Jax

by Julia Mills

  JAX:

  A ‘Not Quite’ Puma Love Story

  by

  Julia Mills

  “Things Aren’t Always As They Seem...

  Sometimes They’re Better.”

  Copyright © 2016 Julia Mills

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  NOTICE: This is an adult erotic paranormal romance with love scenes and mature situations. It is only intended for adult readers over the age of 18.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Jax: A 'Not-Quite' Puma Love Story (The 'Not-Quite' Love Story Series, #4)

  VIKTOR: Heart of Her King | Kings of the Blood ~ Book 1 | Available Now!

  Her Dragon, His Demon | Book #12 in the Dragon Guard Series | Coming March 1, 2016

  About Julia

  DEDICATION

  Dare to Dream! Find the Strength to Act! Never Look Back!

  Thank you, God.

  To my girls, Liz and Em, I Love You. Every day, every way, always.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Edited by Lisa Miller with Angel Editing Services

  Proofread by Tammy Payne with Book Nook Nuts

  Cover by Linda Boulanger with Tell Tale Book Covers

  Formatted by Charlene Bauer with Wickedly Bold Creations

  THANK YOU BUNCHES to the ladies of Julia’s Addicts!!! YOU ROCK!!! Thanks for beta reading, listening to my crazy story ideas and generally putting up my extreme goofiness! LOVE YA TO PIECES!

  THANK YOU TO MY READERS!!!! YOU ARE THE BEST EVER!!!!!!! Nothing I do would be possible without YOU!!!! BIG HUGS!!!!

  Jax: A ‘Not-Quite’ Puma Love Story

  “Oh, my God, Jax! What happened? Are you okay?” Phoebe screamed as she entered the clinic.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I grumbled, more embarrassed than hurting at the moment. I was still trying to figure out how I’d made it through two tours in Afghanistan and protected some of the most hated Heads of State without so much as a scratch, only to be taken down by a...well, I don’t really know what the hell hit me from behind. But I knew it had fur and a tail, and I was damned sure gonna find out the finer details as soon as they let me out of my bed.

  “Are you sure? When Grant’s guards told me they’d found you unconscious in a gulley, I freaked! I just knew there had to be some mistake. You never get hurt. You’re the most sure-footed person I know. What happened? Tell me.”

  “Are you gonna take a breath so I can answer at least one of your questions?” Yeah, I was being an asshole. It wasn’t Phoebe’s fault I’d busted my ass, but my pride was wounded and thankfully, she knew me well enough not to take my nastiness personally. Her cocked eyebrow and the way she rolled her eyes said if I hadn’t been lying on a stretcher in the clinic she’d have kicked my butt, or given it her best try. For the first time since waking up on a gurney feeling like a fool, I smiled.

  My adopted sister gave me the hurry up sign, so I told my story as quickly as I could. “As for what happened, I seriously have no clue, Sis. I was walking on the far side of the Pride’s lands, heading to the bluffs, when I heard something or someone whining in the direction of the forest.”

  Living with a pride of Feline shifters can really change your perspective on somethings versus someones. I’ll explain in just a minute.

  “It sounded like they were hurt and in pain, so I headed that way. Swatches of light brown fur were mixed in with a humongous mess of brambles and thorns. It looked like the poor cat was stuck tight, and from the way it was squirming around in there, he/she was just making a bad situation worse. I hollered out for it to stay still so I could run and get some help. Leaving the poor thing all hung up like that sucked, but I had nothing but my little pocket knife with me. I hadn’t planned on doing anything other than sitting on the cliffs and watching the tide come in.”

  “Something you’ve been doing a lot of lately,” Phoebe grumbled under her breath.

  Hurrying on, trying to avoid lecture two hundred and thirty-two concerning my lack of participation in the activities of the Pride Leòmhann, I went on. “I took off running towards the castle to get help. I’d made it less than a quarter of a mile when something that felt like a fur covered rocket hit me in the back of the knees. I caught a flash of tan fur as my feet were flying over my head in the only back aerial I’ve ever performed in my life. The last thing I saw before my head made contact with a small boulder was the dark tip of a big cat’s tail. When I woke up, I was here with the doc over there poking and prodding my head and leg. She says my leg’s broken, so I’ll be sporting a cast for about a month, and I have a few stitches here and there, but I’m fine.”

