The Leopard King

by Ann Aguirre

  But she didn’t think it was his closeness or his heat that had roused her. Something else… but though she strained her ears, she didn’t catch any alarming sounds. Her sense of smell wasn’t sharp enough to detect trouble, either. I’m probably imagining things. Yet she couldn’t get back to sleep. Dom was strumming her belly slowly now, like she was an instrument he could play. Despite her best intentions, his gentle touch sent a shiver through her.

  It’s fine. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

  When he eased his hand lower, Pru caught it and held it still. These were the two arms that he’d tied together, so she was literally bound to him. It wouldn’t be hard to untie the knot and slip away, but she lacked the energy to attempt shifting again so soon. Each failure drained her and left her feeling like shit. Not to mention, she hadn’t been joking when she said she had tried damn near everything else.

  Burn scars marched up her inner thighs, ten years old and faded, a testimonial to a lifetime of quiet desperation. Pain did nothing, so maybe she had never been sufficiently frightened. Passion didn’t work either, as Slay once made her come five times and then walked away with an odiously self-satisfied smile.

  If I was meant to shift, it would’ve happened then.

  Amid her depressing reflections, a floorboard creaked. That definitely was not my mind playing tricks. She sat up and shook Dom, who roused with a sleepy glare.

  “What now?”

  “Someone’s here,” she whispered.

  He froze, head cocking, and then he ripped the string off. “You’re right. Stay here.”

  With a speed and grace she envied, he slipped into leopard form, perfect for prowling a dark house without alerting his prey. Whoever was skulking about, they couldn’t have good intentions. What wouldn’t she give to help with defense instead of hiding? Anxious, she crept to the door, listening for combat, but the enemy must be elusive. Then she caught a furious snarl and the sound of battle. After what she’d put Dom through, he’d probably disagree that obedience was her strong suit, but she had no intention of stirring, until a shadow slid through the open doorway.

  By moonlight, she recognized the intruder as Eldritch, mostly by virtue of height and build. The silver of his hair gleamed in the dark, contrasting with the black silk mask that identified him as a Noxblade, an elite order of assassins. A silver blade slashed the air, so close it lopped off a lock of her hair. Somehow she bolted past him toward the smashing glass downstairs, knowing she had no hope of defeating a killer who began training at five and according to legends, likely used poison weapons as well. Under normal circumstances, that would only weaken an Animari, but it also made them easier to defeat in an extended battle.

  In the past few years, Dom had gotten thin and weak, so the venom might impact him more. Shifted, he might be able to compensate, but his endurance… Fear took hold of her like she’d never known, especially when she cleared the stairs to find him pinned, snarling, with two Noxblades closing in. She also smelled the richness of Dom’s blood. From behind, she heard the whisper-soft footfalls of the one who had tracked her down. If an Animari who could shift and fight had come to fetch Dom, they might stand a chance. Desperation and adrenaline flooded her, and she launched herself at the one coiling his arm for a killing strike.

  I don’t care, it doesn’t matter. I’ll bite with my stupid human teeth—

  Only as she leapt, her whole body shuddered. The pain, nobody ever told me about the pain. It was like being cut open and reassembled with knives, all in the space of an instant. Then she flew toward her target with a grace she’d only dared to dream before. Pru landed on the Noxblade’s back and clamped down without hesitation, her sharp teeth savaging the side of his throat. The blood palate like freshly fermented wine, and as her enemy twisted and slashed, he couldn’t reach her with his terrible knives. As he fell, she bounded away, small and nimble enough to disappear on the beams that framed the ceiling.

  Dom destroyed the other one, first with a claw swipe and then with a lunge and bite that cracked the Noxblade’s skull like a dry nut. Much better odds, now. Which left a shadow prowling near the stairs. Pru could see in the dark like it was day, and she watched as the sole surviving assassin melted toward the side door instead of pushing his luck. It seemed highly probable that someone had been spying on Dom and gauged him an easy mark. His defenses are down, drunken stupor. Take him while he’s weak or in his sleep. Imagining those instructions, she let out a quiet snarl and Dom rumbled in response. When he padded after the intruder, she followed. The scent trail led off property and though they patrolled for hours afterward, there was no sign that the killer had lingered, looking for another opportunity.

