When a Liger Mates (A Lion's Pride Book 10)

by Eve Langlais

  Chapter Ten

  “I highly doubt any of you can explain this.” Because Charlotte certainly couldn’t comprehend how lions turned into naked ladies. And before anyone was mistaken, she didn’t mean the bare-naked singing kind but the steely-eyed, would rip her to shreds with their fingernails kind.

  And Lawrence was not only related but one of them. What kind of freak had she hooked up with?

  She wished she’d stayed to listen rather than storming off inside the cabin, only to realize her angry pacing and the sound of the crackling fire meant she couldn’t understand what was being said. Voices rose and fell while she was still coming to grips with what she’d seen.

  Except there was no understanding it. People weren’t animals. And vice versa. They must have been wearing costumes that they flung off to confront her.

  And what of Lawrence? He’d left wearing pants and returned naked because he’d changed out of his liger costume. Except she didn’t remember seeing any costumes on the ground.

  “I know things seem a little strange right now, Peanut.”

  “A little? I think we’re well past a little, Lawrence.” She stressed his formal name.

  “If you’d like his full name, it’s Lawrence Gerome Luke Walker,” offered the one called Lena, her hair a short, ruffled cut that appeared a mix of gold and gray. Her features were weathered, yet attractive.

  All the women had a beauty to them, and she would know since she kept her gaze on their faces. “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m Lena. His favorite aunt,” Ruffle Cut offered.

  The one with darker tresses and a silver streak snorted. “Please, we all know that’s me. I’m his aunt Lenore. He’s probably mentioned me.”

  “Only if he wanted to chase her away and he obviously didn’t. Ignore them, dearest. I’m his favorite aunt, Lacey. My sisters just can’t stand to see our boy getting serious with anyone. I’m sure your mother is the same with you.”

  “I don’t have a mother.”

  “Well, that will make things easier,” Lacey said, earning a rebuke from Lawrence.

  “Aunt Lacey!”

  “What?” She blinked innocently.

  Charlotte had no idea what Lawrence meant when he hissed, “Don’t you dare start.”

  “Who, me?”

  The innocent batting of the lashes had him groaning. “You have that devious look in your eye.”

  “Don’t know what you mean.” Lacey eyed Charlotte up and down before asking, “Do you have a favorite color?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t tell her!” Lawrence barked, a look of panic in his gaze.

  “Really, Roarie, how else will I adjust my binder if I don’t ask?”

  “What binder?” she asked.

  “The wedding one of course. Because you will be repeating your vows in front of friends and family.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to perform in front of an audience,” Lena declared.

  “I’m not marrying your nephew,” was Charlotte’s contribution.

  “After what he did to you, that’s kind of a foregone conclusion, dearie.”

  How did they know? Did it matter? Her cheeks heated. “I don’t know what hillbilly religious cult you’re from, but the fact we fooled around doesn’t mean we’re married. As a matter of fact, once I get out of these woods, I don’t plan on seeing him ever again.”

  For some reason this brought first gaping mouths, then intense laughter.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun,” snickered Lenore.

  “We should go and let them have some privacy to talk,” Lacey stated, tugging at the other women.

  “I want to stay and listen.” Lena dug in her heels.

  “Give the boy some space.” Lacey dragged, and the aunts moved off. They started out as leggy women and morphed into lions.

  Charlotte blinked.

  Nope, still giant cats, which took precedence over her supposed marriage to Lawrence. “What is going on? Am I dreaming?”

  “No.”

  “But how… Is it magic? Are your aunts witches or something?”

  “No. Even if they do at times cackle. Like I tried to tell you before, they’re shapeshifters.”

  “Meaning they can turn into anything they like.”

  “Just lions,” he corrected. “Shifters tend to only have one beast inside. Unless they’re hybrids, then sometimes you can tilt the balance depending on will and strength.”

  “Hold on, you said shifters. Implying there are more of you?”

