A Lion's Heart (13 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Kyrill and Lormar seemed very close that evening. Shakra watched them shyly as they lay together near the small fire and ate their cooked food, talking in low tones. There was a softness about them, especially in the way that they looked at one another. They looked warm and comfortable and...

Shakra looked over at Tamarind, who was busily crunching the bones of his latest kill. It was the part that he had refused to let them cook. Tamarind's face was full of blood, his sharp teeth bared, as he worked over the leg bone. His silver eyes were glowing in contentment. He didn't look soft and warm or prone to sit and talk. He looked like a creature of the moment, a creature of savage action; all muscle, teeth, and claw. Still, Shakra felt an appreciation of that, a tingling excitement watching Tamarind's claws flex on the rent hide of the beast, and an uncomfortable heat when he finished and began cleaning himself with a large, rasping tongue.

“Shakra,” Shang said in a low tone meant for only his ears.

Shakra sighed and looked at his one-time guard. He felt at a loss that he had given up at least that part of his life. Without his title, he couldn't understand why Shang would risk himself and follow a foolish were. He would sorely miss that unquestioning devotion, that constant companionship, if it proved that destiny was not enough to keep them together.

“May I give you some advice?” Shang asked, as if he knew that it was going to be unwelcome.

Shakra nodded, though he had more than proven that he wasn't willing to listen to it.

“Allow the werelion-”

“Tamarind,” Shakra corrected, not liking that tone that relegated Tamarind to the category of dumb beast.

The pause was telling, but Shang complied, “Tamarind, then. Allow him to continue on alone once we reach the Savannah. We can hide ourselves while he discovers the mood and intentions of his people towards us. There isn't any reason to walk into our deaths. You will be near your... Tamarind... and still remain safe.”

That was reasonable. “All right,” Shakra agreed and couldn't help grimacing. Their roles were reversed. Tamarind had hidden, like a fugitive, in the woods around the Keep, waiting for Shakra to visit him. Now they would be lurking in the Savanna, waiting for Tamarind to come to them.

And if he didn't? What if Tamarind discovered that his old life was preferable to a perverted one with a werewolf?

“If it is meant to be, it will come to pass,” Shang told him, guessing his thoughts. “You cannot force destiny. It is or it isn't.”

That was wisdom, but Shakra's heart didn't care.

Kyrill chuckled and he said to them as he rose, “Lormar and I are going to... look at the stars.”

Lormar smirked and said nothing as he followed the werefox into the rocks and scrub brush. Shakra felt a hot blush, not too innocent to understand. Shang hissed in disgust, not because he disapproved of them, but because he saw it as an unnecessary danger. The weretigress was still out there and there was no telling whether her mercenaries had decided to pursue them or not.

Tamarind was oblivious. Stomach over full and distended, he was flopped over on his side, a stomach with arms and legs. Shang hissed again. “How will he travel like that?”

“He can,” Shakra recalled and smiled fondly.

“I think that I will prepare myself for my ancestors,” Shang said under his breath. “I have little confidence that we will survive this idiocy.” He moved off, composed himself, and seemed to meditate.

Shakra felt alone and that gave him time to think. His eyes went to the darkness of the rocks and the scrub brush. His thoughts went to Lormar and Kyrill and a thing he knew nothing about. He felt embarrassed, ashamed, but the thought that, someday, he and Tamarind might have that same closeness... He had images of hurting Tamarind, of making a serious mistake that might drive the werelion away. If he could see, if he could learn...

Shakra went very low to the ground, ears flat and tail trailing the ground, as he used his odd spots to make him one with the shadows. Kyrill was a pampered son, but Lormar was canny. Shakra knew that he would have to one with the night breeze to escape his notice.

He heard them talking softly first and then he heard Kyrill sigh in pleasure.

“I love when you do that,” Kyrill said with a light chuckle. “Are you sure you weren't trained in a harem?”

“It's all natural ability,” Lormar replied.

