Hour of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #1) (35 page)

most of my power comes from Herne.‖ He caught her blank look. ―Herne the Hunter? God of the

Animals?‖

She rolled her eyes to cover her discomfort. Not only new shapes but a different religion

too? Then again, she‘d felt that surge of warmth, of...love. Hard to discount that one. ―Is that

why you could make that wussy bear-guy turn back to human even when he didn‘t want to?‖

Calum nodded, then glanced at Jamie. ―Unfortunately, with a first trawsfur, forcing the shift

makes matters worse. The youngling will lose all connection to the door, and if they cannot shift

every month—‖ He looked away.

Something horrible must happen. She reached for Jamie, needing to feel her warmth.

Change the subject. ―What happened down there when you made that guy shift?‖

Alec snorted. ―He wanted to win Farrah‘s affections—or at least her attentions. Battling

another is a time-honored method of scoring, so to speak. But crippling your rival is forbidden.‖

Well, hell, they were more aggressive than off-duty soldiers in a bar.

―Speaking of fighting,‖ Calum said, ―I want to teach you two some techniques.‖

Hey. She was a damn good fighter. ―And what exactly do you think I need to learn?‖

―We‘ll start with how to use your hind claws to disembowel your opponent,‖ Calum said in

a dry voice and shifted.

Oookay. Vic closed her mouth and followed suit.

* * *

―It‘s Swane,‖ came the voice on the phone.

Vidal had anxiously waited for word that they‘d captured the girl. He‘d told Swane he

wanted to be there when they contacted the girl‘s werecat father. But all yesterday—nothing.

―Why the hell didn‘t you call?‖

―It was a total cluster-fuck. The little bitch turned into a cougar. Clawed the shit out of me.

I‘m calling from the fucking hospital.‖

―Have you got her?‖

―Hell no.‖ Swane swore foully for a full minute. ―She tore out of the house and ran into the

forest. I was bleeding like a stuck pig, so I sent back-up and stayed with the van. Two of my men

followed the cat up a trail.‖

―Well?‖

―The cop showed up, then the kid‘s dad. They changed into fucking cougars. Both of them.‖

―What happened to your men?‖

―Don‘t know. No arrests. Jail‘s empty. They haven‘t called in. I haven‘t seen them

anywhere. I figure they‘re lion fodder.‖

Vidal dropped into the chair. He‘d known the shapeshifters were dangerous. But to have his

hopes flattened so thoroughly. Depression rolled over him, blackening his thoughts. ―It‘s

hopeless.‖

―Those fucking creatures have killed my men,‖ Swane snapped. ―They‘re not going to get

away with it, even if I have to take some explosives in there and flatten the town.‖

―Vicki?‖ Her freckled face worried, Jamie looked up at Vic.

―What is it, munchkin?‖ Vic walked down the sidewalk, eyes alert for any problems.

Nothing. A few kids on their way to school. A man burning leaves. A fire salamander joyfully

danced in the bonfire. ―Is something wrong?‖

―Not…exactly.‖ Jamie chewed on her lower lip. ―See, I owe you for saving me, and I‘m not

sure how to repay you.‖

―Owe me?‖

―Uh-huh. It‘s the Law of Reciprocity. Favor for favor, or favor for damage done. You

know—to achieve balance between us?‖

Seems like she‘d run into that rule of theirs before, and the baby was dead serious. Vic

scratched her nose, stalling for time. She sure as hell wasn‘t going to put the kid in debt for being rescued. ―Okay, here‘s the deal. My rules say that grown-ups protect kids.‖

Jamie nodded solemnly. ―We have that too, but it‘s not a Rule.‖

―I was only doing my job.‖ When Jamie opened her mouth to protest, Vic held up a finger.

―And it happens that I like to fight. So I think for our exchange, you should do something for me

you like to do.‖

Jamie‘s face scrunched up, and then she nodded.

―Therefore,‖ Vic tried to remember the words Calum and Thorson had used, ―in balance, I

figure you should make chocolate chip cookies, and I get as many as I want before Alec or your

daddy have any.‖

―Or me.‖ Jamie gave a little skip, then sobered. ―The balance is fair. Accepted.‖

―Good deal.‖ Relief that she‘d successfully navigated another strange shifter custom vied

with sheer greed. Chocolate chip cookies all hers before the greedy bastards got to them. Score!

