by Liza Street
“You don’t think this is wishful thinking on your part?”
“Gabriel, she’s my mate. We bonded. There’s no wishful thinking, just the desire to go after her. I’m going now, and the more of us there are, the better chance we’ll have of stopping that arsehole.”
“You bonded. Last night.”
“Yes. I had sex with your sister out in the woods. You can deck me later if you think it’s necessary—”
Gabriel started putting on his shoes. “Mav! Justine! Everyone, get down here!”
“You’re not hitting me,” Rourke said.
“Maybe later. You’re right—we have to save our sister. We lost her once, and we’re not going to lose her again.”
Chapter Fifteen
Erich was still alternating between muttering under his breath about what a slut she was, and saying it out loud.
“I want you to apologize,” he said.
The words stuck in her throat.
“Now.”
“Sorry,” she said.
“You’ll mean it, soon enough. Fucking damaged goods, stupid whore. Lucky I’ll still take you. But if you have that bastard’s kitten I’ll kill it first thing, you understand? First thing, any kitten that isn’t mine dies.”
She’d protect Rourke’s kitten or pup until her death. And have Erich’s offspring? No fucking way. Something snapped in her. She didn’t care that they were going seventy-five on a deserted road. She didn’t care that nobody was around to help them. She didn’t care if she even survived, as long as he didn’t have her anymore. If she had a little kitten or pup growing inside her, she’d protect it—starting now.
With a shriek, she turned in her seat, lifting her legs up to kick him.
“What the—”
Her heel made contact with his face, cutting him off. The car swerved and spun, everything twirling around her like an insane, nightmarish carousel, but she kept kicking with all the strength and power she could muster.
The car spun to a stop, and Erich’s eyes were closed. Unconscious? She leaned forward, half-hoping that he was dead. His neck moved with a pulse, though.
She looked for his phone, but it was crazily angled on the dashboard, the screen cracked. She picked it up anyway, pressed the Home button. No light, nothing. Dammit. She didn’t have time to mess with it and try to get it working.
She also couldn’t chance him fixing it, calling the Elders, and then starting a Hunt. Pulling the cracked plastic apart, she freed the battery and threw it as far out into the desert as she could.
While she walked, she evaluated her prospects. If there was traffic, she could have flagged down a vehicle and asked for help. She wanted her family to come after her, and together they’d force Erich to call off the Hunt on her parents.
But there was no traffic. Her family wasn’t on their way, cresting over the curve ahead, guns blazing.
She was alone, again. Taken from her family. A strange man telling her what to do, telling her what he believed to be the truth and getting her to believe it as well.
The strange man was unconscious, but he could wake up at any second.
Her lion told her to run, and to run as fast as possible.
Starla didn’t even strip out of her clothes. She bent forward and shifted as she ran, giving herself to the lion.
In her fur, she was faster. In her fur, her thoughts were clearer and cleaner. There was no panic, only fight or flight.
The crunching of glass, far behind her. A voice that carried low and made her fur stand up. “I have a gun, Starla. I suggest you stop running.”
Chapter Sixteen
Rourke flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror. Gabriel, Maverick, and Justine were in Gabriel’s SUV behind him. He had a pretty good idea of their direction—at least he hoped he’d interpreted her note correctly.
…and we can dance to alt-rock! I’ll be dressed to the nines! XOXO, Starla!!!!!
95. Highway 95. He’d puzzled over why alt-rock was underlined, until he realized there was an alternate route for 95.
Now he was driving as fast as possible, intent on getting there. Hang on, Starla. Hang on, we’re coming.
The road curved and crested gently, and suddenly he saw her—a mountain lion sprinting along the side of the road. Beyond her, a man stood with a rifle, taking aim at Starla.
Swearing, Rourke drove faster, trying to put his truck in between Starla and the man.
A shot rang out, and Starla dodged to the side. Not hit. The man took aim again, but now Rourke was in the way. He pulled to a stop.
Starla came around and stood behind his truck, still a lion.
“We don’t have to do things this way,” Rourke said. “You’re Erich, right? Her ex-fiancé?”
Erich made a derisive sound. “No ‘ex’ about it. I’m marrying this woman. It’s just a matter of how I get her.”
“I think she doesn’t want to marry you, given how she’s running away,” Rourke said.
“Bullshit. Are you the asshole who fucked her last night?”
Rourke didn’t think he’d ever hated anyone so much as he hated this man. He started to answer, but the man raised the rifle, aiming it directly at Rourke.
“You know I’m gonna kill any kitten you might have put in her, right? I’ll drown it before—”
With a roar, Starla raced around Rourke’s truck and took a running leap, landing on Erich. He pulled the trigger, but the shot went wild, off to the side of the road.
Starla had him pinned. Why wasn’t Erich shifting to fight with her?
Rushing over, Rourke yanked the rifle from his grasp. He heard the running footsteps of the Fournier crew, and Erich was surrounded.
Starla shifted back into human, not seeming to care at all that she was naked on top of Erich. She spit on his face. “You’re pathetic. Telling me I’m a slut. Telling me I’m not good enough. You’ve belittled me for years and prevented me from sticking up for myself, even though I have the true power between us. I’m a shifter, and you—you only pretend.”