  Phoebe was biting her bottom lip, and I knew from the look in her eyes she was scared but trying to hide it. Her hand shook as she wrapped two fingers around my much larger index finger and squeezed. It was something she’d been doing since we were kids trying to survive one foster home after another. I saw tears in her eyes and knew it was time to make a joke. I can handle anything and I mean anything—land mines, enemy insurgents, an empty beer fridge—but no way can I deal with tears, especially Phoebe’s. I‘ve spent the better part of my life keeping that girl from crying, and there was no way I was going to be the reason it happened now.

  “And the best part is the guys that carried me in said I didn’t even crack the rock or break the hill I fell down.”

  I watched her fight not to smile, so I added another quick one for good measure. “And bonus...you get to take care of me because you lurve me.”

  She smiled one of her big, cheesy grins and even giggled like when she’d had pigtails. It warmed my big-brother heart. I opened my mouth to give her just a little more of my quick wit when the doors to the clinic flew open and in came the King of Lions, and the ruler of every other feline shifter too, running like his mane was on fire in his Italian loafers and custom tailored suit. Every nurse, doctor, and staff member snapped to attention as Grant made his way to my bedside, and more importantly for him, his wife, or I guess I should call her his mate—my sister, Phoebe.

  You see Phoebe is the ‘Not Quite’ Phoenix Queen of legend. That is to say, she’s the queen of all the bird shifters and a phoenix shifter herself. She can call this amazing fire for protection, or whatever she wants to do with it, I guess. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t transform into an actual phoenix, hence the ‘Not Quite’ part. My dear little sister has gotten as far as a few tufts of down in her long red curls and behind her ears but I’ve yet to see any real feathers. As for flying, well let’s just say it’s a good thing Grant has a private jet. Anyway, some old dudes they keep calling ‘The Scribes’ prophesied that Phoebe would meet her mate, the Lion King no less, and together they would replenish both the aviary shifters’ and the lion shifters’ population.

  I know what you’re thinking and I can’t figure it out either. I mean how a lion and phoenix ended up being mates to begin with, let alone are gonna make babies. But these crazy kids try...BUNCHES from the sound of things. I keep thinking my nieces and nephews will be flying cats, but there’s no way in hell I’m ever saying that out loud. And if you breathe one word of what I just said, I’ll kill ya, dispose of the body, and no one will ever find you. I can do it. I’ve got skills. I’ve been trained by the best. I’m a marine.

  Well, she met Grant Hollingsworth, and
after a seriously FUBAR situation, they were married. With both of them being royalty, they had to decide whether to live in Crete at Phoebe’s castle or in Scotland at Grant’s.

  Real people problems these ain’t!

  After more discussion than I ever care to relive, they struck a compromise and we are spending six months at each palace. I say ‘we’ because my darling adopted sister insists that I be with them, and to be honest, I’d miss her if we lived farther than half an estate apart.

  Okay, I’d miss Grant too. We’re buds. He’s cool for a rich pretty boy that turns furry. I told y’all I had jokes.

  After throwing his arm around Phoebe and kissing her on the top of her head, Grant looked at me with a ‘cat that ate the canary’ grin. The jerk was going to try to be funny, I could feel it in my bones.

  “What happened there, Sergeant Sure Foot? Scottish countryside kick your ass?”

  Cue the rim shot. I got it one. Lucky me.

  Not up to retelling the story...again, I just chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”

  But Phoebe, never one to let anyone think ill of me, piped right up. Patting Grant’s hand that hung over her shoulder, she detailed the entire embarrassing tale, ending with, “We need to find out who knocked him down and left him. That’s just not right, Honey.”