  “There are quite a few species, actually.”

  “Like wolves.”

  “And bears. A few decades ago it included eagles, but given they’re almost extinct due to the avian flu, those are the main groups.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Your aunts are shifters and so are you.”

  He nodded and, before she could ask, showed her. One minute big man, the next a massive cat. He wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen. His body and fluffy mane were mostly lion-like, but there was some striping in his fur, like that of a tiger.

  She rocked on her heels and held in an urge to bolt. “I can’t believe it. You’re a bloody werelion.” And if they were anything like the werewolves of legend… Her eyes widened as her hand slapped her neck. “Fucking asshole. You bit me. Does this mean I’m going to turn into an animal, too?”

  He changed back before he could reply. “We’re not contagious.”

  “Says you. Have you had your shots?”

  “No need. Shifters in general tend to be quite healthy.”

  “Isn’t that lovely for you.” Not to mention she only had his word she wouldn’t become a monster on the full moon.

  “Listen, I know this is a lot to take in.”

  “Gee, do you think?” Her sarcasm rolled heavily off the tongue. “So how are werelions made anyhow? Do you even have parents? Or are those aunts like people who took you in once you turned out to be a furball?” Because she still had a hard time grasping that any of this was real. If people were having litters, wouldn’t the world know about it?

  “They’re my family. They raised me after my parents died. Do you think I’d let them stalk and treat me like they do otherwise?”

  Her shoulders rolled. “Apparently I don’t know much anymore.”

  “Ah, Peanut.” His soft name for her purred. “Don’t take it so hard. We’re good at keeping our secrets.”

  “So why tell me?” And not just tell her but shove it in her face. They’d made it impossible for her to explain away.

  “I meant to break it more gently, but my aunts, as you’ve noticed, tend to have their own ideas on how to do things.”

  “I don’t know what they’re hoping to accomplish. I don’t care what you are. Once I get out of these woods, we won’t see each other again.” It was the reason she’d been wanton in the cabin, because she could be without worrying about facing him later.

  “About that…remember the bite?”

  “The one you keep saying won’t get infected?” She rubbed it, the skin having already lost the scab and smoothed over. That seemed fast. Perhaps it was more superficial than she’d imagined.

  “The bite will fade as it heals, but what it symbolizes won’t go away. It marks you as my mate.”

  “Your what?”

  “Mate. Wife. Partner for life.”

  She blinked before slowly saying, “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m afraid it’s already done. Ouch. Fuck. Why are you hitting me?”

  “You lying jerk. All this time. Everything out of your mouth. A lie,” she yelled as she kept hitting him.

  He grabbed her wrists and growled, “Enough.”

  “No. Not until you tell me this is a big fucking joke.”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” he said flatly. “And no joke. Our futures are tied, Peanut.”

  “I don’t care what biting means to you and your people. I did not consent to be your anything.”

  “I didn’t do it on purp
ose.”

  “And that makes it better?” She rolled her eyes. “How do we undo it?”

  He shrugged.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “You won’t like the answer.”

  “How about I just refuse to be your wife?”

  “I don’t think you can,” he said, with less certainty.

  “Don’t think?” She snorted. “Obviously you didn’t if you thought you could use your good looks and sexual prowess to turn me into some kind of concubine.”

  “A concubine is a mistress. You’re my mate.”

  The fact that his bold statement made her heart pitter patter meant she retorted a hot, “No, I’m not.”

  “Listen, I don’t know if there’s a way to break the bond, but if you want, we can ask for help in finding out.”

  “From who? More shifters?” She might have sneered.

  “I wouldn’t say it like that, or their solution to the dilemma will be a shallow grave in a swamp.”

  That rounded her mouth. “You’d kill me?”

  “Not me.” His lips thinned, and he didn’t elaborate.

  Which didn’t help the chill that suddenly went through her.

