Beastly Passions (14 page)

Asha seemed to mull the words. “No, I believe there are higher powers than us. I believe we were created for a purpose. I also believe that purpose was for the amusement of our makers. To fight battles in their names. To claim land and bring glory to their objectives. But once we were no longer fun, they abandoned us; left us to stumble along until we clutched onto something that gave us direction. When I bow my head to give thanks, I do not squander it on someone who is more than likely uninterested in my gratitude. I send it to those who’ve helped light my path and the spirits that I know watch over me.
There 
is where I place my due diligence and credit for my emotional and intellectual growth. I am not faithless, Taras, I’m simply not naïve enough to believe that laws and scriptures written by man should be where I invest my loyalty. I respect the right to do so. I’ve even fought for the convictions of others because I understand the need to hope that 
something 
beyond this world
 
loves you enough to protect you from the horrors of it.”

He quietly gazed at her for a moment, his discomfort gone. “You amaze me.”

Seemingly stunned, she lowered her eyes and smirked. “Because I am a godless heathen?”

That drew a chuckle out of him. “
I 
am godless heathen, wife. 
You 
are just as I described—intricate mind with so much to give and so little to receive.”

“There is no bigger fool than one that believes they know it all.”

“Did not say you know it all,” he smoothly rejoined, stealing her fork so that he could take a bite of the cherepakha turtle salad to her left. “Just that there is not much you can take from others when imagination and perception are already so sound.”

In response, she took his bottle of ale and finished it, smiling wide at his annoyed growl. “Are you included in those who cannot teach me anything?”

Taras narrowed his gaze and slid his arm beneath the table. Asha jumped when he placed a palm to her bare thigh and squeezed, grateful that the weather was warm enough to allow it. “If I am recalling correctly, I taught you plenty a few days ago.”

Her throat worked and her lids drooped. “And that was?”

“You have—what is it called?—ahh, yes, 
kinks,” 
he retorted, his stare on her mouth. The way her teeth cinched over her bottom lip. He danced his fingers against the pit of her knee and she moved restlessly in her seat. “We explored one.”

Asha’s much smaller hand went to her throat, her ring glinting as she touched her fingers to the delicate flesh there as though recalling every second. “I think I told you that was an anomaly.”

His hand skated upwards, beneath the hem of her dress. “Was it? Or do you simply wish it was because you think you should not 
want
 me to touch you?”

She remained silent.

“I’m your husband, Asha. You are allowed to be attracted to me. No matter my…nature, I cannot make you desire me. I cannot make you want what is not already there.”

Again her gaze lowered. “Whether or not I’m attracted to you isn’t the issue here.”

“Then what is?” he hedged.

“You’re not what I envisioned,” she answered softly. “For myself. For my life. 
None 
of this is what I envisioned because I never stopped to look past the day to day of what came before you. I wasn’t ready, Taras. And I became even less so when I heard Grigoriy Verochka’s son, the attack dog of his pride—”

He knew his expression was pained.

“—Was to be my husband. I didn’t get to choose. Everything was done for me. Every decision set into place because my voice did not matter. And when you’re told that you will be spending the rest of your days with someone whose fury is well known throughout our community, without the chance to refute such a claim, you have to—”

“Adapt,” Taras gruffly filled in. “You have to adapt.”

Her head dipped in a nod. “I don’t know you. I just know 
of 
you. I know what I’ve seen. I know you’re overwhelming when you intend to pursue something. I know you can be absolutely terrifying.”

“And what I did during dinner, the night of our wedding, this did not help wariness.”

Asha’s hand returned to her throat. “I was angry with Igor for what he said; even angrier because he had every right to.”

“
No,” 
he rumbled, feeling the beginning tendrils of rage alter his previously relaxed mood. “No one will ever have any right to be so blatantly disrespectful. Circumstances of marriage matter not. You were not paid for like common whore despite what you might think. Everything I did, everything I was willing to give was not 
just 
because I wanted you. It was because I knew that if it was not me that they bartered you to, it would be someone else; someone who may have been far more inhumane and uncivilized. Someone like…” Taras swallowed down his father’s name and closed his eyes at the horrifying thought.

“I will not claim to be savior. I will not claim that I am anything but the base, predatory, boorish male you see before you, but I 
am
 the lesser of so much evil, Asha. And Gods help me, but I want this to be obvious. I need you to understand that even when it causes you to see me as nothing but irrational brute, I will protect you. I will fight for you. If you never let me touch you, if you never give thought to bearing my cubs, I will still slaughter the first man to make you feel less than what you are. I lied to you that night. I lied to us both. I 
am 
hard. I 
am 
unforgiving. Those things will never change. But with you,” he told her as his voice dropped. “With you I want to be more.”

There was a suspicious sheen to her eyes as her lashes fanned and she twisted her mouth. “You,”—she cleared her throat—“you already are.” Asha gestured to their view from where they sat on the second floor deck of the restaurant he’d chosen, situated on a popular avenue. “This is a start. And I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.”

Pride swelled in his chest. Before he could say something foolish, he abruptly stood and took out his wallet to throw down several bills. Asha looked up at him in confusion and he gave her a gentle smile, holding out his hand.
 
“Then I shouldn’t waste time, should I?”

Her answering smile warmed him as she gave him her hand. “No,” she replied as she stood too. “You shouldn’t.”

