Ball of Furry

by Celia Kyle

  Andrew had taken Carly right from underneath their noses.

  Pressing the ‘end call’ button on his cell, he wasn’t surprised when his thumb cracked the screen.

  “He’s got her.”

  The males stomping across the graveled parking lot of Honey’s Bar stilled and turned back toward him.

  Alex was the first to speak, voice deadly. “Who’s got whom?”

  “Andrew.” The lion surged forward, stalked him just beneath his skin, muscles and bones bunched in preparation for a fight. “Ian and Devlin let him in because he’s her friend and part of the warren. And now he’s kidnapped her.” The cat wanted to tear something to shreds. Preferably the male who had dared touch what belonged to him. “The male snuck her out the window and shoved her into his car. Drove away before they even knew she’d been abducted. Ian is researching the rabbit’s assets to see if there’s somewhere he’d take her. Somewhere…”

  “It’s not just that bunny, Neal.” The voice came from the darkness, but he recognized the male with ease. He’d been ‘vacationing’ in Ridgeville for the last six months or so and was a well-known tracker for the council, a man who went after feral shifters and dangerous Freedom members.

  He was also one of the most dominant and dangerous males he’d ever met. The guy had been nice enough during the visit, but this was something…different. Dominance, anger, and power radiated from the male in giant waves that he couldn’t help but recognize.

  The tiger was pissed.

  “Ricker.” Neal tilted his head to the side, not anxious to anger the man. He heard a murmured echo of the tiger’s name from those behind him and assumed the others were mimicking his movement.

  The cat stalked forward, feet not making a sound on the loose gravel, body moving like the ultimate predator, and Neal couldn’t suppress the slivers of fear that entered his blood. This man could end Neal within the blink of an eye and there were whispers that the male wouldn’t hold an ounce of remorse for the act.

  “I know who has her and I know where she is.”

  “Where?”

  “Who?” Alex’s voice drowned out his.

  “One-room cabin near Crest Lake. As for who, it started with her friend, Andrew, but it’s truly…” The tiger’s eyes, deep golden amber, bore into his. “Alistair McCain.”

  * * *

  Oh shit, oh god, oh shit, oh god… The blade inched closer and closer to her face and she couldn’t do a damned thing about it. Honestly, she wasn’t all that concerned about him slicing the vulnerable skin and leaving her with scars… Nope, her biggest worry was that he wouldn’t stop there.

  “Alistair.” Andrew stepped into her line of sight. “I changed my mind. I want to keep her. We’ll kill Naomi, make it look like shifters, and then Carly and I can disappear and—“

  Her enemy—yet still somehow her friend—didn’t get the rest of his words out. Nope, not before Alistair spun on the balls of his feet quicker than she could blink and shoved that deadly blade into Andrew just below his breastbone and straight up into the man’s heart. Shock was stuck on her friend’s features, his eyes and mouth open wide. A brief look of regret flashed across his face just before the vacant stare of death took over.

  That fast. A blink. A heartbeat. That’s all it took for the male to end Andrew’s life. No hesitation, no wonder or arguing. Just death. Period. Full stop.

  The big motherfucker slid the knife free of Andrew’s body and then turned his attention back to her, wiping the blade clean on her jeans and coating her in her friend’s fluids.

  “Sorry about that, lovely. Now, let me introduce myself. I’m Alistair McCain and you are our first step to freedom.”

  Alistair McCain. Leader of Freedom and a bad-assed, ‘fuck you and die’ polar bear. Freedom’s only focus was destroying the communal structure shifters had operated under since the beginning of time. They wanted the council abolished and Alphas, Primes and all other leaders destroyed. According to them, shifters were fine on their own and they didn’t need anyone telling them what to do or how to live their lives.

  She was dead. Deader than dead. A ghost walking—er, laying. It was only a matter of time before…

  A whimper from across the room drew Alistair’s attention away from her and Carly was torn in two. She could draw the man’s anger onto herself or let Naomi suffer next.

  Decisions, decisions…

  Oh, who the fuck was she kidding. Naomi may have been a bitch, but she hadn’t done anything ‘wrong’, per se.