Under a low bush, Shakra saw them lying together just ahead. Lormar was sensually licking Kyrill's large ears, paying particular attention to the areas around his earrings. He was almost on top of Kyrill, as if he had pinned him down. Kyrill was smiling though, blue eyes half closed and the moonlight playing over their bodies.

Kyrill rolled suddenly and then he was looking up at Lormar. He reached up and played in Lormar's hair, in his ruff, and then he was pulling him down for a kiss. His thick tail swished back and forth along the ground and Lormar's was stiff and bristled.

“Who knows what will happen when we go into the tall grasses,” Kyrill said. “We should be together, in case our days end there and we never have another chance at love.”

Lormar snorted. “I thought you believed that we go on past death?”

“I might be wrong,” Kyrill replied and then they were kissing again.

Lormar moved off of Kyrill then, but Kyrill was smiling and parting his legs. Lormar rubbed his face along Kyrill's fur there, making a sighing sound, and then his head was dipping down between them. Kyrill gripped Lormar's hair and groaned, throwing his head back as Lormar's tongue stroked what was hidden by Kyrill's fur. It didn't stay hidden long and Shakra found himself swallowing hard, only his fear of discovery and his youthful uncertainty keeping his own body in check, as he saw a swollen, red erection present itself to Lormar's lapping tongue.

“Beautiful,” Kyrill moaned. “You are my king, Lormar.”

Lormar chuckled. “And you are my Spring after a hard Winter.”

“Poetry from a mountain were,” Kyrill marveled breathlessly.

“Don't tell anyone,” Lormar grumbled and then his head moved lower and Kyrill gripped his hair, legs rising higher as he groaned. It sounded like a growl, but it was deep and full of passion.

Shakra knew what Lormar was doing. With great care, the mountain were was preparing Kyrill to receive him with his tongue, his clawed fingers held away from sensitive flesh. Shakra wondered how he kept himself under control. He could see Lormar's excitement, large and ready as it protruded from his fur, and he could see the small, involuntary thrusts of his hips from time to time. Lormar was ready and his scent was earthy and full of heated hormones as it mingled with Kyrill's lighter scent.

Lormar waited, though, patience itself, until Kyrill flushed a deep red and then turned and presented himself. Kyrill's tail settled back and over his spine and his upper body bowed to the ground. Lormar was on his back then, legs and arms on either side. His teeth bit into Kyrill's ruff and Kyrill moaned, blue eyes rolling back, as Lormar entered him, slow and careful.

Locked together, Kyrill filled with Lormar, they paused as if savoring the moment, and then Lormar couldn't hold back any longer. His thrusts were powerful, primal, and Kyrill was moaning and lifting himself to meet them. His earrings jingled and his arm bands clashed together. He looked exotic, beautiful, and submissive. Lormar was strong, powerful muscles flexing and bunching, dominance itself.

Lormar came first, grabbing Kyrill around the middle and driving in deep with hard spasms. Kyrill came a moment later, spilling hot seed over his belly and the rocks. They didn't part immediately, though. Lormar settled on Kyrill's back, still joined together, and cleaned Kyrill's ears with his tongue, a smile on his face and his eyes drooped in contentment. Kyrill was languid beneath him, obviously happy.

Shakra slunk away, his own excitement heavy between his legs. He found a very cold rock and pressed himself down flat against it, allowing the shock of cold to make his own desires fade. It wasn't as easy to drive the images from his head, especially when he imagined himself and Tamarind in their place. Could he? With a werelion? Would it be the same? At least a werefox and a werewolf had common ground when it came to instincts. A mistake with Tamarind could end in a very messy death for himself, Shakra knew, yet he wanted to try.

Kyrill's words came back to Shakra and he knew that he was right. They might all die when they reached the Savannah. There might not be another chance to be together. As Shakra returned to the camp and settled near Tamarind, he decided that he would make Tamarind his before they moved down into the tall grasses.

Tamarind burped and rolled onto his back, exposing his distended, furry belly to the moonlight. Not tonight, Shakra thought with an affectionate grimace. He nuzzled Tamarind, curled up beside him, and then went to sleep.

