by Celia Kyle
Lion.
King of the jungle.
But she hadn’t ever seen a white lion before. Not even when her father was alive and collected the outcasts of every shifter species.
The rapid clicks and slides of the gun in his hand brought her back to their situation. Harding racked the slide, chambering a round, and handed it to her.
“Can you use it?” His words were garbled when pushed past his feline lips.
Tess nodded. “Well enough.”
Which wasn’t a lie. She could point and shoot with the best of them. Hitting things was another story.
“Good.” He snared her wrist once again and tugged her toward the mouth of the cave. “I don’t want you in danger, but you need to watch for anyone coming at you. You’re protecting yourself, Tess. That’s it.” He took two steps, but paused when she spoke to him.
“What about you? Don’t you need a gun?”
Harding shook his head and raised one hand. His fingers reshaped, digits contorting until claws emerged. The midnight black of those deadly nails clashed with the pure white fur that now coated him. His body grew, chest expanding, muscles thickening, as he prepared to leave her.
“I prefer an up close and personal approach.” Harding grinned.
“Be careful.” Fear for him choked her throat. This one thing proved to her that he wasn’t like the men who’d abused her over the years. Those cowards had reveled in destroying lives with guns. They hid in the shadows and shot others, even women and children, with their bullets.
A flash of surprise coated his features, but it was gone as soon as it’d arrived. “You care.”
“I care.” Of course she cared. Stupid man.
Harding gave her a jerky nod and then disappeared through the bushes. He loped down the low hill and slid into the forest once again. No tension marred his gait. He was simply a man with deadly intent.
Tess sighed and gripped the gun tightly. “I care, Harding. I already care too much.”
*
Tess’s words carried him into the forest, dogging his heels and sticking to him like glue as he disappeared amongst the shadows.
I care, Harding. I already care too much.
It was a start, a good beginning to their eventual mating. They had a few obstacles to overcome first, but he had no doubt that it’d end with his teeth sliding into her shoulder as they made love for the first time. God, his cat wanted to fuck the woman into the mattress—or the ground—but he knew they’d come together slowly. Tess deserved nothing less.
But first he had to handle whoever had followed them. He hadn’t been worried at first, the presence of another on the mountain not surprising him in the least. There were at least twenty-five people living in the compound, and then there were the hikers. Sure, Freedom, and now the Council, owned half the mountain, but it wasn’t like they could fence off their portion. The land was beautiful, so it figured that others would have the same opinion.
Except this person… The first obvious hint had been the quieting of the forest, but Tess’s reaction had woken his beast. The lion roared to the fore, hunting for the source of their mate’s fear. It pushed against, and broke, Harding’s mental bindings. Fur had burst through his skin while bone and muscle reshaped his face. But most of all, his senses grew until he could hear every heartbeat in the forest. He could zero in on the unmoving buck and the frozen squirrel as well as the quiet birds resting in the trees.
But there was a single echoing thump that drew his beast’s attention. It rose above the other sounds as if daring Harding to follow. He tipped his head back, searching through the scents that soaked the air, hunting up the identity of the interloper. Decaying leaves, wet grass, and dying trees reached him, yet it remained elusive.
The person wasn’t gone though. While the intruder’s scent was indefinable, the heavy flavor of hate was ever present. It stung his nose and teased his cat.
Harding flexed his fingers, enjoying the feel of his claws and anxious for them to meet the person who contained so much hatred for his mate.
He ventured further into the forest, no longer retracing his steps, but choosing a different path through the trees. He hoped to circle behind whoever followed them. He could hear the uneven crackle and snap of twigs and branches off to his left. Unfortunately, the wind still wasn’t blowing toward him, gifting him with the person’s scent.
He traveled further and further down the mountain, ears open for the occasional scuffle and shift of his prey. The person continued on a predictable path, following his and Tess’s steps of only moments ago. The trick would be eliminating the threat without actually eliminating the threat. He needed to ensure Tess’s safety, so “capture but not kill” was a necessity.
When the other person’s pace increased, so did Harding’s. He closed the gap between him and the intruder. It’d be any moment now, any second he’d be within pouncing distance and his prey none the wiser.
Any…second…
Except a heavy crack split the air, the echoing sound startling the animal life around him. The birds took to the air while animals bolted. Harding dropped into a low crouch and waited, listening for anything. The sound came from a distance, nowhere near him, and a bullet hadn’t struck nearby.
Another crack, immediately followed by two more and his pulse froze, blood stilling in his veins.
Tess.
Harding ignored his prey, rushing forward and zigzagging his way around trees and vegetation as he made a beeline for Tess. It had to have been her. The direction was right, as was the distance. Fuck, he shouldn’t have left her alone. He should have rushed her back to the safety of the compound before beginning his hunt. It was his cocksure attitude that put her in danger, and now she would suffer for it.
His beast lent him power and strength, spurring him on with every flex of muscle. Yet he was still too slow for the lion.
He tore his shirt from his body, shredding the fabric with ease, and yanked at his pants, ripping them to bits. A small release of his restraint had the cat bursting free. His shoes fell away as, between one step and the next, a massive white lion appeared.
