by Celia Kyle
God, that sounded lame.
“Uh, lady?”
She didn’t miss the chuckle in his voice and she shook her head. She tore her attention from his body and tried to focus on him.
Him. The big, gorgeous man who still hadn’t released her. She didn’t think that was a bad thing. Her eyes skated over his shirt, along the tanned line of his neck and up even higher. His lips were full, the corners curled in a small smile. His nose was straight, his cheekbones carved and jaw chiseled, but his eyes were what ensnared her.
Green. Not just green, but green. Like grass, like leaves, like jade, like peridot. The irises held all of those varying hues and more. Those bright and varying shades contrasted with the darkness of his hair, midnight black and long. Long enough to fall across his brow and curl at the nape of his neck.
She’d always loved the color green. And that hair, those soft curls… She wanted to pet and stroke him. To see if she could get him to purr even if he wasn’t a cat. Not that she could tell either way since…the guy smelled. Bad. He smelled of… construction-y things. Okay, she was a pampered girl who knew absolutely nothing about anything other than how to match colors and lure women into buying eight-hundred-dollar shoes even if their credit cards were maxed out. Sue her.
The point was, he was a strong, construction-smelling guy, and he definitely didn’t look like he was related to the Olivers, who were still arguing up front. Which meant the tall glass of flavored vitamin-enriched water was none other than Ryland of Ryland’s Handyman Service.
She wouldn’t mind watching him refinish the porch. Maybe she’d spill more polish and have him redo it all. A bit of red here, a lot more there, and some purple just because it’s a pretty color but doesn’t work with my skin tone.
“Hi.” Hannah stepped back and Ryland’s eyes flared amber, the color sticking in place while he remained silent. “Are you Ryland?” She flashed her well-practiced smile. The one meant to disarm and lure a man. It helped when she was trying to get her way. At the moment, she wanted him to be Ryland. Ryland who would soon come to her sister’s house, strip down and sand something while she watched. “I’m—”
“Mine.”
4
Hannah wondered if it was something in Deals Gap or just something within their family that caused the whole “female getting followed by her mate” thing. Because while Bethany had originally run from Carter and hidden in the cottage, Hannah now ran from Ryland (though that was an assumption on her part since he hadn’t actually introduced himself) and hid in the cottage.
There was something about the small house and hiding. Weird.
Though her most pressing concern was the fact that she’d practically run up the mountain in an effort to get away from Ryland. And it wasn’t because he was ugly or anything because… dayum, she wanted to eat him with a spoon.
Nope, it had more to do with the whole “mine” thing when she already had a male trying to lay claim to her.
Though, really, Jeremy had nothing on Ryland. Mainly because while Jeremy was a contracted mate, Ryland was her mate. Her fated, honest-to-God, mate. Right there, in the flesh, live and in living color.
Well, he had been in front of her before she ran. But then there was the running. Amazingly her car did start and even managed to make it back up the mountain to the small house. Unfortunately, it was super dead this time and now she was stuck.
Stuck, and he was coming. (Not in an ooh baby, ooh baby kind of way, but in an I’m going to capture you and make you mine kind of way.)
He had no idea how that turned her on because if he did, he’d have arrived already. Instead, she sat watching and waiting, eyes glued to the driveway and… still no Ryland.
Hannah’s cat snarled at her, growling and grumbling over the fact that one, they hadn’t gotten a good sniff of their mate, and two, they’d left their mate back in town instead of stripping him and mounting him like a pony.
She’d never ridden a horse before, but she was more than willing to learn how to ride.
Yee haw!
Okay, her mind was in the gutter and her lioness was right there with her. In fact, if the cat had her way, they’d be shifted and hunting him like the shifter he was. Though she wasn’t sure exactly what kind of shifter he was since he’d been covered in some sort of construction-y scent. Paint and other dirty, smelly things. She’d caught enough of his scent to know that the cat craved him more than catnip. The beast wanted to roll in his scent (after he’d showered, of course). She wanted to explore every inch of him, trace the lines of his muscles and savor him for hour after hour. Then do it all over again.