**************

“I don't sense any pursuit,” Shang said with a frown. “Either the mercenaries are very clever at hiding themselves or they are too lazy to follow us.”

“Too lazy,” Lormar decided with a snort. He was in a relaxed mood and Shakra blushed when Kyrill nuzzled him, from time to time, as they walked. He wanted that with Tamarind, that sure knowledge that they were a couple.

Tamarind was uncomfortable, but he walked beside Shakra, his body language telling Shakra that he was irritable. He was going against a nature that told him to find a sunny spot and sleep until his heavy meal was digested. His belly still looked full, but not as badly as the night before.

Tamarind gave Shakra a suspicious look. “You're staring,” he said with a warning growl.

Shakra dared to ask, “Why do you eat so much? We're not starving.”

“We don't have servants to kill, cook, and serve our food on the plains,” Tamarind explained. “We have hunting parties. Sometimes hunting is good, sometimes it isn't. You eat when you can.”

“Why?” Shakra asked and then added quickly, when Tamarind looked annoyed, “Why live that way? Why not live as my people do, by raising your own food, living in homes, and warming yourselves with fire?”

Tamarind gave Shakra a disgusted growl. “If someone wishes to live that way, they know where they can go,” Tamarind replied. “The forests weres to the south live that way. On the plains, things are different, but good. We like our life.” His silver eyes sparkled. “Don't judge a life you haven't lived.”

Shakra nodded and then looked down the steep trail they were trying to negotiate. “I guess I'll have my chance.”

Tamarind sobered then and replied, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Shakra replied without hesitation.

“How can you be?” Tamarind demanded as if they were about to have an argument.

“If you have to ask, then maybe we don't feel the same way?” Shakra replied and it pained him until he saw Tamarind nod in understanding.

“I know. I just wish-” Tamarind began, but Shakra cut him off.

“I've decided and you know my reason for it,” Shakra told him. “Don't try to convince me to stay behind, Tamarind. I won't.”

Tamarind sighed. “I don't know what we are going to do. It's...”

“Frightening, I know,” Shakra finished and ignored Tamarind's bristling and the lash of his tail, “I'm frightened too. I don't know what will happen to us, but I do know that we need to face it together.”

Tamarind suddenly leaned and kissed Shakra. He head butted him and smiled as he said, “I've never met anyone like you.”

“Good,” Shakra replied with a grin, “because I'm the only one for you.”

Tamarind grinned, showing all his sharp teeth. He turned and his tail lashed Shakra in the face. “You are very confident of that,” he said.

Before Shakra could reply, Shang snapped, “Stop mooning over each other and watch how you travel! This trail is dangerous.”

Admonished, Shakra indulged in a last snatch at Tamarind's tail. He closed his teeth on it, gave it a tug that made Tamarind laugh, and then brought his concentration back to where it belonged.

When night came, the sky was clear and Tamarind's fur caught the glow of the moon on the tips of his fur. His eyes were silver fire as he looked at Shakra in a way that made Shakra tingle all over. Lormar and Kyrill settled together and seemed to sleep, but Shang was the self-appointed guard, and it was hard to face his frown as Shakra finally rose.

“Tamarind, would you... would you walk with me?” Shakra asked nervously. “We can see the moon better from over... there.” Shakra felt himself go hot and cold as Tamarind looked at him curiously, as if nothing could get him out of the warm spot that he had made for himself. Then, with his ears cocked oddly, he rose. He looked over at Shang.

Shang hissed in disgust. His crest rose and then settled with a rattle of spines against each other. He grunted and deliberately turned his back on them in disapproval.

“Bad tempered werelizard,” Tamarind growled under his breath.

“It's his way,” Shakra told Tamarind with a chuckle and then decided that playing the romantic wasn't in his nature. “I want you, Tamarind. Come with me and we'll be... together.”

Tamarind blinked, shocked, but then he understood. “We may not have another chance...”

“No,” Shakra agreed softly, but he didn't want it to be a time of sadness. He caressed Tamarind's cheek and breathed in his ear with a smile, “Come.”