by Celia Kyle
“Want…” Gold fur drifted up her neck. “Want…”
“For the love of… Neal, didn’t I tell you they’d be in here fucking?” The soft padding of small feet over the old wood floors reached them. “They can’t be left alone for a second.”
Alex sighed and dropped his head forward, releasing Maya’s hair as he laid his forehead on her shoulder. Maya groaned and did the same, hiding her face in his neck.
He wondered when rabbit could be put back on the menu. Sure, Carly—a rabbit shifter—was mated to Neal, one of Maya’s lion guards, but Maya had plenty of other friends. Would she really miss one?
“I would, dammit,” his mate grumbled. “But putting her in the hospital just long enough for us to fuck sounds good. All of them. All of them can go to the hospital. What can we do to take them out at once?”
He liked where his mate’s head was.
“I heard that!” Movement to his left drew Alex’s attention and he saw Carly’s head poke around the corner. “And thank you for remaining clothed. Now, are you two done yet? It’s been twenty minutes already.”
Alex lifted his head and glared at the woman. Maya went one better and growled. Which did nothing for his rock hard dick.
“Do we smell done?” Maya sneered at her best friend.
Carly quirked a single brow. “I’m refusing to breathe. I’ve heard that old caves can suddenly accumulate deadly gasses and…” she shuddered. “You’ve popped out three kids and you’re practically ancient. That’s the Cave-Vag of Death right there.”
Caves. Deadly gasses. Three kids. Vag of Death.
And that was all he needed for his cock to go from ready to pound nails to soft as an overcooked noodle.
“Bitch, you better run because as soon as I’m done riding my mate like a pony, I’m gonna cut your ass.”
Wait, never mind. His mate threatening violence got his dick hard again.
“Can we press pause on the pony rides and delusions of actually catching me first? Because your kid is missing.”
They both sighed at the same time, but Maya spoke first. This wasn’t the first time they’d wandered off and it wouldn’t be the last. “Benjamin or Gerald?”
Alex couldn’t even find the energy to yell at his mate for calling their sons Ben and Jerry. Not when they were probably the reason he wasn’t balls deep in Maya. Teenagers sniffing after some girl’s tail.
“Neither.” Carly shifted her weight, a small movement that his cat caught and focused on. He parted his lips and scented the air, attempting to confirm his suspicions. The flavors of Carly’s emotions scraped his tongue and he narrowed his eyes at the wererabbit. She was uncomfortable—worried even. Why? “The thing about it is…” Never words he wanted to hear from Maya or her friends. “Dazs said she saw something at the tree line, and I told her to stay in sight while I finished setup, but then Cora decided she wanted to go ‘Crouching Bunny’ on her half-brother and then Zoey joined in because crouching bunny, hidden fox seemed like a good idea. When I turned around, Dazs was gone.”
A low chuckle came from the direction of the kitchen, Neal obviously finding the events funny. Carly looked over her shoulder and glared at her mate before focusing on them once more—that worried expression in place. Apparently he didn’t have the energy to bitch at Carly for calling Harper Dazs after Haagen-Dazs ice cream. “And Neal can’t find her scent anywhere. Nothing but a hint of human and…”
Alex stopped listening after the word human.
He met his mate’s gaze, hating the worry that clouded her eyes. Yes, they’d managed to get rid of Freedom all those years ago—the anti-establishment shifter group that’d kidnapped and killed so many of their kids. But that hadn’t cleansed the world of all shifter-hating groups. Groups who would love to get their hands on the daughter of one of the United States’ strongest—if not the strongest—Prime.
Maya’s legs dropped from his waist and he held her steady while she found her feet. “Alex…”
“We’ll find her.”
And then he’d kill whoever took her. Or ground her for worrying her mother.
Maybe both.
He’d take away her TV and cellphone, too. The last time he’d outlawed texting, he’d been dubbed the evilest barbaric father in the world, but he’d take her hating him and still breathing than her love and no longer in his life.
