The Lion's Fling (Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance Book 1)

by Lilly Pink

  “You can’t do that, Archer. You can’t go looking for that girl.”

  “Can’t I?”

  “No! You can’t!”

  “And why not? You tell me that, Roman. You’ve spent our whole lives telling me that we could do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. Now you’re telling me that's no longer the case? I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it at all, especially not coming from you. You’ve never done anything but exactly what you wanted to, not in our whole lives.”

  “I don’t care. This is different. This is something you can’t go do.”

  “I can, actually. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  Archer moved to get up from his stool but Roman was faster. He was up on his feet in a flash, ready to physically stop his lovelorn friend if that was what was required of him. Archer’s eyes flashed, a fire that served as fair warning that he wasn’t playing around. He was stubborn enough that when he intended to get a thing done, it was exactly what he was going to do.

  If he had to get into a fight for it, that was what he’d do. He had no problem with it, no problem at all. Making the decision that he was going to go off in search of Eloise was the first thing that had made him feel better since seeing her flee from him, and that had been several hours ago. He didn’t intend to keep feeling like shit for however long it took for him to get the girl out of his system and so he would do the thing that would make him feel better. Besides, he honestly didn’t think he would feel better.

  There was something about Eloise that got under his skin, something he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake. She was going to stick with him, even after he saw her again, if he saw her again. Maybe he had a little bit of Gram’s sight after all because something told him that Eloise was going to become something of a fixture in his life. She wasn’t going to be the sort of person that swam into his life only to swim right back out again. She was going to change things, maybe for all of them.

  “You can’t! Believe me, brother, I’m all for you chasing a piece of tail but this isn’t the one for you. This girl is trouble.”

  “How in the hell would you know a thing like that? You think you’re like Gram now? You think you can read my future now?”

  “No, you little shithead, I don’t. But you’re not the only one who talks to Gram, are you? I talk to her too, and she says that girl is bad news.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You’re calling me a liar now? And all because you want that uppity chick?”

  “Watch your mouth, Roman.”

  “You don’t even know her, Archer! You’re fighting me over her and you don’t even know her! How messed up is that?!”

  “You talked to Gram about her. Fine. I believe that. I can even believe she said something to you about her not being someone to get mixed up with. She just about went screaming from that tent, Roman. Whatever Gram said to her was enough to upset her, and badly. You tell me how often the rubes who go to see Gram and come out sick or upset are people Gram had something good to say about them?”

  “Archer, really—”

  “How often?”

  “Fine. Not often, okay? You’re right about that.”

  “So, what’s the difference here? This is the kind of thing we’ve laughed about together and all of a sudden you’re talking to me like it’s gospel. What gives?”

  “Alright, I see what we’re going to have to do.”

  “Do you? And what’s that?”

  “We’re going to see Gram.”

  “The hell we are!”

  “If we don’t and you get yourself into real trouble, no way in hell is Gram going to help bail you out of it.”

  “What do I care?”

  “You’ll care a whole lot if you get yourself thrown into jail. You know how they treat folks like us and it ain’t good.”

  Roman was right and Archer knew it. He wanted to hit him in the face, to knock him out cold for meddling, but he was right and there was no way for him to get around that fact. And so they did as Roman was insisting they do. They went to Gram’s little tent, both men wearing unusually grim faces that scared away the last of the drunken stragglers milling around the carnival grounds. When they arrived at the tent, Gram was standing outside of it, sipping on something that looked vile and waiting for the two of them to appear.

  She was waiting for them, of course. She probably had been since Roman had first sat down beside Archer, knowing what the conversation was going to come to. She watched them with slightly narrow, over-bright eyes as they approached her, nodding her head as if in response to some secret voice that only she could hear.

  The things she had to say were unlike anything Archer had expected. He got an earful about the beautiful blonde girl who had fled from him and his Gram’s ability as if her life depended on it. He learned that she was more like him than he would ever have believed, with a lion living inside of her instead of a wolf. He learned about her family, a great and wealthy line of lion shifters with whom his own family had been feuding and fighting for generation after generation without any hope of resolution.

  When Archer asked why, his Gram became both stern and vague, something that was a particular talent of hers. What it boiled down to was that she wasn’t going to say. She wasn’t going to speak on the whys and hows of the matter, not for anything. What she was willing to say, more than willing, was that Archer was not to go after that girl.

  He wasn’t to look for her and if he happened to see her again (a very big if considering there was a slim chance her parents would allow her anywhere near where Asher and his people were again) he was to walk away in the opposite direction as if he’d never spoken to her at all. He nodded, agreeing to comply with these rules, and then stalked off into the wild swamplands, climbing into his trailer to brood on his own.