  Drawing one leg back, she brought it forward as hard as she could and kicked Alistair in the ass, knocking him to the floor before he could get to the evil bitch and use his Ginsu on her.

  “Fucking cunt!” The male roared and spun back to her, a pale white hint of fur covering his features, the lines of his cheeks and chin sharper than before. “Are you ready for death, little one? Is that it?” He reached for her and yanked at her gag, tugged it free of her mouth. “Will you scream for me while I gut you?”

  “Fuck you.” She spat at him, a glob of saliva landing on his chiseled cheek.

  Stupid, but at least he wasn’t bearing down on Naomi.

  “Ah, lovely, how you tempt me. Perhaps I should sample you first.” The bastard grasped her chin with a bruising hold and held her still, licked her face from chin to brow. “How sweet you taste.” His voice was a deep growl and she could smell his arousal, the perverted need in him. Another lap at her skin. “So lovely.”

  Alistair released her and changed position, shifting so that she could stare into Naomi’s fear painted eyes. The human didn’t move, barely breathed, while the fucker sliced through Carly’s top, the long blade cutting through the fabric like butter. Soon, the cool air of the cabin sent goose bumps over her skin, and his next cut rendered her bra useless. Her breasts were bared to the room and she chanced a look at Alistair’s features only to turn her attention from him again.

  Lust, pure and simple.

  Depraved fucker. Just wait until she was free of the ropes. She’d let her little claws come out to play so she could slice and dice his balls.

  Yeah, that sounded like a fuck-ton of fun.

  “Look at those pretty nipples.” He grasped them between his fingers and pinched, harder and harder until tears formed in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. But she wouldn’t make a sound. No, she figured he took enjoyment in others’ pain and she wasn’t about to help him get his rocks off. He twisted, increasing the pressure, and she breathed deeply through her nose, great puffing breaths heaved in and out of her lungs while she bore the pain.

  The rabbit inside her growled and reared, chomped on air, desperate to get the male’s hands off of her. Alistair wasn’t her mate. He had no right to touch her. Ever.

  With a growl, he released her and then turned his attention further down her body, eyes resting at the juncture of her thighs. She’d die first. Truly.

  Alistair brandished the wicked blade, edge gleaming, and brought it to the button of her jeans. Again, it parted the fabric near the fastener like a hot knife through butter, the cloth melting away with barely a touch. More and more of her was revealed and she cringed when his fingers glided over the skin of her lower belly. “That’s lovely.”

  Carly shimmied and wiggled, tugged and tore at her bonds. No. She wouldn’t let him do this to her. God, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but fight. Her rabbit, all for getting the hell away from this fucker, urged her on, shoved forward and became desperate for the change.

  She let a little of the furball’s power slither through the walls that kept her bunny at bay. In a blink, the rabbit pushed, yanked control, and forced her wrists and hands to change.

  While the pain of a partial change tore through her, she kicked at Alistair, nailed him in the thigh and then again between his legs.

  The male roared and reached for her jeans, tore them from her body, exposed her. With his grab, her panties followed, leaving her bare from the waist down.
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  The rabbit helped her then, got her wrists free of her bindings with a quick slice of her claws, releasing her arms. Hands free, she used them to brace her as she struck out with her leg again, fighting with all that she had. Alistair staggered back a step.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, she scrambled for the knife, crawled and clawed until the handle of the ten-inch blade rested against her palm.

  Hand wrapped around the hilt, a roar of triumph grew in her chest. But it was short-lived. A scream erupted when searing hot, near debilitating pain roared through her hip and leg. She was flipped over, Alistair’s shifted claws digging into her flesh, slicing through the fat and muscle of her body. Without thought, she struck out with the blade, cut and carved at his hands and arms, uncaring of any damage she may have caused to herself. She wouldn’t be raped by his filth, and refused to let the demented male take her kit from her.

  Another swipe and she caught his face, the blade traveling over one cheek, across his nose, and then against the other cheek. Now he had a new scar to go with the other.

  “Bitch.” He pulled one claw free and then sunk it in again, gripping her waist and tugging her toward him, wicked nails cutting down to the bone.