2
“Kids, gotta love ‘em even when they do stupid things and scare the shit out of you. Mainly because it’s cheaper to let them live than hire a lawyer to mount a case for justifiable homicide.” -- Maya O’Connell, Prima of the Ridgeville pride and woman who has that lawyer on speed-dial.
Maya wasn’t going to let a little fear keep her down, at least not for long. She hadn’t buckled when her best friend had been taken by Freedom, had she? Nope. She’d fucking fought. She’d held this pride together—okay, Alex had—and she’d do the same now. Okay, Alex would.
Then, when they found Harper, she’d either kill whoever laid their hands on Harper or she’d murder her own child.
Part of her hoped this was just another one of Harper’s random wanderings in the forest. The ones where she did all she could to escape her own set of guards. Which was a hella-fun game when Maya was in on it and they formed a coordinated Strike Team of Doom.
When Maya and Alex weren’t playing the same game? Not so much.
The second Alex gave her enough room to move, she took off, not bothering to see if her mate followed. He would—she had no doubt. He’d follow for now and then stand by her side when they found Harper. And then when they found her…
Maya would alternate between yelling and hugging her child while Alex handled the bloody killing parts when she was done yelling and hugging.
Maya’s lioness grumbled and growled, annoyed that Alex would get to enjoy the kill, but it recognized his superior physical strength and lack of debilitating guilt. Not that she’d say the words aloud. Ever. The Holder of the Platinum Plated Hoo-Haa was a badass, after all.
They burst onto the back porch, and the gathered lions—some shifted, some not—scattered. They moved out of her and Alex’s path, the more submissive of their pride dropping to their bellies with a whine while the stronger men and women slowly eased forward. She knew they just wanted to help. They might not know what had her and Alex on edge, but she was sure they could scent her panic and feel her mate’s rage stretch across the land.
Her Harper… In the forest… A human scent so close to their den? That was never, ever a good thing, and the fact sent Maya’s panic spiraling higher.
Their second, Grayson, strode through the crowd, her guards—Brute, Deuce, Harding, and Wyatt—right behind him while Ricker came from the direction of the forest.
They were all strong, determined cats who were loyal to the pride and to her and Alex. They would do whatever needed to be done to find Harper.
But they weren’t Maya. They weren’t Harper’s mother. They didn’t have the overwhelming biological need to destroy anything that stood between her and Harper.
Two familiar scents teased her nose—flavors that were a mixture of her and Alex plus something else only those two shared.
“Something’s off.”
“What happened?”
Two adolescent males spoke with the same voice. At least, everyone else thought they were the same, but Maya could tell the difference between them.
Maya answered, her gaze shifting to the tree line. It was smart to wait for Alex and the males to form a plan to search for Harper. But what was that saying? Smart has the brains, stupid has the balls. Well, she had a set of brass ovaries and her sons… she didn’t want to ever think of her teenage sons’ balls. Ever ever.
She hated to say the words aloud, but they had to be said. “Harper’s missing. Ricker scented a human.”
The first growl came from Easton, but she was more worried by Weston’s reaction. He’d always been her silent killer. The one who’d remain quiet until he snapped the head off
a chicken in one bite. Very gross thing to watch a two-year-old do, by the way.
She reached out, not stopping her slow sweep of the trees with her gaze, and wrapped her fingers around West’s wrist—his thick, furred wrist. His hand was already half shifted, his inner lion nearly free of her son’s control. Not a good thing.
“We’ll find her, West,” she whispered and then reached for Easton on her left. She rubbed his back, stroking away the unending growl. “We’ll all find her.”
“Mom.” The single word was hardly more than a snarl, West losing the battle to his cat. “Humans. Council. Ricker.”
Yeah, the first two were definite threats to them—the shifter council mostly because it’d become a corrupt institution that she and Alex often told to fuck off. They were happy in their small corner of the world, and if they tried to impose laws on Ridgeville… Well, Alex and Maya were quickly disabused of the notion. Was Harper’s disappearance related to Maya’s most recent “suck my dick” message?