  If Archer had any idea of how similar his own thoughts were to those of Eloise in those moments he might have laughed out loud. He wanted to do what Gram instructed, was in the habit of minding her requests, and it was what he had intended to do. It was only that he just couldn’t take it.

  He tried and found that he just couldn’t and so he pulled himself up and out of bed again. If her family was as powerful as Gram had made them sound, it shouldn’t be difficult to locate them. He would see his girl again, regardless of what anyone had to say. Especially because something told him that she was aching to see him as well.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Eloise had promised her father that she would offer up her apologies to Penelope straight away the morning after the carnival debacle. In reality, it didn’t wind up happening for three whole days. On each of those three days, Eloise had trudged over to the home of Penelope’s parents and rapped on the door, head lowered and heart beating too quickly to be considered quite comfortable.

  On the first day, Penelope’s mother had shown her into the parlor and told her she would retrieve Penelope right away, only to come back a good fifteen minutes later with an embarrassed look on her face and some poor excuse about how the chill from the night before had got Penelope under the weather.

  On the second day, the expression had been weary and although Eloise had been invited in it was with a good deal less cheer than she was used to from the woman who had been like a surrogate (and sometimes more like the primary) mother in her life. On the third morning, she didn’t even step foot over the threshold. Penelope’s mother had met her at the door and shaken her head. No, Penelope wouldn’t be coming down that day.

  No, it wasn’t a good idea for Eloise to go up to her chambers and speak to her there. She could come back and try another time, only there was no telling when the poor girl would be “well” enough to receive company.

  It was on the fourth day that Eloise finally made the progress she’d been searching for and by that time she was so tired of the whole mess that she didn’t know what to do with herself. Which only made her desire to see it through all the more intense.

  It was her stubbornness coming out
in full force and it was impossible for her to ignore. She did not plan on leaving without seeing Penelope on that fourth day, even if it meant she had to camp out on her massive front porch day in and day out.

  The girl was bound to leave the house eventually and when she did, Eloise intended to be there. Perhaps it was that look that Penelope’s mother saw that did it. Perhaps it was the expression in her eyes that got Eloise through the door. She waited in the foyer, foot tapping expectantly, as mother and daughter hashed it out upstairs and out of sight.

  Eloise imagined that she could actually hear the two of them arguing about whether or not she would be seen. In the end, Penelope’s mother must have come out on top because she was ushered upstairs and to her friend’s door. It felt strange, like coming to see someone who had been confined in convalescence, and Eloise had to fight not to let herself become overcome by her irritation. She was irritated, there was no denying that, but in a way, she was also glad to have the distraction. The last three days had felt hellish. She hadn’t told anyone that, of course, because they would have thought she was being childish and overly dramatic. But not speaking it out loud didn’t mean it wasn’t true and for her, it very much was.

  Eloise had gone to sleep that first strange night, sure that when she awoke anew she would feel like her old self. That was always how it went, wasn’t it? A good night’s sleep (or in her case not good, but sleep nonetheless) and when you woke up things would be different. That had pretty much always been true for Eloise but in this case, it couldn’t have been further from the truth.

  When she’d opened her eyes upon the new day she had found that her longing to see Archer again, to feel his body pressing against hers, had only intensified. It whispered in her ear day in and day out, driving her towards the very thing her father had forbade her to do. Instead of getting fainter with the passing hours that voice only got louder, pushier, more impossible to ignore.

  By the time Eloise found herself pushing open Penelope’s door she could feel the need to break out of the constraints her father had put her in, gnawing at her insides like a disease. She could see that Penelope was still angry at her but instead of bothering her she welcomed the challenge. It was something to do besides trying to be good when it felt so contrary to her own desires.

  “What do you want?”

  “To see you, of course. Why else would I have come here for the last four days in a row?”

  “I don’t know,” Penelope sniffed, turning her head away from Eloise and studying the edge of her bed’s comforter with intensity that was almost funny. “Perhaps you can’t take a hint.”

  “Oh no, believe me, your point came across. But what would you have me do?”

  “You can do whatever you like, Eloise. Lord knows that’s what you’re going to do.”

  “Because of what I did at the carnival.”

  “I never even mentioned the carnival. Who’s talking about the carnival?”

  “I know you didn’t. I just thought—”

  “Of course. You thought that I was throwing a tantrum about the carnival. I can see that quite clearly. Is that what you came here to tell me? Because if so, you’re welcome to go. Your message has been received, loud and clear.”