Hannah sighed and slumped forward onto the back of the couch, gaze still locked on that driveway. He’d already said she belonged to him. Why hadn’t he shown up? If a girl ran from her mate, she sorta expected to be chased.
Jeremy didn’t chase me. He hadn’t. Not when she’d gone to dinner with him the night before she left and told him her plans. His only response had been a soft pat of her hand and a murmured, “I’ll see you when you get back.” She went away for a month and that was all she got from him while her mother, Fiona, sobbed like a baby and soaked her daddy’s flannel shirt.
She tilted her head and laid it on one of the couch cushions, taking comfort in the soft surface. “Where oh where did my little mate go?”
“It’s been a long time since anyone called me little.” His hot breath fanned over her ear, scent sliding down her neck and stroking her as if it were a physical thing.
His flavors taunted her nose, the smoky aromas of hot chocolate and masculine musk calling to her inner beast. They enveloped her, filled her lungs with his natural fragrance, and her mouth watered with the desire to taste him. His hands were rough, but what parts of him were smooth? She would find out. She’d strip him down and bare him to her gaze before she explored every inch of his body. Then she’d be gracious and allow him to do the same to her.
Him.
Then her.
Wait. Her hearing him.
Him whispering in her ear.
Hannah screamed. He chuckled. She flailed around and finally managed to face him. He simply smiled.
And it was a gorgeous smile, but it had nothing on the rest of him. From his midnight hair to his broad shoulders, and farther south to his flat stomach. He was all kinds of yum with a side of yes, please.
She drank in his form, tracing each peak and valley with her eyes while she imagined all the naughty things she wanted to do with him—to him. Her pussy grew heavy and ached, body silently calling for his, and she swallowed the whimper that threatened to break free. She wanted him. Full stop, no questions asked. Her lioness purred and whined, begging for his touch—his bite.
Not just a bite. His mating bite.
That thought right there had her swallowing her drool and snapping her attention to his laughing green eyes. She released another squeak and jolted, unprepared for the need that filled his expression.
“In fact, more than one woman has said I’m quite big.” His tone was suggestive, leaving her with no doubt as to what part of him was big.
The thought sparked her anger, the animal reacting to what it thought of as an intrusion on their territory by another female. Her gums throbbed with a pulse of pain, her fangs descending and sliding free to prick her lower lip. Her arms stung, fur sprouting and slowly coating them while her fingers hurt with the formation of her cat’s claws.
Then she released a single hiss followed by one word. One word that blew her happy little world to smithereens. “Mine.”
5
Hannah’s mate let her hide. Which was, well, nice. Because after the mine came yet another squeak followed by a chuckle and questions from him.
“You smell like a kitty but you sound like a mouse. What are you, baby?” He’d also leaned forward a little, breathing deeply and releasing a soft purr. “You smell damn good.”
Another squeak. Another laugh. Then a step back.
It was weird that she
Assuming his name was Ryland. She hadn’t quite figured that out yet.
Ryland—until she was told otherwise—moved away and leaned against the wall that separated the living room and kitchen. He crossed his arms over his chest and legs at the ankles, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. At least, that’s what his body position told her, but his eyes… his eyes were filled with passion. Passion and need and desire and bone-deep craving in one. Hannah licked her lips and nearly smiled when she noticed his eyes followed the motion. He wasn’t unaffected. Good. She’d hate to be the only half-crazy one in the relationship.
Reee-lay-shun-ship.
Dear God, they had a relationship—of sorts—and she was still engaged to Jeremy. This was not good.
Ryland took a deep breath, or a regular breath… Okay, he breathed in general and she thought that was damned sexy. His shirt stretched taut across his chest, the thin fabric clinging to the lines of his muscles, and she traced each one with her gaze. From pecs to biceps and then forearms and hey! There was his six—no, eight—pack. His waist was trim and then she got to his cock.
