Her stomach twisted. Faces flashed through her head. Men and women. Children. Some were killed in open combat, others simply vanished in the middle of the night. The Levine pride counted too many killers among their numbers.
And Lindley ran right for them.
Kyla locked her knees against the surge from her inner lioness. The creature wanted out of her skin. To run where, Kyla couldn’t be certain. Following Lindley or hightailing it in the opposite direction offered equally unsure fates.
“I’m going with you.”
Trent nodded. “Good girl. Grab some clothes. Lindley’s too. Don’t know how long we’ll be gone or if we’ll need to shift on the fly.”
Kyla turned without a word and darted for the den.
* * *
Kyla sat on her hands to keep them from shaking. She divided her attention between the road ahead and the minutes slowly ticking by on the truck’s dash clock. Nine hours. They’d been on the hunt for nine freaking hours.
Dash and Rhys took turns following Lindley’s scent through the wilderness while she and Trent drove ahead to where they suspected he might show himself. Together, they worked to close the gap with Lindley locked between them.
“There,” she breathed, pointing into the night. “To the right!”
Relief flooded through her at the sight of the big lion crashing through the trees. Two others raced after him. They swiped at his hind legs and nipped at his sides in their attempts to turn him and herd him exactly where they wanted him.
Somewhere safe. Quiet. Without witnesses.
That Heatherglen had been the spot seemed either good fortune or bad luck. She was back to flipping coins in her head and hoping they turned up favorably for her and the others.
Trent slammed the brakes hard enough to send her flying forward. The truck skidded to a stop and he bolted out the door the moment he yanked the keys from the ignition.
Kyla flew right behind him, hauling herself into the bed of the pickup. She kept a close watch on the fight unfolding yards and yards away. Dash and Rhys snarled and roared at the merciless blows Lindley landed on them, but they didn’t back off. They took everything their pridemate lashed out with and kept throwing themselves into his path.
Trent flipped the locks on the case and drew out the tranquilizer gun inside. A second later, he had the rifle trained on the fight. Tiny adjustments moved him into place and he bared his teeth, finger poised over the trigger.
Kyla held utterly still and crammed down the discomfort lodged in the back of her throat. This was the plan, she reminded herself. Lindley wasn’t going to be shot for real. Pumped full of drugs strong enough to knock out an elephant, sure, but not anything that would permanently damage him.
Unless he had a bad reaction to the sedatives. Or broke his neck when he collapsed under the weight of the drugs. Or they crashed into a lake on the drive home and he drowned because he was still unconscious.
She whined at the runaway thoughts. Nine hours were eight-and-a-half too many with an overactive imagination with a penchant for doom.
“Shit.” Trent dropped the tranquilizer gun with a grimace. “I can’t get a clear shot.”
Kyla held her breath. Lindley moved with terrifying speed, twisting and turning and snarling to strike blow after blow.
“Stay here,” Trent ordered.
She tore her eyes away from the scene as the Crowley alpha yanked his shirt over his head in a fluid motion. “What’s happening?”
“He’s going for the kill.”
The words sent a chill through her whole body. No. He couldn’t. Not his pride. He’d already lost his place in the world. He didn’t deserve to be severed from his home again.
Trent jumped from the truck. He hit the ground running on four paws and leaped straight into the thick of it, blocking a swipe to Dash that might have taken his eye.
She stood, frozen, watching the violence play out. She hated the sight of blood and the metallic tang it left in the air. Hated how familiar both were under Roland’s rule. Despised that he could reach across years and miles to play his tormenting games.
Lions blurred. Memories melded together. Roland punishing one of his own. Lindley mauling the others. Like father, like son.
Skies above, he frightened her.
Raw power coursed through him. White-hot fury added weight to his blows. There was nothing left of the man in the savage beast hurling himself again and again at his friends.
The scream of pain broke her. Dash rolled to his back and swatted huge paws against Lindley’s head and face, but the lion refused to let go of his hold on Dash’s back leg. Only when Trent and Rhys piled on and drove him to his belly did he unclench his jaws and let Dash limp away. Even then, with three working legs, his pridemate turned back into the battle.
Kyla jumped to the ground and took halting steps forward.
The noise was horrible. Raw. Filled with contempt and hatred, though for different reasons on either side. Lindley wanted to get free of the obstacles standing in his way. Trent and the others wanted to stop one of their own from making a mistake—by any means necessary.
She stumbled when the first big body crashed against her. The second—Rhys, she knew, from his white hide—twisted out of the way before he rolled over her.
Then suddenly, the conditions of the fight changed. The three didn’t try to drag Lindley to the ground or pin him for the final kill. They hedged him in so he couldn’t run.
Kyla stepped right through their middle.
“Stop,” she whispered. “You have to stop.”
The growl that tumbled out of his mouth made her shake from head to toe. Her lioness cowered down inside her, belly to the proverbial ground, urging her to back away.
He was huge. Felt huge. She choked on the air around him, so thick with the dominance and rage he heaved off him with every breath. The others withstood the pressure to cave and submit. Monsters, Hailey called them. Kyla understood all too well what she meant.
She stood in the middle of behemoths.
