Makayla was the editor and chief of Portland Living magazine. This month's edition was scheduled to go to print by the end of the week. If she didn't get back, she couldn't oversee the final proofs and layout. If Lorna took this opportunity to include that ridiculous column about mohawks, Makayla swore she would hurt someone.
Lorna was the wild child of her writing staff, constantly proposing the most obscure hipster interests. While Portland was a progressive city, Portland Living Magazine's target demographic was thirty-five to sixty year old, professional women and upper middle class homemakers. Mohawks wouldn't cut it.
She sighed and leaned back in her chair, thinking of how she would punish Lorna if she somehow convinced her assistant editor to slip that article in. Creative types could be obnoxiously nonconformist rule breakers. The assistant editor might put it in just to get a good laugh.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Makayla watched the curve of Ronan's strong back as he washed the dishes. The mohawk article really wasn't the end of the world. Maybe the Portland ladies would enjoy the spice. Some of the punk guys in the photographs had been pretty cute. They had been rather thin, nothing like the hunk of man meat standing in front of her now.
Makayla hadn't had a lover in six months. In early August the year before, she and Mark still had their "understanding." He worked in her building, downstairs at a small legal firm. They'd been “friends with benefits” for over a year. Short on the friends side, and heavy on the benefits side.
In August, he’d started dating his absurdly thin, twenty year old intern who had sharp cheek bones, a spray on tan, and spray on blond hair. When she’d met his new fling in passing, Makayla couldn't believe that Mark had ever been attracted to her at all. Makayla was curvaceous and plump, with jet black hair and ivory skin. The total opposite of the intern.
Makayla's look was colored by the local flair for hipster style. She sported sharply cut bangs in her raven locks and even had a tiny silver stud nose ring in her delicately rounded nose.
She loved to wear cinched wide belts over form fitting pencil skirts with crisp white shirts that accentuated her rocking hourglass curves. Most of all, Makayla loved her shoes. Portland was a casual city, but she couldn't get enough of her four inch patent leather Jimmy Choos.
Regardless of her fabulousness, Mark decided to break off the sex exchange to go steady with fake tan Barbie.
She watched Ronan bend over the fireplace to heft another log inside. Sucking her lower lip, it was the first time in six months she was glad to be completely and utterly single.
Chapter 4
Ronan moved around the cabin feeling claustrophobic in Makayla's presence. Everywhere he went, there she was: talking, complaining, staring out the window and sighing. By midday his nerves were so frayed, he had to go outside to chop wood to be alone.
After spending almost twenty-four hours in human form, he was beginning to feel the effect of the cold on his skin. In lion form, he rarely felt weakened by the weather, hot or cold. He was faster, stronger, more powerful than a typical mountain lion. It came with the territory of being a shifter.
Supernatural abilities like his were not widely known in the world of humans. So he stayed in his human form, even though it was infuriatingly weak. He went out into the frigid air as snow flurries wafted around him, dressed in his warmest coat and gloves.
He checked his outdoor meat cellar to make sure that no scavengers had come after his kill. Pulling open the boarded door, he stared into the dark, dugout cellar near the side of his house. Everything had frozen. He'd have to bring supper in to thaw before he could cook it, but he'd do that after he chopped wood.
He didn't need any wood, he had plenty, but if he spent another second listening to that woman yapping, he might just shift and growl at her. The sound of a human's voice in his cabin, in his space, it shattered his peace.
Ronan went to his snow-covered wood pile and pulled out a log to place on his chopping block. Hefting the axe, he hurled it down into the wood. A satisfying crack echoed through the white forest.
He kept splitting logs, even though it wasn't good for his human body to spend so much time in the cold. If he had to stay in human form, he needed the stove and the fireplace to stay warm. It could get mighty cold in that cabin. To use the full capacity of his human brain, he required extended time in that form.
Being part human wasn't all bad. He liked to read. He'd even learned to play chess as a young man. Part of him was and always would be a man.