She stood up, keeping a foot on him. “Will one of you guys pass me a phone?”
Rourke reached into his pocket and handed his phone to her. He watched her as she dialed. She stood taller—more confident and poised. She looked like an avenging fury.
“Hello, this is Starla. If you want your precious Elder to live, you will release my parents immediately. On your honor.” She paused. “Erich, say something so they know you’re alive.”
“I’m alive.” His voice sounded defeated, no longer smug like it had been. “Let the Meilleurs go.”
“Elder Williams, are you sure?” the voice on the line asked.
“Yes, I’m sure!” Erich shouted. “There’s no Hunt, nothing. Set them free so I can get away from this—”
He broke off at the murderous look in Starla’s eyes.
She ended the call and gave Rourke his phone. Looking again at Erich, she said, “If you ever enter our territory again, you’re a dead man.”
They all stepped away from Erich and watched him scramble to his car. The engine caught after a few tries, and he sped away.
Rourke took off his flannel jacket and handed it to Starla.
Slipping her arms into it, she gave him a grin. “I have good memories of this jacket.”
“Oh no, not here,” Maverick groaned.
Starla and Justine both giggled, and Rourke smiled. “We can save it for later.”
After hugging each of her pride members in turn, Starla climbed into Rourke’s truck.
They drove for a while in silence, slower than her family, who had sped ahead, back toward the ranch. Starla scooted closer to him on the bench seat, snuggling into his side.
“I was so worried for you,” he said.
Her voice was soft. “I was worried, too. I kept hoping you would come, but you weren’t there, and all I could think about was being taken away from you and my family again.”
He tugged her closer. She was naked except for his coat
. Calm down, Rourke. This isn’t the time.
She giggled. “I can see your boner.”
Laughing, he said, “Well, open the jacket a little wider and I can see your everything.”
She turned and gave him a sly look. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Should I pull over?”
“No, you keep going. I’ll take care of things myself this time.”
Her scent surrounded him as she opened her legs and began touching all the places he ached to be. He struggled to keep his eyes on the road and be content to watch from his peripheral vision, but she was so damned sexy. He’d let her take control like she wanted, but damn, he wanted to watch.
He pulled over to the side, but kept his hands to himself. Breathing heavily, Starla fluttered her fingers over her clit. Her other hand was up at her breasts, pinching softly at her nipples.
He couldn’t hold back, but he’d still respect what she wanted. Instead, he tugged his own zipper down and let his cock free, giving it slow pulls while he watched her get off.
After another minute, she faltered. “I don’t know if I can—”
“Shh,” he said, “we have all the time in the world, you and me.”
She gave him a lazy smile and returned her hand to her pussy. “You make me so hot. I can’t wait to make love with you again. I—Rourke!”
Watching her climax was all the trigger he needed for his own. He caught it as best he could, then reached under the seat for an old roll of toilet paper he’d stowed away for camping.
“All the time in the world, you said?” Starla asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good. So can we do that again? Right now?”
Laughing, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, each quick peck turning into something softer and slower and leading them to where Starla wanted to be again.
Epilogue
Two weeks later, the flashbacks of the false memories had stopped. Starla walked through the entire ranch house, touching the walls, marveling at the tiny details that were suddenly as familiar to her as the shade of her own eyes or the pattern of three freckles on her wrist. She saw the tiny nick in the frame of Aunt Nan’s treasured mirror. She and Gabriel had made that nick while flying his remote-controlled helicopter in the house. The crown molding in the family room that her parents had argued over—her dad insisting it was too fancy for a ranch house and her mom getting her way in the end.
Everything was the same, and it had all been here, waiting for her.
“You ready?” Rourke said, coming up to hug her from behind.
“Of course. I think all the details are in place. Do you think my parents will like it?”
Her adoptive parents were joining the Sierra Pride. Today, everyone had assembled for a welcoming party.
After a knife-throwing contest between Gabriel, Maverick, and Cora in which Cora dominated her brothers, and a huge dinner of steaks and macaroni and cheese (Chloe had chosen the menu), the pride gathered in a circle under the twinkle lights spreading over the patio.
“We welcome Cynthia and Rob to the Sierra Pride,” Gabriel said formally.
“We pledge our loyalty,” Starla’s parents said together.
“We pledge our loyalty,” the rest of the pride echoed.
Starla moved to hug her parents, but Gabriel stopped her. “There’s just one last thing,” he said. “A change in leadership.”
Starla stood back, puzzled. Shouldn’t they have voted as a group?
“I was only holding the alpha spot for you,” Gabriel said. “We’ve all voted and come to the unanimous decision—it’s your turn now, sister.”
Her family—birth, adoptive—had been standing, but as one they all knelt, until she was the only one upright. “Alpha,” they murmured together.
“What?” she asked. “Why?”
Gabriel said, “You’re protective—look what you did for your parents. You belong here, with us, helping us to be a better pride. Our parents and Aunt Nan would have wanted this.”