Grinning, Vic stopped at the entrance to the school yard. This would be the kid‘s first day back

since the mess almost a week ago. Vic took her by the shoulders, studied her face. No fear, only

a trace of anxiety. Okay, then. Ignoring the babble of children‘s voices, Vic ordered, ―You‘re going to do fine.‖

―I know,‖ Jamie said. Scowling, she kicked a lump of snow into the fence. ―Only I‘ve got to

make up a stupid biology project.‖

―You‘ll manage. I‘ll see you this afternoon.‖ Vic watched as the kid trotted into the school

yard, and her friends swamped her. Yes, the girl would manage. Smart, sociable, with a big

heart, and a hell of a lot of courage. She‘d make a great Marine.

I was a great Marine. But that life had disappeared. No Marines, no Wells, and no CIA.

Firming her mouth, she turned away from the children‘s laughter and headed toward the Wild

Hunt. She‘d report in to Calum who‘d had an unexpected delivery for the tavern. After letting

him know his daughter had made it all right, maybe she‘d go see Thorson. Have some coffee or

something.

It wasn‘t like she had anything better to do with her day. Or her life.

Dammit. Imitating Jamie, she kicked a chunk of snow, sending it flying into a nearby tree. A

pixie clinging to a branch chattered angrily at her. Oops. She glanced up at the angry, tiny face.

―Sorry. I forgot about you guys.‖

After clicking its nails at Vic—was that the way a sprite flipped someone off?—it

disappeared back into the branches. God, her world had gotten bizarre.

Vic walked slowly down the snow-patched sidewalks. Calum said she needed to stay in

Cold Creek for at least six months, to learn shifter rules, how to control the trawsfurs, let her

body adapt fully. What the hell was she going to do during that time, and even after that? Being a

barmaid was fun, but not for a lifetime. It would be like surviving on cake instead of real food.

But she wasn‘t exactly trained for much. I‟m a soldier, dammit!

Not any more. The gusting breeze tangled her hair, and she brushed it back impatiently. She

needed to call Wells and tell him she wanted to muster out. The thought left an aching hollow in

her gut. He‘d recruited her into his special undercover unit years ago, given her Special Forces

training, CIA agent training. They spoke the same language of duty and honor and loyalty, and in

typical Wells‘ fashion, he‘d known just what to say to get her on board. “I need you.”

Now she‘d lose him too.

Her throat somehow cut off her wind, and she stopped to breathe and look out at the snow-

dusted mountains, soaring tall into the blue sky. Immovable and unchanging, so different from

the weak humans below.

She inhaled, let the pain pass through her. She‘d survive, of course she would. She started

walking again, trying to formulate a plan. Calum didn‘t need a full-time barmaid, so somewhere

in this place, she‘d have to find a nine-to-five job. Selling cars maybe.

The thought made her gag.

Calum looked up as the door opened. Vic dropped her coat on a table and crossed the room

to join him behind the bar. ―Can I help?‖

He studied her for a moment. ―Is something amiss?‖ he asked.

She knelt beside the box of bottles he was unpacking and handed one up for him to put

away. ―No. Jamie didn‘t have any problem with returning. She was drowning in friends when I

left.‖

―Not with Jamie. With you.‖

What, did she have some sign on her forehead saying, I‟m unhappy? ―Nah. I‘m fine.‖ She

held up another bottle, and he placed it on the counter rather than the cupboard.

Mouth in a straight line, he pulled her to her feet. His eyes were dark gray, the stormy color

darkening fast.

―What?‖ she asked. Weak, Vic, weak. Questions were a stupid way to—

―I asked because I care,‖ he said in a level tone, his gaze not leaving her face. ―And I would

prefer to have an honest answer.‖

God, he was even better than Wells at boxing a person in. She huffed a breath and looked

away. The bastard didn‘t move, didn‘t release her, didn‘t talk...just held her in place...waiting.

Like a fucking cat outside a gopher hole. She had a feeling he‘d stand there until she replied.

―Fine, then.‖ She stared down at the unpacked boxes. ―I can‘t go back to my old job, and I

don‘t know what to do now.‖

―Ah, cariad . Your whole life has turned upside-down, hasn‘t it?‖

The question stabbed like a knife, and she choked on a whimper. Raising her eyes, she met

his gaze. Understanding. Sympathy. Dammit, she didn‘t need…didn‘t want… The sob rising in

her throat humiliated her.

