A Lion After My Own Heart (11 page)

I get out of bed, restless, my anger simmering. I pace down the steps and stand naked at the window, gazing out into the night. My lies... I'm running on a platform of honesty, transparency, and integrity, yet my very identity is a lie. I've told myself that I do what I do for the greater good, but can that be so if I have to lie to achieve it?

I look at my hand. I look human. My skin is pale, my fingers long and powerful. I turn it to study my palm. My humanity is only skin deep. Within me is a caged lion, buried deep and muzzled. I've fought my instincts for so long. The urge to shift and roar, to run and hunt, to luxuriate in the sun and take in the world through my shifter senses. Now that struggle is going to claim a new casualty.

Myra Cole. With her insouciant grin and bouncing curls, with her amazing breasts and delicious cleft. When I parted her legs and licked her slowly from ass to clit I could have died and gone to heaven. From the sounds she made, she could have done the same. So why is she gone? Why is she leaving?

Because of my lies.

I am a living lie. How can I keep going? My lie will be exposed. And then?

I clench my hand into a fist, and feel my lion rumble deep down in my chest.
No.
I will not let him free. I am more than him. I am more than a shifter. I am more than my father.

That old pain, that deep and terrible anger, rises within me. Doors at the depths of my mind strain to open. Rattle their chains. Old memories. Memories of terror and abuse. 'Lessons' my father taught me to make me stronger. I press my face into my palms.
Breathe
. Be in control. Be calm.

Yet Myra's body and soul have awakened a passion that I'm having trouble restraining. My lion is fighting his leash. He wants out. He wants to roar. I grit my teeth and shake my head.

No. I will not be weak. I won't!

I hear the sound of the lash. My father striving to provoke me. Whipping me as I refuse to fight him. His mocking laughter as I remain seated. His whip scouring the skin off my shoulders which immediately grows back.
Pathetic! You're no lion, you're more rat or weasel. Stand, boy! Fight me!

I growl audibly and almost slam my fist through the window. Instead, I whirl away and stride across the room, but there's nowhere to go. The loft is too small. I stop again. What can I do? Return to Boston? Forget Myra Cole? Hope for the best? Plan for damage control?

I can hear Myra's gasp even now, the way she threw back her head as pleasure coursed through her, how she bit her generous lower lip as I touched her. Her dark nipples, her full breasts, her scent, her heat, her hot wet slit -

I'm going to go mad. What can I do? I take a deep breath. A second. Close my eyes. Fight for control. Breathe again. Clear my mind of thoughts.

Pathetic boy. You're no son of mine
.

My lion roars within me. That old bastard. The truth of it was that I could achieve any office, could affect any change in this world, and he would still sneer at me and tell me I'm weak. He understands nothing but force.

Pathetic.

But I'm no longer a fifteen-year-old. I'm a mature man now. I'm tall and I'm strong and the lion within me, if I were to give him a moment to slip free, would be like a force of nature.

If I were to fight my father now, I know that I would crush him.

"Enough!" I have to get out. I have to get into the streets, amongst humans. In a crowd I'll find myself, my control, my center. I turn to go back upstairs, and then my phone vibrates on the couch. Myra?

No, it's Eric. I hesitate, agonize, and then pick it up. "Hello?"

"Boss, where've you been? I've been calling for hours."

"What's going on, Eric?" My voice is harsh, but I can't make myself sound civilized.

"Big news. It looks like the unions are abandoning Delray. Which means he's losing a huge source of funding. He'll have to pull down his advertising big time."

It's almost painful to think about politics. I pinch the bridge of my nose and force myself to focus. "And who are the unions going to?"

I can hear Eric's grin. "Well, that's the best part. They're split between Jacobson - and you."

"Me?" I stare sternly at the wall. "What?"

"I know! Your platform is being heard, boss. I'm telling you, you're striking a chord. You have to get back here, like, now. We can set up a meeting for first thing tomorrow. You have to get them before Jacobson does. With their funding, you'll go from being a long shot to a real contender."

Leave. Back to Boston.

"Boss?"

Drive home. Meet people. Shake hands. Stare them in the eyes and make promises. Offer them integrity.

