Her Lion Guard - The Complete Series Box Set (BBW Shifter Romance)

by Amira Rain

  “Definitely not a social-movement type of guy,” Mary-Lou surmised.

  “Not at all.” Jonas frowned, correcting himself.. “At least, not until his parents passed away two years ago. Since then, he has been seen at various New Order events. Rumors about his supporting a change in the current system have been circulating for a while now.”

  “You don’t believe them,” Mary-Lou guessed. Jonas shook his head, lips set in a hard line.

  “Why?” Mary-Lou wondered.

  “Because it makes no sense! Why would he of all people – a man with no skills and no prospects if stripped of his status – support a movement meant to quite literally dethrone him?” Jonas shook his head again, deflating slightly in the face of Mary-Lou’s baffled gaze. “It just – it just makes no sense.”

  “You seem very passionate about the topic,” Irma observed, voice calm and detached. She did not look at the Lion Shifter as she addressed him, eyes still as peaceful as they regarded her own reflection in the passenger’s window. “About Joel. Are you being completely fair, Jonas? Or are you letting the past cloud your judgment of the present?”

  “The past?” Jonas laughed; a low, sad sound that made something tighten in Mary-Lou’s chest. “What happened – what that bastard did…” Jonas lowered his head, the last of his words a mere growl, “I will never forgive him for that, Irma. Don’t ask it of me.”

  “I am not.” Now Irma turned in her seat, focused sharp brown eyes on Jonas and her daughter both. In the driver’s seat, Sasha remained quiet. “I am, however, asking you to share your pain with your pack.”

  Mary-Lou laid her hands against her mate’s arm, offering silent comfort. She did not wish to pressure Jonas into anything – especially not something that would hurt him, tear at wounds that were obviously far from healed. Mary-Lou had long wondered about Jonas’ past, about his relationship with Wiley; that knowledge was but her right, given the ease with which Wiley manipulated Jonas and the often-painful consequences the Wolf’s unchecked actions had for her. Furthermore, Mary-Lou firmly believed that holding onto anger, onto pain, was not healthy – that given enough time, such things could rot a person from the inside out. She did not wish to see Jonas become bitter, hateful, unhappy – Wiley, in other words.

  Still, it was Jonas’ story to tell. Mary-Lou would not ask this of him, not if he was not ready to give it.

  Jonas felt Mary-Lou’s love and respect through their bond, her warmth against him. This was real – not the past, not the ghosts that haunted him to this day.

  Hesitantly, Jonas nodded his head. “When we return home,” the Lion Shifter rasped.

  Mary-Lou leaned fully against him. After a moment of hesitation, Jonas enveloped her in his arms and pressed her close to his chest.

  Nothing more was said for a while.

  Sasha curved the car into the familiar parking spot in front of their building. He killed the engine brusquely, movements uncoordinated and jerky. Mary-Lou narrowed her eyes at her wristwatch, wincing to see one small hand point at a roman two. It was past two in the morning, and they had been up since before sunrise. It was a wonder Sasha had not crashed the car.

  Jonathon pulled in beside them a moment later. Cara stumbled out of the passenger seat, swaying slightly on unsteady legs. Katy and Jenna came out next, the two leaning against each other as they made their way up the front steps and into the house proper.

  “I am making coffee,” Mary-Lou announced. The human woman smiled at the resulting chorus of exhausted thank-yous, watching the rest of the pack sprawled over every cushioned surface available in the small living room. When Mary-Lou headed for the kitchen, she was not too surprised to hear a set of heavy footsteps in her wake.

  “Espresso or Joe?” she wondered aloud; after a moment’s hesitation, Mary-Lou plugged in the regular coffee maker. She preferred espresso, but it was a bit late for that much caffeine. “Would you grab the coffee mugs?” Mary-Lou asked Jonas over the sound of running water; even with the grand-sized glass pitcher, it would take at least two batches before everyone had a cup.

  Jonas did so without a word. Soon, eight mismatched ceramic mugs lined the table; for several moments after that, the only sound in the room was the quiet buzzing of the coffee maker.

