Cougar

by Cougar (lit)

  "Jackal?"

  He eyed me with sincerity.

  I had to look pathetic lying on my side with my head on my backpack stuffed with clothing. Tears glinting in my eyes. But at least I wasn't annoying him. "What happened to John?" I managed to squeeze out the words with stinging tears only cutting one word in two.

  He winced and shoved backward into the metal wall. "Normals. He said they followed him. But he didn't want to draw attention to your location. So he lead them the opposite direction. Into a trap waiting for him."

  John must have fought. If enough Normals worked together with a new technique for caging a Shifter, even the toughest Shifter could be caught. "Is it true some Shifters work with hunters now to catch Guardians?"

  Jackal's breath knifed. He nodded. "Mostly out here. In The Wild." He locked a serious stare on me. "But you shouldn't worry about that at Death Summit. The clan owns five tanks. Nobody risks penetrating the village's fortified walls." He reached out to pat my calf twice. "You're safe with us."

  Funny he mentioned security.

  "Here we go," Demon blurted.

  The sputtering tank's engine died.

  Demon turned to eye me. "Let's go. Tornado's waiting."

  Chapter Four

  With guitar and Black Betty slung over her shoulders, Sierra studied the remote mountain village in the northwest of what used to be the United States in the land of Oregon. The village called Death Summit was built flush up against the base of a mountain. I stood in blinding sunlight over the tank's hood inside the village's eight-foot high outer wall fashioned from upright logs whittled into points on their upper end. Heavier artillery than what a person could pack, nothing too large to destroy the wall when fired, was mounted in strategic locations around the top of the palisade on metal scaffolding anchored to the roughly hewn tree trunks.

  Big guns I'd been trained to use by Father.

  And I'd damn sure use one if I had to.

  Very military to boot.

  Two armed men guarded the top of the wall, one on each side of the gate. There were undoubtedly other men equidistantly spaced along the rest of the wall. Just enough guards to watch the distance for any sign of Normals with foolish agendas. I scanned the village.

  Beyond the tanks lined up at the base of the wall and the hard-packed earth of an area the size of two courtyards, many makeshift structures either squared or round separated by wide well-trodden paths riddled the view. Thrust above the various rooftops whirled a large windmill. Windmills harvesting wind for energy since electricity made life easier, thank goodness.

  What appeared to be a corral housed livestock to the extreme right, up against the wall. Probably pigs by the look of mud. Hens paraded their fuzzy broods here and there around anything and everything. And one large black rooster, feathers glinting black and blue, eyed me a good ten feet away.

  Easy protein. Life without meat wasn't worth living.

  The smell of smoke was so strong that they had to be smoking something like ham or jerking game. But the acrid smell of boiling fat indicated the village used everything it had, including the animal fat to create bio-fuel to operate small engines.

  Jackal hopped off the tank at my side and extended his arms to me.

  Well, wasn't he helpful? I guess I'm supposed to play along with another aspect of the invalid female. And he genuinely seemed to revel in helping me. I gulped down a sigh and reached toward his strong arms.

  He grabbed my waist, lifting me down to the ground. I instinctively planted my hands on the corded steel of his forearms. Muscles that felt amazing, working to safely move me to settle me standing upon the courtyard.

  "This way," he said.

  I followed his wide shoulders between the houses. Trying not to stare at the curious faces stepping through doorways to watch my passage. Albeit, I was new and interesting. I just hated being the center of attention. Someone might recognize me. Peg me for a good trade. Send me back to Father's cousins or the Rites-of-the-Goddess sisterhood. The only thing I could do was keep my eyes on Jackal's amazing tail.

  Taut. Right beneath a narrow waist forming the base of his v-shaped upper body and those damnably huge bulging muscles of his bare arms. Suspended over slightly bowed legs. Finally left in a position to assess the Guardian's backside, I couldn't imagine what compelled Tornado to send out the unqualified Demon in charge of my retrieval.

