Snow's Heat

by Nicole Hicks

“I asked what that was!”

  “Hunters,” he replied shortly, setting her away from him. He had to get out of there. He had to get those damn idiots off his property. He owned the hundred miles surrounding the cabin, had just purchased it the day before Bree showed up. The only bit of land he didn’t own was the two acres and driveway that surrounded the small two-bedroom cabin he now stood by. And he wouldn’t allow anyone to hunt on his land. That was his joy, no one else’s. The whole reason he’d bought the land was to have room for his inner leopard to roam. Hunt without the threat of outsiders interrupting him. He still wasn’t sure how his animal would react to people, but he was about to find out.

  “I better go see what is going on. No one should be hunting in these woods. But I will be back, and we will see if I can follow through on my promise.”

  He kissed her hard before walking across the clearing, and glanced toward her at the forest’s edge. The sight of her holding her hand to her lips with a slight smile made his steps a little lighter as he dodged between the trees and into the shadows to change and begin his hunt. Carefully, he followed the almost nonexistent trail to one of the spots that had recently become one of his most used changing areas. The bushes were covered with Mustang grapevines, making the small area between the bushes a perfect cave; a changing area that was close to the cabin he had kept under…surveillance. As another shot rang out, he pushed aside the thoughts of the pretty brunette whom he hoped would lying in bed and awaiting his return and focused on getting the intruders to leave. The sooner he could do that, the sooner he could get back to his challenging treat.

  Shucking off his shirt and shoes, his hands hesitated on the button of his jeans as he sniffed for intruders. Even when on two legs his senses were slightly better than average, something he had learned to depend on. And something that both helped and hindered when he was around Bree. Smelling her desire challenged his self-control, but sensing her pain helped hold the majority of his desire at bay. Smelling no intruders, he quickly undid his pants, bending on hands and knees as he slid them to the ground and quickly set them aside in his temporary shelter.

  He grunted in pain as his muscles strained and stretched. Watching his skin roll as his muscles contracted to help him shift easily turned his stomach. The one time he had tried to watch himself change had disturbed him so much he no longer changed where there was a reflective surface nearby. Hearing his bones snap, feeling them shift, was bad enough on its own. Additionally, the way his muscles seemed to come alive and roll under his skin like snakes inside a bag of flesh was beyond disconcerting. But as time passed, his change became faster. It went from fifteen minutes of agonizing torture to roughly five minutes of a pain he had become familiar with.

  Once he could stand and stretch, he took stock of his environment. The slight wind through the trees brought the scent of blood, the stink of gun oil, gunpowder and man. The almost toxic scent of their joy from an illegal kill should have been enough to scare most prey animals, if not the overpowering stench from the liquor they’d consumed earlier. Flicking his long tail to help him ensure his balance, he twisted and ran among the silent trees toward the intruders.

  As he came up on the kill site, the smell of blood overcame the smell of the humans’ sweat and excitement. When they had cut through the abdomen of the buck in a mangled attempt of a field dressing, they had cut too deep. Smelling the blood and scent of offal the sliced entrails gave off made him hungry in his feline body. He fought to control his reaction as his instincts to steal their catch interfered with his desire to sit and watch the idiots in his territory. When he saw only two and not the three men he smelled in the area, his aim was to take stock of exactly where the third one was.. If he wasn’t mistaken…no he wasn’t. He heard the rumbling of a diesel truck struggling through the underbrush that choked the service road that ran nearby.

  In their haste for the illegal kill, not only had they ruined some of the meat with their careless, drunken attempt at dressing the ten point buck, but they weren’t even cleaning the area they had desecrated. They left empty beer cans, food wrappers and bloody rope scattered around the small clearing. As they grabbed up the coolers, he circled around toward the sound of the engine.