  Alistair bared his fangs, saliva dripping from his extended canines and dropping against her exposed skin. She sliced at him again, repeating the move yet the man didn’t seem to notice. She gave him another cut, even deeper and Alistair snarled in response, his jaw elongating to resemble the polar bear he held inside his body.

  The male froze, body half over her, Carly’s blood pouring from her wounds, and he tilted his head to the side. “It sounds as if the cavalry has arrived. Apparently the sniveling male did not do very well.” He released her in an instant, claws retracting from her flesh, and he rose to his full height. The rabbit wanted to jump to her feet, cut and claw at the male, destroy him. She’d kill him or die trying. “Until we meet again.”

  With that simple goodbye, he melted from the room, leaving Carly alone with the pale-faced, white-eyed Naomi and her ex-friend’s body.

  Damn, but she wished she could bring Andrew back so she could take a piece out of his hide.

  Carly breathed deep, chest heaving and heart struggling with every beat. The minute she woke up, she’d figure out a way to bring Andrew back from the dead so she could kill him again.

  She just needed a tiny nap first.

  * * *

  Six hours later, Neal was still shaking, lion pacing inside his mind, stalking back and forth while he fought the urge to join Ricker’s hunt for Alistair McCain. He battled the urge to snarl at the thought of the man’s name.

  He couldn’t do anything while he waited for Carly to heal. Her injuries were severe, deep enough to reveal bone, and the blood loss was staggering. He only hoped that the cub had survived. He knew his mate would have been devastated with the loss of their young, and he wanted to spare her that news.

  Neal traced each of her delicate fingers, noticing the pale hue of her skin, and he could see the blue of her veins within. God, he’d almost lost her to the jealousy and the destructive plans of an insane male.

  Freedom. He snarled.

  Alistair had preyed on Andrew’s demented feelings and convinced the male that Carly’s death would be the answer to his prayers. No one would have the female that belonged to him.

  Instead, Andrew had ended up dead, and Naomi…

  “You know she’ll be fine. Little Bit’s always bounced back.” Ian joined him, standing tall at the end of the bed. “Did she tell you about the time she got caught by a fox?”

  Neal turned to him, eyes wide. “You’re joking.”

  His mate’s brother shook his head. “Nope. She’d gotten mad at our mother, shifted, and ran off into the woods. She’d been gone for an hour or so, our parents frantic, before she came hopping back, bloodied from head to toe and dragging that fucking fox behind her. At seven she informed our mother that foxes did not play fair.”

  Carly stirred, muscles twitching and legs shifting beneath the thin fabric of the sheet covering her and he stroked her hand, trailed his fingers over her cheek. “Shh, I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  Ian’s hand rested on his shoulder. “She’s tough, cat. By morning she’ll be ready to hunt down Andrew and skin him alive. Not that there’ll be anything left of the body, since we’ll burn it, but she’ll still try and figure out a way.”

  God, Neal hoped so. He could deal with an angry, vengeful Carly any day.

  A knock on the bedroom door yanked their attention and they found Alex standing in the hallway. Smart man. Neal wasn’t sure he could tolerate an unrelated male near his woman right then.

  “We need you two in the living room. Ricker would like a word. Neal, Maya will stay with Carly until you return.” With that, Prime disappeared and the very pregnant Maya waddled into the room, worry etched into every line of her face.

  Neal rose from his chair and stepped aside. The woman toddled even faster and practically fell into the seat he’d vacated. She snatched up Carly’s still hand. “You utter bitch. You go on another adventure without me? I bet we coulda sliced and diced that ass. Remember when…”

  He smiled at Prima’s railing and turned to follow Ian out of the room. His mate would be well cared for by her best friend. Now he had other things to deal with, and he was anxious to hear what the council’s tracker had to say.

  In the living room, Alex and Ricker waited for them; Max and his enforcer had left as soon as they’d seen the cats and rabbits home. They didn’t want to leave their wolves alone while Alistair was in the area and Neal couldn’t blame them.