  Jackal led me to the village's central-ringed Guardian lodge structure of one inner building surrounded by an outer series of lodges. Each village Guardian occupied one of the outer lodges that protected the clan head's lodge within the inner building.

  Jackal led me right to Tornado.

  Tornado would be waiting in the extra outer building connected to his over-sized home.

  His meeting lodge. Would the other clan members be there already? And what did they have planned for me?

  Skills. I needed to rattle off something of my value to ensure my hungry tail would benefit the clan. Or village. Because I must appear to be just a simple Normal. I could clean and cook. Like a good Normal. I could shoot too. But villages rarely let women risk death by functioning as guards on the wall. So, time to play all by ear.

  Jackal stopped at a door, shoved it open with one of the elbows on those massive killer arms, and nodded for me to enter with a pricelessly optimistic green gaze.

  How could I outrun him otherwise? I'd probably realize it was a big mistake coming to Death Summit tomorrow. But there was no turning back now. I stepped into darkness.

  Jackal's hand at my lower back gently shoved me forward.

  Into the darkness.

  Apparently his eyes had acclimated to the change in lighting. Or he knew where to step.

  The circular room suddenly came into view.

  Tornado scowled, or just looked like he scowled in his normal state, where he stood with three other older males. All wore the Guardians' camouflage, khaki, leather mixture of clothing. But their age allowed them the honor of wearing hair. And Tornado's shoulder-length locks sported some wide stretches of silver. He had to be fifty years old. Like his companions.

  Tornado riveted an unsettling blue gaze upon me.

  Or maybe it was just his friendly scowl that bothered me? But something told me I was in for a doozey of a welcome.

  "So this is my son's mate?" Tornado took three measured steps to a wooden chair and claimed a seat like a king with his throne.

  That's when my radar noted the other males in the room. Those with shaved heads. Village Guardians. And there were so damned many. Tornado had a huge clan with at least twenty young males who could protect Death Summit's occupants. A larger clan size would ensure the villagers' safety.

  Jackal's touch gently ushered me to stand four steps from the almost curious clan leader.

  "Do you speak?" Tornado asked.

  Maybe I shouldn't and humor the asshole. "No."

  Tornado burst out laughing, pointed at me, and looked back at his elder clansmen. "I like her. No wonder Rattler mated her."

  My heart lunged into my throat at the mention of my late mate's name.

  But there would be no avoiding discussion of my John with an asshole bereft of tact today. I choked down my heart and sucked in a huge breath.

  Jackal's hand disappeared. "Her name is Sierra," he announced.

  I really wasn't ready to stand alone at Tornado's black boots.

  The clan head quieted and studied me. "You're too pretty." His scowl twisted into his left cheek. "Damned beautiful. Trouble." He seemed in deep thought while uttering his assessment. Calculating his options. "Where were you born?"

  Not the question I wanted to deal with. I'd have to lie to avoid mentioning my sire and who I am. "Far north."

  His eyes squinted as if he knew I didn't want to answer the question. "And you have family outside of my clan?"

  Well, at least he gave me credit for my connections through marriage. Maybe he just wanted to pass me on to someone else to avoid forcing another mouth to
feed on the village. Not today. "No. They're dead. In the Saskatchewan. There's nothing there but bears for me." That dead part was truth. Mother's ties to the Rites of the Goddess weren't blood bonds. And I so didn't want to reconnect with the sisterhood after their Goddess left me high and dry to witness my parents' murder.

  Tornado sucked down a long breath and leaned forward. "Death Summit is a well-oiled machine, Sierra. The village is composed of eighteen wealthy Normal families who retreated here for one reason-to protect themselves. As you've seen, there isn't much around other than the necessities to help us survive. We don't plant fields. But we have a garden. We trade for grain, hay, flour, and any other food we can't produce here. We raise pigs, chickens, and keep some cows on hand for milk and butter. Since you can't buy your way into the village, I'll have to convince the village's senior males that you are of value to their families. Do you have any skills?"