He grew up with his family in Mystic Harbor on the Pacific Ocean. He and Ashton went to Mystic Harbor public school. Most of the residents of his home town were human, and it was a normal human community.
What most of those humans didn't know was that there was a thriving subculture of paranormals living among them—shifters, witches, vampires, even a few fay. The town was crawling with them.
Ronan stacked the wood under the porch roof to let it dry from the snow and went to the root cellar to gather a cut of meat and a handful of carrots and potatoes. At the doorstep, he stomped the snow off his boots and went inside.
Makayla's scent hit his dry, cold nose like liquid fire. Her feminine aroma intoxicated him. It left him dizzy in the open door with his arms full of frozen food.
"That's cold," she moaned, pulling a blanket around her shoulders. The sound of her complaining snapped him from his trance. Damn it. He was not going to let himself get wrapped up in this woman, even though she did smell like sex served with a side of paradise.
He grunted, kicked the door closed with his boot, and tossed the food in a clean, aluminum tub. He turned to face her and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. Her plump cheeks looked rosy red from sitting next to the fireplace and drinking his herbal teas all day long. The scent of chemicals had faded from her skin and all he could smell now was the pheromones emanating from the crook of her neck and the dampness between her legs. The lion inside him growled and paced, wanting to mate.
"I should replace your poultice," he said, turning away as if not looking at her could shield him from her sensuous aroma.
He pinched the wild herbs from his jar and placed them in a bowl before covering them with hot water. Looking over his shoulder, he glanced at her. She lazed on the bed, looking bored. Her breasts rose and fell as she took long deep breaths and stared at the ceiling.
He'd like to give her some entertainment. Shit. Stop thinking that. A human woman was absolutely nothing but trouble. Regardless, his body hardened under his buckskin pants. He grunted and shifted his weight, trying to make his arousal go away.
He picked up a fresh cloth and pulled a chair to sit next to Makayla. After he carefully unwrapped the buckskin bandage, he peeled off the cloth holding down the poultice. With a damp rag, he washed the spent herbs away from the wound. It looked like it was healing nicely and was no longer bleeding.
She winced as he pressed too roughly into her torn flesh, but he gently replaced the poultice and bandage to keep from hurting her further. When he was done, he gave her another cup of white willow bark and wild raspberry leaf tea.
"I don't think I've been off of the computer for this long since I went camping four years ago," she said. "I don't know how you do it, living out here all alone. What on earth do you do all the time?"
"There's plenty to keep myself occupied with the business of living."
"Hmm, well. I can't exactly chop wood or hunt in my condition. Do you have any books? An Xbox?" She giggled and took another sip of tea.
"I have a wood box and a steel box but no x box."
That sent her into hysterics. She threw her head back and laughed straight from her belly all the way up through her bouncing chest into her sumptuous throat.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"You really don't get out much do you?" she said, calming. "Okay, Grizzly Adams, do you have a book or something."
Why did she think he was a grizzly? Did she know? "I have some books," he said.
/> He knelt down and reached under the bed, not responding to her grizzly bear comment. He pulled out a box of unusable books from the library in Mystic Harbor. He slid the box into Makayla’s reach and stood.
"Wow, this is a lot." She held up a title and smirked. "Have you read 'The Pirate's Bounty,'" she said, showing him a paperback with a man and a woman in a torrid embrace.
"No. I prefer Louis L'Amour and Jack London."
"Figures."
"And do you read this 'Pirate's Bounty'?" he asked, narrowing his eyebrows at her.
"I like a good romance. I read a lot of women's fiction, and I was partial to fantasy when I was younger. You know, fairy tales and such."
He nodded, not wanting to tell her the creatures from fairy tales were real. She leaned back in the bed, turned up the kerosene lamp, and cracked open the book.
He sat at the kitchen table and watched her read. Her black hair cascaded over the white pillow like inky rivulets in the snow. Her generous breasts rose and fell with her relaxed breaths. His eyes traveled down her body to the rise of her hip below his blankets. He imagined his hand running up her soft white skin under the warmth of the plush fur blanket and smooth patchwork quilt.
