“Mom, dad, this is Cecile,” Nash said as his parents approached. He could see his mother sizing her up and approving. His father approved as well, his mouth erupting into a smile. But it was hard to imagine any man looking at her and not smiling, after all.
When they’d made the requisite amount of small talk, Nash escorted Cecile to her car.
“Remember,” she said, laying an innocent and yet meaning-filled kiss on his cheek. “Tonight. You and me.”
“I don’t imagine that I could possibly forget that possibility,” he said, his cock starting up again.
As he watched her drive off, he said, “At ease, boy. You have a few hours’ wait before you can play with that pussy.”
His cock didn’t listen.
***
That evening, just as Nash was preparing to call Cecile about their prospective date, two things happened: a man showed up at the Richardson ranch, and Nash’s plans were scuttled.
Nash heard the knock but it was his father who answered the door.
“Can I help you?” he asked, seeing a man standing before him.
The stranger was short and wiry, made shorter by the fact that he was slightly hunched over. His hair was greasy and his nose was too large for his face.
“Mr. Richardson?”
“Yes. What can I do for you?”
“I presume that by now you’ve heard about the ranch next door. Terrible business, that wolf attacking their calf.”
“Wolf shifter, you mean.”
“Well, we don’t know that for a fact.”
“We do, actually. My son was the one who stopped him.”
“Ah. I see. Well, let me say this to you: there are strange things happening these days. Sightings of shifters who aren’t from around here. Talk of violence. But we can offer you and your family protection.”
As he spoke, his eyes veered away from the elder Richardsons. A large, angry-looking young man was walking down the stairs towards the front door, and towards him.
“Who the hell are you?” Nash asked, his fingers clenching into fists as he eyed the stranger. He disliked him immediately, though he couldn’t entirely say why.
“My name is Fargo,” said the man at the door. “And I’m here to offer my services. My protection, that is.”
“You don’t look as though you could protect an anthill, let alone a ranch,” said Nash.
“Now, Nash,” said his father. “Be polite.” He turned back to Fargo. “I’m curious to hear what you’d want in return for the services you’re offering.”
“Nothing at all. Just a little monthly fee. And I assure you, I am not working alone.” He gestured towards the car in the driveway. A man got out and stood next to the passenger door. He was tall and muscular, and looked like he might be able to challenge even Nash in a fight. Fargo continued, “My colleague is a shifter as well. A strong one. I am the negotiator, but he is a fighter.”
“Yeah? Well, so am I,” growled Nash, baring the fangs that sprouted from his upper row of teeth. “And if you don’t get the hell off our property I’ll throw you off myself.”
Fargo cowered before the lion shifter like a nervous dog, then seemed to regain some confidence, straightening his spine as his head turned towards his colleague and back again.
“Very well,” he said. “But it’s very likely that you’ll regret this impulsive decision, sir.”
With that, he turned and left.
Mrs. Richardson, who’d been standing in the background listening, said, “Oh, Nathaniel. I’m not sure it was a good idea to be so rude to that man.”
“Sorry, mom, but these people are bullies, and I won’t have our family intimidated. Don’t worry; I’ll keep an eye on things tonight.” He knew that by offering these words he was destroying any chance he had of seeing Cecile that night, but after all, they would have plenty of time to spend together.
Or so he thought.
He sent her a text, to which she replied, “It’s no problem. I totally understand. Hope to see you very, very soon though. xox”
Nash’s frustration at not getting to spend more time with Cecile was somewhat quelled by his desire to protect his home, which was the first of his lion’s instincts in spite of his desire to get his paws on a beautiful woman. Having turned the two shifters away it made no sense to abandon his parents.
Nothing happened, however. At least not in the first several hours. After his parents had gone to bed, Nash sat up in the living room, waiting and watching, occasionally sniffing the air. At around midnight he removed his clothing and shifted, prowling around the house in lion form. His large cat was more prone to staying awake at night but also had better night vision than his human form.
