by Celia Kyle
“Just eat your food.” He tossed a container at her, this one containing a sandwich made with steak, lettuce, and tomato. It killed him to add greens to her food, but his mate enjoyed a salad occasionally. He wondered if she wasn’t part rabbit. If they shook her family tree, would a fluffy kit tumble out?
Honor stuck her tongue out and gave him a raspberry.
“What’d I say about that tongue?”
She winked at him and dug into her food. When she moaned over those dishes, his cat puffed up in pride. They were feeding their mate and she enjoyed their choices. They couldn’t do some things, but they could provide for her.
Eventually, if they got lucky, they’d get to kill for her, too.
It didn’t take long to polish off the food. By the time they were done, every container stood empty including the one holding the strawberries and pickles. Strawberries and pickles she ate together. At the same time. He could take down a fully grown moose, gut it and feast on its blood, but he shuddered at the idea of that food combination.
“What now?” Happiness radiated from his mate, contentment and pleasure filled every bit of her scent.
He’d done that. He’d soothed her and put that smile on her lips. “Now we relax. Maybe talk about the future a little bit.”
“Future?”
“Uh-huh.” Grayson shifted his position, leaned against the massive tree, and got comfortable. He held out his hand to her, beckoning her closer. “C’mere. Tell me what kind of house you want. Where you want to live.” Honor nibbled her lower lip. “Lemme hold you.”
Coming to a decision, she crawled toward him and he tried to ignore the sway of her breasts as they hung low. Before long, she was settled against him, her back to his front and his hands snug around her waist. She sighed once in position, sinking into him, and he gladly took her weight.
Even after what they’d shared, she was still skittish, still nervous and jumpy. He’d been overjoyed at the first taste of her and he couldn’t wait to do it again and again. Already she was recovering, bits of the old Honor coming out to play. Today was good, tomorrow would be better. And then the next day and the next and…
“Now, what kind of house do you want?”
*
Honor should have given him the first answer that popped into her mind, but she wasn’t ready to reveal the true depths of her feelings.
Wherever you are.
“I don’t want stairs. I like the pride house well enough, but the stairs… I don’t want our cubs falling down steps while hopping on one foot and breaking something.”
Grayson sucked in a harsh breath.
“Did I say something wrong?” She nibbled her lower lip. She’d never done the whole mate thing, maybe she’d said something stupid already. It wouldn’t surprise her if she had.
“No, lovely. Nothing wrong. Something very, very right.” His low rumble was filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite identify.
“What?” If she’d been so awesome, she wanted to know how.
“You said ‘our cubs.’” He nuzzled her and she tilted her head to the side to give him greater access.
“Well, I mean, not today, but someday we’ll have them.” Doubt crept into her. “Won’t we?”
“I want nothing more than to see you pregnant and round with our cubs, or holding them at your breast as they nurse. Someday I’ll play with them, teach them how to shift. Lovely, I can’t wait for that day.” His words vibrated against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.
“I want that, too.”
“Then that’s what we’ll work toward. What else do you want?”
“I don’t want something big. Not like the pride house. It’s nice but there’s so much space.” She pulled away and turned her head to meet his gaze. “I grew up in a cozy house. Cramped sometimes, but it made us all close. I don’t want to lose that.”
“Then that’s what we’ll have.” There was so much emotion that lurked behind his words, ones she wanted to embrace just as much as she wanted to shove them away.
“I want you to be happy, too. What kind of place do you want? For all I know, you want some enormous mansion with thirty bedrooms and an indoor pool.”
He leaned down and nuzzled her. “I want to be wherever you are.”
Okay, she was going to melt into a puddle at his feet. To hear her inner words laid before her… it healed some of the tiny cracks in her heart.
“Grayson…” She turned further in his embrace and reached for him, stroking his whiskered cheek with her fingers. She enjoyed the feel of his scruff against her skin. “That… I don’t… Is that how you really feel?”
“Honor.” His gaze bored into her. “I’ve waited my whole life for a mate, six full years for you, I want nothing more than to be at your side. Period. You own me, woman. Whether you want to or not.”