A jolt of speed sent him flying across the forest floor, paws barely touching the ground before he took another stride.
Another two shots, another burst of energy until the mountainside became a green and brown blur. He ignored the rapid retreat of his prey, the stumbling, bumbling stomps that took his target out of reach. He had only one thought: Tess.
Harding burst through the vegetation, claws digging into the rocky ground while his gaze swept over the situation before him. A single woman faced off against Tess. Fur and fangs made her face unidentifiable, yet the scent wove true. Jackie circled his mate, snarling as she moved round and round. Tess still clutched the gun, hands tight around the butt and finger near the trigger. Clumps of dirt showed that she had merely shot at the ground in warning, but it was easy to see the shifter wouldn’t be denied his mate’s blood much longer.
Before Jackie could move another muscle, Harding jumped in front of Tess, easily soaring over the shifter’s head and landing with a near noiseless thump. The instant his claws met earth, he released a mountain shaking roar. He spread his maw wide, exposing his four-inch fangs as they dripped with saliva, while his rage was voiced to one and all. The woman dared growl in response, so he rose to his back legs and struck out at Jackie, claws barely missing the female. He wouldn’t have truly injured her, but she didn’t know that. Fear was an intense motivator.
Mine. He snarled. All mine. The cat roared, his beast stealing more control as the seconds passed. The more the female shifter challenged his claim, the angrier his lion became. He swiped at Jackie, catching her shirt with the tips of his claws and rending the fabric with ease. How easy it’d be to tear through that pretty skin…
Jackie gave him one last growl and then ran, hissing and spitting the whole way. Harding remained tense and vigilant as he watched her go, the cat unwilling to lose focus for even a moment. The
threat still lingered, lurking in the woods. True, the most immediate one was gone, but she wasn’t whom he’d been hunting moments ago.
Small fingers sifted through his mane, clutching his fur with desperation, and the curvaceous frame of his mate slumped against his back. Wetness seeped through to his skin, and he took note of Tess’s waning terror. Relief coursed through her now, his mate thankful that he’d come when needed. He always would. Always.
The gun fell to the ground with a thump, the deadly hunk of metal landing near his paw. He’d make her keep one on her from now on. She had some non-human powers, but they wouldn’t save her from tooth and claw.
He turned his head toward her sobbing body and lapped at her skin, sliding his rough tongue along her bare arm. He cataloged her flavors, the honeyed sweetness mixed with salt from her sweat and the bitter taste of terror. He bit back a growl and promised himself that he’d see to Jackie. How dare she? How dare she?
He licked her again, revealing a feline smile when she giggled instead of sobbed.
Tess sighed and slumped to the ground, resting her head against his side, and her fingers were still buried in his mane. He lowered his rear end and let her take what comfort she could.
“Thank you.” She rubbed her face against his shoulder.
He purred; his beast thrilled with being marked by their mate. The sound came from deep within his chest, vibrating throughout his body, and a contentment he’d never known stole over him. Tess repeated the caress, burying her nose. The purr grew, rumbling and traveling through them both.
“Thank you so much.”
Harding leaned down and nuzzled her, inhaling her sweet scent and allowing her presence to drive away the last of his terror-fueled rage. His mate—his mate—had been attacked. Threatened by the very woman she’d shared a home with for any number of months.
There are plenty of women in the organization who believed in the cause. Plenty of women who can hit just as hard as any man.
Some sort of evaluation needed to happen. Now. Jackie proved that females could be as deadly as males.
Harding nudged Tess, intent on urging her to stand so they could leave. His mate’s green-eyed gaze met with his, and she leaned forward and kissed his nose. It was nothing more than a chaste brush of her lips, but it was still their first kiss. Too bad he was wearing fur.
With another nudge, she pushed to her feet, but refused to release his mane. No matter, his cat was still purring, happy with her touch.
He led her back to the woods, his paws nearly silent on the forest floor. They retraced their steps, but he was ever vigilant as they traveled. Jackie had been deflected for now. Until he had a chance to talk with Stone, he’d have to be careful with Tess. Nothing could happen to his mate. Nothing.
The chitter of birds returned with every step, the rustle of the wind picking up once again, and the low sounds of forest animals skittering across the ground reached him. The happy animals indicated that whatever had scared them was gone. And for once, it wasn’t Harding who had terrified them.
Before long they stood within the compound’s cave entrance, and Tess gained them access. Her fingers still deep within his mane, Tess led him into the elevator. Even then she didn’t release him, hand still clutching him like a lifeline.
He hated that he couldn’t change and tug her into his arms. Not when shifting back to two legs meant standing naked before her. He wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet. Getting to her had been his priority, and now he was stuck comforting her with his fur. Since they were relatively safe, he leaned into her, pressing along her leg and hip and nuzzling her shoulder. When a soft weight rested against the top of his head, he purred once again. She leaned on him and took what little comfort he could offer.
All too soon the elevator dinged, announcing their arrival. When Tess stepped forward to exit first, he nudged her back with his nose. No, one of the women inside had already tried attacking his Tess once; she wasn’t going to get another chance so easily.
