by Renee Rose
I get plenty of pointed looks from a few tatted dudes smoking joints by their bikes. More shifters turn as I enter the dark building. A few wolves lounge by the door, leather cuts marking them as the “Timberland pack.” They’re a motley crew of mohawks and bad tattoos. They straighten as I pass, hooting in my direction. I give them a look and bare my teeth. Their eyes light up shifter bright before they all duck their heads and turn away from my more dominant animal.
My lioness smirks a little. They must not be used to lady cats here. Wrinkling my nose at the stench of beer and urine, I understand why. I prefer classier bars.
I get as far as the bar before I hesitate. I know there’s a fight here somewhere, but I don’t want to ask.
A tall man launches himself from the corner. “Denali.” Laurie blinks at me from behind his Coke bottle glasses. “You’re here. Does Nash—”
“No. I wanted to come. I wanted to see.” If Nash is going to be in my life, in Nolan’s life, I want to know everything about him. Good, bad, and ugly.
Besides, I’ve always wanted to see a fight.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Are you sure—”
“I’m sure,” I infuse my voice with dominance. “Take me to him, Laurie.”
The smell of animals grows thicker as we descend a long staircase, a miasma of fur and blood. My lioness pushes to the fore, until the gloom lifts under my own eyes’ light. I realize the noise I’ve been hearing is a dull roar coming from the seething sea of shifters. The floor seems to move, the boom of voices gives this place its own heartbeat.
“Full house tonight.” I lick my lips. My skin buzzes, my heart pounds from proximity to so many other shifters. My lioness is excited, straining to take it all in. I feel... alive.
“It’s always full when Nash fights.” Laurie points to the center of the room, and I catch my breath. A huge, scar-faced shifter stands bare-chested in the middle of a fighting cage. His head and shoulders are so big he looks like he has no neck. He beats his chest and roars. The shouting crowd echoes his violent lust, beating on the metal links as the challenging fighter slips into the ring. The newcomer has a crew cut and an American flag on his shoulders.
Nash.
My foot wobbles on the stair. Nash surveys the crowd with blind eyes, ignoring his growling opponent. At one point, his head snaps toward the stairs. I duck, slinking behind some cheetahs with MC patches, willing my cat scent to blend with theirs. When I glance back up, Nash has turned away to talk to Parker. Their heads bend toward each other as they confer a moment, then Nash shrugs the flag off and folds it carefully, handing it to the smaller shifter. Parker slips out quickly and closes the door. His voice comes over the loudspeaker a second later, announcing the start of the fight. Boos and cheers drown him out.
“Who’s he fighting?” I ask Laurie. The beanstalk shifter leans close.
“Bear. Down from Alaska. They call him Grizz.”
“He’s huge. Don’t they do weigh-ins on fighters?”
“Not these fights.” Laurie’s laugh huffs past my ears, his feathery scent tickles my nose. “Just watch.”
The bell clangs and the two animals start circling each other. The grizzly is surprisingly light on his feet. Nash’s face holds a look of concentration. A few light punches start the action, and the scar-faced shifter wades in, slamming a haymaker at Nash’s head. Nash dodges gracefully out of the way, and the crowd murmurs. They want a good fight. They want to see blood.
The grizzly goes nuts, head down, shoulders hunched. His fists are a machine, throwing heavy punches in a constant, deadly rhythm. Nash gets in a few hits but mostly he dances, weaving this way and that. The bruin bellows in frustration and comes faster. His arms blur. I clutch at Laurie.
“Just watch,” he repeats.
Nash toys with the grizzly, turning lightly on his feet. A game, a dance, and the crowd grows restless. They start cheering the bear, who comes and comes and comes.
“He’s wearing him out,” I breathe, just as the grizzly’s fist catches Nash’s shoulder. Nash’s arm snaps back, retaliating with a brutal punch to the fighter’s already scarred face. I hear the crunch from across the room. Blood sprays. The crowd groans in pleasure, the fur scent growing. Around us hands sprout claws and canines lengthen. Nash keeps moving, light and fluid.