  I really didn’t want any more attention drawn to my current situation than was already happening, so I gave Grant a look that had previously made seasoned Marines shake in their boots, and slowly shook my head. But the rat bastard—Cat bastard? Who knows? I’m thinking jerk works too—King of the Jungle looked down at Phoebe and melted. I mean melted like the big ole softie he was as she looked up at him, begging for his help. In that moment I wanted to puke. I’d witnessed the scene a hundred times and it had always been unsettling, but now, when I was the unwanted and unwilling focus of my sister’s intent, I wanted to be anywhere on God’s green earth but where I was.

  Kissing the tip of her nose, Grant cooed. (Weird for a cat, right? But it happened.) “I’ll get the Constable right on it. Whoever it is must’ve been scared from being trapped and panicked when they escaped. It doesn’t excuse their actions, but it gives us a place to start.”

  He looked back at me before adding. “You said tan fur? And you saw the tail? Was there a tuft of fur at the end, different color fur, or anything that can help us narrow it down?”

  I thought about laughing, quickly followed by thoughts of kicking him in the stomach, but Grant was standing by my broken leg so I was stuck with rolling my eyes. “Really? You think...”

  “I really know,” Grant cut me off using his kingly voice.

  I chuckled just so he didn’t think I was intimidated, because the big guy was gonna get his ass kicked in a game of basketball just as soon as I could run and jump again. “Okay. Don’t get your whickers twisted. It was darker on two and a half maybe three inches of the tip. Lots darker, almost black.”

  The twinkle in his eye told me to get ready, but his comment had me laughing no matter how hard I tried to remain stoic. “And now we’re gonna catch a tiger by the tail...or a panther...or a puma...”

  “And the King’s got jokes, ladies and gentleman. He’ll be here all week. Try the veal. Don’t forget to tip your waitresses,” Phoebe added in her best old-time comic’s voice, causing the rest of the clinic to erupt into laughter.

  The doctor appeared out of nowhere, still snickering. “I need to stitch up that nasty scratch on the back of your leg before we set the break and put on your cast.”

  “Lucky that’s the only place you need stitches from the way you look.” Phoebe chuckled, but I could see she was still worried.

  “I have already stitched up the small spots, just had to leave this one until the local anesthetic made the area numb.” The doctor commented while signaling for me to move to my side.

  Rolling over, I groaned, “That’s what happens when you get old.”

  A swat to my butt preceded her response. “Watch it there, Sarge. You’re not that much older than me.”

  “Yeah, but everything after thirty is downhill.” I tried not to laugh, but when she ran around the bed to give me her best evil glare, I couldn’t help but bust out laughing.

  The doctor was apparently used to all the ruckus because she continued stitching the gash across my hamstring. When she was finished, I rolled back over. The look on her face was not reassuring, but before I could question her, she asked one of her own. “Are you sure you weren’t scratched by one of us? The tracks look a lot like claws marks. Of course, there are only two, so I guess it could’ve been a branch or the edge of a rock but still...” She shook her head, thinking before continuing. “I’ll run some bloodwork just to be sure.”

  Phoebe leaned forward and kissed my forehead like she used to do when we were kids and she thought I was asleep.

  Dammit, she always seems to make me choke up.

  Thankfully, a nurse arrived, saving me the embarrassment of showing my soft underbelly.

  We retired Marines have an image to uphold, I tell ya.

  I stretched my arm out as the nurse came close and took two small vials of blood, then gave me a shot of what the doctor explained was a mild pain reliever and muscle relaxer. “The orderlies are going to wheel you down to Outpatient Surgery and I’ll be right along. You should begin to feel relaxed and maybe a little sleepy. I just wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible before we set that leg. It’s a clean break so it’ll be quick, but might hurt like a son of a gun.”

  I had to laugh as I nodded my agreement. Phoebe snickered before covering her mouth with her hand and looking away. I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. It was sweet of the doctor to temper her language, but I‘d been a Marine for a long time, and a foster kid even before that. There weren’t many words I hadn’t heard and used. Plus, I was pretty sure I’d made up a few of the really bad ones myself.

