by Jory Strong
“Is it even possible for us to have the same bond two Weres can have?”
“Yes. On my word as a pack enforcer, it’s possible.”
His hands went to the front of her shirt, his thumbs caressing hardened nipples and sending a bolt of heat through her belly and into her woman’s folds. “Let me love you. Let me join with you.”
A lifetime of restraint fell away. She wanted to take a chance on him. On them.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Aryck covered her mouth with his before she could take back the words. He hungered, needed to make her completely and forever his.
His cock pulsed when she parted her lips without requiring persuasion this time. It strained against his soft trousers, anxious for its own greeting as her tongue rushed to rub against his in sensual welcome.
One kiss slid into another, until the need to feel skin to skin became too great to ignore. He stripped her shirt away, hands returning to her breasts and creating a different kind of hunger.
One day his children would nurse there, their creation forever binding him to Rebekka. But for now her lush feminine curves and dark, dark nipples belonged only to him.
He left the wet heat of her mouth, kissed downward to take an areola between his lips and suckle. He purred in satisfaction at her sounds of pleasure, at the feel of her hands in his hair, holding him to her.
More. All. He wanted to lick and kiss every inch of her. To mark her skin with his teeth in passion as well as in a warning to other males to stay away from her.
She trembled against him, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils and luring him in a siren call he was powerless to resist. She tensed when he unbuttoned her pants, uncertainty and fear mingling with the heady smell of lust.
He wouldn’t let her retreat this time as she had after they left Wolf lands. This time she’d know the feel of his mouth on her, the swirl of his tongue over her clit and the thrust of it in her slit.
With a jerk he pulled her pants to her ankles. Went motionless at the sight before him.
Rebekka froze. The heat that had let her pretend everything would be all right disappearing in a flash, leaving her shaking and trying to shore up her defenses.
He knew what the tattoo meant. It was there in his sudden stillness, in the rigidness of his body.
I won’t cry, she told herself. I won’t beg him to believe me.
She couldn’t stop herself from flinching when he touched the red P. From trying to move away from him.
He stopped her with hands on her hips. Looked up at her, a feral expression on his face instead of one filled with disgust and loathing.
“No other male will ever have you again,” he said, deadly promise in his eyes. “I’ll kill anyone who attempts it.”
Her heart pounded against the wall of her chest as if attempting to break free and escape the risk of further pain. “There’s never been anyone. You’re the first I’ve ever been intimate with. The tattoo was forced on me when I was eight. Because I was in a brothel caravan in the San Joaquin and my mother was a prostitute.”
He inhaled deeply, as if he would smell the truth on her. His eyelids lowered and there was the distinct sound of masculine satisfaction in his voice as he said, “I’ll be your first. And your last.”
She was lost with the words. With his belief and acceptance. Left defenseless against the heat from his mouth as he pressed his lips to her mound, overwhelming her, making her cry tears of happiness as well as ecstasy.
She held nothing back as he lapped at her wet, swollen folds. Went willingly when he rid them both of clothing and shoes, then urged her onto the pile of furs serving as bedding. She spread her thighs for him, anxious for him to kneel between them and continue tormenting her with carnal kisses and the hot, decadent touch of his tongue.
Aryck couldn’t get enough of her. His cock was hard, slick in its readiness to be inside her. Never had a female overwhelmed his senses the way Rebekka did.
He wallowed in the scent of her, in the luscious heat between her thighs, in the wet evidence of her desire. He wanted to rub every inch of his skin against her mound so all of him smelled of her.
She was so responsive. Her cries alone were enough to have him gripping his penis to keep from spewing his seed outside of her as he had the last time they were together.
The Jaguar screamed, wanting her on her hands and knees. Demanding he cover her that way, thrust inside her with teeth clamped to the back of her neck while in human form since she had no furred one.
Aryck kissed up her body, knowing he was too close to losing control. She deserved tenderness, adoration. He should deny the Jaguar and take her first in the way a human male most often takes the woman he considers his future wife.
He couldn’t. Beast and man were too closely aligned in their desires, their needs, his two Earth-bound souls united as they’d always been until disagreement over Rebekka set them against each other.
That foolishness was done with. She was meant to be his mate. He knew it. Accepted it. Rejoiced in it.
He rose above her, rubbing his throat over her lips, growled, “Bite. Leave your mark.” And very nearly came when he felt her teeth on him.
Fever raced through him. A wildness that had him snarling and writhing, a cat caught in a sexual trap he had no desire to escape.
She released him with the lick of her tongue against his flesh and he knew only urgency. Only the primal, undeniable urge to mate.
He forced her to her hands and knees, a part of him noting her willingness, purring in pleasure at the way she readily went to her elbows and spread her thighs, presenting him with her wet, swollen vulva.
Another time he’d stop to nuzzle, to lick in approval. This time he came over her, found her opening.
In deference to her virginity, he worked his way in, one torturous inch at a time. Each one of them a test of his endurance.
She was so wet. So hot and slick.
Her channel clung to him. Tightened on him mercilessly. Resisted even as it enticed him to surge forward.