Harding stepped into the entryway, his tail flicking in agitation as he entered. The deep thud of someone approaching had his ear twitching toward the sound, but he kept his focus intent on the doorway that led to the living room.
Tess’s fingers tightened in his fur and he focused on the low voices. Those footsteps neared, but he recognized the weight and cadence. Ben was on his way, and the lion knew theirs would be safe with Ben. He was massive and fierce and was a friend to Tess. She’d be safe while he went into that room and roared, showing Jackie that Tess wasn’t to be fucked with. She may not have claws and fangs, but he did. And he was more than happy to use them.
Ben neared and he turned his head enough to see the elephant in his peripheral vision. The man raised a single brow as he moved into Harding’s line of sight. “Is there a reason we’re seeing all this fur?”
Harding waited for Tess to tell Ben of Jackie and how she’d been more than happy to tear her human body limb-from-limb.
Instead, he heard a forced smile in her voice. “We had a debate on whose balls were bigger: yours, or his?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You won, by the way.”
Harding growled, but she stroked him, lessening his annoyance in an instant. Maybe he could deal with any insult if it came with her gentle hands. He looked at Ben fully, noticing the smug look on the shifter’s face.
Maybe.
Tess tugged on his mane. “I’m gonna go back to my room and change. I’ll see ya at dinner.”
Nudging her until she stood on his other side and away from the living room’s open doorway, he allowed himself to be led from the area. She probably thought she was in control, tugging him along like a pet, but in truth he simply didn’t want to let her out of his sight. Not now. Not ever.
As they eased into the living room’s archway, he thought back to her words.
“There are plenty of women in the organization who believed in the cause. Plenty of women who can hit just as hard as any man.”
He wanted to ask her if there were any within the compound. He glanced into the living area, letting his gaze sweep the room yet linger on the women. Fear, worry, and revulsion met him, but also a good dose of malevolence.
Harding had his answer.
Chapter Three
“You got problems? I got kids. Here, we’ll trade.” — Maya O’Connell, Prima of the Ridgeville Pride and woman who’d like to trade. Really.
Thud. Thump. Thud. Slap.
Thud. Thump. Thud. Slap.
That’s how he found her the next day, tossing her tennis ball against the wall and catching it when it returned.
Floor. Wall. Floor. Hand. Rinse and repeat.
The creak and groan of the lock on her steel bedroom door proved he’d snare the key from Stone since the gorilla was the only one who had a copy. The low grumbles within the visitor’s mind told her exactly who stood on the other side.
Tess had avoided him at dinner yesterday. Again at breakfast and lunch. It was amazing how easily she could sneak around and snare food without crossing his path. But, apparently, the lion was finished waiting for her to reemerge.
Harding. Her savior and…something else.
For twenty-four hours her body had screamed at her to go to him, sink into his fur and take comfort from his touch.
She hadn’t. Obviously.
Which had only made the yearning that much greater.
Thud. Thump. Thud. Slap.
But it wasn’t like they had anything to talk about. Not really. Well, really-ish. He’d saved her from Jackie the Bitch, of course. Otherwise, there was nothing between them. Except heat. God, the heat was nearly killing her.
The heavy door slid open on silent hinges, portal swinging wide to expose the man she’d expected.
Thud. Thump. Thud. Slap.
Her rhythm never faltered. Not when she looked to him and was reminded of those pale locks that begged for her touch, or those blue eyes that stripped her with one glance. It didn’t stutter when she took in th
e black shirt that clung to his chest like a second skin or saw the way his jeans molded to his muscular thighs.
Nope. That ball kept on going.
Didn’t keep drool from pooling in her mouth though.
Tess fought with her body, demanding that she not become aroused in his presence. The damned cat would catch the scent in a single breath, and then she’d be vulnerable to the much larger shifter.
She couldn’t have that. She’d spent the last twenty-four hours telling herself that the momentary spark of caring toward Harding had been a fluke. It wasn’t real. It’d been appreciation. A speck of any emotion toward another could easily blossom into more. Then she’d have a walking, talking vulnerability. That couldn’t happen.
A small smile graced his lips and she tore her gaze from him, refocusing on the repetitive motion of the tennis ball. Looking at those kissable lips was too tempting.
Without an invitation, he stepped into the room. She watched him from the corner of her eye. He padded to her small desk, and she noticed that his feet were bare.
God, could feet be sexy?
A tendril of heat unfurled within her.
Apparently they could be.
Thud. Thump. Thud. Slap.
A rustle and clink reached her just before the scent of Ben’s infamous beef stew drifted over to her. Then Harding was by her side, over six feet of muscle, man, and lion not a foot from her body. More of that unfamiliar heat slid into her veins, and she chastised herself. This wasn’t a man she wanted. Besides, males couldn’t be trusted. Even those that professed to be trying to help could harm more than assist.
With ease, he lowered himself to the threadbare carpet, two bowls of steaming stew in his hands. He hadn’t uttered a word, not a single syllable had left his mouth, yet he’d said so much.
She got that smile that told her he knew she’d been hiding.