Chasing Tail (Paranormal Shapeshifter Werelion Romance) (Quick & Furry Book 1)

by Celia Kyle

  Other sounds filled the clearing, more of the lions going after each other, words being slung across the space, but a feminine shout rose above the rest.

  “Don’t you fucking hurt her!” It was an order, plain and simple, followed by a muffled grumble. “Stop touching me, dammit. Let me go. I will rip your balls off through your throat, don’t see if I won’t.”

  If Marcus wasn’t close to losing his life to his mate, he’d find the spunky female fighting with his guards funny.

  “I mean it! I will hunt you like the poor excuse for a feline that you are,” the woman yelled again, and those words were followed by a few choice threats from Lincoln.

  That had Penelope, seductive and furious Penelope, tightening her hold on his flesh. Dammit, he was rock fucking hard, and rather than focusing on the fact he was moments from being killed, all he could think about was slipping into her over and over. He wanted her now just as much as he had that morning. Maybe more so.

  Marcus’ gaze was intent on her, her pale eyes boring into him as if she could see into his soul, and he fought to do the same. He wanted to know everything about her, everything that made her tick, everything that made her laugh and cry.

  The strange female and Lincoln continued to argue, and he saw the indecision and worry that lingered in Penelope’s eyes. While she’d been all over him mere hours ago with sex on the brain, she had a completely different purpose now. She’d come after him, true, but he didn’t imagine it was because of him, but probably because of his proximity to the witch. Further, the increase in her anxiety and aggression had to do with Lincoln and the other woman.

  “Lincoln, cut out that shit and let her go.” His friend grunted, and he imagined the woman had taken a shot at him when his friend followed Marcus’ orders.

  That had him smiling even if he was so close to death. His human half was slightly concerned by that fact while his lion half was aroused by his mate’s strength and determination.

  “Jennifer!” That was Palmer, and the woman’s name was familiar to him. Justin Palmer had a twin sister. Jennifer. The female was obviously protective of Penelope which made her one of Marcus’ new favorite people.

  “Oh, fuck off, asshole.”

  “I am your—”

  “Brother. You’re my brother. And if you so much as touch a hair on my head, Dad will so come back and kick your ass, so shut the fuck up before Penelope kills someone.”

  That had Palmer snorting, and Marcus decided the male wouldn’t live past the day. Anyone underestimating his mate and belittling her abilities was asking for trouble.

  The soft careful steps of someone approaching, a light someone, signaled they’d soon have a visitor.

  Georgie entered his line of sight, and her wide smile was nearly blinding. “Penelope, dear, perhaps you should let your pretty mate go. I don’t think there’s a reason to kill him, not when he has such a pretty, pretty package.”

  Marcus wasn’t sure if the witch spoke of his physical appearance or the fact he was full and large in his jeans. Either way, his lion objected to the description. His body was only up for comment by his mate. The fact that any other female dare speak of him in that way enraged the beast. It didn’t want to hear compliments from anyone but Penelope. When the lioness began audibly growling and quickly released him to snap at the witch, he knew she felt the same.

  “There, that’s better.” He heard the contented smile in her voice, even if he could no longer see her, his vision now consumed by the gold of Penelope’s fur. “Now, I believe someone has questions for me.”

  Another body blurred in his periphery and Jennifer Palmer joined the conversation. “Us. Questions for us. Georgie didn’t do it alone.”

  “And what,” Georgie drawled, “could a lion possibly do when it came to casting spells?”

  Jennifer tried to answer. “I—”

  But Marcus had only one question. “Is Penelope truly my mate?”

  Silence was his answer, the lack of sound was oppressive as seconds ticked past, but finally the witch replied. “I only called Penelope’s mate. I didn’t make her your mate, I simply encouraged the male who belonged to her to find her.”

  Somehow he grew harder, filling even more. “Short answer is yes, then.”

  “Yes,” Georgie confirmed.