  The trip to the other side of the clinic was pretty much the most eventful part of the whole procedure. More than once Phoebe tried to sneak the pink wrap to the technician casting my leg. I finally had to threaten bodily harm to get a plain white cast.

  Pink? Really? I’m not afraid to wear a pink shirt, but there was no way three-quarters of my leg was gonna be hot pink for the better part of a month. After all, I am six-foot-five. That’s a helluva lotta hot pink. Not happening here.

  The doctor made me wait almost three hours before she would release me, and then I was accompanied by my sister, even though I’d begged to go it alone. The bright side was Grant had been called away, so it was only Phoebs, but I still just wanted to be alone.

  No matter how many times I explained my absolute faith in Grant’s driver to get me to the carriage house adjacent to the castle that had been my home since arriving in Scotland, my loving sister would have none of it. She’d even had someone put a wheelchair in the trunk when I wasn’t looking. After a heated ‘discussion’ in the middle of the driveway, I had my first victory of the day and hobbled to the front door on the aluminum crutches the physical therapist had shown me how to use before leaving the clinic.

  Phoebe swooped in, grabbed my keys, and was carrying an armload of blankets and pillows to the couch by the time I crossed the threshold. Did I mention shifters, no matter what kind, move really fast? Well, they do. “Come on in here, ya stubborn butthead. I’m gonna make up the couch for you.”

  “Phoebs, you really don’t have to do that. I can just hang out in the bedroom.”

  “Without a TV?” She threw the load she was holding onto the huge ottoman, turned, planted her fists on her hips, and tapped her foot, waiting for my response.

  I hated to admit that I’d completely forgotten there was no TV in the bedroom since back in my old apartment I’d had one in every room except the bathroom. And, yeah, it was a one bedroom apartment but hey, a guy’s gotta have his sports. She was right as usual, but I still thought about arguing just for the sake of arguing for just a second but decided I was too t
ired, gave up and hung my head. “All right, dammit, you got me there.” I paused and then grumbled, “Thank you,” as I made my way to the recliner, sat down, and waited.

  I do have manners.

  With a look of satisfaction I’d seen too many times in my life, Phoebe grinned and went back to making the couch into a bed. I wanted to remind her that I’d spent more nights than either of us could count sleeping with a rock as a pillow in the middle of the desert, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. Once my sister put her mind to something there was no changing it, besides it had been a really long day.

  The sun had just begun to set when she made her way into the kitchen, demanding to make me tomato soup and grilled cheese. That meal had been our ‘feel better’ food for as long as I could remember. There were a shitload of nights I’d dreamt of just that meal while lying in a foxhole in the middle of only God knew where. Looking at the couch, I had to smile. Phoebe had thought of everything. She’d even pulled the coffee table closer and positioned it at an angle so I had a place to put my drink.

  I opened my mouth to holler my thanks when movement in the garden just beyond the French doors caught my eye. The rays of the setting sun shining through the trees made it difficult to differentiate what was shadow and what was real, but the longer I watched the more sure I was that someone or something was wandering around behind my house.

  Hopping up, careful not to put any weight on my cast as I’d been instructed, I crept as carefully as a two hundred and thirty-two pound man with more muscle than sense and a bum leg could. It seemed to take forever to move those ten steps, and when I finally reached my destination, I hid behind the curtains the maid always pulled to the side.

  The foliage swayed in the breeze as I stood perfectly still, looking for anything out of place. The muscles in my good leg started to burn, unused to holding all of me upright while the slow tingle that was rising up my casted leg assured me it wouldn’t be long before the anesthetic they’d given me at the clinic wore off. I started to back away when I caught the slightest glimpse of dark blonde hair behind a small bush covered with huge, yellow blooms. It had been the perfect cover for whoever was hiding. In my rush to open the door, I forgot I only had one good leg. The toes on the foot attached to my broken appendage touched the floor, pain shot through my leg, and all of me ended up in a heap on the floor.