by Nikki Winter
Kaisal’s attention skimmed downwards, halting on a name.
Kamali Ara Oriade: Thirty-two, medium build. Evasive. Educational background in art. No mate. One son: Callum Bem Oriade, age five.
At a young age she’d apparently shown promise as an artist and pursued mastering her talent despite being prodded about becoming a bigger asset to her pride. At eighteen she left her home to attend the New York Academy of Art. Discovered upon graduation, she’d begun selling paintings, drawings, and photographs under the pseudonym Itanife but returned home. The reasons were unknown but Kaisal would assume she’d wanted to be near her father.
“Know anything about what recently took place with the pride?” Kaisal questioned, raising his eyes from the paper. Kamali. Her name was Arabic, meant perfection. He wondered if Enilo had chosen that on purpose. From the information in his file, his entire life’s work strived to achieve that very thing—perfection.
“Outside of a few rumors? No,” Dublhainn answered.
“What kind of rumors?”
The wolf spun a finger around. “I’ve heard someone else has taken over, that Enilo’s dead and Kamali is missing along with Callum. I’ve also heard that the new pride leader doesn’t want to risk having his position challenged by the elders because Kamali is unmarked and Callum isn’t his son. If she makes the dispute public knowledge, his work is unraveled and he loses everything.”
The elders were a council of sorts that oversaw the dealings of every pride, pack, and bear sleuth in their world. They essentially made the laws but had leniency since shifters had to regularly balance human and animalistic lives. If the new pride leader was seen as an illegitimate heir to Enilo’s empire, Kamali and Callum could rightfully take it back over.
“The Oriade Towers? Callum and I rightfully own that. We rightfully own a lot of things. My father was one of the most powerful shifters in our community; the moment he died—the very second his throat was slit—that power passed over to someone who is insane. Someone who wants to break me…”
That was what she’d meant. This was why she was running. Anyone with Enilo’s resources had the ability to make this all look like something other than the corrupt takeover it happened to be. Kamali was a woman with a child, a woman who wanted to protect that child.
Naresh’s eyes met Kaisal’s.
“What?” Dublhainn queried, sitting up. “What am I missing?”
“It’s not a rumor,” Kaisal’s brother answered. “Kamali and Callum are here, in Morrison.”
Whistling low, the wolf looked to Kaisal. “Wait…that’s the lioness you want to fuck?” He leaned backwards. “Well, the snarling is just uncalled for.”
“Who’s taken over in lieu of Enilo?”
Dublhainn tugged at his hair. “From what I heard it’s a rogue male. Nico something. I’d have to do a bit more digging for a last name.”
“He wants Callum. He’s looking for a way to close all loopholes so he doesn’t have a contest.” Kaisal fingers tightened on the papers in their grip. “I’d bet everything that if he doesn’t plan on killing Kamali he’s going to try to mark her.”
“Which essentially makes her his in the eyes of the elders,” his brother finished.
“And unavailable to any other male for the rest of her life.” Kaisal’s calm was steadily slipping. Someone else wanted Kamali—wanted to mark her for his own purposes. Someone wanted to hurt Callum.
“You’re attached to her,” Dublhainn softly stated.
Kaisal’s stare rose.
The wolf watched him for a bit. “You know this possibly means a war, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“A war I’ll have to involve myself in out of moral obligations and the need to hurt things because you’d do the same for me.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t care,” his friend observed, his lips curling. “Because you want to get your hands on the motherfucker, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he answered in earnest. Kamali may not have belonged to him, but the moment he’d caught her scent—touched her—he belonged to her. Whether she kept him or not was her decision, but he’d make a really good fucking case as to why she should, even if he didn’t feel as though he deserved it.
Dublhainn smiled. “I’ve always wanted a lion-skin rug. A safari theme would go rather nicely in the library.”
“Not to ruin the opportunity to bathe in the blood of our enemies while giving me a tale that would cause women to throw themselves onto my cock like a game of horseshoes,” Naresh interjected, “but a war could be avoided with one very simple solution.”