  He saw flashes of the third man walking toward the clearing. The truck, he guessed, was an old Ford they used only for hunting. The paint on the side was scratched to hell and back, the tailgate was missing and the scent of old blood wafted on the air. Travis continued to stare at the truck in disbelief as the third man approached with the body of the dead deer. They didn’t even have a large cooler for the buck’s carcass. Or the sense to put ice in the cavity. As the tall man carrying the deer slung the ten pointer over the side of the bed to drain the rest of its blood, Travis finally saw who the third man was. Ben Parler, owner of the local gas station and grocery store: Parler’s Pit Stop. The local yokel who said he would help spread the word about Travis wanting no one to hunt on his land. He chuffed in derision, the closest he could come to a snorting laugh. When he saw Parler glance around in fear, he got an idea. A wicked, evil idea that caused his lip to curl up and expose his long canines. He had to move quickly if he wanted to make this work. And it would serve those asses well if they shit themselves.

  “Come on, boys, pack it in…daylight’s wasting.” Parler nagged the other two as he headed back to the truck, carrying one of the coolers. They packed the back, and casually slung the carcass into the truck bed. As the three squeezed into the cab and he heard the transmission grinding as they struggled to put it in gear, Travis wiggled his hind end, trying for the best purchase on a tree trunk. Eyeing the distance, he knew they could go roughly ten more feet before he would be unable to follow through with his plan. Lucky for him, snow leopards could jump nearly thirty feet straight on. If jumping on their prey from above, they could reach their longest straight-on distance of forty-six feet. Gauging the distance between the tree and the bed of the truck, as well as their slow speed so they didn’t risk damage to the truck’s undercarriage, he would need to jump in—three, two, one…

  As the truck bounced, he regained his balance. He lifted his lips, bared his teeth and wailed. Although the wail was not a threatening sound to all, it was one that haunted. One, if ended with a growl, strayed into the memories of childhood fears. Giving the boogey man those inner children still feared a voice that touched the soul. As he heard high-pitched squeals of fright coming from the cab, he bent down, grabbed the deer by the back of the neck and jumped with his prize to the ground.

  As the ass end of the truck slung side to side, most likely from Parler’s attempt at a faster getaway, Tee debated chasing them. Aw, to hell with it, it’ll be fun. He left his stolen goods in the middle of the service road and took off after the men in the truck.

  “Faster, it’s chasing us!” he heard someone shout from the cab as he raced after them. He increased his speed, intending to add to their fright. Knowing he couldn’t keep up the pace for long, he figured he would add as much fear as possible. Maybe this will keep them from coming back out here. Keep them where they belong instead of in my woods!

  He caught a familiar smell just as he heard one of the interlopers exclaim, “Who is that?”

  Before he could put a face to the scent, he saw Bree step out of the woods, standing between him and the truck, holding nothing more than a branch as tall as her shoulders. He backpedaled to stop before running into her, whining in fear of hurting her by accident.

  What the hell is she doing?

  Chapter Four

  Shit, what the hell do I think I’m doing?

  When Travis had run off through the woods to find the idiots shooting their guns, she had stood dumbfounded by his kiss. That is, until her damn phone played Earl’s ringtone repeatedly. When she didn’t answer, he kept calling. Guess he doesn’t like the thought of someone else wanting me…even if he doesn’t.

  She had glanced at the phone. Fours missed calls, all from Earl. Imagine that. When the phone had rung
a fifth time, she answered it, hoping to get him to stop calling.

  * * *

  “Really, Earl, this is a bit much, don’t you think?”

  “Sabrina, baby, where are you?” His voice had that wheedling tone to it. One she used to think was cute in a little boy kind of way. That was just plain annoying now.

  “Earl, you lost the right to know anything and everything about what I am doing when you left. Hell, you lost that right before you left. What do you care where I am, or who I am with? You left us, remember? Just get on with the life you wanted so damned badly and leave us to ours!”

  “Bree, honey, you know I didn’t stop loving you! I just wanted something different. Just because we think we want something doesn’t mean that it’s what’s best for us. I miss you and the kids. I miss knowing you’ll be there for me when I get home from work. I miss—”

  “You know what I miss, Earl?” She interrupted him. “I miss the things I thought I had, and realized were just in my overactive imagination. I miss knowing someone was there for me when I needed him. That I had someone to hold me when I felt weak. Or thought I was the most important person in their life. That I was in love with my best friend and that the person holding me at night would keep me safe. And all of that was only one sided…mine!”