  Ricker sat in one of the chairs, elbows resting on his knees. He’d been hunting for hours and looked exhausted. “I lost him on the other side of the lake. Fucker hopped into an SUV and took off. There were tracks of at least three others, but I caught the scent of another two that had probably stayed in the vehicle. A hard scent of fear hung around, which means they’ve either got a reluctant Freedom member or they have their hands on someone else.”

  Neal clenched his hands, fought the urge to shift and roar, take off into the wilderness and hunt the bastard, the leader of Freedom.

  His mate. His mate had been hurt.

  He ached for the death of every member of that fucking organization. He wanted the blood of Freedom members to flow in rivers so that they couldn’t hurt anyone else.

  Ever.

  The tracker stood and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll be gone as soon as I pack my stuff. The council staff are running the tire treads and checking on recent rentals. I’m going to ground for now and waiting to see if there’s any whispers.”

  “What about Naomi?” God, she was crazed after what she’d been through. Her body had been battered, bruised, and broken in several places, but she was human. Knowing enough about shifters to have sex with them and bear their cubs was one thing…seeing the violence they were capable of was another.

  He didn’t know how she’d fare or what to tell the kids just yet. He wasn’t sure if he should lie or tell the truth…their mother wouldn’t be the same, either way.

  Ricker crossed his arms over his massive chest. “It’s your call. She’ll be damaged, maybe permanently, and she knows a lot about y’all. More than the average human. As far as the council is concerned, it’s an internal matter unless she starts talking.”

  Neal nodded, quickly followed by the other two males, and Ricker seemed to relax. The male probably had enough of dispensing judgment on others and he apparently didn’t want to be saddled with a human’s future. “Good.” He jerked his head in a quick nod. “I hope to never see you again. At least, not when blood’s involved.”

  He shook the male’s hand, Ian and Alex repeating the gesture in turn, but Alex held fast. “You are always welcome on our land and in our pride, Ricker. We won’t ever forget this. If you decide to retire, you have a home in Ridgeville.”

  Neal watched the tiger stride from the house and, w
hile his lion was respectfully fearful of the huge beast, a part of him couldn’t help but be sad at the male’s departure. Their pride would be stronger with him in it. Maybe…

  Maya’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Neal? She’s asking for you.” The woman smirked. “And when I say ‘asking’, I mean ready to gnaw your ass if you don’t get in there ASAP. She said she’s horny, hungry, and hormonal from the kit which is your fault. In that order.”

  Praise Jesus hallelujah amen. She’d live.

  Epilogue

  Carly would kill him. Really. Tear him limb from limb. Arms, then legs, then cock. Wait. Maybe if she just got rid of the arms and legs, she could still use his cock. Then he wouldn’t have a way of defending his manhood. She should Google.

  Asshole.

  Huge asshole.

  She’d healed already. No more pink lines from her wounds. No nightmares. Nada.

  Carly was safe, damn it.

  Ricker was off hunting Alistair and reports indicated he’d abandoned Ridgeville.

  Naomi had been sent on ‘vacation’. And by ‘vacation’, she meant a mental health facility. After being captured by Andrew and Alistair, the human woman had a few ‘issues’.

  With a sigh, she fell into bed. Alone. She’d waited for him last night, all naked and ready…and had fallen asleep. The coward had waited for her to pass out. That had to be the only explanation.

  Argh.

  “Cccaaarrrlllyyy!” Aw, little—but very loud—Elijah was up. Carly found Neal’s kids adorable, but her mate had assured her that her opinion would change after more than a handful of days. With Naomi ‘on vacation’, they’d welcomed the cubs into their home and Carly couldn’t remember why she’d been so upset about their existence. Part of her wished that their mother never got better. Only a little part. Teeny, even.

  Maybe.

  “Cccaaawwwyyy!” Carson echoed his older brother.

  A loud, roaring cry rent the air, which meant that baby Ryan was up, as well. Whew, that boy took after his daddy.

  With a groan, she rolled from the bed and snagged her robe. Neal was probably up and feeding the cubs, so she could relax for a bit, but she enjoyed joining them all in a raucous breakfast.