They both looked to the younger tiger, and he spread his arms wide before he casually said, “If you mark Kamali, Nico can’t touch her or Callum.”
Well, there was that…
Eight
“I’m beginning to get impatient, Rave,” Nico coolly informed his second from a chair across the bedroom that Rave had claimed as his own. Early morning light peeked through the heavy drapes, highlighting where he sat. Slipping in had been easy enough. Perhaps too easy. Rave was getting sloppy.
Nico watched him jolt up from beneath the tangle of limbs and tits he’d been buried under the previous night. Fucking useless, the lot of them. The majority of the pride had done nothing aside from gorge themselves on what they could. They spent money, booked trips. But no one was doing what he needed them to do, and it was beginning to rankle him. It was beginning to make him angry.
Rave swiped a hand down his face, crawling out of the California king size bed and over the lionesses in it. “We’ve been searching,” he mumbled, stumbling over to a small desk in the corner of the room. Picking up what appeared to be a map next to empty bottles of vodka, he tossed it to Nico and took a seat at the edge of the mattress. “The blue marked areas are what we’ve already delved into; the red ones are unexplored territories.”
Nico crumpled the paper in his hand. The majority of the South and Midwest were colored. “Your system is flawed,” he growled. “And do you know why?”
Brows rising ever so slightly, the other man waved a hand.
“Because you’re looking in the obvious areas, where there’s heat and dry land. We’ve already established that Kamali is not stupid.” Nico stood as his voice steadily rose. “So why do you think she’d ever stay at one of the hotels with her name on it?”
The females in Rave’s bed startled, their eyes on the one volatile threat in the room.
“This is lazy,” he hissed, throwing the balled-up map at Rave. “The fuck do I have you around for if you can’t get off your goddamn ass and do what I requested? Find Kamali. Find the cub. Bring one here without the other. Is that hard, Rave?” Nico looked to the females. “Tell me something, is what I’m asking for difficult? Am I being too demanding?”
Two heads shook in tandem.
Rave stood. “We’re not looking for a lost dog, Nico. We’re searching for a woman who has gone to great lengths to make sure her face—Callum’s face—is as average and unrecognizable as possible. There are fifty fucking states and thousands of our kind in every one of them. You think someone’s going to notice a lioness and her cub when that’s a common goddamn occurrence on a regular day to day basis?” He jabbed a finger in Nico’s direction. “No. Because we underestimate the ordinary. Each and every last one of us—which is precisely how we got into this predicament in the first place. You plotted out every move, and yet one step still went sideways. She’s stronger than you anticipated and it’s making you reckless. What happens when we find her and she’s surrounded by allies who would like nothing more than to mount your head on a wall?”
Nico bit the inside of his cheek and breathed deeply before mildly responding with, “Then I’ll take comfort in knowing your head will be next to mine.”
Rave’s eyes narrowed and Nico smirked. He nodded his head toward the door. “Get out.”
The women moved to go and he raised a hand. “No. Not the two of you.” Pointing at Rave,
he said, “You. Out. Make yourself useful and come up with a plan that doesn’t make me want to see your pancreas in my hands.”
The other male looked as though he wanted to argue. Nico could see it in his eyes. Rave didn’t want to show weakness, didn’t want to back down, and that made it so much sweeter when his gaze finally dropped to the floor under Nico’s steady stare. Without another word, he moved, closing the door behind himself.
Nico sighed and looked back to the guests Rave had left behind. With an easy grin, he pointed to his belt buckle. “Be good girls and make me feel better. As you can see, I’m dealing with stupidity and I’m a man on the edge.”
***
It was the laughter that drew her away from the anchor of the kitchen table. Standing, Kamali followed the sound until she reached the room that Basanti had described to Callum. She found the pair on the floor, game controllers in their hands as they battled one another on something that involved an ungodly amount of violence.
“Despite your adorability, I am going to eviscerate you, little one.”