  She tossed her free hand up in the air. “What I thought I was getting from you wasn’t reality, it was fantasy. And one that I have woken up from—let me tell you! Yes, losing you hurt, I won’t deny that at all, but what hurt the most was realizing just how much of our life was a lie. Realizing I had given up so much of myself to make you happy, and to make us work was all for nothing…no more than a dream. That is something I will not go back to. So you can take your desires and your ‘I made a mistake’ speeches and keep them. I will not go through that again. I will not give you the chance to hurt me like that again!”

  “But I still lo—”

  “No!” she screamed. “Don’t you dare say you still love me. You don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t tell them they’re not enough. You don’t say you want to screw other women to the woman you love! You don’t tell the people that look up to you that you don’t want the hassle or stress of a family! That isn’t love. Not any kind I want to be a part of.”

  Bree snapped the phone closed and hung her head. She knew she did the right thing, even if a part of her heart still broke when she thought of the hurtful things he’d said when he left. But that was normal. As the strains of My Give a Damn’s Busted played on the phone yet again, she threw it in the front yard of the cabin and started toward the woods. Screw him, out there is a man who is more man than that wanker ever will be! In fact, he may be the dog’s bollocks! Thinking of her British friend’s way of saying something was ‘the shit’ always made her smile. Now if only she can find him and see if she could talk some sense into him before he took on those guys with guns!

  As she walked through the woods, she tried to remember where the initial sound of the shot came from, and angled accordingly.

  Thankfully, these are pine trees and sparse, she thought as she walked in deeper. She was by no means a true country girl. Peace and quiet, those were things she could handle. But dealing with killing her dinner? Not so much. When she heard the sound of a harshly running engine, she looked around for a way to defend herself. Picking up a branch from some deadfall, she continued on. As she came up on the edge of the woods and what appeared to be an old road, she saw a truck fishtailing toward her with a…large cat sprinting behind it. What is going on?

  * * *

  As the truck rushed by her, she saw the frightened faces of three men. Crap, that cat has almost caught them. She did something truly stupid. She stepped between the cat and what it chased. As she brought up the piece of wood to defend herself, the cat stopped and stared at her. Shaking, she talked to it.

  “Nice kitty, pretty kitty.”

  Shit on a shingle I’m toast. She watched the predator stalking toward her.

  It was a beautiful animal, its thick fur was a burnt-orange color with black rosettes and an almost gray underbelly. It looked a bit like a leopard, but the tail was longer and thicker than the ones she’d seen in the zoo. Obviously, it was a predator, and the coloring would easily hide it in the fall. Now, it was coming toward her. The mewling sounds it made didn’t sound threatening and the tail was almost completely still. Could it be a pet? Maybe it had just played with the men? She snorted in derision. As if!

  As it came closer, she became aware of the distinct sound of the truck’s engine at idle. She didn’t want to take her gaze off the cat as it crept closer. She saw the unusual green color of its eyes. No, she wasn’t sure what this cat was, but it sure was beautiful.

  “Do you see that?” a male voice asked behind her. “That creature knows her.”

  She ignored the voices as the cat crept closer, now almost on its belly. She reached a shaking hand out to see if it would let her touch it. Just as her fingertips drew even with the whiskers on its nose, the sound of one of the doors slamming on the truck drew the feline’s attention and a snarl. The cat streaked to stand in front of her, its tail wrapped around her legs. To protect her? She turned to see which dumbass had left the safety of the steel box.

  “Who are you?” she asked the man stupid enough to be out of the truck. Like I’m any smarter? I stepped between this beast and a moving vehicle!

  “Parler of Parler’s Pit Stop. This is our hunting ground. And who are you, chickee?” Parler asked with a snarl on his lip similar to the cat’s.