  The “yes” was all he needed, all that was necessary for him to let the lion finally have free rein with his body. He wanted her, and he accepted and embraced the desires pounding through. He had her and he wasn’t about to let her go. Not until he claimed her every way he possibly could. Twice. Okay, maybe five times. And that was only the first day. He couldn’t wait for the rest of their lives.

  Penelope must have scented his arousal because she shuddered, a small tremble shaking her body, and then she released a deep seductive purr.

  It was as if they were back in the library, both of their bodies working overtime, desire and craving wrapping them in a desperate blanket of arousal.

  “Good.” He didn’t bother addressing anyone but the single male who could get shit done and fast. “Lincoln, get everyone the fuck out of here. Now. And if someone so much as gets within one thousand feet of this house before I make Penelope mine, they’ll be dead. Make sure that is passed around.”

  “You got it.” Lincoln didn’t question Marcus’ orders, and it wasn’t long before his friend completed the task.

  “You should understand something about—” Jennifer’s sentence ended in a high-pitched squeal and he imagined his best friend carting off the lioness.

  The moment not another soul lingered, Marcus dug his fingers into her silken fur. Her rolling purr intensified, vibrating through him and his lion was quick to return the sounds. Satisfaction and serenity unlike he’d ever known thrummed through his veins. He had her. Her. His one and only mate. Despite interference, he had her. And he wouldn’t let go.

  He rubbed his hands over her ears, tracing the lines of her taut neck, massaging the tense muscles of her shoulders, and finally following her legs to her massive paws. Strong and deadly, fierce and protective. He retraced his path until he was able to cup her massive head, and he encouraged her to turn her beautiful gaze to him.

  When her eyes clashed with his, he spoke, “Are you going to shift for me? Let me get my hands on your curvy body once again. I want nothing but to taste and claim you until we’re too exhausted to move. But I can’t do that unless you change for me.” He stroked her whiskers brushing them back and then he traced her nose with a single finger, smiling when she chuffed in pleasure. “Let me mate you, Penelope. And then,” he tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck, “you can make me yours.”

  It wasn’t something alphas generally allowed, being that vulnerable was hard for the average dominant male, but Marcus was anything but average. He was strong enough to know that mating went both ways, and he couldn’t be fully tied to his mate unless she sank her teeth into his flesh in return. His lion roared in approval, and now he simply had to wait for Penelope’s response.

  By the time the last syllable left his lips, her change was upon her. A body-shaking tremor enveloped her, and the first crack of bone signaled her change. But that was all the warning he got. Like him, her own transition was fierce and had he blinked he would’ve missed her shift from lion the human. The stronger the beast, the quicker the change. It had always been this way. It was part of how an alpha was determined. A male couldn’t lead a pride if he wasn’t ready and strong enough to defend it. In many cases, a rapid shift was the decision between seeing the dawn of a new day and being planted six feet under.

  It was only right that the mate of the strongest alpha on the continent was more than a match for him.

  Suddenly his arms were filled with a woman covered in plump curves and the sweetest scent he’d ever encountered. Her musk filled the air, her moans enveloping him, and her groans tormented his lion.

  Before she could say a word, he cupped her face and brought her mouth to his. Despite being bene
ath her, he took control of their kiss. It was frenzied and fierce, their tongues fighting for dominance as they tasted each other’s flavors. Sweet. He knew the same word kept rolling through his mind, but he couldn’t think of any other way to describe her. Just… Sweet. Wait. No. He had another word.

  His.

  And if he wasn’t careful, he’d claim her on the front porch, bits of old and dry wood digging into his flesh. Or worse, her flesh. No, that couldn’t happen. His first responsibility was no longer the lions of the continent, but the single, delicious female. He fought to gentle their kiss, lessened the passion to a low simmer instead of this rolling uncontrollable boil, but he had to accept their passion had only two settings at the moment: on and… Okay, just on. He forced himself to tear his mouth from hers, his grip keeping her from re-initiating the connection.

  Penelope whimpered and whined but Marcus was not giving in. “I’m not claiming you on a fucking porch. Where else can we go? Inside the house? Who does it belong to?”