Eventually he headed outside into the cold. His thick coat and shifter blood were amazingly good at keeping him warm despite the fact that his species was meant to exist in warmer climates. Nash could see his breath, huffing out through his muzzle under the stars. It was a night when more snow was impossible; the temperature was simply too low.
At first he saw nothing as he traced a route around the stable, not wanting to enter for fear of alarming the horses. And then, as he moved around to the back of the building, he heard the sound of tires on gravel. At some point an engine and lights had been turned off, and the car coasted to a stop before the family’s barn, which housed the hay and supplies for the horses.
Nash stalked around the edge of the stable, his eyes fixed on the barn. Nothing moved for a moment and then he saw the shadow of a man, moving quickly to the corner of the building with something in his hands.
The lion prowled towards him, preparing to pounce as soon as he came near. As he approached, he heard the sickening sound of fluid being poured out of a container and smelled it:
Gasoline.
He ran now towards the man, who had just lit a match and was tossing it onto the puddle which butted up onto the barn’s wall. The gasoline ignited, lighting the man’s face: it was that same weasely creature that Nash had seen earlier in the day, standing in their doorway. The man turned tail and fled back through the open door of his vehicle and started the engine before backing away. At first Nash pursued him but he quickly turned back, his priority to save the barn.
He ran inside and shifted, grabbing a fire extinguisher and a pile of wool blankets which he brought outside. In the freezing air he managed to put out the fire before much damage was done; only the corner plank of the structure was scalded. The weasel hadn’t intended to meet up with a lion, clearly.
It wasn’t long before Nash’s father came out and found him. Nash had already wrapped one of the clean blankets around his waist but his father threw a parka over his shoulders and handed him a pair of boots, which he gratefully pulled on.
“So they mean business,” Mr. Richardson said as he scratched his chin.
“Yeah, they do. Though I have a funny feeling they won’t be back. I think they’re just trying to intimidate us and by extension the whole town.”
“Well, we’ve got to stop this immediately. It’s arrogance to think you can bully anyone into submission in this way, but a town of shifters?”
“The problem is, dad, some shifters are stronger than others. These guys know it. We’re not part of a pack and we’re isolated out here, so they know we’re vulnerable. Those are the ones they’ll go after—the ones they can hurt.”
“Well, for the time being we ought to consider a watchdog. You can’t be out here every night like this.”
“No, I can’t,” said Nash, thinking of how much he would have preferred spending the night with a certain sexy tiger lady he knew.
Four
In the morning, Nash drove into town, seeking answers. In his years away he’d lost touch with the social loop in Wolf Rock, but having grown up in the area, he’d known some of the locals all his life and wanted to ask them what they knew about what had been going on.
He knew by now that trusting anyone was a poor idea; even Cecile seemed to be hiding, or at leas
t holding back, information. Only Zoe, the woman he’d met at the wolf pack’s cabin, seemed invested in getting to the bottom of things.
Nash’s first stop was a local diner. The man who ran it was Jack, a fifty-something year old coyote shifter who’d managed to look like he was seventy-five since about the age of forty. He was thin and grizzled, with deep-set laugh lines around his eyes and a closely-shaved head of white hair. Nash had known him since he was a small boy and knew that Jack’s entire life had been spent in and around Wolf Rock. If anyone was out to protect it, it was him.
“Is Jack around today?” asked Nash as the waitress showed him to his booth.
“He’s out back. I’ll grab him for you. And some coffee. You look like you could use it, honey.”
Nash found himself running a rough finger over his stubble, which was especially thick that morning. His lack of sleep had meant that grooming had been the last thing on his priority list that day.
Jack came out a moment later, a white apron tied over his t-shirt and jeans.
“Hey Nash, what do you know? A lion all grown up,” he said, his usual friendly smile displaying well-maintained teeth against his too-wrinkled face.
“Hi, Jack. Haven’t seen you in ages. How are things around town?”