  “No. No, come on, Penelope, that’s not what I meant at all. I didn’t come here to accuse you of tantrums or any other kind of thing. I came here to apologize.”

  For the first time since Eloise entering the room, Penelope looked up from her task of unraveling her covers one thread at a time. Her eyes were hooded, untrusting, but her interest was piqued. Eloise could see that she’d gotten her friend’s attention and felt a rush of relief. When it was all said and done, she didn’t want Penelope angry at her, not really.

  Under normal circumstances that wouldn’t have mattered enough for her to make the gesture of actually apologizing but because her father had made her do it and because she had no choice, she was allowed to come to Penelope in a way she didn’t usually allow herself to do. In the past, their fights had always resulted in stalemates.

  The two of them would avoid each other entirely, not speaking or interacting at all, until one of them would cave and make a house call. That someone had always been Penelope and there had never been an apology issued by either one of them. They would just go on as if nothing had happened until there was another squabble, at which point the whole thing would start over again.

  Eloise coming to visit four times and then apologizing on top of it was unheard of, a phenomenon, and Penelope couldn’t help but be excited by that. That excitement was probably the only reason she’d started talking in the first place and now that she was, the things she needed to say came out in a flood.

  “You came here to apologize?! For which part? Which thing would you like to apologize for?”

  “I don’t know. I guess...all of it?”

  “Because you do it a lot, Eloise. You know that, right?”

  “Do what, exactly?”

  “Steamroll me! You just roll right over me, and why shouldn’t you? You’re the pretty one, the funny one, the smart one. You’re the one everyone wants to spend time with. Why shouldn’t you take advantage of it? Why shouldn’t you make jokes at my expense and throw me off for a good-looking man?”

  Eloise was stunned. During her speech, her tirade was probably a more appropriate word, Penelope had risen off her bed and let her comforter go. She was no longer using her hands to pull it apart but instead had them balled up in tight little fists held stiffly at her sides, her fingers actually white from the strain of it.

  Eloise had heard the saying “white knuckling it” before but she hadn’t ever actually seen it in action. All of this time the two of them had been friends and she hadn’t had a clue of the way she was making Penelope feel. Any resentment she had towards her father for forcing this apology evaporated. Instead she was grateful. At least something good would come out of her strange experience with the carnival and its unsettling aftermath.

  She would have a more honest friendship with Penelope, and that wasn’t nothing. When she was reasonably sure that the unloading was done, Eloise cleared her throat and smoothed out her blue sundress quietly. When she looked back up at Penelope she felt something she rarely felt stirring in her chest; fear. She was afraid of what she would see in the frustrated girl’s face.

  “Penelope, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not. Please, I want you to hear me. I’m so, so sorry I’ve made you feel this way. I didn’t realize and I never meant to, not in a million years.”

  “I know you didn’t,” Penelope said in a low, strained voice. “I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

  “That’s not true!” Eloise cried, jumping to her feet and moving cautiously towards Penelope without quite daring to touch her. “I’m so glad that you did! There’s no way our friendship could have kept on going and going well if I continued to make you feel that way. I’m glad you told me. And I hope you realize that my apology is sincere. I’ll be honest, I don’t think that it truly was when I came here, not today or any of the other days either, but I certainly am now.”

  Penelope looked at her uncertainly, her eyes swimming with tears but still just a little bit mistrustful. They remained frozen that way for one second, two seconds, three, and then the spell was broken. Penelope rushed forward and practically threw herself into Eloise’s arms, crying and hugging her at the same time.

  When they finally separated some, both girls were laughing breathlessly, gripped with the unique kind of relief only experienced by people who thought they might actually lose somebody they loved to conflict. Eloise used one thumb to wipe away the tears still on Penelope’s face, then flopped back down on the bed, the relief flooding through her making her feel shaky and very tired. Penelope sat down beside her, looking down at her with concern.

  “What’s going on with you, Eloise?”

  “Aside from fighting with my best friend? Nothing. Nothing that I c
an think of, anyway.”

  “No, that’s definitely not true.”

  “What do you mean? Why do you say that?”

  “Because, you look awful.”

  “Oh. Well, thanks?”

  “Lord, I sound like the most terrible person. I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just that you look terribly tired. There are bruises under your eyes that make it look like you haven’t been sleeping well at all.”

  “I suppose I haven’t been.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Eloise, come on.”

  “What?” she laughed, feeling her skin grow hot with a blush she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide at all. “I told you, I don’t know. Sometimes people just don’t sleep well.”