But the problem had to lie in my inner Cougar. The monster inside me. I could harbor need like what Jackal struggled to control. Just like that. So, the Shifter gene had to be at fault. Especially when there were so many similarities between Wolf and Cougar Shifters.

  But Cougars held a different genetic alteration. Why?

  Nobody understood the other differences between Shifter sexes though. Like why the males turned into terrifying monsters and females became beautiful sleek golden cats. Probably because the extraterrestrials who instigated the mutations through all the strange scientific procedures they did on their spacecraft hadn't bothered informing us.

  We were the dredges of life in the universe to them.

  We were nothing more than slaves.

  No more than livestock they used for whatever mysterious purposes they concealed from us.

  And every day I had to deal with that perplexing alien mystery. I stroked my fingers through the coarse fur down Jackal's arm again.

  His rigid body slowly relaxed.

  Like the air gushed out of him. He'd be okay. I owed him that much. I switched directions and raked my fingers down the mat on his back.

  He groaned, leaning forward toward my knees, crossing his arms beneath his face, resting his nose there, laying upon his stomach.

  He was really kind of cute, presenting his broad shoulders to my touch. Any other time I would have chuckled. But he might take the sound as receptivity. And, Lord knows, I wasn't feeling receptive. Just helpful.

  His shoulders stretched a mile wide. So damned far I had to use both hands to cover the area quickly.

  Jackal growled.

  And growled.

  Chugging like a machine.

  And his coat thinned slightly.

  Maybe this wouldn't take all day.

  * * * *

  Something soft cushioned Sierra's cheek where her mind roused her from deep sleep inside the jostling tank.

  The tank sure rocked a lot.

  Probably hit a hole, she concluded and opened her eyes.

  Oh shit. Leaning against Jackal's shoulder as he sat against the wall wasn't wise. I met his alert gaze and sat up on my own. "Sorry."

  He shrugged. "You fell asleep. All the jarring from Demon driving over a couple dozen bodies littering the road is enough to cause any sleeping body to wobble until hitting something solid enough to hold steady."

  I still felt disgusting. Like I couldn't keep my hands and body off of him. What would John think?

  "Demon's decided to drive through the night," Jackal said.

  "Isn't that dangerous?" And foolhar
dy. Anyone could set up a trap on the road. Stupid young dolt. Demon needed some tough love before he got us captured or killed.

  Jackal leaned close. "He's trying to make up for screwing up at the trading post." He sat back up. "Tornado will be waiting. The sooner we arrive the better."

  I canted toward him like I couldn't stand not resting my cheek against his shoulder. Just so the others wouldn't catch wind of my question. "Why aren't you in charge?" I whispered.

  He chuckled once, softly.

  "Night travel is foolish in summer," I added softly.

  He nodded.

  I guess that was all I'd get. I retreated back to sit upright. "What bodies on the road?"

  "It looked like there'd been an ambush. We didn't stop."

  Demon probably wanted to, based on Jackal's tone.

  "We'll arrive around midday tomorrow. Sleep while you can," Jackal warned.

  * * * *

  The rest of the drive back to Death Summit was uneventful for Sierra. The big Guardian, Jackal, remained nearby. Never touching me, she thought. But observant and quiet. My fear of him going berserker and bonding me to himself had passed. He exhibited incredible control over the male's shifting-gene curse of just losing it and transmuting into his Wolfskin.

  Now, I just missed John.

  He always made me laugh.

  Always played chess with me.

  Always slept wrapped around my body like I was his pillow.

  And left me alone.

  Why, oh why, hadn't he given me a baby? Was there so much to fear in the wilderness that I had to be left widowed without something of him to cling to aside from Black Betty and some handguns? All those times he left me sitting there, waiting for his return, wondering if I'd seen him for the last time…

  Nothing was as horrible as watching John just fade away in my arms.

  How much time did I have with him in the end?

  Goddamned minutes to say goodbye?

  Because he insisted on traveling to trade when we were set for months?

  Just what had happened to him? I slid my gaze to Jackal.

  He knew.

  The enormous muscled man's six-foot-something frame was propped up with one elbow tucked into his thigh just above where his knee bent one leg beneath the other outstretched muscled limb.

  Light glinted off a metallic object he played with in the shadows.