He was panting, shaking by the time he was fully seated.
And underneath him she was whimpering, trembling.
Not in pain, but with the same ecstasy rippling through him.
She rocked backward, urging him to begin moving, and he was helpless against the feminine command. His fingers found her clit, rubbed over it as his hips thrust. Thrust again. And again. Not giving in to the Jaguar’s need to mark her until after she screamed in release and he followed, pumping through the hot, wet evidence of her pleasure and filling her with his seed.
Shivers of pleasure ran the length of Rebekka’s body in the aftermath of lovemaking. Her channel clenched in protest as Aryck’s cock left it, but her emotions soared when he repositioned them on the furs so they lay facing each other, limbs entangled.
She traced the flow of muscles along his upper arm. It felt so good to be held by him, to feel the press of his chest against her breasts and the warmth of his penis nestled in the juncture of her thighs.
Her clit pulsed like a softened heartbeat where it touched smooth foreskin, and his subtle rubbing against it sent sparks of renewed desire through her. She understood now the lure of sex, what brought men and women to the brothels even if their money didn’t buy them true intimacy.
A blush slid upward and blossomed across her cheeks as she became aware of voices. Unlike the Jaguar camp, there was no privacy to be found among Lions. The open windows and doorways meant the sounds of passion carried throughout the dwelling as well as beyond it.
Aryck’s rumbled laugh made her blush deepen. He stroked her cheek, his teeth flashing white in amusement. “Embarrassed? How can you be after growing up among prostitutes?”
“This is not the same. This matters.”
“I’m glad,” he said, taking her mouth in a series of slow kisses that filled her with pleasure, making her labia swell and part in readiness for him.
Her hand slid down his side, then
between their bodies. Seeking him out. Finding him. Her fingers curling around his hardening cock.
This time his laugh held rising desire and purring anticipation. He nibbled at her lips, whispered against them, “Coupling is not something cats feel any shame in doing, or in being seen doing. But I’ll admit, I don’t have the necessary control at the moment to allow any other male to watch us together and fantasize about having you.”
She brushed her thumb over the head of his penis. His buttocks flexed and his hips gave a quick thrust. Levity gave way to intensity of expression as he rolled, flattening her back against the soft fur.
Her thighs splayed voluntarily, hips canting to make it easier for him to fill her. But when she would have guided him to her opening, he stilled and gave a low, threatening growl.
It took an instant to hear what he heard. She guessed whoever approached was purposely making enough noise to alert a human.
The footfalls stopped just beyond the doorway. Levi said, “There’s a sick Lion, Rebekka. My grandmother would like you to accompany her to the boy’s home. After what happened to the Wolves, the pride is wary.”
With lithe grace Aryck got to his feet. Rebekka followed, blushing again when his semen escaped her slit and further marked the insides of her thighs with his scent.
He leaned in, teeth clamping down on her shoulder. Biting her then soothing the tiny pain with the caress of his tongue.
He collected his pants and stepped into them. She gathered her clothing and quickly dressed, toeing on her shoes at the doorway, then stepping out of the room.
Levi’s expression was neutral, but she knew him too well not to see his worry, feel it. Some of her happiness fell away with the realization that in two days he would have to return to Oakland. With or without her.
Aryck’s hand curled possessively around her arm. Her eyes met his and a pang went through her heart as she wondered what lay ahead for them.
Magena waited near the dwelling entranceway. “It’s best you remain inside,” she told Levi.
He handed the journal to Rebekka. She slid it into her pocket and followed the Lion healer outside.
In tiger form, Caius bounded over to Rebekka. He stood on hind legs, powerful front limbs wrapping around her waist and nearly knocking her over with the exuberance of his greeting. She gave him a quick hug and he dropped to all four paws, padding back to Canino.
“This way,” Magena said, turning to the left.
Rebekka had thought there were a lot of Lions present when she arrived; now it looked as though their numbers had tripled in the time she’d been there. A great number of them were agitated.
They paced, filling the late afternoon with the sounds of their roars. What cubs she saw were gathered and contained in circles of adult females who made it clear with teeth and claws they wouldn’t let even the most energetic of their charges leave.
All but Magena wore fur. Rebekka understood why Levi’s grandmother had directed him to remain in his family’s home.
From somewhere in the mistletoe-laden oak forest that started where the eucalyptus grove ended, a burst of giggling came, high-pitched and eerie. It was followed by grunted laughter and the telltale whooping of hyenas.
It made the hair stand on the back of Rebekka’s neck. Her heart raced in trepidation and dread built with each step.
Several Lions charged in the direction of the noise, more for show than with the intent of entering the forest. They stopped after going little more than a hundred feet, paced and roared in warning, gouged the trees with the rake of their claws before turning and padding back to the clustered dwellings.
“It’s a pack of pure animals,” Magena said. Her voice held concern over the proximity of the hyenas, and their unnatural behavior at venturing so close to territory claimed by a huge pride of Lions.
Twenty-five
A Lion in human form ushered them into the end dwelling. The front rooms were crowded with others. “Everyone having contact with Kerr has been quarantined here,” he told Magena.
