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A Lion's Heart

Page 13

by Kracken

“I’m sore, but I want you again,” Tamarind said languidly. “I'm a pervert.”

  “So am I, because I want you again too,” Shakra replied.

  “Keep doing that,” Tamarind sighed contentedly.

  “Forever, love,” Shakra replied with a chuckle and continued to lick his mate's ears.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I'm of the Sun clan,” Tamarind said as he touched the tattoo on his arm. “That's my birth tattoo, so that everyone knows my fathers.”

  “Fathers?” Shakra was puzzled, pacing beside his new mate ahead of the others. They made their way through an endless sea of tall grass, a sea high enough to make them blind unless they rose up to see over the top. Tamarind had warned them against that. Their best protection, he had said, was to stay low and stay on all fours.

  Tamarind shrugged. “Only the king has children with the females.”

  Shakra shook his head in confusion. “I don't understand.”

  “You wouldn't want to mate your aunt or your niece accidentally,” Shang said behind him. “Identifying a birth clan keeps that from happening. It’s a good idea for a nomadic people.”

  “But... if the fathers move from clan to clan,” Shakra tried to reason, “doesn't that confuse things?”

  “They don't,” Tamarind said and then amended, “Usually. Losing a clan king often involves that king's death. If they survive and claim another clan, though, then their children wear their father's clan sign.”

  Shakra frowned. “My head hurts,” he complained. “What about the sons that are driven out?”

  “If they start a new clan, they choose a new clan sign. If they take over another, those children become their birth sign children.”

  “You were adopted, though,” Shakra pointed out. “Why are you wearing a sun sign if you don't come from the sun clan?”

  Tamarind went very quiet.

  Shakra quickly said, “If I've offended you, I'm sorry, Tamarind.”

  “No, I'm not offended,” Tamarind assured him, but his silver eyes were sunk in memory. “I don't know who my birth clan is. I was unmarked. That's a very sad thing for a child of the Savannah. It means that my mother birthed me as a clan outcast or... she didn't care to keep me.”

  Shakra nuzzled Tamarind. “I've made you remember something sad. That wasn't my intention, love.”

  Tamarind shrugged, but his tail swung up and draped over Shakra's back. “It's all right, Shakra. I can't change my past, just... wonder about it. That isn't your fault.”

  Kyrill said carefully, “It is said that silver eyes are a sign of bad luck, but I curse a mother foolish enough to abandon a child because of it.”

  Tamarind was nodding, though. “I've been told this before. My foster mother was told to leave me because of my eyes, but she's always been a level headed female and not superstitious.”

  “I would call that lucky,” Shakra told him with a chuckle. “The superstition must be wrong then.”

  Tamarind laughed as well, coming out of his mood. “I've gone through so much, and come back home without much harm, and...” he blushed, “...with you.”

  Shang was looking skeptical. “It isn't over yet. I would withhold judgment, if I were you.”

  Kyrill made an exasperated sound. He nipped at Shang's dangling crest and Shang hissed at him as Kyrill admonished, “Stop seeing the black side of things, werelizard! We have come through great odds and we are all whole and healthy.”

  Shakra still felt tired, but his breathing was returning to normal at the lower altitude. He had to agree with Kyrill. Their arrival there, whole and healthy, was nothing short of miraculous.

  “We need to find a place to camp,” Lormar said, as if he were impatient with their talk. “We need to be able to see in all directions, yet remain hidden. We need water... food.”

  “Wise,” Shang replied, all too willing to change the subject. His crest rippled as if daring Kyrill to nip at him again, as he suggested, “There are patches of stone. We should choose-”

  “Most of them are already occupied,” Tamarind warned. “It's better to find termite mounds. They are very hard and high, and they are a good source of food.”

  Shakra made a face. “Termites?”

  Tamarind snorted. “If you're desperate, but I meant the animals that come to eat the termites. “

  “There will be water there as well?” Shang wondered.

  Tamarind shrugged. “I can't say. It's hot. Water dries quickly. There aren't many established watering holes. If there are, you can be sure there is a clan nearby claiming it.”