  "Like most women. I cook and clean. I can shoot. John said better than anyone in your clan." The point should strike a chord with the leader. Maybe I should note I could pour bullets as good as any warrior. Bullet production ranked more important than laundry.

  He nodded twice, slowly, obviously thinking. "What do you do with that guitar?"

  Wasn't it obvious? "Sing."

  Tornado hmmed while thinking.

  A thinking clan head was like a ticking bomb. An asshole on the verge of explosive caustic diarrhea. I had to stand there. Waiting. Wondering what crap fluttered through his mind. And powerful men who lived as long as he did had minds nobody wished to contemplate.

  "Sing me something," he commanded.

  Not what I wanted to hear.

  * * * *

  Jackal watched Sierra loose a little piece of her soul while she strummed her guitar like it was an extension of her arms. Her voice soft and clear, enchanting.

  She watched her hands.

  But someone who played like she did shouldn't have to watch her fingers. Her stance resonated pain. Probably from the song's message of finding love and living. Most likely the pain of loss.

  Not one person moved in the room.

  I couldn't blame them. We'd miss something. Angelic. This must be why Rattler called her Angel. And my step-father's grimace actually softened with her song's words of love and life.

  If the clan's women had been present, they would have whisked Sierra away from Tornado's interrogative justice before he had the chance to torture her when she finished singing. But the women weren't here. And Tornado intended on keeping peace in his little realm. After he'd stated the truth, that she was too damned beautiful, everything fell into place.

  Sierra would have to choose a mate when he told her to.

  No waiting.

  No getting to know the village Guardians to ensure compatibility.

  And the Gods know, we'd all witnessed women attempt bartering with Tornado for more time before making the choice. But Tornado's tactic of just choose a man or I'll do it for you perpetuated Death Summit's peace of hearth.

  Unfortunately, Sierra hadn't even begun to grieve.

  Would Tornado take that into account?

  Hell, Rattler had been Tornado's chosen successor. Rattler's widow should deserve some sort of respect other than mating her off. Not that any Guardian would hurt her. Mating was a sacred act. A lifetime dedication seeded with an internal drive of the Wolf to protect and love its woman. A need that couldn't be shaken once a Shifter bit his woman during mating. Some Normal women tried to leave their mates. But Shifters never even gave the idea a thought.

  The last strum of the guitar faded into silence.

  Sierra slung the instrument back over her shoulder with. Black Betty. She lifted her chin, in a rather challenging way, to Tornado's calculating half smile and straightened her spine as if expecting him to explode.

  "That was unusually satisfying, Sierra." Tornado rubbed his upper lip like his short moustache prickled to grow, and he eyed the Guardians. He leaned forward and eyed her closely.

  Answering would have been totally stupid. Surely she realized she had to be willing to do anything to stay.

  She straightened her spine even more.

  "All mated Guardians leave." Tornado's ice-blue eyes pierced through her equally challenging stance. "And you, my dear, are most fortunate Rattler insisted we bring you into the clan. With that gift of singing and your beauty, you're in grave danger."

  Why did he have to be such an irritating ass? I clamped my fists at my side and tried not to listen to the insulting announcement of his clan rules. And I tried not to look at her stiffening form.

  "My policy is that all unmated females are matched within moments of entering our village wall."

  She stepped backward once but found something to ground her in place for what he would say next.

  "You will choose one of my relatives to mate before you leave this room."

  "I didn't agree to this," she snarled. "Or I wouldn't have come."

  "Well, you're here now. Under my protection. And you will do as I say. I risked four lives bringing you here."

  Her hands fisted at her sides.

  Tornado scanned the room. "Any Guardian remaining in the meeting lodge in one minute is agreeing to mate with this woman if she chooses you. So get the hell out if you're against it!"

  Shit.

  A brother-in-law wouldn't abandon her. Nobody would give her the time she needed to grieve.

  I couldn't abandon her.

  It didn't matter what could happen to her in the future.

  I just couldn't stand watching Tornado shove her around like a piece of furniture.