Callum snorted, his gaze focused solely on the screen, his fingers moving rapidly across the remote. “You mean in the same manner I am going to do you in three…two…” His thumbs flicked across the buttons once, then again.
Basanti’s mouth dropped open as the screen announced its winner with Callum’s character hip-thrusting and throwing up his fists. She burst into laughter, bumping shoulders with Kamali’s son. “You told me you didn’t know how to play video games!”
He flashed the tigress a grin. “I told you no one taught me how to play. I never said I couldn’t.”
Lips curling, Basanti reached out a hand and ran it through his hair, ruffling the wheat-colored strands. “So young and yet so nefarious already.”
Kamali rapped her knuckles against the doorway and both heads turned in her direction. She looked to Callum. “Hi.”
His mouth twisted. “Hi.”
Clearing her throat, Basanti got to her feet. “I need to go cling to the last vestiges of my dignity and self-respect with something that will possibly go straight to my thighs the moment I eat it,” she said, starting out. Stopping mid-way, she cast a glance over her shoulder to Callum. “But I want a rematch. This time with cash.”
Callum tugged at the left pocket on his jeans. “I think I’d like to have something to put into these.”
Basanti left the room grumbling under her breath, “It’s like dealing with Naresh, except I can’t hit him in the face.”
Kamali walked forward and took up the vacant space next to Callum.
Before she could even open her mouth he rushed out with, “Mo wa binu, iya.”
“Don’t,” she breathed, shaking her head. “Don’t apologize for running.”
He leaned over, placed his head in her lap, and clung to her thigh.
Closing her eyes, Kamali ran her hand over the side of his face. “I know you want to stay here, if¹.” She pushed his hair back. “And if I could…if it were at all possible, I swear we wouldn’t leave. By next month you’d be in school, making friends and I’d be drawing comics. We’d rent movies and ride roller coasters that you were tall enough to go on. I’d finally teach you how to swim and embarrass you by showing the videos to others.”
Her hands shook. “We’d have a normal life. All I’ve ever wanted for you was a normal life. I think having you was quite possibly the most selfish act I’ve ever committed. I knew the consequences, I knew you would never be able to do all the things I imagined for you but I can’t regret it. I’ll never regret it and I promise you that the very second I can make it happen—make an ordinary day happen—I will.” She bent over at the waist, holding him to her; the backs of her eyes burning. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “This won’t be the last time you laugh. It won’t be the last time you trick someone into believing you can’t play video games, if¹. This won’t be the last time you understand what it means to be a child.” Kamali brushed a kiss across his temple. “You don’t get to be sorry.” Something warm and wet trickled off the bridge of her nose. “Because you have no reason to be. You deserve this, sweetheart. You deserve everything you’re asking for.”
He squeezed her leg and softly said, “You deserve it too.” Callum leaned back, and looked up at her, the smell of chocolate still on his breath. “I want you to be happy.”
She gave him a shaky smile. “You make me happy.” Tugging one of his curls she added, “Seeing you happy makes me happy.”
He waited a beat then pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Wanna to see me really happy?”
The absence of shadows in his molten stare shoved her out of the momentary hurt. If these few minutes of innocence and peace were all that she could bottle for him, she would.
Kamali’s brows inched upwards. “This is going to involve more cocoa, isn’t it? And possibly the loss of my soul.”
Her son, her beautiful little boy, only gave her the most devious of smiles.
***
“Any idea how you’re going to announce this grand scheme?” Dublhainn queried as they pulled into Kaisal’s driveway. He’d offered to give him and Naresh a ride back but made it very clear that there would be no naked cat ass coming into contact with his plush leather seats—which of course meant anyone who’d followed Kaisal had to make their way back without the comfort of wheels.
By scheme he meant Kaisal’s intent to follow through with what Naresh suggested and mark Kamali. A suggestion that could get him decapitated if he went about it the wrong way.
