She suppressed a shiver and peered through the space between the panther and tiger. A Challenge. Wolven and other canines challenged each other for dominance over each other. It wasn’t as prevalent in the cat cultures because they tended to be loners.
Watching Matthew’s liquid response to the wolven, she held herself still. Her Leo was new and untried, while the wolven had been born into his power. Still, the wolven was only a Pack wolf. Not even beta, next in line to the alpha’s place of power. If Nathan were right, then Matthew’s turning had made him reborn a king.
Still mostly human, he met the wolven’s charge, ducking neatly under the swipe of claws meant to take off his head. Hooked cat’s claws sliced through the strained denim-clad thigh. Matthew dodged around the wolven, scoring a hit across the small of his opponent’s back. Gavin snarled and spun, showing blood through fur low on his back. He was surprisingly light for such a big creature and backhanded Matthew against his wounded shoulder. With a hiss of pain, he spun landing against the counter with a crunch of wood. Pizza boxes flew.
Observers, both wolven and feline, backed up against the walls. No one was willing to give up witnessing the fight over safety. Except for Naomi, who was still sandwiched behind her self-appointed guardians. She tiptoed, trying to see past when Matthew leapt. Flying from where he’d landed, he twisted mid-air to avoid the sharp grasp waiting for him and failed. Wolven claws pierced his shoulder and side as he retaliated with his own sharp shredding tools. Hands and feet, Matthew was a blur of motion. The wolven howled with pain and tripped backwards into the glass and ironwork table. Glass shattered and crunched underfoot leaving bloody smears. Gavin let him go.
Still, Matthew advanced, dancing and slicing at the wolven’s bigger body mass. Both of them froze. Matthew held up a handful of wickedly hooked claws to Gavin’s blond furry muzzle and waited. A flap of skin folded over itself on his upper chest. A particularly nasty gash slid from his left temple and down his cheekbone. Ragged wolven claw marks and slices from the glass blended into to his other injuries.
Of the two, the wolven carried many more superficial wounds. His fur was smeared red with blood. Obvious claw marks made ribbons of his skin. Long scratches in sets of four and five, bled shallowly over his body. At least every major artery had a set of thin, precise marks, never deep enough to kill. They oozed blood. Some would scar, being made by another supernatural creature. No mark touched the wolven’s face. Yet. Both stared intently, their breaths coming hard from pain and exertion.
The wolven Changed back to human, healing much of the glass cuts. “You have until sunset to leave the Dallas-Fort Worth area.”
“I’ll leave when I’m good and damn well ready.” Matthew’s voice held the tone of a feline growl, of danger riding his breath. The Change shimmered in the air, testifying as to the awesome level of control he was exerting over himself. The pull of The Leo radiated steadily from him. Echoing rings of power that widened and pulled at her at the same time it sought and called more feline kind. “You want me to leave?” The amber of the lion’s gaze fixed on Gavin’s unnerved blue ones before rising to encompass that of the shocked hunting party. “Then bring it on.” The other wolven tensed. A couple shifted their stance, about to go on the attack.
Gavin jerked his chin down, refusing to give over to Matthew. “Think about it Gavin.” Brandon’s voice interrupted the standoff and the cat’s preparations to Change as he stepped away from Naomi into the circle of the fight. “You just lost a challenge, initiated by you. Do you really want to risk dishonor by refusing to abide by your loss?”
Gavin snarled at the intrusion. “You should be standing with us, nephew. What would your alpha think of you taking up with them over our own kind?”
Brandon didn’t look concerned. He actually bent down and picked up Ramses, who’d dared enter the circle, pulled by Matthew’s call. The cat growled once, then seemed to understand and relaxed under the stroke of the wolven’s hand over his head. “My father learned the laws of the challenge from his father. Has my grandfather, Paul Sheppard, stopped honoring the traditional values of the wolven?” The reference to their alpha made the other wolven stop and look at Brandon again in a new light.
“You’re only a relative by adoption. You’re actions prove that no blood connects us.” Gavin’s gaze raked over Brandon with distaste. “You’re nothing but the stray remains of Garrick Moser’s band of werewolves. The council should have ordered you all put down. ” Brandon went still.