She did. She so very much did. And he owned her heart and soul. “I want—” Her eyes tracked movement behind Grayson. The next words choked in her throat, trapping breath. Angus stepped away from entangled brush.
Her living nightmare stood at the edge of the clearing, body partially hidden by bushes and trees, but his eyes… his eyes were unmistakable. Violating. A bolt of terror sizzled down her spine. He’d found her and come for her and—
“Honor?”
“I won’t go back.” She whispered the words, unsure if Grayson heard her. “I won’t.” She shook her head as the past invaded the present.
“Such pretty skin… All mine.”
“No,” for the millionth time, no.
“Yes,” he murmured, running his fingers over her bloodied and sliced body. “So pretty and mine. That’s why I can’t let you go. Your skin, so soft and sleek. I can’t get it out of my head. You killed Bianca. I should kill you, but I can’t. It’s your skin… I’ll cut it off. I’ll cut it off and then…”
“Honor?” Grayson raised his voice, hands on her biceps squeezing, giving a gentle shake.
She wrenched her gaze from a smirking Angus and focused on her mate. He wouldn’t let the bastard take her again. “Angus.”
“Honor.” Grayson furrowed his brow. “What are you—”
“I believe she means me.”
Honor shrank into herself. A familiar timbre roared panic through her. He possessed her every thought, every unmoving muscle. One word drove into her head: Away.
“Hullo, pet.”
With a heaving shove from Grayson, Honor found herself rolling from her mate’s lap as he jumped to his feet. She quickly rose and hid behind her male. Fear forced her to use him as a shield.
She recognized her cowardice, recognized the pure terror. Recognized, and yet couldn’t do a damned thing about it. Not when she trembled head to toe, not when remembered pain seared her body. In her mind, every slice of the razor, every dig of the knife, every pull on her skin… she relived every moment.
Grayson’s shoulders stretched, his shirt going taut across his growing body. Snap of thread, rent of material. He grew, part of her mate’s lion emerging as he stood between her and Angus.
“Honor is no one’s pet.” Grayson’s voice was gravelly, rough, his beast’s rolling growl filling the words.
“Hmm… A bit wrong there, you are.”
Honor built up enough courage to peer around Grayson’s shoulder, to look at the monster who’d hurt her over and over. A flash of silver. The sun’s glare shined off something Angus held. Her blood ran cold. The knife. She recalled just how easily it slid into her flesh.
“D-d-don’t let him cut me.” She shoved the words through her constricted throat. “Please.” She could live through claws and teeth, but a blade peeling away her skin? Again? Her mind would shatter.
Fur slithered over Grayson’s body, coating his forearms as his fingers morphed into deadly claws. He wouldn’t let Angus get her, he wouldn’t. She knew that and yet the terror remained hot and heavy inside. It weighed down her limbs, forcing her to remain in place, legs weakening.
“Well,
I shall slice a bit here and there. I have to punish you, pet. You allowed this thing,” he gestured at Grayson with his knife, “to touch you. You’re mine, Honor. I claimed you—”
“No.” A sharp crack followed an echoing snap. She knew without looking that Grayson allowed a partial change to come over him. “She’s mine.”
With that, her mate flew across the ground, raced over the leaf-strewn earth as if he had wings. He barreled toward the male who’d hurt her, claws flexed and extended.
Angus was ready.
He raised that pain-inducing blade, the sun hitting the smooth surface. He was going to stab Grayson, stab her mate, and Honor couldn’t move to help. No, terror held her immobile, frozen, as the battle unfolded before her.
*
The fucker would die. Fast or slow, Grayson didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was his death. Slowly. Painfully.
“D-d-don’t let him cut me.”
For that plea alone, he’d be carved into tiny pieces while he breathed.
Angus came at him blade first, swinging his arm in a great arch as he aimed for Grayson’s chest. The move was blocked easily and he returned it with one of his own, slicing at the male’s chest with his claws. The sharpened tips scraped his stomach, but the tell-tale scent of blood didn’t hit him. Damn, he’d only gotten his shirt.