Her scent filled the entire cabin. No matter where he went, he could smell her feminine charm calling to him. He had chosen long ago not to take a mate. While he had an occasional fling with another shifter, his life was decidedly solitary.
Why was this human getting under his skin and making the lion inside him demand a mate? Why did the aroma of her flesh beg for his touch, for his tongue to lick the pores that gave off such a luxurious scent?
He growled at himself and stood from the table. She looked up from her book, an expectant expression in her exotic violet eyes. He turned to the door. His body would betray him. He had to get away from her intoxicating effect.
"I'm going hunting."
"In this weather?"
"Yes. It's fine."
"Don't you need a gun?"
Why did she have to ask so many questions? "It's outside," he lied. He threw the parka back around his shoulders and pushed open the door. Moving to his overhang he dropped off his clothes and sank into his lion form.
The snow had stopped falling, and blue sky broke overhead. Bounding off into the wood, the lion inside him roared to go back to the woman in his bed. As he passed the tree line, his animal instincts nearly pushed him to turn around. No. He would not bed this human. It wouldn't happen. When the snow melted down and her ankle mended enough, he would take her back to the road and get rid of her.
He caught the scent of a raccoon and followed its trail until he came to a small clearing covered in packed white snow. Multiple tracks broke the crusted surface and crisscrossed the clearing. His keen senses noted the species that had past here: raccoon, gray squirrel, rabbit, deer, lion.
When he sensed the lion, his ears perked up and his amber eyes dilated. Ashton. What the hell was Ashton doing out in Ronan's neck of the woods? Ronan inhaled his brother's scent and followed the tracks at a loping run, totally pissed.
Ashton had gone too far this time. Spooking a human into crashing her car and then stalking her until she fell down a ravine was too much, even for him. Ronan intended to give Ashton a piece of his mind and perhaps a taste of his claws.
The trail snaked through the wood until he came across a bloody patch where the lion had caught a hare. The smell of blood and fur was thick in the air. Ronan followed the trail up a rise until he could see the lion snacking on a brown rabbit under a stone outcropping.
Ronan climbed the hillside, his feet sinking in the deep drift. Ashton looked up when he smelled his brother's scent approaching, but he casually took another nibble of rabbit.
Ronan shifted, glimmering into his tall human form. Ashton panted at him, blood on his mouth.
"What the hell do you think you're doing Ashton?"
The other lion contorted and changed shape in a hazy blur. He stood as tall as his brother with the same golden blond hair and amber eyes. But while Ronan's face was rugged and wise, Ashton had the smooth skin of youth. Ashton's handsome features and bright, mirthful eyes told of a young man who liked a good joke and a good time. His full lips curved into a mocking smile at his older brother.
"I'm eating lunch. Are you hungry? And here I thought you could hunt for yourself."
"Cut the crap Ashton. I mean with the human. You ran her car off the road."
"You know about that?"
"She's in my cabin right now with a head wound and a sprained ankle."
"Shit. I was worried that would happen.” Ashton grabbed a clump of snow and wiped the blood from his lips. He crouched down, his muscled form golden and taunt in the dim winter light. He ran his hand over his cropped hair. "I didn't mean for her to crash."
"If you stand in the road, what do you expect to happen?"
"I was just playing chicken. I thought she'd stop."
"You are an idiot. You know that?"
"Is she okay? Does she need a doctor?"
"She'll be fine, but she's trapped in my cabin. I can't get her out unless I carry her twenty miles in lion form."
"She's pretty cute. Plump and curvy." Ashton licked his lips and gripped the air in front of his hips in a mock humping motion.
"Disgusting, and an idiot."
"Get over yourself, Ronan. Just because you choose to live out in the woods and to be in lion form most of the time, doesn't make you better than the rest of us."
"I never said it did."
"Yeah. But you think it. Don't think the rest of us don't know you believe you are superior to all of us human wannabes."