  Finally, he signaled with a toss of his head that they should turn back. Joy suffused her because even following orders felt better in feline skin.

  Dom shifted as soon as they stepped through the kitchen door, but Pru frolicked at his feet, rubbing against his legs like she never intended to change back. Before, there had been no time to reflect, but there was no doubt now. She saved me. Such a fearless little cat. Her ambush had been exactly the distraction he needed to get out of that corner and turn the tide. He ran a hand over her back, admiring her markings. Like her mother before, she was an ocelot, larger than their non-shifting cousins but small by Animari standards.

  But she did it. She shifted.

  Kneeling beside her, he stroked her head and whispered, “Come back now, Pru. It’s been too long already.”

  She vibrated a little, maybe in protest, but then she toppled into his arms, all woman, all naked. Blood smeared her face, especially around her mouth, caked and dry now. Normally, her parents would’ve talked her through this, but because she was twenty-seven—incredibly late for the ability to kick in—the charge fell to him. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she trembled all over, so hard that he had to hold her close and press her face to his shoulder to keep her from biting her tongue. He took a moment to be grateful that she’d cleaned the kitchen floor.

  “Everything hurts,” she got out from between chattering teeth.

  “I know.” He stroked her back. “The older you are, the more your bones have fused. So shifting is tough. And it feels worse than it does for someone who started around puberty.”

  “Will it al-always be this bad?”

  “I don’t know anyone who broke through past twenty-five, so I’m not sure. But Arran was twenty, and he said it got better, slowly. So give your body time to adapt, yeah?”

  “I feel like I’m dying.”

  “You’re not. Breathe for me.”

  Her lips parted against his bare shoulder, rousing unexpected chills. If she didn’t need soothing so bad, he’d suggest they put some clothes on. Hers lay on the floor in the next room, but she was too shaky to separate yet. After his first shift, Dom recalled clearly how he’d felt, almost eighteen years ago now, clinging to his father, sick with exhilaration and a bewildering, brand-new biological cocktail.

  Pru wound herself around him, arms so tight about his neck that he had a hard time getting oxygen. He didn’t try to detach her; instead he massaged her biceps in turn, then he rubbed her all over as he’d never touched any woman but Dalena. First-generation kin and mated pairs—they were usually the only ones to see somebody after an initial shift…and this was why.

  In time her shivers subsided enough for her to say, “They thought you’d be alone. But… why do the Eldritch want you dead? There are four days before the new negotiations begin and a full two weeks until the old treaty terms expire.”

  It had been so fucking long since he turned his mind to such questions, but the answer came nonetheless. “Guessing here, but… I’m more moderate than Slay. If he becomes pride leader, it’ll be easier to provoke a fight.”

  “Between the Golgoth and us?” Pru guessed.

  He smiled against the top of her head. “Exactly. If we battle the Golgoth to the point of exhaustion—”

  “The Eldritch sweep in and conquer
both our territories. They’re not much for open warfare, so this sort of shadow play is precisely their style.”

  Her excellent, concise summary startled him so much that he tipped her head back to study her face. “Since when do you know so much about politics?”

  “Since always. I’ve spent my life studying since I couldn’t take patrols, couldn’t stand watch, couldn’t scout, couldn’t fight, couldn’t—”

  “Hey.” He set a finger against her lips to stem that bitter tide.

  “Sorry. I still can’t believe it. I don’t even know how I did it or if I can do it again.” She dropped her head to his shoulder, hiding her face. “I’m honestly afraid it was a fluke.”

  Dom laughed. “Silly kitten. I’ve never heard of anyone shifting just once. You either can or you can’t. It’ll be easier next time. I promise.”