"Boss? You there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Listen, I'm going to have to call you back."

"Yeah, OK, but are you coming? Should I set up those meetings?"

I stop. I have to go back. I can't abandon my people. My dreams. My ambitions. I'm about to say yes when my phone vibrates. Another incoming call.

Myra Cole.

"Hold on one sec, Eric." I click over. "Hello?"

"Alex." Her voice is breathless, tense. "You need to come to Honeycomb Hall. Now."

"What? What's going on?"

"Do you trust me?"

I don't hesitate. "Yes. Of course."

"Then please come here. You need to hear something. Then you can do whatever you want. But please. Come here now."

I should say no. I should focus on the race. But who am I kidding? Her voice is bringing back all kinds of emotions. Standing there in my empty loft, I realize that those three hours with Myra were the first time in forever that my lion and I were one. That the walls between us had fallen, and I'd been a full, whole person again.

"OK. I'll be there in fifteen." I switch over to Eric. "Set up the meetings," I say. "I'll be there tomorrow morning."

"Good," says Eric. "I'll text you details."

I turn off the phone and stare at it. I'll go listen to Myra. See what she has to say. Maybe she's found an impossible solution. A way out of this ever-deepening labyrinth.

And if not? I'll harden my heart, drive back to Boston, and let the cards fall where they may.

Chapter 13

I sit in a rocking chair on Honeycomb Hall's porch and wait for Alexander to drive up. It's night, and the grounds recede into the darkness, extended rectangles of light splashing across the lawn from the few windows that are lit.

Silence. You don't get this kind of silence in Boston. Always there's some noise coming from somewhere, either someone's TV, a car driving by blasting music, distant police sirens, the sound of voices on the street, something. Here, there's an aching silence which slowly resolves itself into a more natural tapestry of sounds. The wind through the trees. The distant call of subtle night insects. If I weren't so tense and wound up, I'd find myself enjoying it tremendously.

My hot chocolate is almost gone, and despite the ski jacket that Rachel lent me, I'm starting to shiver when a car pulls into the driveway, headlights slicing through the dark. It rolls up the driveway, tires crunching on the gravel, and stops in front of me. It's him. I stand as Alexander opens the door and turns to look at me across the top of the car. He looks haunted.

"Hey," I whisper.

"Hey," he says, and closes the car door, then comes around to stand at the base of the steps.

I set the mug down and move to stand in front of him, looking down into his upturned face. "Thank you for coming."

A faint ghost of a smile crosses his face. "It was a strongly worded request."

I take a step down. "I've learned a few things. Things that could change everything."

Alexander doesn't answer, but he looks skeptical.

I swallow and push on. "Rachel Wilder, the owner of Honeycomb Hall, is a witch." I don't know what kind of reaction to expect, but Alexander doesn't even look surprised. He just nods. "She said she can cast a ritual." My words grow soft. I'm scared about saying this. Offering this chance to him. "A ritual that could remove your lion. Make you a normal human. Forever."

Alexander blinks, as if my words don't make sense, and then frowns and shakes his head. "What?"

I step down to him and take his hands. They're cold. "She can make you a human. Remove your lion. But she said you would never be able to undo it. You would be what you've wanted to be, with no going back."

He pulls a hand free and rakes it through his hair, eyes darting from side to side, considering. "I'd be able to run for mayor. For any office. I'd be able to make a difference."

"Yes," I say. "But, Alex, there's no going back. Ever."

He rubs at his face, and I can't imagine the struggle that is taking place in his heart. "Be a human."

I watch him anxiously. "No matter what people would say about your heritage, you'd be safe. A blood test would clear you of all allegations."

Alexander turns to me. "Forever. No going back?"

I shake my head. "It's permanent. But..."

He narrows his eyes. "But?"

I'm scared to go on. "But Blake told me more. That your father is convening all the cairn elders. He's going to try to get them to support him in making new demands on humanity. That we allow shifters to take over our government and rule us for our own good."

Alexander barks a savage laugh of disbelief, then stops. "You're serious?"

I can only nod.

"But that's madness." He pulls his hand free and stalks to one side, staring out at the night. "Somebody will stop him."