“She’s mine!” Spittle flew from Angus’s mouth and the male came at him again, an empty hand targeting him, no claws in sight. What the hell did the man think he could do without claws? Scratch him to death?
Dropping his guard, the next swipe included a lion’s nails.
Misdirection.
They scored his abdomen, digging into his flesh, and he snarled in response. First blood. It was on.
“She was never yours.” Angus punched him, catching him across the jaw and splitting Grayson’s lip and he spat a mouthful of blood.
“I picked her.” This time his kick was easily blocked. “She isn’t like the others. She lived.”
She lived.
How many hadn’t? Disgust lit a burning rage in him.
Grayson voiced the question. “How many have died, Angus? What about your mate?”
“Don’t talk about my mate!” Saliva flew from his roared words. “The bitch killed her! She killed her. Now she’s my pretty pet. Alive and mine!”
Grayson locked claws with Angus. “How many?”
His opponent shoved him away and Grayson backed up, putting space between them. “They were all my pets and she ruined it. Bianca loved my pets. But I can’t have any more because she killed my mate. Retribution, she belongs to me.”
Then the fight became a painful blur of kicks, punches, and scrapes. Every two strikes he blocked, another connected. The male was strong, a Prime’s son, but he put everything he had into the battle.
Another stab, the knife sinking to strike bone. Grayson roared, tearing away from the pain, wrenching the blade from his shoulder. He grabbed Angus’s wrist and squeezed, tearing the weapon from his hand.
Immediate pain gone, he studied the male, the subtle shifts. Grayson swung his foot and kicked Angus, clipping the side of the knee, sending him crashing to the ground. The moment Angus’s body collided with the earth, Grayson was on him, tackling him.
He allowed more of his change to wash over him, overtake his human body. Fur covered every inch of him, his blunt human teeth replaced by the cat’s fangs and his mouth elongated to a lion-like snout. The beast wanted out, wanted to tear the flesh from Angus’s bones.
Soon. Very soon.
Angus twisted beneath him, rolling onto his back and hiking his legs as if to kick him away. Hell no, he wasn’t that easy to dislodge.
Grayson grasped the male’s shoulder and dug claws into Angus’s muscle, sinking in until he encircled the man’s clavicle. He wouldn’t get away unless Grayson allowed or he didn’t mind losing half his shoulder.
Angus pinned, Grayson allowed a bit of sweet justice. He punched and scraped the Prime’s son, drawing line after gruesome line down his body like the bastard did to Honor.
“D-d-don’t let him cut me.”
More and more blood flowed free of his enemy.
Angus would die in their clearing, soak the earth with his lifeblood.
“How many?” Another punch, a gratifying crunch as the male’s nose broke.
Angus bared his teeth, his face and mouth more lion than man. Yes, they were both in the midst of their half-shifts.
Angus twitched his arm. Grayson prepared for the strike, ready to block the blow. Except, that’s not what happened. His opponent dug his claw into the ground and he shifted his legs, one wrapping around Grayson, the other planted on the land. In a blink, Grayson was the man on the bottom with Angus looming above him.
Grayson’s beast roared in protest, raging at the twist of fate. He was no longer on the offensive, but the defensive. Angus came at him, raining blow after blow. Grayson was forced to release the male’s shoulder to protect himself.
Strikes came, one after another, his and Angus’s alternating and at times, colliding to end with a draw. Still he fought, fought for Honor, fought for their future.
He tried to distract the male again. The more Angus talked, the more unfocused he became. It was obvious Angus’s grip on reality was frayed and snapping with each new wound.
“How many?” Grayson blocked another strike, gripping his opponent’s wrist and squeezing. “How many?”
Angus’s other hand rushed toward him and he caught it, restraining both. More of his attacker’s shift rolled forward until his face was a lion, deadly and dark and intent on him.
Honor stood across the clearing, her shrill scream barely penetrating his focus. Grayson struggled against the impending death strike, shoved and pushed at the male atop him.