“Apologize.” Matthew said from beside Gavin. The wolven glanced back at him as if suddenly remembering the peasant left waiting for a hand out. Matthew’s eyes narrowed. His hand shot out, knocking the insolent wolven back. He stumbled, receiving a quick second blow. All almost too fast for the supernatural to catch. He followed Gavin’s fall, almost a blur as he crouched over the wolven’s chest, a handful of lethal feline claws encircled his neck. “If any of you so much as move, I’ll rip out his throat, then finish with you,” Matthew warned before digging the tips of his claws in, ignoring the wolven’s squirming grasp on his iron grip.
He leaned down face-to-face. “First, you’re going to apologize to my brother. I don’t care what the fuck kind of world you and your kind live in, but in mine, you claim someone, then he’s yours. Screw blood, screw paperwork, screw your idiot relatives. You can’t honor that, and then you don’t deserve being claimed in return.” He pressed home his intent with a small shake of each point. Matthew’s voice never rose above a quiet, but deadly conversational tone. “Then, you’re going to take your band of puppies off my property and out of my vicinity.”
“And if I don’t?”
A slow merciless smile tugged at the corners of Matthew’s mouth. “I’ll kill the lot of you and let God sort your sorry asses out.”
“Gavin.” One of the unnamed wolven sounded unsure.
“You guys ever watch that cartoon about the lions that kick all the hyenas’ asses?” asked Nathan. They nodded, without understanding where the werepanther was headed. Naomi did with the kind of sinking surreal dismay as he finished. “Then I suggest you and your butt sniffing cronies leave Pride Rock before Mufasa throws you off the cliff side.”
Chapter Eleven
Matthew let go of Gavin’s neck and slowly stood up, allowing the wolven to stand. He raised his eyebrows expectantly in a look that was usually followed by crossed arms. Matthew held his hands, claws fully extended lightly at his sides, in preparation to attack. Gavin eyed him and mumbled a resentful lackluster, “Sorry.” in Brandon’s direction.
“Now get out,” he told him. Nathan smiled and wiggled his fingers in a shooing motion. They filed out of the kitchen, led by the naked wolven. The group paused at the front door, then left, keeping their nude leader mostly hidden inside a circle of bodies.
From the doorway, they watched the wolves load into the blue windowless van from last night and slowly pull out of the driveway. The driver’s glare promised retribution before he turned the wheel in a hard right, straightened in the road and drove away, well under the speed limit.
Ramses hissed and spit, growling as he leapt from Brandon’s arms. You could have killed them all. Stupid, stupid, dogs. Think they own everything. The cat glared at Matthew as he shut the door.
“When do you think you’ll feel like leaving?” Morrow asked. When Naomi glared at him, the tiger shrugged. “It’s a valid question. The Leo isn’t going to leave until he wants to. I just want to know if we need to be ready for both BioPet and the wolven to attack.”
“I don’t think we need to worry about BioPet just yet,” was Brandon’s calm answer. “If they do send someone to retrieve us immediately, then it will be the same level of untrained security that they used before. I would bet that they are going to want to contract this one out.”
“And the wolven?” asked Morrow.
“Matthew just handed the son of the Pack alpha back his balls on a platter, without even Changing.” He raised an eyebrow. “What do yo
u think?”
“I Changed,” said Matthew, distractedly entering the conversation. He paced a few steps into the living room, then turned to pace along the outer edge of the room. “I used claws and whatever.” He frowned. “I had stripes and spots dammit. That a hell of a lot of change.”
“Doesn’t count.” Brandon leaned against the doorway. “You told them that they are so far beneath you that you don’t need to tap into your full power.” Matthew paused to stare at him. He shook his head and began pacing again. “It’s true. Whatever you are, power-wise you outclass them by a hell of a lot. You have control that they can’t dream about having and you’re not even twenty-four hours into your Change.”
Matthew shook his head and made a disgusted sound. “I don’t have control of this thing. The old me would have tried to make nice. Negotiate a little time, placate them enough to leave without making waves.” He stopped and stared at an iron wall sconce without even seeing the decoration.