"Blake's going to try." I don't follow him. "He said it'll be a duel to the death."

"Of course," says Alexander, snorting. "My father would have it no other way."

Silence. I hug myself and wait.

Finally he turns to look back at me. "What do you think?"

"Me?" I'm surprised. "I don't know where to begin."

That smile of his ghosts back across his face. "Yes you do. I know you better than that, Myra Cole. What are you thinking?"

The darkness hides my blush. Now I do cross the grass to stand in front of him. "Alex. This ritual would remove your lion. Make you what you've pretending to be. But who is that person? This false human? Would you still be yourself, or just a shadow? You've been living half a life for so long, maybe it's started to feel real, but when we were together, when you touched me, when you let go -"

My mouth is dry. His eyes are so large, they look like they're consuming me. "I felt your true self." I press my hand to his chest. "The real Alexander Adams. And he was vital and good and powerful and complete." I hesitate. "If you kill your lion, if you cut him out, you'll be human, yes - but only a shadow of who you could be. Who you really are."

He narrows his eyes. "So you agree with my father."

"Of course not!" I'm suddenly beyond indignant, and I give him a shove. It's like trying to shove a wall. "Shifters and humans are just different. Both are imperfect, and we both have a lot to learn from each other. But you're a shifter, Alex. You have a heart of fire, a talent for leadership, a vision that I think comes from your lion. Your passion. Your drive. Would it still be there if you cut yourself down?"

He doesn't answer.

"Don't do it, Alex." My voice is a whisper now. I place both hands on his chest. "You have no idea how much I admire you for what you've tried to accomplish. But humanity isn't the only group in need of good leadership. Your people - your true people - they need a true leader too. Aurion is going to step up and start spreading his madness. Somebody has to stop him. Somebody needs to show your kind that there is a different way, a better way than Aurion's."

Alexander's jaw tenses and he looks away. "I've worked so hard to get where I am. To get the support. To change people's minds."

"I know," I say. It breaks my heart to watch him fight this.

"I'm so close. My aide, Eric? He said the unions could be ready to line up behind me. With them, with their support and financing, I could really make a go of it. And if I were elected? Boston is a city of millions. I could change their lives for the better. I could -" He cuts himself off and clenches his fists again.

I want to hug him so bad. Find some way to comfort him. But I can only watch.

"My father. He'll welcome my challenge." Alexander smiles, but there is nothing good or warm in the expression. "He'll welcome my claws with open arms. And if I defeat him? He'll die happy."

"But you're not your father," I say. "Your defeating him wouldn't doom you to following his ways."

He meets my eyes, and I feel an electric jolt course through me from his intensity. "I'd have to kill my father. How would that not change me? Make me like him?"

I'm out at sea. I know nothing about shifter traditions and politics. "I don't know, Alex. But somebody has to stop him. Somebody has to step up. A true leader. Your people need you."
I need you
, I almost say, but I bite down on those words.

"Myra," he groans, and lowers his head. "I don't know what to do."

"Listen to your heart," I say, stepping closer and sliding my arms around his waist. "Look deep within yourself. What does your truest self say?"

He stands still, not speaking, and then shivers. "When I listen close," he whispers, "when I open up to my deepest self, all I hear is roaring."

I shiver as well.

"An angry sound," he continues. "Righteous. A caged lion, furious at being denied for so long. Wanting so badly to be free."

"Then let him out," I say, my voice shaking. "Let your lion go free, Alex. Embrace who you are, not who your father thinks you are. Your true self."

His body is tense. Every muscle is hard. I feel like I'm holding a column of marble. He's not even breathing, just standing there, rocking slightly from the strain. Finally, with an explosive breath, he nods and steps back. I let him go.

Alexander Adams stands in the shadows of Honeycomb Hall, and before my eyes, he shifts into a lion. It's a terrifying, surreal, and beautiful sight. First his golden hair thickens, growing rapidly down past his shoulders while his face distorts, growing a muzzle. His frame grows, his chest deepening, and then his clothing can't contain him any longer and he falls forward onto all fours as golden hair appears all over his body.