And he would fail.
Angus hissed and lowered his head, jaw wide, nearing Grayson’s throat. “Too many to count.”
Suddenly the male’s weight was gone. A blur of orange and black filled his vision for the sparest moment and a new snarl and rolling growl filled the clearing. Breathing heavy, Grayson turned his head to find a fully shifted Ricker stalking Angus.
He pushed to his feet as his lion retreated, returning him to fully human. He was angry he needed the assistance of another, yet thrilled over the intervention. He was lion enough to admit he came too close to losing his life to Angus. Pride was nothing compared to survival.
Ricker dug his nails into the ground, a sure sign of the massive male’s coming pounce, except he didn’t get the chance. With a final hiss, Angus ran, racing from the clearing. More of his shift rolled with every step until he entered the forest as a lion, his tattered clothing clinging to his furred body.
The tiger glanced at him and Grayson immediately barked out an order. “Bring him back. Dead or alive.”
He truly didn’t care which and the rumbling purr that followed in Ricker’s wake proved he didn’t care either.
*
Honor prayed Ricker would kill Angus, prayed he’d end the threat to her and the pride. She also pleaded for Grayson’s life.
Tears stung her eyes, trailing down her cheeks as she raced across the blood-soaked ground. She stopped just short of colliding with him, not knowing how or where to touch. His human body was bloodied, coated in the red fluid. The bright pink lines on his skin proved his inner-lion was well on his way to repairing the damage, but he looked so, so tired. “Grayson. I—”
Love you.
A crash of trees and leaves, snapping branches, and the heavy thud of someone approaching interrupted her.
In a blink, Maddy burst through the trees, mowing down a row of bushes before sliding to a stop in the middle of the clearing. She tilted her head, inhaling deep, and peeled her lips back with a hiss. Then a distant roar hit them. Ricker.
“Shit.” Grayson yanked the remains of his pants from his body, not bothering to slide them off. He simply tore the fabric. His shirt barely clung to him due to Angus’s
repeated hits. Honor panicked, knowing he was going after Angus and Ricker. He was already wounded. The only good thing was his shift would heal most of his wounds.
By the time his pants fluttered to the ground, he was halfway through his shift. He turned toward her. “Get Maddy home. Others will be on their way.”
Leave him? No, no, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t let him leave her. She needed him. Now. Alive and whole and Angus was out there…
“No, Honor. I need you safe.” With that final demand, the lion’s muzzle overtook him, snapping into place in an instant. The change cut off any argument.
He strode toward her and shoved her with his head. It wasn’t gentle or playful. It was an order, plain and simple. He wanted her safe so he could help Ricker.
So, that’s what she’d do. “Okay.” She jerked her head in a nod. “Okay. C’mon, Maddy.”
The lioness snarled, growling until Grayson spun away and dashed into the trees. The rapid race of others coming had them whirling to face the oncoming threat. In a flash, Honor’s hands went to claws while she called her fangs forward. Her human mouth shifted into her cat’s snout, making more room for the deadly teeth.
She’d been paralyzed by fear when faced with Angus, but now the lioness was furious over their inability to assist their mate. Well, they could do something now. If whoever appeared was a threat to Grayson, even if it were Angus, they’d fall beneath her claws.
Brute raced into the area first, his half-shift looking much like hers. “Honor? Grayson? Ricker?”
She pointed where her mate disappeared. “That way.”
Her brother nodded. “Go back to the house.”
Go back to the house.
Honor looked toward the snapped trees, the crushed twigs her mate demolished on his dash through the forest. She had to go home.
Go home while her mate battled Angus yet again.
Go home while he fought and killed for her.
Go home while the man she loved might not ever reappear.
“Honor?” She turned her attention to Brute. “Go home. I won’t let anything happen to your mate.”
*
Grayson followed the blood trail through the forest. The stench of Angus’s lion seared his nose. The roar that echoed through the forest hadn’t been one of pain—Ricker hadn’t sounded hurt—but outrage. Annoyance, not death.