My lioness scratches to the surface, unbelievably turned on by seeing Nash’s prowess in the cage.
“King of the Beasts,” the crowd chants. Shifters press against the cage, fingers reaching through the links in an attempt to touch their liege. They love him. They want him, the beautiful violence he gives. He embodies their beasts, their need. The blood he spills satisfies them more than sex, and they crave more and more.
They can’t have him. He’s mine.
Before I know it, I’m pushing through the crowd, all the way up to the cage. A wolf growls as I push past him. One glance at my lioness’ eyes and he whimpers, ducking his head. If he had a tail in human form, he’d tuck it between his legs.
King of the Beasts, they call Nash. And every king needs a queen.
I take my place at the front. Nothing separates me from the fighters but a flimsy bit of metal. It smells slightly of silver—some sort of alloy to keep shifters off, probably. I grip the links and relish the slight burn. And wait.
Nash’s head snaps in my direction. I smile. His eyes widen, pupils lighting to pure blazing amber.
Hey baby, my lioness purrs. He shakes his head as if he can’t believe I’m really here.
He mouths my name, and I practically feel his breath on my skin.
“Who’s the bitch?” the grizzly chuffs, and Nash’s eyes light up gold. The bruin doesn’t see it, still mocking me. He doesn’t have a chance.
Nash whirls, and bowls into the grizzly’s thick chest. There’s no more art, just wild blows that fall with deadly force. The grizzly tries to counter, but each punch drives him back, sends him reeling so his return hits go wide. Finally, the grizzly crumples. Nash slams him to the ground, roaring his victory. I feel the sound in every part of my body. The crowd surges behind me.
Parker opens the door and shifters rush the cage, pushing inside. He cranes his neck, looking for me through the crowd chanting— “King, king, king.”
“Like the fight?” Declan says at my side.
“Where is he?” I half snarl with need.
Declan’s mouth tugs up in a grin. “I’ll take you to him.”
But crossing the room takes forever. Declan finally leads me to the wall, where we slide past a crazed shifter, howling at nothing, strung out and high from the energy of the fight. At last we reach the far side and a private door. “Through there.” Declan holds it for me. “Down the hall. Turn right when you see the lockers. You can follow the scent of blood.”
Heart pounding in my ears, I stride down the hall. The walls pulse with the roar of the crowd. But I catch a whiff of a spice-laden scent.
“Nash,” I whisper, and hurry along.
He’s alone in the locker room, blood streaking his back, his head bent as he leans against the lockers. A warrior, beaten but not broken. My warrior.
“Nash,” I breathe.
He turns, and I rush him, leaping at the last second. He catches me easily, hands cupping my ass as I literally jump him.
I slam my mouth down on his.
Denali
In Nash’s arms I forget the cell, the guards. I forget everything but the pull of his lips on mine.
I’m a new creation, all hot desire and electric sensation. My heartbeat trips as Nash breaks the kiss and fastens his mouth to my neck, teeth scraping over my pulse.
I whimper, hips jerking against him. He’s solid and strong, body taut and impressive. I wrap my legs around his waist and he lifts me, maneuvering me back on the bed so I’m under him, safe and protected.
“Denali,” he growls, eyes glowing amber. I’m sure mine are grey-blue. “I’m losing control. You should stop me—”
“I don’t
want to stop.” I’ve never been with another lion before. I had no idea how compelling his closeness could be. I yank him closer. I can’t get enough of his scent, his heat, his hips cradled in mine. He’s trying to be considerate but it’s only pissing me off. “Stop holding back,” I growl. “Give it to me, Nash. I want this.” Lifting my pelvis, I rub my wet center against his hard length.
He drives into me with a force that steals my breath. The cot creaks and groans under the force of his thrusts. Somewhere outside, I think I hear the guards cheering us on. I couldn’t care less. Nothing matters but the incredible sensation of Nash moving inside me. He’s just spent thirty minutes with his mouth glued to my center, licking me to orgasm after orgasm, but it wasn’t enough.
This is what I needed.
He braces his arms against the wall above my head to drive even deeper, harder.