“He tried to throw me out of my own house and something snapped. It was more than that.” He shook his head. “It won’t take me long to get my stuff. Five minutes.” He laughed, self-mocking and painful. “Nothing fits anyway. The garage…” He shrugged. The sense of aloneness reached out to Naomi. She couldn’t deny his pain and let supernatural magnetism of the Leo pull her across the room. She wrapped her arms around his lean torso and laid her head against strong muscles of his back.
Naomi closed her eyes, absorbing the heat and scent of him. Cat, man, and the blood of his victory. There was no resistance when he turned and gathered her in his arms. Laying her head against his chest as his chin rested on the top of her head seemed the most natural thing in the world. She found she liked being Matthew’s anchor. Even when the mate’s tattoo on her breast tingled, reminding her that she wanted a choice in her fate. The sound of his voice rumbled in her ear, comforted by the sound until the words themselves registered. “Brandon, go home to your family. Once back in the safety of your own Pack, the wolves may let you standing with me slide. Nathan, that applies to you too. You’re connected to them. Morrow, do you have family somewhere? Where ever you want to go, I’ll arrange it.”
Naomi pulled away. Taking a step backward, she couldn’t believe how he calmly made plans to get rid of them. He was The Leo. She believed that now. How could he abandon them so callously? His eyes settled on her, calm as if he hadn’t known how he’d drawn comfort from her seconds before. “Lia. Naomi.” Changing from title to name, she felt him emotionally distance himself. “Can you drive a car? Morrow? Neither one of you will be able to get on a plane without ID. But—”
“We go with you.” Straightening her spine, she glared at him. When he shook his head, she growled, stopping his denial with surprise. That angered her more. Naomi advanced pointing a finger at him. “Who do you think you are, Matthew Ridley, to throw us away?” he stepped backward, as her power tinged the air. Crisp, hot. Oh, he had good reason to be wary. She was pissed. Royally and thoroughly pissed. “You think you are some nobody-middle-management-human-peon?” Her finger poked at his chest. “No. You are the Leo. The Leo. You think that by sending us away, you’ll be protecting whom? Us? Yourself?” She growled at him again, this time showing plenty of sharp feline teeth. “More will come. Send them away and yet more will come.”
He grasped her wrist, gently stopping her tirade. “Naomi, this will be dangerous. You shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes.”
She twisted her wrist free. “Fate is a relentless bitch, Matthew. You can run, but she will find you and drag you to your destiny whether you want it or not, in this lifetime or the next. How you manage it is the measure of your own greatness or loss.” She turned her back and marched out of the room, unaware of how much a queen she looked at that moment. She paused only to toss back one last parting. “We’ll be ready to leave when you are.”
From his perch on the couch, Ramses blinked yellow gold cat eyes at him, then jumped down to scurry after Naomi’s grand exit.
Chapter Twelve
Bradley had not slept well. He blamed it on sleeping away from the Pack, but knew better. He’d slept in Morgan’s fairy compound enough to know that while he wouldn’t be bothered by technology or the random feelings and needs that filtered through the Pack bond, he couldn’t hide from his own mind. Last night, he’d done his research on the computer in the roughed-in sheetrock and smooth polka-dot patches of mud that made up the walls of his room at the in-progress Packhome. Then he’d retreated to the far more elaborate rooms that Morgan had set aside for him.
Now as he lay among the silk pillows on the feather pallet that the elven fairies preferred, he let his mind wander over his dreams and what they might mean. Before Morgan, he might have discounted the dreams as random garbage. Now…he was bothered by the sexual overtones of his ex-wife. He frowned.
When they first met, it had been in his dreams. Nicole had been sensual, a wet dream that had both drawn and left him cold. Then the succubus tweaked her assault, going for more innocence, playing down her natural vamp. They hadn’t made love, they’d fucked. In every imagination, he’d only really wanted her when she’d played the sexy innocent.
His pride, hurt by his ex-fiancé’s rejection, had fallen for Nicole the sweet nurse’s aide. He’d been so determined to show the Pack that he didn’t need Karen or their pity that he’d married her. Finding out her true nature hadn’t fazed him at all until he found her invading other men’s dreams. She used his jealousy to hurt him for depriving her of the one thing she truly wanted. To be his bonded mate.