  For some reason, his words seemed to reassure her. She let out a sigh, and her lashes drifted down to create dark crescents on her freckled cheeks. Now that he’d seen her cat form, he probably should’ve guessed she’d have spots while shifted too. She still hadn’t let go of him, like he was the only solid ground with water rising all around her.

  Then she sat up abruptly, and he wondered if it had hit her that they were curled up together, naked, again. But no, she pulled his arm up to the light so she could inspect the wound. He had another puncture in his side, and from the heat radiating from it, the dagger had been coated with something because he felt distinctly woozy.

  I’ll run a fever for a few days, feel like shit. No permanent harm done.

  “I’m so sorry. I forgot that you’re hurt.”

  Somehow she found the fortitude to make her legs work, and he watched in stunned amazement as she prowled the kitchen bare-assed in search of the first-aid kit. I’m not even a man to her. Dom didn’t want to get pissed off, but her complete indifference rankled. And fine, Ash Valley wasn’t a particularly modest pride; they shared communal bathing facilities, but that didn’t mean her behavior was normal. But for reasons he couldn’t even explain, he didn’t say, Put a damn shirt on.

  My shirt.

  Maybe it was because she had such pretty tits. Oh, what the hell.

  Annoyed with himself, he scowled the whole time she ministered to him, washing, fussing, wiping, poking, rubbing him with allegedly healing unguents. By the time she got the bandages on, it felt like his skin was too small. Dom reminded himself that she’d saved him.

  And I didn’t even say…

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She tilted her head, looking puzzled. “For what?”

  “You kicked some major ass tonight… and right after your first shift? I’d have shit my pants if I’d faced a Noxblade on my first go.”

  Astonished and rapt, he watched the rosy flush that started at her chest, crept up her neck, and colored her checks, making her freckles stand out coppery in comparison. Didn’t anybody compliment her before? Absurd. Pru had so many good qualities, but she always… blended in. Probably because she didn’t want people talking about her, judging her, but that camouflage seemed to have left her hungry for praise.

  Her wintry eyes sparkled like the sun on clear water. “I want to be modest and say it was no big deal, but… even I think that was pretty fucking awesome.”

  A laugh burst out of him, unexpected and liberating. His chest felt a little looser too, even if his side still stung like a bitch. “No arguments. We should wash up and then get some sleep. They won’t try again tonight, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe.”

  She nodded. “I was just thinking the same thing. But… I’m so hungry. Is that typical? I mean seriously, I could eat a moose.”

  “Shit, yeah. You just burned like a week of calories. Let’s get you fed.”

  If Arran, the pride seer, had predicted he’d be sitting, naked, on the kitchen floor, eating cold stew out of a pot with Pru, he would’ve suggested early retirement. As they ate, he reminded her of the changes she could expect: additional muscle mass, increased appetite both for food and sex, across the board sensory improvements, greater speed and strength. She listened, starry-eyed, making him feel like he’d done something to deserve that. Eventually they scraped the pan with their spoons, then she fed him the last bite with a happy smile. And it wasn’t strange. Dom had no idea what this was, but when she stretched and rubbed her stomach, he had the sudden thought that it was… good.

  “I can live now,” she mumbled, dropping their dishes in the sink.

  Gratitude welled up in him, so strong he couldn’t fit in one word. But he tried anyway. “Thanks.”

  She turned with a quizzical look. “You already said that.”

  “Not for that. For… everything else.”

  For coming. For staying.

  For saving me.

  “Then there’s only one thing left on my to-do list.” With an enigmatic smile, she sauntered out of the kitchen.

  Out of habit, Dom rushed after her, not realizing until he hit the stairs that there was no reason to stick so close anymore. He hesitated. No reason to go to Pru’s room. No reason to tie her to me. That insight left him feeling oddly aimless. Then he heard the water running, sounds of her brushing her teeth, and since he needed to rinse off the blood as well, he went up. After taking his turn in the bathroom, he found her waiting in the hall. She looked—well, there was no way to describe it except determined.