“Lindley, please,” she whispered again. Even that sounded too loud. “You have to come home.”
Kyla locked her legs against the weight of his presence. She wouldn’t back down. Couldn’t. She had to help him stand against his inner darkness.
He shoved his face into her middle. Hot breath warmed her through her clothes.
Molasses slow, she lifted her hands and rested them below his ears. Lindley rumbled and nudged her again.
Cuts crisscrossed him from head to flanks. She lost count of how many puncture wounds she could see. The raking paths of claws were a testament to an appalling level of stubbornness and brute strength. She'd have given herself over to death with half his wounds.
A shudder passed through the big male. He shook his mane as another took hold. Hairs lifted up and down her arms as his shape cracked and broke and shrank down until the lion was gone and a man knelt in his place.
That vague sense of energy swirling through the air was signal the others let their shifts ripple through them. Lindley wasn’t the only one to make it out the other side worse for wear. Trent and Rhys leaned against one another, bleeding from wounds leftover from their change. Dash sprawled on the ground, mouth pressed in a tight line; his leg needed to be set before they went anywhere.
Arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed tight enough to crack her spine. Kyla buried her fingers in Lindley’s hair.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her stomach. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered back. The ache in his voice broke her heart. “You’re here now. It’s okay.”
By the Broken, they were a mess. At least they had each other to help limp into the next fight. Kyla slid her eyes closed. There would be another fight, too. And others after. Roland wouldn’t give up screwing with their lives until either he or they were dead.
Chapter 21
Lindley pushed through the ache of sore muscles to slide out of Trent’s truck,
then immediately turned to offer Kyla a hand. His lion prowled and paced through his head, discontent with everything around him. He hated that Kyla was there. Hated watching Rhys limp to the motel door under Dash’s weight, hated the calm quiet in the air.
He’d been an asshole to every single person unloading in that parking lot and no one would say a damn thing.
Agitation sparked down his spine. He couldn’t even claim the silence as punishment because the pained smiles they all flashed his way were too fucking forgiving.
Trent hurried forward to open a room door for Rhys and Dash, phone pressed to his ear. “Dash is banged up pretty bad,” he slashed his eyes away from Lindley, “so we’re getting a couple rooms for the rest of the night.” Pause. “You’re good staying with the bears?” Pause. “No, no, don’t let them near my barn. I don’t care how late we get back. I’m not dead yet. I won’t have them picking over my horses and cattle like vultures.”
He didn’t need to hear the other side of the conversation to know it was Hailey. Truthfully, he’d been surprised at the restraint Trent showed in delaying the call until that moment. He’d hardly been able to take his eyes off Kyla.
But Hailey was safe at home. Kyla was surrounded by danger.
Danger Trent put her in.
Anger circled through him, scraping together the last remains of what sent him hauling out of the cave in the first place. The slow churn kicked over and spun him back up into restless, ungrounded agitation that needed to be unleashed somewhere.
Lindley marched across the parking lot and blasted Trent across the jaw. “You motherfucker,” he snarled.
“Lin!” Kyla shouted.
Trent staggered back, wincing as he rubbed at the spot Lindley hit. “It’s fine,” he gritted out. “It’s payback.”
“Damn right,” Lindley agreed. He threw his arm over Kyla’s shoulders and dragged her close to him. The touch was a soothing hand down his bristled back. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Same as you were, probably. You’re welcome, too.”
“Asshole.” Lindley slid the key into the lock and ushered Kyla inside.
“Fucker,” Trent muttered before the door closed.
“What was that about?” Kyla asked.
Lindley leaned heavily against the motel door and watched her take a quick spin around the small room. Two double beds with thin but serviceable covers, an old dresser with too much lean on one side, and bathroom lights that buzzed when flicked on were not the ideal amenities for their first trip away from their den, but he’d hardly planned to lose his shit so epically.
She completed her circuit and faced him again. All he could do was stare. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun. Her eyes were tight with the concern that laced her scent. The curves hidden under her clothes kicked his need to fight into other urges. Ones he denied.
Words circled in his head. Coated his tongue. He tried to push them past his lips, but the red splotches on her shirt held him captive.
Trent used her, the same as he’d used Hailey. Both women were thrown in the path of a male about to topple into madness. Hailey stopped Trent from falling, but Lindley felt like he’d only slowed his descent.
Kyla stopped him from certain death, sure. From blindly lashing out? From ripping his mask away? That was all on him, and he’d lowered himself to his father’s level.
Trent got to make the phone call back home. He had to face reality. He was just another Levine male. Dark, dangerous, and one bad bit of news away from losing his damn mind.
He couldn't ask anyone to deal with that. The idea of sending Kyla away tore him to shreds and felt like chopping off an arm afterward, but the option was better than dragging her down with him.
His throat worked with a hard swallow. He struggled to tear his eyes away from the red on her shirt. “You have blood on you,” he choked out.
His, probably. And, hell. More of his mess she needed to clean.
No. Fuck that. He could do that much for her, at least.
Without a word and likely an insane move viewed by anyone not in his head, he latched a hand around her wrist and dragged her into the bathroom. Lindley shoved aside the curtains encasing the combo tub-and-shower and spun the knob to start the water.