As for Ricker… He was a council trained tracker who’d joined the pride nearly fifteen years ago and a tiger unquestionably loyal to Ridgeville.
“It’s probably nothing. She’s just playing a trick.” Please let it be a trick. “Ricker will find her.”
She wished she could believe her own words.
Easton leaned close, his voice low, as if whispering would keep everyone else from hearing. “Brody said he saw a strange tiger last night.”
Maya whipped her head around to meet her son’s stare. “And he didn’t say anything to his father? To me or Alex?”
Brody was a good kid, younger than Maya’s twins and Ricker’s oldest son, a tiger shifter determined to run in his father’s footsteps. But he should have said something. They didn’t rule Ridgeville with an iron paw, but they sure as fuck knew who went in and out of their town.
“It could be nothing.” Easton said the right words, but he didn’t sound as if he believed himself.
“What else did Brody say? Where is he?” Maya wrenched her focus from the forest and scanned the gathered crowd. Her gaze touched on kids that were practically her own—Zoey, Cora, and Katie silently huddled on the back porch steps. Elijah, Carson, and Ryan—Neal’s sons from other Gaian Moons—standing guard nearby. Brute’s son Kier balanced on the railing, his stare missing nothing as he scanned the yard as well. He was easily just as large as his father—perhaps even bigger—but lightning fast and silent like his fox mother.
Fingers still wrapped around West’s wrist, she knew the exact moment he spied something. His heart rate picked up, the pulse beneath her fingertips racing while his body twitched, as if it just waited for permission to run and pounce on whatever had caught his attention. She snapped her head around and followed her son’s line of sight, hunting for whatever had him primed and ready to go.
She didn’t understand at first, couldn’t wrap her head around the flashes of gold that burst into sight for a split-second only to disappear. Another flash of burnished amber. Then… that small spark of gold broke through the bushes.
Small. Familiar. Hers.
A tirade leapt to Maya’s lips, the words hovering on her tongue and waiting to be released as soon as Harper drew near enough. Except, the blur ran as if the devil chased her. Those small paws and smaller claws dug into dirt and grass, clumps flying through the air in her wake. She raced toward the house, ears pressed flush with her skull, fur nearly flat against her body with the rapid speed.
The mad dash wasn’t what had her—and her two sons—on edge. It was Harper’s eyes—the whites clearly visible and the stark terror on her lioness-shaped face unmistakable. Her daughter ran for her life—as if death nipped at her heels and threatened to swallow her whole. Something chased Harper from the forest, from whatever mischief she’d tumbled into, and it was enough to send her blindly running back home. The fur on her sides was damp and darkening, slick with sweat even though natural lions didn’t, and her chest heaved with every rapid lope. Exhaustion pulled at her baby, but Harper kept pushing and pushing.
What had her running—
What had her running suddenly burst into sight as well.
Black. White. Orange. Her human mind immediately registered “tiger” but her lioness saw even more. It saw bloodthirst. It saw death. It saw carnage.
The tiger chasing Harper wouldn’t stop until she was dead.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t yet realized he was a dead tiger walking.
At the moment, it was a matter of discovering who’d get to the male first—Maya with her rapid shift and quick reflexes or Alex with his longer stride and (slightly, but really greatly) superior strength.
Alex’s lion had him moving before his human mind acknowledged the sight before him. His transition rolled through him like a raging wave, the tsunami of his shift snapping bones and stretching muscles faster than he could register. He took one step and then another, his clothes ripping at the seams while his cat’s body emerged. Hands and feet became paws, his teeth lengthened to become fangs, and his mouth reshaped to form a deadly maw. He was a running, roaring, four-hundred pounds of muscle and pain.
Pain he would give to the intruder.
Harper sprinted across the flat land, panic-stricken eyes locked onto him, and he could practically hear her cries for help. Fear made her run harder, race faster, toward safety. To him.
And he wouldn’t disappoint her. He wasn’t just her father. He was her Prime—the one lion above all others who protected the pride.