  “Bree,” she replied shortly.

  “Parler,” she heard one of the guys in the truck holler, “get your ass back in this truck and let’s get!”

  “Well, Bree,” Parler ignored his pal, “you don’t belong here. So why don’t ya just get along?”

  “Well, Parler,” she mimicked his snide tone, “I would say you are the one who doesn’t belong. I am staying at the old Mackelroy place, by invitation. If I am not mistaken all this land is owned, and not by you. So I suggest you get before the owner comes. He may seem nice, but he gets a little wild when riled.”

  The cat at her feet chuffed, almost as if agreeing. She raised an eyebrow and struggled to hide her laughter. Maybe she had gotten brain damage from the smoke at the bonfire earlier. Something was definitely off to make her think a wild animal agreed with her.

  “Parler, let’s go already! Don’t you know what that is?” His friend had gotten brave enough to stick part of his head out the window closest to Parler.

  “No,” he replied without taking his gaze off her or the cat, “what is it?”

  “That there is a snow leopard. Don’t know how it got here, maybe it’s the crazy lady’s pet, but them things can jump past where you’re standing now! Don’t you ever watch anything but hunting shows? Jeez! Let’s go!”

  As he backed toward the truck, his friend opened the door. The leopard lowered his head and got into a pouncing position. Just as Parler got to the door, the cat leapt, landing not five feet away and growled. Bree saw a wet spot on the front of the poor man’s jeans as he cursed, stumbled and jumped into the truck. As it sped away, the snow leopard swung its head back toward her. Bree couldn’t hold back her laughter as she saw what she believed to be a smug look on the feline face.

  “Got him good, didn’t ya, boy?” Her laughter rang out loud as her mirth took over. She grabbed at her stomach and fell on her butt as the sight of Parler’s jeans getting mysteriously soaked ran through her mind again. But when she felt a cool, slightly ridged nose and hot breath on her cheek, her laughter ended abruptly. She slowly opened her eyes and got a more up close view of the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen, as the rank smell of blood added to the natural stink of cat breath hit her nose.

  “Eww!”

  * * *

  At Bree’s scrunched up face, Tee chuffed his feline laugh and raced back toward his clothes. If he hurried, he could meet her in the woods, and make sure she got back to th
e cabin safely. On four feet the distance seemed to simply disappear, the time it took to get there eaten by the memory of Bree on her butt in the road, laughing with abandon. Such a simple thing, laughter, but it could bring beauty to the forefront. He hurriedly changed back and threw on his clothes.

  As he walked swiftly back to where he’d left her, he had to wonder just what was going on. She brought the ‘gentleman’ he was raised to be out of hiding, she tamed his feline side, made him horny as hell and yet, was someone he knew next to nothing about. He had thought he was beyond the screw-them-and-move-on phase, but apparently he was wrong. She brings out the animal in me…. Pun intended. He snickered.

  When he got to the edge of the woods by the service road, and Bree was nowhere in sight, he began to worry. He hadn’t run across her on the way here and had not scented a new trail of her passing by. Had she gotten lost? Taking a deep breath, he found she had started back along the road where the chase had begun. He picked up his pace.

  When he came across her, she knelt by the deer. He expected to find her crying for ‘Bambi,’ but instead, she looked at it critically. As he stopped beside her, he tilted his head, wondering if he would ever know what to expect from her.

  “How much meat do you think is ruined from them cutting too deep?”

  It was a question he did not expect from her. Was she a hunter? Nah, surely not. She came across as a city girl.

  “Not much,” he replied. “Maybe a few good steaks worth…”

  “Hmm,” she answered as she fingered her pocket. As she moved her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear he saw what she had been playing with…. A pocket knife? She carried a pocket knife? He watched her slide it into her back pocket, a smooth movement that told him she did it often.

  “So where were you?”

  The question didn’t seem accusatory, merely curious. He realized this as he glanced down to see her gazing at him instead of the deer corpse. He didn’t like the thought of lying to her, but knew she wouldn’t believe the truth.