  “Then we may have to travel to get water,” Shakra decided, “since we can't hope for water and a place to hide in one place.”

  “The clans don't share,” Tamarind warned, “and they aren't civilized, as you see it. They'll kill you if they find you at their watering places.”

  Shakra smiled as he looked back at the others and saw their answering determination. “We know, Tamarind,” Shakra replied. “We're ready for that.”

  “Good,” Tamarind sighed, “because, I'm not.”

  They found an old fallen tree to give them shade near a few high termite mounds. A band of hyenas had taken up residence, but Tamarind roared and rushed them and they quickly gave up their choice spot.

  “This will do until it rains,” Tamarind said as he snorted at the rank smell left behind. “You can take the tree branches and make your own cover away from the hyena droppings.”

  “What happens when it rains?” Shakra wondered as Shang immediately set to work getting the others to strip branches and weave them together.

  Tamarind eyed the sky and sniffed. “I don't think you need to worry about that. Rain is scarce here, but this is a wash. The rain collects here, and makes a small lake, before it flows to the south. That's why no one with reason has claimed it. You can find water-”

  “I have a nose too, I can smell it,” Shakra growled, hackles rising a little. Here, Tamarind was in his element, sleek, glowing, and relaxed under the sun, while Shakra was panting under that same heat and feeling at a loss. He didn't like that feeling and he was eager to get his bearings and reassert his competence.

  Tamarind's eyes narrowed and he retorted, “I didn't ask you to lift your tail, so don't snap at me.”

  Shakra lowered his head, but he was still on edge. “I'm sorry. I've never been where I didn't know the land.”

  “That is when you learn what others have to teach you,” Shang said wisely. “This is not a time for pride, my Prince.”

  It was a title that was familiar and well-loved and Shang could not seem to lose the habit of addressing Shakra that way. Shakra found a smile for his friend and then nodded. “You're right. I'm sorry, Tamarind.”

  Tamarind nuzzled his ear and said into it, “I understand. I felt the same in your land, Shakra.” He gave Shakra's ear a sharp tug with his teeth and then he was turning, tail lashing, and facing the endless plain of grass. “I must go now.”

  “I want to go as well,” Shakra lamented as he rubbed at his bitten ear. “I should be at your side.”

  “You can't,” Tamarind replied firmly. “That would complicate things, especially if they decided to use you as a hostage against me. I'll return as soon as I can.”

  “If you don't, I will come after you,” Shakra promised.

  Tamarind smiled. “I know,” he said lovingly and then he was disappearing into the grass at an easy lope.

  “We need to get food,” Shang said, trying to distract Shakra. Shakra tried to keep his eyes on Tamarind, but the were was one with the grass already and invisible.

  “All right,” Shakra sighed and turned to the others. “I imagine that there are beasts here that are very dangerous. We have to be careful and stay hidden. Once we have some skins, we can make a container for water and some cover for our hut, so the larger the animal, the better.

  “Then we should hunt together,” Lormar decided. “Bring down a deer... or what passes for a deer in these lands.”

&nbs
p; Shakra's mind refused to leave Tamarind even as he joined the others in the hunt. He knew that he wouldn't rest easy until his mate was by his side once more.

  **************

  Tamarind knew the lands of his people, and knew where they would be in what season, but things had changed. He found the prides in disarray and not in their tribal lands. Prides had joined and warriors were separated from their clans. Women and children huddled, uncertainly, alone. Tamarind heard their worried whispers and knew that they were without kings. Katze had killed them or taken them as his own, destroying the order of the Savannah. Everyone talked of war and none seemed concerned for a young werelion passing through their territories.

  Tamarind found the Sun Clan at the center of the chaos, near the border, far from where they should have been. Their numbers had swelled, but they were mostly adults with only a few cubs, cubs that weren't white or bore any markings that Tamarind was familiar with. His scruff of mane rose as his skin prickled. Stolen or adopted, he surmised, the sun tattoos all fresh on their skin.

  Tamarind found his mother first, sunning herself like an imperial queen among the other females atop a flat rock. She was never one to show too much affection and her eyes were wise as she watched Tamarind approach. Her lack of surprise told Tamarind many things and he wasn't a fool enough to not sense that the wind had shifted.