  Jonas did not speak until the final cup was filled with thin, dark liquid and placed on a large wooden tray. Then, he stayed Mary-Lou’s hands – caught them in his and tugged gently, grabbing his mate’s attention and arresting the movements of her body. Mary-Lou went willingly, curious green eyes focusing on a flickering blue gaze. Jonas could not look at her, she realized – could not quite hold her eyes. She bit her tongue against a question, waiting for her mate to speak.

  “I did not want to keep it from you.” Jonas’ voice was barely audible over the voices coming from the living room, over the rumble of the fridge and the buzzing of the forgotten coffee maker. “I am sorry.”

  Mary-Lou swallowed, voice stuck somewhere painful. “No need,” she offered, the words heavy and bumbling and much too little in the face of Jonas’ uncertainty.

  After a moment, Jonas nodded and released her. He took the tray off the table, balancing the heavy load with effortless elegance. Mary-Lou held the door open for him, trailed behind his large body and wondered how much more pain Jonas would be made to feel before the night was over.

  Once everyone had a cup of coffee to cradle, Jonas had lowered himself on the floor and Mary-Lou sat beside him. There was nothing else to do but talk.

  Jonas did not keep them waiting.

  “I come from a large family,” he began. His voice was clear, steady, but his eyes betrayed him – a glassy, wavering blue that saw through them all, to a time long gone. Mary-Lou listened, and felt her heart break a little more with each passing moment.

  Jonas came from a large, loving family – picture-perfect, childish memories untarnished by time and knowledge. There were four children, two boys and twin girls, and seven cousins from an assortment of aunts and uncles. Jonas remembered his grandmother, his grandfather’s wrinkled smile – remembered his mother’s arms and his father’s bellowing laugh, the piercing cries of his sisters and gentle voice of his older brother. Jonas had been the baby, the youngest, the smallest of them all.

  It was what had saved him, in the end.

  Jonas still did not know where they had come from, the men with guns and silver-tipped bullets. One summer night, they just appeared – like ghosts, like ghouls straight out of a nightmare. They overran the house, surrounded the backyard where the family had gathered for a late night picnic and—just—

  “They were too quick,” Jonas gasped, muscled body hunched in on itself – a phantom of a child huddling in the dark, too scared to run or raise his voice for help, “Too many. The adults did not know whether to shield the children or fight. In the end, it didn’t matter.” Jonas took a gulp of air, leaning ever so slightly to Mary-Lou’s side. No one said a word.

  “Father threw me in the well, while they were not looking,” Jonas laughed – a strange, hacking sound. “I broke my hand, and my ankle on the way down, but I survived. The only one. They set fire to the house, when they were done – to the farm, the gardens, to my family and their comrade’s fallen bodies. Everything burned. The smell,” Jonas’ chest heaved, “I wanted to die. There was a rock, a small protrusion along the well’s wall. I held onto that to stay above the water, and wished that I was brave enough to let go.

  Hours passed before the police came. By then, there was nothing to be found, nothing to do except hose down the fire and collect unrecognizable lumps of flesh. I didn’t dare call out – I didn’t want them to find me. I didn’t trust them, didn’t think I would trust anyone ever again,” Jonas smiled, a thin, wry thing. “Of course, I then went and put my entire belief in someone completely untrustworthy.”

  “Wiley,” Mary-Lou blurted out. Jonas shook his head at her silent apology, not minding the intrusion – not seeing his mate’s presence as such. “Yes,” he said.


  “Wiley – Will – found me a couple hours later. His family owned the farm down the road. They had,” Jonas swallowed, “They had gotten to them first. Will lived with his mother and little brother, Harry. After his father’s passing, he was the only male alpha in the family. It— their loss hit him hard. Broke him. I could see it, the change, the moment he pulled me out of that well. Will was the most stubbornly kind person you would’ve ever met, once upon a time. After,” Jonas closed his eyes, “After, even his smile was wrong.