“I think you should take the aggressive approach,” Naresh offered from the back seat. “You walk in there, you put your foot down, and you simply tell her, ‘You’re mine.’”
Dublhainn turned and blinked at Kaisal. “I beg of you, please do. I would love to see her tie your cock in a knot and place it on your forehead like a bow.”
“What?” Naresh leaned forward, pointing to the front door. “I’m telling you. You’re a dominant male. You want her. She wants you. You both know this so why pussyfoot—forgive my choice of words—around it? Why drag it out?”
“Erm…it may have something to do with the fact that I don’t want my face gnawed off!”
His brother sat back. “My fearless leader, ladies and gentlemen.”
Kaisal tucked in his lips. “Naresh, do you know why you’re single?”
“Because I enjoy variety…and licking myself when the mood suits me without the judgmental harping of a female?”
“No,” he retorted. “You’re single because deep down—way in the recesses of your little black soul—you understand that to be mated would mean handing over control of your emotions, your health, your sanity, and it frightens you.”
“Philosophical bullshit,” Naresh dismissed.
“Is it?” Dublhainn questioned. “Or is it part of the reason we avoid settling into routine? Self-preservation moves us to avoid the inevitable need to mark someone because we understand that our lives no longer belong to us. They belong to whomever we’re connected to. We don’t own ourselves anymore. Our leash is placed in the grasp of an individual who can yank it when the mood suits them.”
“And they will yank it,” Kaisal added. “They yank until we choke.”
“And choke,” Dublhainn said.
“And choke…” Kaisal sung.
“You two are the most morbid fuckers I’ve ever met in my life,” Naresh snarled, swinging open the rear passenger door. “Just sick.”
The door slammed behind him, and the pair watched him practically sprint away from the truck.
Dublhainn sighed. “Now that the idiot’s out of the car we can have a nice, rational discussion about this.”
Nodding, Kaisal replied, “He always walks right into the mind fuck. There’s a sign hanging over the door, and yet he hip-thrusts all the way through it.”
“I think it was the leash imagery and the childlike voice.”
“Rather nice touches, eh?”
“But not too fa
r off,” the wolf noted. “That’s exactly what you’re doing. You realize this, right? When you mark her—”
“When I mark her my life changes. The restlessness will double, the worry, the urges, the loss of control, and the pining. My roar will be louder, my territorial rage stronger, and I’ll probably kill more than I ever have,” Kaisal softly interrupted. “My beast won’t be contained anymore. There will be no putting it to sleep, no holding back, no walking away from whatever it wants because she’ll be at the heart of it. Callum will be at the heart of it. And you know what? I don’t fucking care. I don’t care about much of anything right now because I understand that when I toe the line, when I come too close to crossing it, she’ll pull me back. I’ll gladly hand over my leash because the one who will be holding it is more than capable of keeping it in her grasp without suffocating me. The things that compound will be solely because I’ll be protecting what is most assuredly mine. I’ll worry when I’m away from them, I’ll lose control when they’re in danger, I’ll pine because being without her will be like losing a limb—the phantom sensation that comes along with no longer having a part of yourself there. And when I kill, I’ll kill because it will be nothing less than necessary. I’ve haven’t trusted my tiger’s instincts in a very long time but now…” He sucked in a deep breath. “Now I’m beginning to understand that he’s attempting to give me someone whose instincts I can trust.”
“You’re not going to cry now, are you?” Dublhainn asked after a stretch of silence, looking panicked. “I’m not good with tears…or emotions.”
Kaisal cast him a glance. “If I do will you hold me?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Something from the Pretty in Pink soundtrack would slowly begin to play suspiciously in the background, we’d look deeply into one another’s eyes, and you’d fall in love. Then I’d have to break your heart with ramblings about it not being you per se but me and my hang ups about relationships because I’ve been hurt before, blah, blah, blah.” Reaching over, he placed a palm on Kaisal’s shoulder. “It’s best that we just end this now, my friend. It keeps things unadorned…simple.”