  “You're his queen,” Tamarind said when he was close enough.

  “And you are his son,” she replied with a smile and a fierce light in her golden eyes. “See how I've cared for you, even when you ran away?”

  “Ran?” Tamarind bristled, but with anger now. “Katze sent me away.”

  “King Katze,” she corrected, but then her tone was almost purring. “That's the way of it and you were of that age, the age where males are sent into the Savannah. I knew that you would live.”

  The other females were uncertain about what to do. Tamarind saw one slink away and he knew that she had gone to inform Katze of his arrival.

  His mother wrinkled her nose. “You smell odd.” Her eyebrow arched and she smirked “What clan did you find a mate in, or did you start your own?” Her eyes peered at his tattoo, puzzled, “Will you introduce me to your mates? Have you fathered cubs? Katze will be pleased.”

  “He isn't my father,” Tamarind growled. “And I haven't been with any females.”

  Her expression was shocked and then disgusted as she hissed in warning, “You had best forget such nonsense. The sun has made you strange, my son. Perhaps you should go down into the caves and see your father?”

  “You're not my mother either,” Tamarind muttered under his breath and felt a sharp pang of anguish as he turned and went down into the earth, down a short tunnel that opened out into a cavern with a low ceiling and more passageways beyond it. His mother had made her decision, as Kiva had made his, to side with Katze and use him.

  Katze was lounging on a shelf of rock in a patch of sunlight streaming through a hole in the roof of the cave. A wildebeest thigh bone was half eaten and carelessly tossed aside and untanned hides were his only cushion against the rock. He still managed to look like a clan king despite the sparseness of his surroundings and, as Tamarind neared him, he was even larger than he remembered. It sent a chill through him, recalling the terrifying flight from the male werelion's claws.

  As white as snow, huge mane streaming back and over broad shoulders, pale skin hardly broke up the utter lack of color in his fur. Ice blue eyes were narrowed at Tamarind, intelligent and piercing, judging Tamarind long before he came to stand at the foot of the shelf. Having Katze look down at him, even though he was only a few feet higher, made Tamarind want to crouch defensively.

  “You have returned,” Katze said in a voice that suddenly reminded Tamarind of some of the lords in Shakra's Keep; cultured and haughty. “When Mordara returned empty handed, I cursed her, yet she seemed very sure of you. Where is your werewolf prince that she spoke of? She said that you were in rut over him.”

  Tamarind said nothing.

  Katze’s nostrils flared delicately and then he looked disgusted as he caught a telltale scent. “You mounted the beast? That is too bad. I could have used him to keep the forest cities off my tail until I'm ready to strike. Is the body still in one piece? I can at least send it back to his people and use it as a tool off intimidation.”

  Tamarind was both embarrassed and confused, not understanding Katze.

  Katze looked even more disgusted. “You allowed him to mount you?” His tail lashed in agitation.

  “Was he good?” Kiva came swaggering out from behind a rock. He had grown as well, but not nearly as large as Katze. A black mane, he would have looked sinister if it wasn't for his cocky smile. “You'll have to tell me. Is it true, that when they get over excited their-”

  “Enough!” Katze growled and Kiva looked briefly frightened. “We are not here to speak of Tamarind's perverted lapse of good judgment. Go out onto the plain. Find the prince and bring him to me.”

  Kiva regained his cocky smile. “Maybe I'll show him what happens when a werelion mounts a werewolf. He might survive it.”

  “Alive and unharmed,” Katze retorted wearily, as if he were far too used to dealing with Kiva's poor sense of humor.

  “No,” Tamarind growled. “Leave him alone or I'll-”

  Katze was suddenly pouncing on him between one blink and the next, bearing Tamarind down onto the cool rock with his much larger size. His fangs and his meaty breath were in Tamarind's face as he very precisely said, “You, my son, are not in a position to give ultimatums. You will do everything that I order or die.” He delicately licked the inside of Tamarind's ear. “You haven't experienced a male werelion. Your youth made you desperate, I'm certain, and you were drawn to an available mate. I will show you your true desire.”