“Good. How is your son now?”
“Weak, sweating. Only marginally worse than when I sought you out.”
“Has he convulsed?” Rebekka asked.
“No.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Yes. Come. I’ll take you to him.”
They passed through several vacant rooms before reaching an opening covered by a heavy elk pelt. The man pulled it aside to reveal a candlelit room, and a boy in his late teens curled into a fetal ball in the center of it.
The window was also covered, as if to minimize the possibility of disease being spread in an airborne manner. It muted the sound of the Lions and hyenas, but in such close proximity, the wild laughter and roars still seemed loud.
Both she and Magena knelt next to Kerr. Aryck crouched at her side.
The boy’s father took up a position opposite them. “He’s emptied the contents of his stomach and his bowels.”
Kerr began trembling. Shivering violently. His teeth chattering.
Magena touched a hand to his forehead. “Fever.”
She glanced at Rebekka. “He took down a young buck the hyenas injured but didn’t kill. The pack outside came upon him as he gorged himself. They chased him off the carcass and pursued him. He was already ill by the time he returned home.”
“Can he change forms?”
“Not again. He did once, to tell his father he felt sick and try to heal through shifting, but he couldn’t retake his lion form. There are cures, preparations I would normally make and dispense for these symptoms, but given what happened on Wolf lands …
“The pride has gold they can pay you with. Please use your gift so we can know if there are others who will soon fall ill.”
High-pitched, eerie giggles pierced the hide covering the window and stabbed into Rebekka. Sweat broke out on her skin.
A shudder passed through her, so noticeable Aryck placed his hand on her back. He stroked her spine in a calming gesture, murmured soothingly, “You’re safe. Whatever has stirred them up and brought them this close to the Lions won’t bring them any closer.”
Rebekka fought to keep from shaking. If Kerr carried disease then it was already among the Lions. If the hyenas were sick then she would call them to their deaths and possibly expose those outside to virus-borne plague. And if she refused to use her gift, she would have to reveal a secret that in all likelihood would lead to her being blamed for what happened on Wolf lands as well as what happened here.
They would kill her. Perhaps they would kill Levi and Aryck as well.
She was damned by any choice she made.
The hide covering the doorway pushed to the side. A white Lion with pale blue eyes entered.
Rebekka knew the shaman by the swirling brands on his face. He sat, allowing the hide to fall back into place and once again serve as a door.
Despite his sightless eyes, she felt as though he’d come to serve as witness to the proceedings. A last glance at the fur-covered window and she made her decision. The risk of doing nothing was too great.
She removed the amulet. As Aryck took it from her, it felt as though ice shattered and splintered in her chest, the blast of it so sharp and intense it doubled her over.
In self-defense and instinctive reaction she placed her hands on the Lion teen. Warmth flowed into her, but it was mild, tepid, and she knew immediately that unlike the Wolves and Jaguars she’d healed, the Lion was nowhere near death.
The knowledge came to her not just because there was no battle between shaman and ancestors, no drums beating in either this world or the place Aryck called the shadowlands, but because the boy’s need didn’t absorb her gift. Touching him didn’t stop the frigid emptiness from spreading, as if some unseen cavity was opening up inside her.
She remembered thinking as she healed the Wolves that her will and gift were just another name for a part of her soul. So she concentrated, consciously gathering what she’d always called her will, and it wa
s like reeling in a part of her that traveled outside of her body and was her gift.
Heat replaced the icy emptiness until the only reality was the sick Lion. Then, as she’d done with the Wolves, she looked for the source of illness and its cause.
She touched the teen’s lips and jaw and throat for infection pooled in saliva. His forehead for the encephalitis-like inflammation. She found neither.
Her hand moved lower and he moaned in pain when she reached his abdomen. There was infection there. By the amount of it she thought it had been building for some time, perhaps ignored while he was in lion form, or perhaps—
A memory clicked into place. She recognized the ailment as a burst appendix. It was rare among Weres but she’d encountered it once before, soon after moving to the brothel Dorrit managed.
Rebekka drew on the power that had first come to her after accepting the amulet, pulling heat from the core of the Earth—or perhaps the fires of a demon-filled hell—to burn away the mass of infection rather than call on the boy’s own body to fight it.
Time lost all meaning. Nothing existed outside of healing until the boy rolled away, breaking the physical contact.
Reality returned in a rush of frigid cold and horror. Outside the dwelling came a hyena’s scream abruptly ended.
The feeling of ice in Rebekka’s chest grew muted, diminished as though the danger close by had melted away, the intensity fading with the deaths of the hosts carrying it. What remained felt like a single shard driven through her heart, leaving her with a sense of it well beyond the eucalyptus grove, somewhere deeper in the forest. It winked out completely when she took the amulet from Aryck.
Rebekka started to rise to her feet. Magena stopped her with a touch to her arm. “What was wrong with the cub?”
“A burst appendix causing a large pocket of infection.”
“Good,” Magena said but didn’t relax. “Will you accompany me outside to examine the dead and injured?”