  Not that he really cared. If it held a bed, it now belonged to him and that was that.

  Except, her next sound wasn’t one of desire or need from him, but of distress.

  “Penelope?”

  She opened her eyes, exposing the startling gold of her lioness, and whimpered once again. “Marcus,” she whined, “I don’t want to go in there.”

  The expression that flitted across her face, the sadness in her gaze, was enough to bank his arousal. Having a mate wasn’t just about sex and claiming, it was so much more. “What is it about this place, sweetheart? Whose is it?” She tried to tear her attention from him, but he refused to let her hide herself. “Sweetheart?”

  He wasn’t sure if she would answer, had no idea if she’d deny him, and he mentally breathed a sigh of relief when she finally replied, “Mine. It’s my house, but I haven’t lived here since I was eighteen and it came to me when my parents died.”

  His heart hurt for her, tightened and the beat stuttered as he viewed the pain in her expression. “Did they pass here? It that why it’s so painful? Palmer said this was Georgie’s land…”

  “No,” she shook her head. “It’s mine, but Georgie is a cousin, which is why they could tie her here.” Marcus sensed there was more, and he bit his tongue, waiting for her to speak again. “The house doesn’t hold any fond memories for me, so the first moment I could, I left. Everything is as it was when they passed away, and I pay someone to come in occasionally to clean, but otherwise I haven’t crossed the threshold in eight years.”

  “So, we’ll go somewhere else,” he brushed a strand of hair that lingered on her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Wherever you want to go.”

  “We can…” She licked her lips, and he swallowed the groan that threatened to burst from his chest. Her mouth was so damned tempting.

  “Penelope?”

  “They hated me. The town doesn’t like me, but they wouldn’t be so bad if my parents had supported me. Except they didn’t so…”

  Marcus swallowed the growl that threated to vault past his lips. “You’re perfect. Perfect.” He tugged her down so he could brush a soft kiss across her lips. “We’ll find somewhere else. We’ll go to a hotel. There has to be one around here somewhere, right?” She opened her mouth to speak and he shook his head. “No, I won’t have you uncomfortable or surrounded by bad memories.”

  She nibbled her lower lip, taunting him with the action. “No, we can mate here. We can banish the bad memories, can’t we?”

  “With you, sweetheart, we’ll make nothing but good memories. We’ll make this house our own.”

  With her blinding smile, Marcus was more than happy to do just that.

  In a flurry of movement, he found himself on his feet, Penelope in his arms as he broke through the front door. He clutched her to his chest, and smiled widely at her squeal when he bolted up the stairs. She was right, the home was clean and tidy, not a speck of dust tickling his nose as he strode down the hall.

  “Which one was yours?”

  “Last door on the left.” She pointed at the single door that remained ajar.

  When they entered, he strode straight to the bed and placed her on the soft surface, following her down and blanketing her with his body. “Is this where you dreamed of finding your mate?” At her nod, he continued. “Then making you mine here is perfect.”

  Chapter Three

  And it was perfect. Her perfect pale skin was bared to his gaze and air whooshed from his lungs when he was struck with awe. She was his. Every luscious, curvaceous inch visible belonged to him.

  He skimmed her smooth skin with his palm, memorizing the rise and fall, the dip and curve, of her body. When he stroked her side, she trembled, and when he cupped her breast, she whimpered. The white plump mounds were tipped with hard, colored nipples that begged for his mouth.

  “Marcus…” she said his name with a breathy moan.

  She almost stole his control with that single whisper, and he kept the animal at bay using every ounce of strength he possessed. He could get through this without embarrassing himself, without rushing her, if she wouldn’t talk. Or move. Or breathe, because when she exhaled, she blew even more of her delicious scent into him. The woman was a walking talking trembling threat to his control.

  “Marcus…”

  Dammit if she didn’t quiet, things would be over before they began. Already he was aching and throbbing for her. Already? It had been that way from the moment he spied her in the library. Now it was simply magnified by a million. Because he had her in his arms, and no one to stop him. He may have been under a spell when he chased her scent across the continent, but there was no denying she was his mate.