The door clicked behind him. Kyla turned slowly. Hands stretched out, she crossed the expansive gulf between them with a single step.
Her fingers dusted the hem of his shirt. “You have some on you, too.”
He leaned away, but she followed. “What are you—?”
“You’re not shutting me out, Lindley,” she said over him, chin raised. “You’re not shutting down, either. Strip.”
“Kyla—”
"We keep moving, remember? No matter what happens, we don't let them take us to our knees. Now, strip. You have more to clean than I do."
Steam filled the tiny room as his lion watched her with renewed interest and respect. Shy, awkward Kyla from his memories had grown into a fierce lioness in her own right. The last of her quiet reserve slipped from her shoulders as she stared up at him. She wasn’t pissed or upset, either. Determination filled her scent.
Lindley kept his eyes locked on hers while he shed his clothes.
His lion stirred at the flash of gold within the grey. His fingers itched to reach out and drag her into his arms, then strip her down till nothing stood between them.
He stepped into the shower and winced at the first blast of water over his skin.
Shit, he was a mess. He glanced down at his chest and legs and cock rising to attention it certainly didn’t deserve. Bruises colored a good chunk of his skin. Most of his cuts had healed, and the water washed away the evidence left behind.
Kyla wanted him to keep moving? He hadn’t stopped. He was just going in the opposite direction. She’d found her footing while he lost his. The proof of that was written across his skin.
Lindley braced himself against the tile and hung his head under the water.
Cool air blew over him before the curtain closed again. Light touches trailing over his skin replaced the sudden chill.
“You scared me.”
Her words were so quiet he wasn’t sure if he heard or imagined them. He twisted around to face her. The concern in her eyes and scent were answer enough.
“I know. I didn’t mean to. I just…” He let off a short, frustrated growl. Keep moving. Yeah, right. “No. There’s no fucking excuse. I let that asshole get under my skin and dragged all of you into danger because of it. You were safe on the ranch. Dash had two working legs. Trent and Rhys weren’t slashed to ribbons. I did that.
“The worst part?” he asked thickly. He pulled her hand over his heart. “My lion is still pacing through me. The same doubts that made me run to rip him a new one are still pushing at me to get down there and take my answers. I want to make them bleed for their tricks or their lies, whichever it turns out to be.”
She slid her hand to his cheek and turned his face to meet her eyes. “Do you know how I know you’re not like him?”
Lindley shook his head.
She leaned up to press a tiny kiss to his lips. “You’re guilty. You’re capable of feeling bad and owning up to your actions. That’s not the attitude of an unrepentant dickhole.”
“You have too much faith in people,” he denied.
“Maybe you don’t have enough.” She wrapped her hand around his cock and slowly pumped his shaft.
“That’s not fair,” he groaned.
"You're a good man, Lindley Levine. You're not your father." She adjusted her grip, using both hands to work his length in mind-numbingly blissful strokes. "You're mine."
Mine.
His lion roared through his head. Every pump of his heart rang like a gong in his own ears. And Kyla just kept stroking him.
Perfect woman. Perfect, fucking woman. There was no resisting her. No pushing her away. She’d called to him when they were barely old enough to realize what that spark between them meant. The years apart did n
othing to extinguish the flame.
Now she was right there, telling him he belonged with her.
Lindley crashed his mouth over hers. One swipe of his tongue parted her lips and he delved into her with deep, claiming licks.
“Tell me to stop.” His voice sounded ragged to his own ears. “Tell me before—”
“Before what?” Kyla lifted her chin in a challenge. “Before you take what I want to give?”
Lindley tangled his fingers in her hair and tugged her head to the side. He dragged his nose up the column of her neck, inhaling the crisp, sweet, apple and baked earth scent.
“I need you.” He licked into her mouth again. Her taste exploded over his tongue, zinged through his nerves, burst into his brain. She branded herself in his very being. Only one thing could compete. The move would seal the bond that grew between them.
As out of control as his inner beast was, Lindley slammed on the brakes before his gums did more than ache with the press of fangs. Holy hell, he wanted to mark her and lay his claim on her. Sense prevailed. Barely. He wanted to begin as he meant to continue. Running high off a fight and raw from uncomfortable truths was not the right frame of mind to take a mate.
To make her scream? Well, that was a whole other set of instincts he could indulge.
He wrapped an arm around her body and hauled her closer to him. Her touch, her taste, the tiny, needy moans that he swallowed down with glee all worked to addict him to her more than ever.
She chose him.
Didn’t matter that he was half-mad with the need to murder their old pride. Didn’t matter that he was the son of the man who kicked her down and made her small. She saw something salvageable in him.
She chose him.
“I thought I could push you away,” he mouthed against her lips.
Lindley slid a hand between their bodies. His mouth dragged up in a cocky grin at the hum the first brush of his fingers brought out of her. He teased her entrance with a single digit, barely thrusting inside.
Her eyes flew open, silent demand written in the bright gold of her inner lioness. Fuck, that look grabbed him by the balls. He wanted the pretty kitty to come out and scratch him up.
Savage Claim: Lion Hearts Book Two Page 13