  “You’re cold.” Instantly solicitous, he wrapped his arms around her, and she would have protested the naked man holding her, except it turned out he was actually still quite warm. Her body didn’t care he was a big fat liar; she wanted to bask in it.

  “Are you going to let someone kill me?” she asked, craning her head.

  “No. I’ll find a way to fix things. Promise.” His head angled, and he stared into the distance. “I hear the aunts coming back.”

  It was longer before she heard the distant rumble of engines, and then the bouncing beam of headlights announced their arrival. Freedom within reach. So why did she cast a glance at the cabin and actually feel a pang?

  “Let’s bundle you up, Peanut. It’s going to be a chilly ride.”

  He insisted she wrap herself in the sleeping bag and the blanket, to which she protested, “You need some clothes too.” The aunts had arrived wearing tracksuits, boots, jackets, and ridiculous woolen hats with pompons.

  “I’ll be fine. I can handle the cold better than you.”

  “Are you implying once more that we’re old?” complained Lena over the rumble of her machine. Lacey rode behind her.

  “Never. But it is chilly outside if you’re wearing only skin.” He led Charlotte to Lenore, who sat alone on her snowmobile. “Hold on tight.”

  “What about you?”

  “I could use some exercise.” He winked, and then he went from man to lion. He took off running, and she could only stare.

  “That’s not normal,” she muttered.

  “Oh, honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Now hold on tight. The brakes on this thing don’t work so good.”

  Understatement.

  They whipped through the forest, narrowly avoiding trees. The danger was extreme enough that she buried her face in Lenore’s back. She didn’t want to see death coming.

  She also didn’t need glimpsed reminders of Lawrence.

  A shifter.

  Wasn’t that something from fantasy books and shows? She wanted to deny it, but that would be ignoring the reality right in front of her. More importantly, she needed to understand what this meant to her.

  Was she truly mated to a lion? Been chosen by the most handsome and virile man she’d ever met? A hunk who’d made her come…

  She shivered, not in cold, and in the distance, something roared.

  Chapter Eleven

  Something shivered inside Lawrence, tingled him in a way he’d only recently begun to experience—because of Charlotte.

  He’d gone toe to toe with his aunts over her. Would fight tooth and claw if anyone dared say anything. And then, in the direct opposite, he was intensely worried. Mating lasted for life, and yet he’d never managed more than a few weeks in a relationship. How would he manage that long?

  A good sign was the fact he’d not yet had his fill of her. Would he feel the same way after he did indulge? Or was it possible he’d finally stop wandering?

  He wished he could see the future. Trust in the mating bond. But his aunts raised him to be suspicious. To thrive as a single. Except they weren’t truly ever alone. They always had each other. Lawrence used to have Dean at least. And he knew his aunts would never truly leave him. But what he wanted from his Peanut wasn’t something he’d ever craved from anyone before.

  It excited. It frightened. It confused.

  Why did this have to be so complicated?

  He strained, all four of his legs pumping as he followed the snowmobile tracks. It felt good to have the fresh air ruffling his fur after the musty cloy of the cabin. His paws slammed the fresh snow, spraying it into the air in a fine film.

  To his surprise, the trail emerged at the farm they’d escaped. The scent of smoke lingered in the air, the house a charred ruin. Someone covering their tracks? Or had he accidentally caused the blaze in his escape? He couldn’t recall, and it was kind of annoying because it incinerated any clues he might have gleaned about who’d taken them.

  He didn’t even know the boss lady’s name. Or if she’d died that night.

  It also made him wonder if that woman was after him or someone else. Racking his brain and replaying some of the conversations made him realize he’d assumed they were after him, but if he eyed it from a different perspective… It might have been Peter, Peanut’s brother, they were after all along.

  If he were involved with the kind of people who thought nothing of kidnapping and truth serums, then that didn’t bode well for Charlotte’s brother’s health or survival.

  He shifted and headed for the trunk of the car, knowing they’d have brought him a clothing kit. Charlotte wasn’t saying much, just clutching the blanket and staring at the ruins. She’d shoved her glasses into a pocket for the ride but perched them back on her nose the moment they stopped.