He’d chosen
to take her for a run. It was surprising. If anything, she thought he’d take her to a museum. Instead they’d headed back to Verochka territories and further out into land near what Taras had told her was the original site of his pride. Most of the territory in the krai was mountainous and a great portion of it forested. Where Taras had chosen to take her in particular was secluded and absolutely perfect for a hunt. So that was what they’d chosen to do. Strip and hunt. After cornering a wild boar, they’d eaten their fill and dozed lightly under the shade of trees with what little sunlight they could feel warming their bellies. It was definitely a change of pace from Taras sweeping her from country to country theatrically and Asha wasn’t ashamed to admit that she enjoyed it far more than the performances and his precious world-renowned restaurants.

She woke before he did and decided to do just another lap around before they were to return to the main house. Asha’s
run came to a halt about two miles off the western side. Not because she’d lost the will to keep moving, but because she smelled something that didn’t have a place on land rife with tigers—full-humans. The warmth of an early autumn’s sun bore down on the thick padding of her fur as the leaves of chosenia trees rustled about in the wind, carrying the scent of men. She stopped by a thicket, hovering as her nose twitched, identifying the smell among so many others as foreign. Her husband had heavily marked the majority of the property, as most males did, making it easier for her to identify and follow what her senses had discovered.

Wisdom dictated that she stick to the underbrush and clumps of bushes, keeping low and alert. Asha had never been naïve enough to put her faith in coincidence and now was no different. Where she’d come from, grown humans didn’t just wander into what was veritably the wild for giggles. No, they always had a purpose. That purpose tended to involve hunting the wildlife of India, throwing the balance of the ecosystem off while selling their spoils to whoever was willing to buy it. Ivory from an Indian elephant, the horns of a male gaur, sandalwood and teakwood were all things poached from the forests. And should one survive an encounter with a tiger, they may claim the victory of a new rug for some dignitary or an American looking for a trophy.

But here there were no Indian elephants, guars with large horns they used during rutting season, sandalwood or teakwood. No, here there were only the big cats and or bears. The Amur tiger or leopard, the Siberian tiger, black bear and the lynx were all contenders in whatever game hunters chose to play. The shrinking population of her full-blooded species out in the wild told her that. Every month or so there was a new documentary on how rich environments like Siberia, Africa, Brazil and India were being raped for all that they had to offer.

As Asha crept closer to the stench of invaders, she knew that this was no different. Threads of gun oil and gasoline interfered with odor of sweat. The
thump
 
of a shovel being driven into ground was picked up and she continued her approach until she reached their camp. Tents were pitched, a pit was dug for late night fires and supplies were strewn about.

Voices drew her curiosity away from the objects and towards the figures in her line of sight. Keeping low, she gave her beast more leeway than advisable as she eavesdropped.

“The pit is slightly…barbaric, yeah?” one male questioned, his accent definitely mirroring that of those she’d attended school with in the UK. British and dressed almost comically in an abundance of gear, he shifted a bit on his booted feet. “I’d thought things would be a bit more civilized.”

“Then you are hunting in wrong place,” another male gruffly advised in the same broken English Taras and most of his pride used.  “You want big cat, correct?”

“That was the goal, yes.”

“Then there is no room for civilized,” a third informed the brit. “We hunt beast. We herd beast. We trap beast here,” he pointed a stubby finger towards the pit they continued to dig. “It falls and work is done for us.”

“I don’t want the poor animal to suffer.”

“It will not. Shot will be quick and painless,” the leader of their troop reassured. “Then we simply drag it out and skin it, leaving the rest for scavengers to handle.”

In other words, they intended to dig a hole deep enough for some unsuspecting feline to fall into, possibly injuring itself in the plunge before they blew its head to absolute shite and desecrated the body by leaving it to feed whatever came along. A slow coil of rage began in Asha’s belly, breaking the last chain of humanity that kept her beast from having full reign. Because the land was marked so sufficiently, full-blooded big cats wouldn’t dare venture onto it out of simple instinctual respect and self-preservation. This meant that the potential victims of the hunters could be one of Taras’ pride. Her own kind. Her opinion of her husband may have been low at one point but she had absolutely no desire to envision him or one of his own mounted over someone’s fireplace or being walked on.

Full-humans could be disgusting, selfish, destructive creatures. Their desire to kill came on the slightest whim and they rarely made sensible decisions.
 
This
was not a sensible decision.
 
This
 
was a violation. And much like the many times she’d felt the need to give chase to petty, disgraceful little men when they gambled in the wilds of her home, Asha felt those same urges now. She hadn’t realized she’d growled loud enough to be heard until all three stopped in their tracks, their eyes wide.

“What was that?” the brit questioned between stiff lips.

“Company,” one of the Russians answered, slowly placing down his shovel. His hand went to small of his back and she knew he was reaching for a weapon.

The third turned in a slow circle, his eyes scanning the smattering of bushes and trees. “No sudden moves,” he commanded. “We do not know what, if anything, is out there.”

Oh, they weren’t sure? Asha tilted her head, eased closer and woofed loudly. The men instantly went on the defensive and she sized each up. The brit was shorter than Taras but taller than the average full-human male. His counterparts were stocky, wide and no taller than she when in her usual form. They would be the ones to use whatever they had at their disposal. The brit would run. She could smell it on him. Her eyes narrowed and her whiskers trembled. On any other occasion, she may have felt inclined to simply turn around and go back to the main house. She may have felt inclined to allow her spouse to deal with the matter since it was
 
his
 
land they were encroaching on. However, it had been a while since she’d gotten a chance to play. And by the gods, did Asha want to play. She wouldn’t kill them. Not even at the revelation that they were indeed here to murder for amusement because it wasn’t in her nature to cut others down unless positively necessary. No, she’d only use them the way she’d used dolls as a cub and have some fun with her toys.