I should’ve known what was coming.
Sharp fangs lengthened in his mouth. But all I could think was more. Now. Yes. All I knew was the intense pleasure of him filling me. Claiming me.
My head hits the concrete wall and I reach up to brace myself, but Nash curses and pulls out. In a flash, I’m on my knees facing the wall, hands splayed on the smooth grey surface and he’s entering me from behind. I arch back for him, pushing my ass out and he grips my hips with a bruising force.
He slams into me over and over again until I lose my mind completely. Stars spark behind my eyes. I hear a snarl, but I don’t know whether it came from me or him. The roar was him—it’s a fucking lion’s roar and I have no doubt every human or shifter in the place heard it. Probably every creature for five square miles heard it and took cover. There’s no mistaking a lion’s roar.
Nash shoves deep and stays. I shudder and clench around him as my mind orbits the moon. I don’t come back to my body until Nash’s teeth snap onto my shoulder.
Pain sears but it’s quickly followed by euphoria. My lioness roars back.
Nash marked me.
I should be pissed. I should turn around and slap his face. But all I feel is bliss.
My body shakes and trembles as I tumble around on a high I’ve never known before.
Nash pulls me to sit on his lap and licks the wound closed. “Denali. Fuck. Denali. Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
My eyelids drift to half-mast and I cover his mouth to shut him up. My purr is my only answer.
Nash
She’s all mating scent and greedy hands roving over my sweat slicked body.
“You came. You watched the fight.”
“Yes.” She rocks against me. “Yes. I have to have you.”
Even with her mouth against mine, my thoughts stray. She saw me at my worst, most violent, my animal out and wild.
“Denali, please—”
“I need you,” she pants. “I need you.”
I stop trying to make sense of it. I hitch up her skirt and suck in a breath. She’s not wearing panties. Fuck, she’s not wearing anything but a tiny strip of fabric over her breasts and another one around her hips. Her skin is warm and smooth and clean, and I could die happy. Maybe I did. Maybe I died in the cell and now I’m in heaven.
“King of the beasts.” She nuzzles me, like a cat begging to be stroked.
“Only if you’re my queen,” I growl and back her against the lockers. I shove down my pants and free my erection, fumbling in my bag for the condom in my wallet. She purrs as she helps me roll it on and guides me to her entrance.
It’s so wrong. I shouldn’t fuck my mate in this nasty place, but she wants it and I’m incapable of denying her. I surge into her.
Her head flies back, fingernails digging into my back. “Mine,” her lioness growls, ripping at my back with her nails every time I thrust.
“Yes.” I kiss her, embracing the pain, loving the feel of her claim. Why she would want to lay claim to me is bewildering after what I just did up there, but I’ll take what I can get. This female is the only one I’ve ever cared about. The one I couldn’t forget. Couldn’t let go.
Well now I’ve found her, and she wants me back. It seems unbelievable.
I hold one of her thighs up, draped over my arm, which is braced against the wall. I have a good angle to drill into her and I use enough force to bend the metal lockers behind her.
“Denali,” I rasp.
“Claim me, lion,” she dares.
I laugh. Fuck, it’s the first time I’ve laughed in years. It’s not that anything’s funny, it’s this incredible lightness stealing over me. Denali wants me. She’s not afraid. She likes my aggression.
I thrust harder and harder, the steam behind my orgasm gathering into a storm of passion. I’m nearly mindless with lust, finding focus is a struggle but I reach around and work a finger between her buttcheeks.
She cries out the moment I find her anus. Her face contorts, mouth opening. Her pussy squeezes tight around my cock, pulsing as she jerks and flails with her orgasm.
I roar as loud as I did that night I marked her. Loud enough to shake the walls. The blood beats in my ears as I slam into her once, twice, five more times and then I’m coming.
The room spins, sweat drips into my eyes.
She giggles into my neck. “The whole building went silent after you roared. Bet they didn’t know how loud a lion can be when he’s claiming his mate.”
I’m glad she thinks it’s funny, because I suddenly feel like a first-class asshole. Does everyone in The Pit know I just claimed her?