Jack slid into the booth and sat opposite Nash. His expression changed immediately, taking on the look that shifters so often had; instinct kicking in and wisdom coming to the forefront of his mind.
“Not great. I’m sure you’ve heard what’s been happening.”
“I have. I’ve seen it, too. I was hoping you could tell me what you know. They tried to ignite our barn last night.”
“Jesus, that’s the worst I’ve heard yet.”
“Yeah, well,” said Nash, smiling now. “I think I pissed them off, so that’s something at least.”
“Pretty sure I have an attack to look forward to as well. I had a guy by yesterday who wanted to know if I wanted ‘protection’ for the diner. Mean-lookin’ fella. Big guy. I told him Hell no and sent him on his damn way.”
“Good for you. But watch it. They mean business.”
“Well, so do I, and I still have all my teeth. Here’s my question, though: who are ‘they?’ I don’t know these guys.”
“That’s what I’m trying to work out. There’s a number of possibilities but I don’t like any of them.” Nash leaned in and spoke quietly. “The temp alpha is a suspect. But so is Conrad Malcolm, that mogul who moved up recently.”
“I can’t imagine that Dascha is behind any of this. He’s just confused these days. I heard he’s in heat.”
“I suppose. If males can go into heat.”
“Well, he’s as close as they come. You probably know by now that it ain’t possible to focus on much when your whole body’s telling you that you need a woman. Imagine that, times a hundred. That’s what he’s going through. He’s not a powerful alpha like Tristan, but he’s not a cruel guy, and usually not an irresponsible one. I suspect that they’re using Tristan’s absence and Dascha’s temporary insanity to frame the pack.”
“If that’s the case, who’s this wolf shifter who’s been attacking livestock?” asked Nash. “The only man I’ve run across who seems involved in the racket is no wolf, and his sidekick isn’t either, though I don’t know what he is. He smells…different. I can’t place his scent. And I’ve only seen his human form. I haven’t figured him out.”
“What does he look like?”
“Thick, muscular, silent type. His eyes seem to be a few different colours.”
“Yeah, that’s the one I met. I don’t know his animal either. I generally don’t have a great instinct for that sort of thing.”
“All I know,” said Nash, “is that I saw a wolf, and he was a shifter. But it was the thin man—I’m pretty sure he’s a weasel—who tried to set fire to the barn. And there’s no way he’s the godfather behind all this bullshit. He’s not smart enough or disciplined enough, for that matter.”
“So you think maybe this billionaire businessman, this Malcolm, huh? Do you know anything about him?”
“Not really. I’m getting to know his daughter a little,” said Nash, his mind beginning to race at the thought. “Maybe I should pay them a surprise visit today.”
“What’s his daughter like?”
The left corner of Nash’s lip twitched. “Interesting,” he said.
Jack let out a low whistle. “I’ve met some interesting girls in my life,” he said. “I think maybe I know what that word means. You watch it, young lion. Interesting girls can be deadly. You know what Dascha’s going through? That could be you.”
“Yeah, well, I can look after myself. I’m not a cub anymore. Besides, he’s a wolf and I’m a lion. I like to think I have more self-control.”
“Even as a cub you were a tough guy. But self-control isn’t something I’ve ever associated with you, Nash.” Jack let out a low laugh. “Anyhow, good luck. I’m going to stick around this place tonight and make sure no one tries to burn it down. If they do, they’re in for some bleeding.”
“Okay. I’d offer to help but I have the ranch to look after. Though I suspect that they won’t be back.”
“I reckon you’re right. Not a lot of shifters are stupid enough to fuck with a young lion. Good luck to you,” said Jack as he stood. “I’ve got to get back to bacon fat and toast. I’ll send some food out to ya.”