She blinked back tears and swallowed against the painful, too-full feeling in her throat. “I promise to work every day of my life to deserve this honor.”
Rourke pulled her close, warm and solid against her. She could do it—she could do anything—with him by her side.
Holding open her arms, she felt the love and affirmation pouring from her family, her pride. Young and old, they belonged to her, and she belonged to them.
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Preview of Savage Yearning
This is the first book of the Corona Pride series, a spin-off of the Sierra Pride! Thanks to reader feedback, these books will be longer than the Sierra Pride books. I’m aiming for a March 2017 release for the first book. Because I love showing love to subscribers of the Awesome Readers newsletter, you might want to sign up to take advantage of the early, discounted price!
Chapter One
The bar top was warm beneath Dristan’s forearms as he hunched over it, trying to ignore the humans around them.
He didn’t know why he’d let his brother talk him into going out—he hated going out in the snow. If he wanted to drink with his brother, they didn’t have to go any farther than the fridge in their apartment. But Frasier had some messed up notion that Dristan needed to “get off his sad stick and go someplace fun.”
Thus, here they were at Hart’s. It used to be an old farmhouse, but the lower level had been opened up to a large room, booths added along the sides, pool tables in the center. There was an arcade upstairs, along with a few more pool tables, but tonight Dristan didn’t want to stray too far from the bar.
He felt like he was living in one of those country songs his buddy Rafe liked to listen to so much. Cold Montana winter, brooding man at a bar, trying to forget the girl who got away.
“You ever feel like you’re living in a song, Fraze?” he asked his brother.
“Only when I’m feeling melodramatic and self-pitying and generally no fun to be around,” Frasier said.
“Asshole.”
“I’m rubber, you’re glue,” Frasier quoted in a sing-song voice. “Whatever you say bounces off me and goes back to you. Go get laid or something. You haven’t been the same since—”
“I know.” Since he and Laura had enjoyed a beautiful, perfect night in each other’s arms…and then she’d pretended it had never happened. For almost eight months. Dristan took a drink from his pint glass. “Why do you always think sex is the answer to life’s problems?”
“If you don’t start having fun on your own, I’m going to have to take drastic measures,” Frasier said. “There’s a blonde in the corner, sexy red dress. Or no, that cute little brunette in the silver halter top. She can’t take her eyes off you.”
Dristan didn’t even bother looking in either woman’s direction. “If she’s in a halter top, she’s a damn fool. It’s too cold for that kind of nonsense.”
“I’m no fool,” a familiar voice said from behind him.
Shit. “Laura?”
She shimmied around him and propped herself on the stool between him and Frasier. Her brown hair shone in a straight fall down her back, and her green eyes appraised him coolly. “Rafe, Mateo, and Justine are on their way. What game are we playing tonight? Take a drink every time a woman looks at Dristan?”
Was she teasing him on purpose? It was the same game they’d played the last time all of them had come to Hart’s—the same night that he and Laura had spent together afterward. He didn’t need this woman messing with his head. Couldn’t he get a drink in peace? He glared over her head at Frasier.
“I’m playing pool,” Dristan said. He didn’t ask either of them to join him.
Laura shrugged, and the silver bit of nothing she wore as a top moved with her shoulders, exposing a sliver of tan midriff.
Fuuuuuuck. He hated what she did to him.
*
The Sierra Pride Series
Fierce Wanderer
Fierce Heartbreaker
Fierce Protector
Fierce Player
Fierce Dancer
Fierce Informer
Fierce Survivor
Fierce Lover
About Liza
Liza got her start in romance by sneak-reading her grandma’s paperbacks. Years later, she tried her own hand as a ghostwriter of romance. It wasn’t long before she started writing her own series. Now she divides her time between freelance editing, ghostwriting, and the mountain lion shifters in the Sierra Pride.
Website
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A Note from Liza
Thank you for reading Fierce Lover! One thing I’ve learned in this business is that reviews help authors a whole lot. If you loved Fierce Lover (and even if you didn’t!), an honest review would be an immense favor.
If reviews aren’t your thing, I thank you anyway for doing me the honor of reading my book.
Acknowledgments
Because this is the last book in the series, I feel like I should throw a party, or maybe weep and clutch my laptop to my chest saying, Noooo, it isn’t time yet! Can this really be the end?
The past year has been super educational. When I set out to write the Sierra Pride series, I did so as an experiment. Just what did it take to independently publish a series? Could I do it? Would it make any money?
Answers: it takes a lot to independently publish a series (like, I’m still in awe at how little I know about this business). Yes, I can do it (whether I do it well is a matter of opinion). And it makes…some…money (nope, I’m not quitting my day job).
But to me, the stress, uncertainty, and everything else involved is worth it. I’ve learned so much throughout this process, and made so many new friends along the way. Not only my fictional Fournier friends, but friends in bloggers, fellow authors, and readers! The writing life can be a roller coaster with highs and lows, but these friendships make the highs seem higher, and the lows seem more bearable. Thank you to everyone who was involved in this process at any stage—from pre-publication to the final version!