  * * * *

  Sierra almost broke her teeth grinding them together to keep her words to herself. To save my ass from the most ruthless of clan heads staring me down with his stipulations for my future. And there is nothing I can do.

  Mother was wrong.

  No Goddess existed protecting the life force of humanity.

  And Father was wrong.

  Clans didn't protect the weak and defenseless.

  They used them like Normals-their Wolves incapable of shaking their humanity! Tornado had proven that much within this singular moment.

  My John would have died all over again if he were present.

  Movement behind her noted unmated males vacated the shadowy room.

  Who remained?

  Did it matter?

  I was about to be married off to a stranger until one of us died.

  If that didn't rank right up there with rape, what did?

  The door thumped.

  Tornado rose, tall and muscular, a horrible threat, and sauntered across the few steps between us.

  This is death.

  This is when everything in the world suddenly ends.

  Beyond losing John.

  I might as well go throw myself at a spacecraft. Hand my Cougar ass over to the aliens.

  "Alright," Tornado pointed to the left. "I'll introduce the boys to you."

  Bile burned up my esophagus.

  Puking might insult the men. I choked down the sensation and inhaled.

  Tornado draped a palm over my shoulder like a caring sire.

  The bastard. I rolled my gaze where his finger pointed.

  "This is Steel."

  I couldn't bring myself to look above his knees at his brown eyes and angular features. He might be quiet. Add to that Shifters were incredible lovers. But Steel went unnoticed in the tank. Dwarfed by his half-brothers.

  "You got to know him on your trip here. He's the best tracker we have." Tornado's pointing arm shifted toward another male form. "And this is Demon, my successor. You won't be popular among the village's daughters if you choose him." Tornado chuckled. "But you don't look like the type who cares if you piss off a few folks."

  This was freaking insane. I'm inconsequential. I might as well be getting gang raped again. What would Father think if he stood in this room? He ruled with a firm hand. But he was The Black. Known for compassion. Tough as shit.
Nobody crossed him. Everybody wanted to live in his village.

  And then there was John. He couldn't have had any idea my future involved picking a mate from his relatives within days following his death. Or did he? Maybe I should be pissed. I just studied the hard-packed room's dirt floor.

  Hell, Tornado had almost circled the entire room, rattling off names and the men's specialties when I saw those scuffed combat boots I'd stared at so often inside the tank.

  Thank goodness. I couldn't recall much of what Tornado had rattled off.

  But there stood Jackal.

  "Well, well, would you look at that! Jackal stayed," Tornado whispered, leaning so close to my ear that his hot breath kissed my skin. "He never stays whenever there's a woman for the snatching. Looks like you broke through something with him."

  I slid my gaze up Jackal's slightly-bowed legs, across the long stretch of undulating muscle of one of his arms, over his squared jaw, to meet his compassionate green gaze.

  He lowered his head an inch. Almost nodding. But stood and watched me with a look that insisted I choose him.

  Oh the sincerity in his stance.

  I couldn't breathe.

  This couldn't be happening. Why did my life come to my being recycled like a canning jar, wire, or part of a motor?

  Tornado's hands grabbed my arms and whirled me to face his empty chair. He plopped down upon the wooden seat and stared me down with amused tolerance. "Choose."

  I, uh… Everything in my head vanished. Words. I needed words. "I'm not an auto part or a pair of boots in decent condition. I-"

  "I'll choose for you if you can't," Tornado snarled.

  I could pull a fast one.

  Admit my clan connections. But I didn't want to return to my cousins. They'd probably mate me off to be done with my rebel tail. And returning to my training as a Rites-of-the-Goddess priestess was the least appealing of my options. Especially when some Normals feared priestesses.

  And here stood Jackal. I trusted him enough to live with the choice of giving my body to him. And his thoughtful glances always made me feel like he could hug me to death. "Jackal."

  Tornado's face twisted with a sinister little smile. "That's who I would have chosen. My next in command." He nodded past my shoulder. "I expect her to be marked by morning. Don't take her anywhere until it's finished."