His very hard, very thick cock that looked like it wanted to bust free of his worn jeans. She salivated, wondering what he’d taste like when she finally got him in her mouth. Hot and sweet? Musky and dangerous? All of the above?
Yes, please.
Her pussy pulsated, her arousal ratcheting higher with evidence of his, and she wondered how quickly they could find a flat surface. Horizontal or vertical—it didn’t matter. Stairs would work in a pinch. Though the last time she’d tried that, she’d ended up with a crick in her back and—
“Sweetheart, you gotta stop looking at me like that or you’re gonna end up flat on your back with my cock in your pussy.”
He said that like it was a bad thing.
She snapped her gaze from the juncture of his thighs and focused on his face, on the teasing grin that lingered on his lips. “I, uh…” She was so smooth. She licked her dry lips, and his eyes flared from green to amber. Apparently he found even stuttering sexy. Huh. “How did you get in here?”
“Same way as you. I’ve got a key.”
“But…” She frowned and her mind spun through the conversations she’d had with her sister about the house. “I’m assuming you’re not Kitty.” Especially since the owner of the house—Kitty—was a chick and didn’t have a dick. Heh, she’d rhymed. And that was proof her mind was quickly taking a vacay. “Or her mate since he’s…” Hannah scented the air, confirming what her senses told her. “He’s a full wolf and you’ve got wolf and something else.” She parted her lips and breathed through her mouth, tasting her surroundings. “Wolf and…” She tilted her head. “Lion?”
Ryland’s brisk nod told her that his hybrid status was a sore spot with him. If they were gonna have little cub-pups, he needed to get over that shit. She wouldn’t have the father of her children hating—
Oh shit, father of her children.
Her mind? Totally lost. She thought as if their mating was a forgone conclusion and, and, and… It was. She couldn’t tie herself to Jeremy when she had her true mate—live and in living color—right in front of her.
This was so bad.
“And you’re a purebred lioness.” His murmur held more than a hint of distaste, a grimace pulling his mouth down.
Apparently finding her mate, yet being unmated, put her nerves on edge because that little comment had her temper rising. She had every reason to be proud of her heritage. Hannah pushed to her feet, forgetting her fear and unease as she propped her hands on her hips.
“Well, excuse me for breathing,” she snapped. She felt the southerner in her soul coming out, her twang now resting on the tip of her tongue. “Maybe my momma and daddy are both lions, but you’re a purebred dick so we’re even.” She lifted one hand and pointed at the front door.
There went her temper, flying off the handle. She really didn’t do well with confrontation. Her mother said it was because Hannah had too much of her daddy in her. The man liked to get his way and so did she. Everyone else could go to hell. “So if you’re done looking down on me for having lions for parents, you can give me your key and get on out because I’ll be damned before I share air with a no good—”
Ryland moved so fast she released a small shout of surprise. One second, he was on the other side of the room and the next, he was in front of her, his arms around her waist and his face filling her vision. “You’ve got a temper on you, don’t ya?”
“I… Wha’?” What was he saying? It was sort of hard to think when she had all those muscles against all her curves and her lioness was all about purring and luring him even closer.
One of his large hands held her waist tightly while the other stroked her back, tracing the line of her spine. “Hush. I’m not giving you my key and I’m not leaving.” His head lowered. Was he gonna kiss her? She crossed her eyes, trying to keep him in sight. He didn’t slow, continuing to ease his lips even closer, and then he whispered against her mouth. “Ever.”
He wasn’t leaving. Ever. That was a nice thought. One that vanished with the second caress of his lips on hers. He brushed once, twice, and on the third pass, he lapped at the seam of her lips. She could do nothing but open for him, granting him entrance with that first tasting.