  Katze clamped jaws onto the back of Tamarind's throat and his claws grabbed Tamarind's middle. Tamarind was helpless in that strong grip, helpless against the great body positioning itself above him. Tamarind's skin and thick fur repelled bites and the slash of claws, and bent with supple ease to reveal his entrance. Shakra would have died, cut to bloody ribbons, or broken in those arms, but Tamarind felt submissive, hating himself, but needing what his instinct demanded. His tail lifted against his will as Katze’s pelvis thumped and a hard, dripping erection grazed his entrance. Shakra, it was Shakra Tamarind wanted with all his heart, but Katze knew all the triggers and used them ruthlessly.

  Katze came all along Tamarind's backside without entering, a low moan reverberating throughout the cave. He sounded it several more times, a triumphant call that let everyone know that the king had mated.

  Katze let Tamarind go then, a satisfied smile on his face. He had made his point, proven to Tamarind that he was dominant and King, without going so far as to brutalize him. It was a warning, Tamarind knew, a threat that had him curling up and shaking, eyes wide.

  Katze told him, “You will stand before the other clans as proof that I can father healthy sons. In return, I will let you live as I allow Kiva to live, in my shadow and sharing in the spoils and kills that are mine by right. Together we will take the tribes to war and crush the forest cities and make them ours. We will have what is theirs. We will have cool forests and walled homes. We will have the traders come to us and we will finally have the respect of the other weres that has been denied us.”

  “If you kill, Shakra,” Tamarind said, his voice trembling, but his fear for the werewolf forcing him to try and protect him, “I won't care if I die. I'll welcome it.”

  Katze had bent to clean himself, tongue rasping. He looked at Tamarind with a frown. “I believe you would. I should have known that a runt from the plains was cast out for good reason. Your foster mother took you in out of some misplaced maternal feelings, and I didn't slay you when I took the clan to keep her good will and to lie when I required it. Well, she sees now, I suppose, the error of her ways, a werelion who prefers werewolves to mount him as if he were a female. Can you imagi
ne her disgrace?”

  Tamarind ducked his head, his heart hurting, but then he repeated his threat. “I will die if Shakra dies.”

  “Perhaps I will allow you your plaything,” Katze conceded, “But he may wish death rather than be the convenience of a werelion prince. His position here will be less that my haunch of wildebeest.” He caught it in his claws and crunched bone with his strong jaws.

  Tamarind turned and fled, but Katze’s voice followed him. “Don't attempt to leave. My weres will be watching you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shakra sniffed the air. The hairs between his shoulders twitched. It was his job to find water. They'd made a sizable kill, an odd animal with twisted horns, and Kyrill was attempting to cook it under cover of the den and darkness, while Lormar tended the four inch slash he'd taken along one hip. The beast had not gone down without a fight. Shang was their guard and Shakra didn't doubt his ability to keep them safe. It was his own skin that he was worried about.

  Shakra could hear the calls of killers in the darkness, the deep call of werelions and the snarls and roars of fierce creatures he didn't recognize. Death could come out of the darkness in any direction, especially as he neared the scent of water.

  Shakra twitched again and looked around him carefully, ears straining for the slightest sound over the swish of the grass in the breeze. Aside from the twinkle of stars, darkness reigned. Instinct told him that there was something there, though, something watching him and making the air scent with anticipation.

  Shakra bolted, but it was a second too late. A very large body landed on top of him and a deep voice chuckled in his ear as he was easily pinned to the earth. “You are a handsome thing,” the voice said and a familiar rumbling purr made the air vibrate as a large tongue licked along Shakra's flattened ear. A werelion, Shakra realized, and felt himself tremble as he saw the two plate sized hands, armed with razor sharp claws, on each side of him. He turned his head and looked into the shadowy, fanged grin of a stranger.

  “My little brother lifts his tail for you,” the werelion said as a hand felt crudely underneath Shakra and found the sensitive flesh between his legs. “Ah, so you are like us after all, at least in this respect.” Again the tongue licked his ear and Shakra couldn't help a growl, his hackles rising. “Tamarind isn't so perverted after all.”

 

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