As Nash ate his breakfast he contemplated his next move. He knew about Cecile’s father’s chalet and would make the drive out to meet the man, to see what he was all about. Cecile might not be too pleased about it, but then he wasn’t out to visit her; in fact, none of this had anything to do with her. He hoped that he’d find her out of the house so that he wouldn’t be distracted. Something in his attraction to her weakened him and ate into his determination to perform his duty. He supposed that this was a little of what Jack had referred to when he spoke of Dascha being in heat; an inability to focus. But Nash was unwilling to let even a woman as worthy as Cecile trump his plans to help his hometown residents.
It was her father who really interested him as a suspect. A billionaire tiger. Nash pictured a Donald Trump hairstyle and an arrogance that might be difficult to take. But Nash wasn’t a man who was easily intimidated, so he was ready for whatever might come.
He arrived at the chalet a little after eleven a.m. He’d heard about the house from other people around town, including his father who referred to it as a “monstrosity.” Nash attributed this assessment to his father’s snobbery about such things; their own ranch was, after all, properly rustic and looked like it belonged in the mountains.
But when he arrived, he began to understand the evaluation. The chalet was enormous. It looked a little like the house that had been built a few years earlier, when the reality show hooking up women with the wolf pack’s alpha had been filmed. That place had been built over the course of a couple of weeks and had been intended to look like a Hollywood mansion; something owned by a person with so much money that they didn’t know what to do with it.
Only, that one had been cheap. Conrad Malcolm’s chalet was, by contrast, made of giant beams of wood; trees that had no doubt been ancient and beautiful. It was tucked behind a security gate and a stone wall, and sat atop a hill which had been clear-cut, as though the surrounding forest were somehow offensive to its owner. All told, the house and its property had to have been worth at least several million dollars.
Nash pulled his vehicle up at one end of the stone wall and got out, knowing that buzzing in at the gate would not likely gain him entrance. Instead, he climbed the wall, easily throwing himself over and onto the grass below. He waited for the sound of hounds running across the lawn, barking—didn’t all billionaires have hounds? Then he remembered that of course, the man in question was a shifter himself. A tiger: fast, intelligent, strong, and with the heightened senses that he’d come to know as a feline.
Nash strolled slowly towards the house, seeing no evidence of ac
tivity, other than an SUV parked outside which appeared empty, and a few cars parked in the distance.
As he approached the front door, he prepared himself for the ensuing meeting. What would he say? How was he to assess whether this powerful man was behind the problems his town was now facing? Clearly, he hadn’t thought this through. He was no trained cop out to interrogate a suspect. At best he was a recent graduate of university who thought that maybe being half-lion was enough to sort the mess that now infected Wolf Rock.
But his train of thought was cut short when the door opened and Cecile walked out.
“Hey!” said Nash, smiling at her as though their meeting was the most casual imaginable. “I hope it’s okay that I just dropped by. I’ve come to see your father.
Cecile looked at him, her eyes going wide. She said nothing, but she nodded and began to jog towards the SUV which was parked in front of the house. Nash attempted to cut her off, puzzled by her silence.
“What’s going on?” he asked as she opened the door.
“Nothing,” she replied. “I need to go.”
With that, she opened the door and climbed in, slamming it behind her and starting the engine.
“What the hell was that?” Nash muttered under his breath. Cecile was a bit unusual, but it wasn’t like her to behave in a way that was completely baffling. Maybe, he thought, he’d pissed her off in some way. Maybe his mere presence in this place was an irritation to her. He found himself feeling worried, even a little vulnerable, and this bothered him. It was time to focus on the task at hand; anything going on in his heart or his pants could and would have to be delayed until later.
He steeled himself as she drove off, preparing for the meeting to come. For the moment he’d have to forget Cecile.
The front door, he realized, was slightly ajar, but nevertheless Nash knocked. It was only a few seconds before he heard footsteps heading in his direction.
A dignified-looking woman in a well-tailored dress opened the door. Nash wondered for a moment who she was. She had the face and body of a shifter, but the air of an employee rather than a resident of the chalet.
To Lie With Lions: A BBW Shifter Romance (Wolf Rock Shifters Book 4) Page 5