His tongue swept into her mouth, caressing her, and she moaned with the new sensation—the new tastes. Cinnamon with a hint of sweet, and all man. He drugged her with his flavors, luring her to relax into his arms. And she did.
She let him have her weight while she slid her hands along his arms. She traced his forearms, skated her palms along his biceps and finally twined her fingers together behind his neck. She pushed to her tiptoes, anxious for a deeper connection between them. Then she threw herself into the kiss, losing herself to the growing passion between them.
Ryland’s large hands cupped her ass, palms covering the large globes, and then she found herself lifted against him. His hard dick notched against her mound, the pressure increasing her need for him.
And oh how she needed. Her nipples drew into taut buds, hardening within her thin bra and pressing against his firm chest. She wiggled, needing added sensation to sate her body’s cravings. Her clit twitched and ached, silently begging for his fingers, his mouth.
Pure arousal thrummed in her veins and stole every hint of control inside her. Hannah’s inner beast wouldn’t be denied, wouldn’t be suppressed, while she explored her mate for the first time. No, the feline grumbled and growled, shoving a purr from her chest while golden fur coated her arms. Her fingernails burned and she scraped Ryland’s skin, seeking a soothing pressure. Then her gums throbbed with a dull pain, the first hint of her fangs’ emergence.
Still they kissed. Still they fed each other’s passion. Their tongues tangled while she sought more of his flavors, a deeper connection between them.
Ryland’s grip changed, one palm hooking beneath her thigh, and he encouraged her to wrap her legs around his waist. She was all for that. It’d mean his thick cock was firmly against her ready pussy and maybe she’d rock her hips and then he’d open his jeans and then…
Her cell phone rang. But not a normal ring. No, that was too boring for Hannah. This one was special. And selected by the caller herself, courtesy of singer Meredith Brooks.
I’m a bitch…
She pulled her mouth from Ryland’s, knowing that if she didn’t answer right away, it’d keep going. Who wanted to admit to having a parent who clung to the Lilith Fair-going, no hair-washing, plaid-wearing nineties?
I’m a lover…
Yes, Hannah was a lover. Just not at that second while locking lips with Ryland.
I’m a mother…
Wait, she was too busy trying to breathe and missed a lyric. Who cared? She needed to silence the phone before the ringtone switched over to the caller’s voice when it’d initially been recorded after her mom got into the pre-mixed margaritas.
Hannah Banana? Is that you? Have you seen momma’s panties? Your father better not have…
It was funny at the time.
Now, clutching her mate while her mother talked about her father once grabbing underwear and putting on panties instead when Momma went into labor… Not so funny now.
She wiggled and squirmed, finally shimmying enough to break free of Ryland’s embrace. She dove for her purse, quickly finding her phone. She jabbed the button a half-dozen times before she was sure the call wasn’t going through. She wasn’t prepared to talk to her mother about Ryland. Or her father. Though talking to her dad usually included gruntish translations.
Her dad wasn’t big on actual speech.
Still clutching her cell phone, she flopped to her back on the couch and closed her eyes. She fought to breathe past the still raging desire that filled her veins and plucked her nerves. Ryland’s panting joined hers, the sounds of their breathing filling the quiet. Her body called out for his, the broken kiss still burning her blood, and she fought to get her arousal under control. She shoved her cat back, pushing and prodding until it lingered in the back of her mind. Fur slowly retreated, the sting in her fingernails gradually subsided, and her gums no longer burned from her fangs.
“What,” Ryland took a deep breath, and she refused to open her eyes. If she did, she’d try and climb him like a tree again. “Was that?”
“A kiss?” It was really sad if she had to explain. Then again, if he didn’t have much of a bang-me-baby education, she could teach him how to please her from scratch. Maybe a blank slate was a good thing? As she thought more on it, the better the idea became. If he—
He inhaled through his nose and slowly exhaled through his mouth. “No, the phone.”
“Oh. That.” She grimaced and decided lying probably wasn’t a good idea. “My mom.”
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