For her infidelity, he’d pulled back more, refusing to tell her the real reason why he didn’t bond them. He couldn’t. Only the female could do that. If Nicole couldn’t, then it wouldn’t happen at all. The circle of viciousness between them grew, until he’d been desperate to escape her. Even taking Morgan’s offer of servitude in return.
The truth was that he’d never loved Nicole. He’d loved Karen, who loved Brandon. Nicole had played him, pretending to be all the sweetness and light that Karen really was. When he’d finally seen the demon for what she was, she’d dropped the pretense, at least for him.
Last night’s dreams had been full of the shame and eroticism that Nicole was so proficient at. He sat up, feeling the familiar pain of the lash on his back. Rope burns marred his wrists. The sight of them twisted his gut as he lurched to his feet. Bradley didn’t need a mirror to know what the injuries would look like. He’d had them enough in the past to know the raw red welts of Nicole’s lash and nails.
Bradley strode out of his room, without bothering with clothes. Somehow the fairy realm enhanced his animal tendencies. Here, cut off from his people and from the civilization of humanity, he felt his magical and animal side more keenly. Ignoring the semi-curious stares of candy color haired servants, he barged into Morgan’s personal lair. His angry stride slowed to a cautious walk as he realized that he wasn’t alone with the fairy lord.
Morgan lounged, Grecian style on a curled bench. In his lap curled one of the fairy dogs, strange and beautiful doglike creatures made entirely of plants. This was one small, like one of those tiny purse-dwelling mutts human women liked so much. It panted happily, complete adoration for its master in its periwinkle flower eyes as Morgan stroked a hand over a mossy grey-green coat spotted with tiny white flowers.
Underneath the coat, the fairy dog’s bones and musculature would be stick and vines. Bradley had never seen one bleed, but had heard that a sticky amber sap oozed from the fairy dog’s injuries. A green leaf of a tongue lolled out over sharp thorny teeth.
Morgan’s clothes complemented his surroundings and his pet perfectly. They were of the finest fairy creation. Morgan’s green hair flowed over the golden toga, to puddle on the floor. Around him, strangers bowed in various states of false subservience.
Their long hair and pointed ears marked them as elven. Their snotty manner gave them away as what Bradley thought of as the old guard. The others who fancied their pe
digree far above Morgan and his followers. Bradley growled, echoed by the fairy dog as he took advantage of their startled retreat to take his own place at Morgan’s feet. The fairy dog jumped out of Morgan’s lap to sit beside Bradley.
He never understood the creatures’ fascination with him as they invariably left their masters to follow him around in Morgan’s fairy realm. Bradley was constantly removing the little plant critters from his room. It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t such girlie dogs. He’d have much preferred a plant version of a German Sheppard or Pitt Bull.
“Lord Morighan.” The pansy yellow-haired fuck swallowed at Bradley’s beaten body, and wild demeanor, no doubt attributing the viciousness to Morgan’s hand. Bradley growled, enjoying their unease. If anything, their local resident fairy lord was too lenient to these users. They were constantly showing up, wanting a handout, then throwing Morgan’s generosity back in his face with some back-stabbing plot. Bastards.
Bradley snapped his teeth in the fairy’s direction. The fairy dog copied the movement, going overboard with growling and snapping until Bradley had to nudge it into settling down. The ridiculous creature looked up at him, blinking the flower eyes and wagged its mossy tail. “We had heard rumors of treatise with the werewolves, but…” he glanced nervously at Bradley while smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in the spider thread thin fabric of his jeweled tunic. “never expected you to have one on a leash.”
“You need to leave Calimn,” Morgan sounded bored. He waved them away.
“B-but, Lord Morighan. The supplies for Airdra Keeping…” He shifted nervously at Bradley’s warning growl. Just for the fun of it he Changed his hands, tapping the thick wolven claws against the intricate tiles of Morgan’s floor. With an effort Calimn— the fool— tore his gaze away from Morgan’s watch-wolf and back to the man in charge. “Without food supplies from the human world, our Keep will suffer.”
Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V Page 12