He dug his claws into dirt and grass, long nails tearing at the earth beneath his paws. He raced across the wide expanse, his attention split between his daughter and the tiger on her tail.
The soon to be dead tiger. He could have tolerated an intrusion—Brody had come forward and admitted what he saw—but the trespasser had to go and do something unforgiveable.
He scared Alex’s little girl.
His little girl now soaked in sweat, eyes filled with tears, and a stare that pleaded for help.
The second he got close enough, he leapt over Harper and landed with a low thump in front of the tiger, a thump and a roar so loud the ground shook. He hissed and bared his fangs, showing the male exactly what he’d get if he pushed. The tiger skidded to a stop, his claws sinking into the ground as he slipped over the dried grasses until he finally came to a stop less than ten feet from Alex.
It was ten feet too close as far as he was concerned. Way too close to him, to his family and to his pride.
The tiger hissed in response, fangs dripping with saliva, the craving for blood still filling every inch of the cat’s body. His striped tail flicked, the tip twitching with agitation, and his opponent rose to his full height. He padded back and forth in front of Alex, those eyes trained on the pride at his back and not the lion so close to him.
Stupid, that.
Alex hissed at the male and pulled his lips back, baring his fangs while he went into motion as well. He mirrored the intruder’s path, keeping pace while the male sought a way around him.
The only way to get to Harper was through, not around. Through Alex, and if his opponent managed to take him down—doubtful—he had to get past Grayson, the guards, and Maya and their sons.
He’d put his money on Maya and the twins.
Except the tiger was an idiot, or too stupid to care about the danger he’d put himself in. He bunched his legs beneath him, massive muscles tensing, and Alex prepared himself. It was a lazy cat that had to prepare for an attack so blatantly. The male hadn’t trained for combat—hadn’t had his life and the lives of his loved ones dependent on his ability to kill.
Alex had. Through his fights with Freedom and altercations with HSE—the Humans for Shifter Extermination—he’d had plenty of practice.
The tiger finally got the opportunity he’d been waiting for, and Alex bolted into action. His opponent went high, trying to leap over Alex, but Alex went higher. He rose to his back legs, forelegs stretched and claws flexed, and dug the sharp na
ils into layers of fur, skin, and flesh. He curled his nails around whatever muscle and fat he found, pulling at the body above him as it continued its arched path. He yanked and fell forward, claws digging through the male from chest to hips in a single, rending pull.
The coppery tang of blood filled the air, the putrid stench of his opponent’s aroma nearly making him gag with the smell. But he didn’t have time to get sick. He had to keep the pressure on the male while he had an advantage. So he spun in place and brought his foreleg around, striking out at the male once again. Claws met flesh and then bone, nails finding home in the male’s hip.
He yanked down, traced the line of the male’s back leg, and opened him up from hip to ankle. The male would be bled dry by the time Alex was done.
The tiger stumbled back, fur stained red from his wounds, flesh and fur dangling from his body, but determination still filled his expression. Alex’s opponent wasn’t giving up. Not yet.
Which meant the only way things would end was with death.
The tiger darted forward, jaws snapping, teeth coming within inches of Alex’s head, but he didn’t give a damn. His training had him staying out of harm’s way without thought. The cat moved on instinct, avoiding each deadly swipe while he subconsciously delivered his own brand of pain and death.
He twisted and turned, ducking low and aiming high while his claws remained unsheathed. The scent of the male’s blood soaked the air, blinding him to any others, and its presence drove his cat’s bloodlust to rise even higher. It wanted to bathe in the red liquid, soak the earth, and watch as life left his opponent’s eyes.
Yes, he mentally hissed. That sounded like an excellent plan.
The tiger darted forward once more, snapping his long, white fangs, and Alex easily danced out of reach. He took that moment to deliver another round of pain, nails scraping fur and flesh until he struck bone.
More blood flowed freely until the dirt was stained red with the sticky liquid. So much coated the grass that they no longer fought on dry ground but in mud.