  “I take it I didn’t do this on my way out?” he remarked, coming up beside her.

  She shrugged. “Not that I recall, but kind of hard to see anything when you’re upside down without glasses on and bouncing like a sack of potatoes being taken for a brisk jog.”

  “You are much sexier than a sack of vegetables.”

  “Do you have a habit of tossing women on your back and taking off with them?”

  “You’d be the first.”

  “And don’t worry, you’ll probably be his last,” remarked his aunt Lena. “If you kids are done doing nothing constructive, get your asses in the car. It’s at least an hour to the nearest place with booze and food.”

  The car was tight and warm with the five of them crammed inside. Some of the heat radiated from his annoyance because Charlotte appeared determined not to have anything to do with him. She chose to sit in the middle of the backseat, but when he would have joined her, she looked past him and said, “I’d prefer your aunt was back here with me.”

  “Ooh. Now that’s a surprise,” Aunt Lenore muttered. “Usually the ladies are falling all over themselves to get close to you.”

  “Not helping,” growled Lawrence as he slunk into the front passenger seat.

  “Gotta say, I’m starting to like the girl.” High compliment from Lena. “She knows to not listen to your bullshit.”

  To his surprise, Charlotte came to his rescue. “I am starting to see why he has commitment issues. I’ve heard of apron strings, but you have him raveled in a massive three-twine ball of snarly mess.”

  The polite rebuke had his aunts gaping at the human who dared accuse them of hovering.

  He almost snickered. Especially since she wasn’t joking.

  Lenore took offense first. “It’s not as if we want to be the ones taking care of him.”

  “But someone has to,” Lacey hastily added.

  “My sisters are right for once.” Lena’s addition. “Keep in mind, Roarie is a man, and we all know they need a keeper. It’s why I ne
ver settled down.”

  “They expect you to share a closet,” was Lacey’s horrified admission.

  Whereas Lenore said, “I don’t mind them, but I tend to intimidate them after awhile.”

  “Arm wrestling them in public, winning, and telling them to do the yellow-belly walk of shame would send anyone fleeing,” Lena said with a snort.

  “I’m surprised, given your obviously savvy personalities, that he’s so inept at his age,” Charlotte said.

  The insult, so neatly done, meant his aunts were actually silent for a second before tumbling over each other, suddenly playing up his strong points.

  “Oh, he might be dumb sometimes, but the boy is actually brilliant. Mostly B’s in college. He would have gotten A’s if he applied himself,” Lacey chided.

  “And handsome. While his father passed at a young age, we can assure you that his granddad seasoned quite nicely. Why, he’s still considered the randiest cat down in Florida where he spends all his time now,” Lena said.

  Lawrence slouched in the seat. The old man was both a tribute and scary precaution of what the future could hold. Grandpa didn’t remarry when his wife died. He became a player. Had been for over twenty years now. Did he ever get tired of it?

  He glanced at Charlotte, who caught his gaze. Her tone held a hint of a smirk as she said, “Handsome is as handsome does.”

  “The boy does plenty. He can hunt. Plus, he can play sports. Hand him any ball, glove, or stick, and our nephew will become a pro.” Lenore praised him this time.

  Torture. The worst kind, as his aunts suddenly appeared determined to make Charlotte like him. But his Peanut proved stubborn.

  “Is he good? Or does he just have an advantage most people don’t have?” she asked.

  “Not his fault he was born perfect.” Aunt Lacey sniffed.

  “Perfect?” Charlotte laughed. “I’d hardly use that word.”

  “Then what would you call my nephew?” Lena’s tone was quiet. Too quiet.

  He kept an eye on her. Just in case.

  “I’d say he’s a man who feels a need to play a role rather than be himself,” Charlotte said.

  “No, he’s not pretending at being a tom cat. He is a—”