Ronan made a dismissive hissing sound and waved his hand past his ear. Ashton always hated that Ronan had left civilization to be alone. He knew Ashton loved nothing more than human frivolity. Ronan was surprised to even find his brother with a kill between his teeth.
"Go back to Mystic Harbor, Ashton." He turned away from his brother and shifted into lion form before bounding down the hill.
"Wait, I want to meet her." Ashton shifted and ran after his brother, hopping around in the snow like a cub. Ronan growled at Ashton, showing long sharp teeth. Ashton made a playful biting motion at Ronan's neck, but the older brother nipped back aggressively. Ashton sent Ronan a series of erotic images through their animal link and Ronan snarled at him.
Ashton fell back and followed his brother from a pace, nipping at Ronan's flicking tail. Finally, Ronan shifted back to human form and crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at his brother. Ashton was in a pretend crouch, as if he were ready to lunge at Ronan. Ronan rolled his eyes.
"No," he said to the idiot lion. Ashton rolled over on his back and began scratching his shoulders and ass in a playful writhing motion. "Go home Ashton."
Ronan dropped back on all fours and trotted toward his cabin. Ashton continued after him from several yards away. He could easily hear his younger brother crashing through the snow and underbrush. Ashton was twenty six years old but refused to grow up. How he held down a job was a mystery.
When Ronan arrived at the border of the clearing where his cabin stood, he sniffed the air for his brother. He could still smell the scent of Ashton's musk and blood from the rabbit he'd eaten. Ronan hesitated, his ears twitching.
He should have bashed his brother when he had the chance. There was no way he would let his brother meet Makayla. That would only create a whole new set of problems. She would ask him to help her make it through the woods.
It's not like he wanted her to stay, but dealing with the forest department was worse than having the woman in his bed.
His lion's instincts yearned to share that bed with her. He had the overpowering desire to run to the cabin and rut with her. Ronan flinched and growled. He didn't send his brother away because he wanted her to stay. No. That wasn't it at all.
From behind, a heavy body pummeled him into the clearing. The muscled bodies of two powerful predators tangled in a blur of teet
h and claws and fur. Ashton had Ronan by the back of the neck. Ronan reared on his hind legs, knocking his brother loose. In an instant, he was over his brother, sharp claws slashing across his brother's face.
Blood dripped from the younger lion's face. He skulked away cheek his face with his paw. Ashton shifted to human form, the wound evident on his flesh.
"What the fuck, Ronan? I was playing around. You didn't have to swipe me. Jeez, lighten up."
Ronan panted, in cougar form, a tinge of guilt hit his stomach when he smelled his brother's blood. He approached his brother in an attempt to lick his wound clean. Ashton backed away, shifted into lion form and galloped into the dense forest.
Ronan turned his face toward the cabin, scowling. In one fluid motion he shifted to human form. He spotted a flicker of movement in the front window. Damn it. Did she see? Not good, not good at all.
He ducked under the overhang and pulled his clothes on. He'd play it like nothing happened. He wiped his brother's blood from his fingernails and went inside.
Chapter 5
She heard growling outside and hobbled to the window to see what the matter was. In the clearing beyond the cabin, two massive mountain lions fought in the snow.
One of them bashed the other across the face, slashing with its sharp claws deep enough to draw blood. Her heart pumped with fear. What was she supposed to do if they came for her? Could they get inside the cabin?
The injured lion cowered back. The light around him seemed to glow and his body contorted, limbs elongated, fur retracted. It was a gruesome, horrifying sight. Makayla felt dizzy, as if she might faint. Maybe she was dreaming or the head wound had done more damage than she'd thought.
She sucked air into her lungs trying not to hyperventilate. The young man who had just been a lion said something to the other lion, shifted back, and ran away. That didn't just happen. It wasn’t possible.
Her knees felt as if they might give out on her, but she couldn't stop looking at the horrifying sight. Just when she thought it couldn't get worse, the other lion contorted and changed. Standing naked before her, through the gray windowpane, was Ronan.
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