  But at the time, I didn’t – couldn’t care about that. Will was the only person I knew, the only person who knew me. That was enough. He promised to take care of me, if I stuck with him. Told me that he would make everything right one day.

  I wonder,” Jonas whispered, “if that is what he thinks he is doing now.”

  “And Joel?” Irma’s voice was thin, brittle with barely concealed pain. She would not disrespect Jonas by offering him pity, Mary-Lou knew, even as she could not help but pity the golden-haired man.

  Jonas remained silent for a moment longer, collecting his thoughts. He was still reluctant to share, wished to tell only as much as needed. Knew that if he let himself, he would talk for hours – drown in his own miserable words. He began anew, words a bit faster, tone a bit more hurried.

  “For a while, it was only the two of us. We survived by scavenging around the countryside, by fishing and hunting small game. It was awful; I don’t remember most of that first year. But we survived – the winter, the snow, all of it – and the following spring, Wiley decided to move us to the city. A city – not this one, it is not important where,” Jonas shook his head, as if dispelling a bad dream.

  There, Wiley – he made a pack, of sorts. A group of lost kids – just two or three at a time, nothing permanent, nothing big. He was twelve at the time, and couldn’t do more if he tried. But how he tried.” Jonas smiled, a bit ruefully, then let the meager joy of those memories disintegrate in a long sigh. “There were a lot of orphaned Shifters back then. Families were lost to disease or accident, but a number of them – several of the kids that we found – they had stories just like ours.”

  “The Black Sweeps,” Jonathon nodded. “It was a terrible time. We almost lost Mary-Lou.”

  “Why?” Mary-Lou gasped, “Who would do such a horrible thing?”

  “The protest movement had just begun,” Irma explained. “The Old Laws were still very much in place, but opposition was rising quickly. We had powerful leaders: Intelligent men and women who spoke against inequality, social brutality, obstinate superstition. The Old Order was afraid,” the Tigress smiled, a sharp, dark thing, “They were right to be. At the pace we were going, a year more and it would have all come tumbling down.

  Then the Sweeps began. Key figures on our side began to disappear – entire families. Whole clans were massacred; those who remained grew afraid, bitter – saw no purpose in living, let alone fighting for a better life.”

  “How were they stopped?” Mary-Lou asked.

  Irma laughed. “By their own. Shifter conservatives hired out human mercenaries, equipped them with the means to bring down their enemies and let them loose. When the job was done, when they deemed the opposition successfully subdued, the hired muscle was rounded up and publically executed for crimes against the Shifter race.”

  Mary-Lou felt winded, ill to her very core. “I am guessing this is not the official story?”

  “No. The official story is that our secret had been discovered by a militant group of humans who then decided to hunt us for sport. Thankfully, the Old Order was still strong enough to stop them, was still around to keep us safe from humans,” Irma grimaced, “That is what we were told to think.”

  “And Wiley believed it,” Jonas growled. Mary-Lou tightened her fingers where they clutched at her mate’s, feeling his agitation rise. “He – God, he grasped at that bag of lies like a drowning man at a raft. Finally, he had someone to blame – something to fight. I tried to stop him, to make him see, but by then he had already met Joel.” Jonas shook his head.

  “I never did learn how the two of them met,” he continued. “One day, Wiley returned home with a tall, blonde sixteen-year-old in toe, and that was that. Joel helped a lot of our kids – found them a home, work if they were old enough. I remember wondering what his angle was,” Jonas chuckled, “I am still not sure. My best bet is guilty consciousness; his parents were part of the Old Order, after all. Who knows how dirty their hands were, or how much Joel knew about it.

  Whatever the case, Joel said the most conservative bullshit I had ever heard. Worse, Wiley actually listened to him – made us listen, the little ones too. I was fourteen then, Wiley was fifteen; still, I knew he was being made a fool. How could he, of all people, nod along when someone called human-borns garbage?” Disbelief still tinged Jonas’ voice, so many years later. Mary-Lou remembered his words to Wiley from a few weeks ago, remembered the same broken incredulity coloring blue eyes – the anger burning in a maddened black gaze.