  When she opened her mouth again, he realized he needed to keep those lips busy. Not that it was a hardship.

  He pressed his mouth to hers, drinking in her flavors as he slid his tongue past her lips. She rocked against him, trembling and riding, pressing her body against his, harder than before. And as their tongues dueled, he let his touch wander. He petted and stroked every inch he could reach and growled when Penelope did the same. She clawed and scratched at his shoulders, gripped his upper arms, and dug her fingers into his forearms as she fought to make him touch her where she desired.

  Marcus chuckled, easing from their kiss for a moment. Just long enough to murmur a handful of words. “You’re mating an alpha, sweetheart. I’ll touch you wherever I want when I’m good and ready.”

  “Can you be ready to touch me here?” Here happened to be her left breast. “Or kiss me there?”

  His mouth watered with the suggestion, and his beast roared in satisfaction. Her lioness might not be able to take him in a fight, but her quiet pleas and words that held no hint of faltering proved she was a match for him in the bedroom.

  “Coincidentally, that’s what I want too.”

  He didn’t hesitate to capture the single nub with his lips, to flick it with his tongue. He smiled against her flesh when she gripped his head and pricked his scalp with her small claws. As he focused on the small bit of flesh, he continued to stroke her body. All the while, she writhed beneath him, pleading, whining, and begging for more.

  She was dangerous. Those small sounds and tiny syllables threatening to undo him before he slid into her body. But he refused to pop off like an adolescent cub. This was their mating, and he was going to do it properly. They only had one chance to get it right.

  Eventually he abandoned her left breast, and continued his travels over her body. Damn, he wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve her, but he was going to take and keep her. She was made for him. One hundred percent for him. He kissed and nibbled his way between her breasts, continued his path over the gentle rounding of her stomach, and didn’t stop his travels until he was on his stomach between her plump spread thighs.

  Heaven. Her musk called to him, and the moist pinkness exposed to his gaze beckoned him. She was gorgeous, flush and ready for his possession. His mouth watered and he took what he d
esired. He placed a soft kiss to her inner thigh followed by a gentle scrape of his fangs over the sensitive skin and was gratified at her desperate shout.

  “Marcus!”

  He smiled against her skin and rubbed his cheek along her inner thigh. “Right here.”

  “Marcus,” she pleaded.

  “Tell me what you need.” He snared her gaze with his own. “Tell me.”

  “You. Just you.”

  She wanted him? She’d have him. Just as soon as he tasted her.

  Which he did; he lapped at the seam of her sex lips, licking and tasting, swallowing the proof of her arousal, and suckling her clit.

  He memorized every twitch, cataloged every tremble, and gloried in every needy whine and he resolved to repeat them until she screamed his name. The moment she balanced on that precipice, he’d take her. Take her and make her his.

  *

  Penelope wanted to be his. She wanted him to take her and make her his. Then again, when he sucked on her clit and sent those delicious tingles down her spine, she figured this was kind of okay too.

  She rocked against his mouth, taking from him as she fought to reach her pinnacle. It was there, so close and yet still out of reach. But sometimes, the journey could be better than the arrival. Because right now, the journey was really, really fucking good.

  Then he made it better; his blunt fingertips circled her opening, and two digits slid deeply into her. He stretched her and filled her, stroking with his talented fingers. That added sensation had her nearer to the edge, shoving her to the very precipice and she knew it wouldn’t take much more to send her tumbling over.

  She rolled her body, riding his tongue and fucking herself on his fingers as she fought for more. But it wasn’t his touch, it wasn’t his mouth or tongue, or even his heat that sent her flying.

  It was his eyes. The way his gaze poured into her, the way it begged for her, the way it branded her with his possession and not just asked—but demanded—her surrender. She was powerless beneath his silent domination, unable to stop her lioness’ immediate response to her mate’s wordless demand. He wanted her to come, and she was unable to stop it.