As soon as I let her feet touch the ground, she sags against me. I touch her dark skin, smooth as polished walnut, and rub it like a talisman. But when I take my hand away, my fingers are smeared with rust. I grip her shoulders. “Fuck.”
“Nash?”
“Blood... on your body…” My breath saws from my lungs. My hands flutter over her, my vision narrowing. Oh God. I always knew I’d hurt her. I’m not fucking safe.
“It’s okay. Baby, it’s okay. It’s not mine. You’re covered in it.”
Oh. Right. The fight. Thank fuck.
“I’m sorry.” I sag in relief. The gore on her skin—it’s straight from my nightmares.
“It’s okay. Let me,” she tugs me toward the showers and turns on the water. Holding the detachable shower head, she rinses the gore from my skin, massaging with her free hand until I close my eyes.
The skin is already healed, healthy. I haven’t healed this quickly in... I don’t know how long.
“Better?” she asks, handing me a towel.
I dry off, then reach for her. My arms close around her slender form. She’s all sinuous power packed into a delicate feminine package. “Denali,” I drop my head to her marked shoulder, breathing in our mingled scents. She’s warm and smooth. Her arms feel like home.
“Come on, baby. Let me take you home.”
Nash
“Favorite movie?”
“Lion King,” I say, and Denali snorts. We’re lying in each other’s arms. Her hands roam up and down my back, tracing the planes and grooves of my muscles. “What about you?”
Her gaze darts away. She blinks, her eyes growing misty. “Born Free.”
I tighten my hold on her. “Denali, I’m going to get you out—”
The door slams open. I jerk upright, claws out, but they’re ready for me. The shock sticks hit my body. My knees give out, but the pain is nothing compared to the screams of my mate as they drag her away from me.
9
Denali
He stalks me through the pine trees. I can’t hear the tread of his heavy paws, but I know he lopes just behind. The moment I pulled up in the parking area at the base of the Temescal Ridge trail, I yanked off my clothes and shifted, leaving Nash sputtering in bewilderment.
Catch me, lion.
I want Nash to embrace his animal like I do. He’s been making it the enemy for far too long. He should feel the joy of the hunt. Of the chase. Of stretching his long, sleek body out for a fifty mile an hour run.
I left Nolan at preschool and rearranged my appointments. I could’ve brought Nolan with us, but Nash is so unsure of his lion. I need to give him my full attention and I don’t want him worrying about fathering Nolan. Because even though he’s cautiously attempting the role, I know he’s still getting used to it.
I love letting my lioness out. Running at top speeds, chasing rabbits, tracking scents. I love being wild, one with nature.
A huge paw comes down on my hind end and we tumble to the ground. I roll and spring back up. In a flash I’m down again, on my back. Nash steps on my throat to hold me down, then licks my face. He’s magnificent. Bigger than any lion I’ve ever seen—twice as big as my lioness. His mane is sandy blond, eyes amber. His paws are the size of a dinner plate. His long tail flicks behind him.
Both of us purr. He’s happy. I swear I can sense the joy bubbling up in his lion as plainly as I feel the sun on my fur. The dull static I sensed from his animal when I first met him is gone.
He removes the paw holding me down and I scramble up and tussle with him, trying to bring him down. Of course, it’s impossible. He toys with me, lets me scamper around him and nip at his throat before he tackles me to the ground again.
Suddenly we’re in human form, though I don’t remember thinking I wanted to shift. Did his lion somehow alpha command it? Just like the afternoon he showed up at my cottage, I’m on my back beneath him, only this time, we’re naked. The forest floor beneath me is soft and springy with undergrowth, nature’s gentle bed for two lions.
He rocks his hard erection between my legs. “You like to be chased, my lovely lioness?” He nuzzles my neck.
The head of his cock prods my entrance without guidance from either of us. We don’t have condoms with us and I don’t think Nash even remembers, but in that moment, I surrender to fate. If we’re meant to produce another perfect cub, I’d take it. Everything feels easy and possible with Nash’s heart beating over mine.