  “Harry,” she said, “Wiley’s little brother. He was human..Jonas nodded. “I cannot forgive him,” he said. “Not Wiley, and especially not Joel. No matter what the Prince is singing now, I will always hear one tune.”

  “The question is,” Irma said, “Can we afford to reject his aid?”

  “What?” Katy spoke up, “You afraid the Princeling will come after us? Bah! I’d like to see him try!”

  “You would not,” Irma’s voice was hard; Katy fell silent, face pink with embarrassment. Irma turned to Mary-Lou, “It is up to you, and Jonas, to decide this. Do remember, however, that your decision could affect your entire pack.”

  Mary-Lou caught Jonas’ eyes, held them. Something shifted in the pained blue gaze; a moment later, Jonas nodded and turned to address their pack.

  “Tomorrow, we meet with Joel as planned. If we find him sincere, we play along and accept his assistance. If not,” he trailed off, glanced toward Mary-Lou.

  “If not, we drag the truth of whatever he is planning out for everyone to see.” Mary-Lou smiled. “It is difficult to pull the strings when your dolls have you tangled in them.”

  Yet another sleepless night followed by a long, tense car ride. Mary-Lou rested her hand on Jonas’ thigh, squeezing gently. Jonas glanced away from the road for a moment to offer her a small smile, leg stilling its nervous jitter.

  They had decided to go alone – just Mary-Lou and Jonas. The rest of the pack had left early this morning for the Cabin, passing by Emma and Ronald’s home on the way. They were to be all together, face whatever came against them as a family. It was their best bet at survival, in the face of an enemy they could not yet even see.

  Jonas parked the car in front of a gray building in the center of the downtown area of their small town. Mary-Lou remembered it had been a post office once, then some kind of a department store. The gray structure had been empty for years – still seemed to be, with no sign above the main entrance or other cars parked in the large parking lot. Mary-Lou shared a look with Jonas as they walked through the glass double doors and up to a gray, metal elevator in an otherwise empty foyer.

  “Fourth floor,” Jonas said. Mary-Lou nodded, steeling herself for a truly unpleasant encounter as the elevator closed around them.

  The elevator doors opened again a short minute later. Fourth floor; Mary-Lou blinked, wondering if they had somehow switched buildings.

  The hallway that stretched before them sparkled a pure, pearly white with the light of two heavy, crystal chandeliers. Plush, red carpet covered the floor, and several gold-framed paintings lined the walls. At the very end, two shifters in dove gray suits stood before a large, ornate wooden door.

  “Well,” Mary-Lou muttered, “This is certainly more Prince-like.” Jonas snorted something about kitsch beside her, and they made their way up to Joel’s bodyguards, stifling laughter.

  “This way, please,” one of the men offered without prompting. The other pushed the door open and led
them into a brightly lit room of an even more flamboyant beauty. Mary-Lou was too stricken by the tasteless arrangement of purple settees, burgundy chaise, grandfather clocks and – was that a piano? – to notice the man leave.

  She did, however, notice Joel. Who could miss him, in a bright-green suit and matching deep-green shoes? The fabric likely cost more than her apartment, Mary-Lou mused.

  It did not make the clothing any less silly.

  “Hello!” Joel boomed, spreading his hands in a theatric gesture of welcome, “I am happy to see you found the place easily .”

  “We were eager to speak with you,” Mary-Lou replied with a thin smile. “To discuss your offer at more length.”

  “Offer?” Joel pursed his lips, handsome face scrunching in mock confusion. Mary-Lou felt a chill go through her, felt Jonas tense at her side. “Oh, of course!” Joel snapped his fingers, as if in discovery, and smiled – a slick, ugly thing. “I am afraid I will have to withdraw that for a wee bit.”

  “Why?” Jonas ground out.

  Another door opened, behind where Joel postured like a mad peacock. Mary-Lou took in a sharp breath, held it – exhaled as calmly as she could.