He pulled her against his chest, holding her firmly, ignoring her attempt to push away.

―Shhh. Let it come. You have lost much.‖ The low rumble of his voice soothed; his arms

enclosed her in warmth. Safety.

Sobs rose up, choking their way out in ugly sounds. She tried to turn, to hide, but he just

pressed her face to his shoulder until she gave up and wept.

It seemed like forever that she cried, and past forever before she could stop. Little

hiccupping sobs kept breaking free, but he stood, patient as a mountain, holding her as his warm

hand made long, comforting strokes up and down her back.

―I‘m sorry,‖ she muttered into his shoulder.

―I‘m not. You were overdue.‖

―I‘m not a baby.‖

―Indeed no. You are stronger than any woman I know.‖ His cheek rested on top of her head,

the feeling comforting. ―Alas, Victoria, no matter how strong, you are still only mortal. You

needed to mourn, cariad.‖

Her breath shuddered out. ―Okay. Well.‖ When she pulled back this time, he released her.

―Ah. Thanks. For...holding me.‖ God, how embarrassing.

He had a slight smile. ―My pleasure.‖

―Oh, sure.‖ All guys liked a bawling woman.

Hand on her cheek, he bent and kissed the tears away, his lips like velvet. His scent washed

over her, clean soap with a tantalizing hint of musky male. And then he threaded his fingers

through her hair, hummed a little in pleasure, and took her mouth. Possessed and staked his

territory.

Unexpected desire exploded within her like a bomb, and she pressed closer. Running her

hands up his back, she savored the rock-hard muscles under his thin white shirt. He cupped her

bottom, pulling her against him, and the bulge of his hard cock made her shiver. When he

stepped away from her, her shirt somehow came right off.

―Hey,‖ she protested. ―I thought—Alec isn‘t here. How does—‖

―Not all sex has to be a threesome, little cat. And you need something to take your mind off

your sadness.‖ Pulling on her hair to tip her head back, he kissed his way down to the curve in

her neck. Holding her in place, he undid her jeans, and then shoved her pants and briefs down to

tangle at her feet.

―I have something I‘ve wanted to do ever since you walked into my tavern.‖ With firm

hands, he lifted her and sat her on the bar top. The glossy wood felt chill under her bare bottom.

He opened her legs and stepped between her thighs, then hugged her. A second later her bra

dropped away. Sneaky cat.

―Now wait a minute.‖ Naked in a bar? Was the man insane? ―No, Calum.‖ She took his

hands, thinking to control him.

His jaw set, and his expression took on a dangerous edge. He moved her hands to her sides.

―Your hands will remain there. Am I clear, Victoria?‖

God, when his voice took on that lethal note of command, everything inside her quivered.

How could he do this to her when no one else could? She swallowed.

His lips curved up. ―I see you understand.‖ He pulled her forward and kissed her breasts, his

mouth shockingly hot against her cool skin. His tongue circled until her nipples grew hard and

throbbing, then he sucked one, then the other. Shivers ran through her, pooling in her groin like

molten lead.

With a small smile, he set a hand on her sternum, pushing her back, forcing her to lie flat

with her legs dangling off the end. ―Oh, yes, this is exactly where I imagined you,‖ he

murmured.

What? The bar stood much higher than his crotch, how was he… He ran his finger down her

moist cleft and followed with his mouth.

―Oh, God. Listen, this isn‘t—‖

―Oh, this is.‖ He nipped her inner thigh admonishingly.

―Calum. Please—‖

―Be silent, little cat.‖ With his free hand, he lifted her right leg up, setting her heel on the

bar‘s edge, pressing her knees to the outside, and opening her farther. Exposing her fully. She

felt vulnerable. Hot. Needy. His tongue circled her clit, flicked across it. With one hand, he

gripped her knee firmly, keeping her open. With his other, he toyed with her nipples.

Her head spun with the sensations. His mouth nibbling, biting, sucking, licking. His fingers

circling, pinching, stroking. Then he moved his hand from her breast to her pussy. One finger

slid inside her. She was so very wet, yet she could feel each knuckle as it entered. Her hips rose.

He slowed, his tongue moving away from her center, leaving her tight, wanting, and she