  “I’ve met your terms,” she said softly. “I shifted. Even killed for you. Only one requirement left, so now… I’m taking you on.”

  When she touched him, there was no mistaking what she meant.

  5.

  Shock and dismay warred for dominance in Dom’s expression.

  Not the reaction I want when I’m trying to seduce somebody. But it also seemed impossible that Pru had her fingers on Dom’s cock and he didn’t take her hand off at the wrist. Instead he stared at that point of contact, and then his expression melted into a sort of helpless regret. She worked not to show how nervous she felt and how wrong this seemed.

  He belongs to Dalena. Always has.

  But when she said he needed to move on with a new mate, he’d replied that when she could shift and take the role herself, then he’d come home. Only then. While Pru grasped he’d meant it as a when-hell-freezes-over sort of reply, the pride needed him bad enough that she had to try. If he rejected her, she’d have to crawl back to Ash Valley without him, and the Eldritch might send more Noxblades next time. The consequences of failure scrolled through her head until she trembled.

  I’m sorry, Dalena. It’s for the pride… and for his benefit. I’ve never fucked somebody for their own good before. Without the adrenaline left from her recent shift, Pru wouldn’t have the courage. It took all her self-control to pull back and smile at him. An answering flicker deep in his eyes told her she hadn’t lost him completely. Over the past couple of days, they’d established a connection, so if she could just forget… everything, it might work. She tried to erase the memories of him with Dalena, of the way they were together.

  Breathing deep to steady her nerves, Pru set a hand on his shoulder. “You have to keep your word and let me try. Just a kiss, okay? If it’s awful, we’ll stop.”

  Like Dom had gone nonverbal, he lifted his chin slightly in reply, but he didn’t bend to make it easier. But she knew quite a lot about him, so when she cupped her hand around the back of his head, he dipped reflexively, his mouth close enough for her to take. He tasted of toothpaste with just a hint of Eldritch blood sweetening his tongue.

  She pulled back to assess his response. He touched his lips, staring back at her in silence.

  “Was it awful?”

  Slowly he shook his head. “But—”

  For the first time ever, she kissed someone to shut him up. Pru already knew what he would say, and she didn’t want to hear it. Yes, you’re still in love with Dalena. And I wish you were Slay. But the pride needs you, and you… you need a reason to live. If not love, maybe I can give you purpose.
Her heart ached a little because part of her wanted to run home and tell Slay:

  I shifted. We’re not impossible anymore.

  Except it was, now. For different reasons. She’d committed to bringing Dom back, no matter the cost, and he’d set the terms. Even if he’d spoken the challenge in a fit of rage, he would keep his promise. Plus, she railed at the idea of being accepted because she could shift; Pru would rather make this bargain with Dom.

  With effort, she banished all thoughts of Slay. He was her past, and Dom, her future. Pru gave everything to this kiss, delicate pressure, advance and retreat, teasing away to nibble his lips. At first he was so still that she thought he was humoring her, and she expected him to break away with a sympathetic look. Sorry, Pru. You can’t start my engine, he might say. Except that he finally moved, and not to set her away. His arms came up like he was swimming through deep water, and then he tangled a hand in her hair, the other splaying on her back.

  Elated, she went for a longer kiss, and he made a low sound in his throat as their tongues flirted. With each flutter, he hardened against her belly until he burned her, hot and throbbing. She wrapped her arms around him in an excuse to get more friction. He especially liked it when she sipped at his tongue, and he actually moaned when she pulled it between her lips.

  Mouth-fucking.

  When Dom broke away, panting, she thought they were done, and she couldn’t even argue that he hadn’t let her try. For a few seconds, he only stared down at her with a fevered, incredulous expression, and then he went back in for another kiss. This time, her toes curled because he ate at her lips so hungrily, all teeth and tongue and vicious need. Without breaking the kiss, she pulled him to the bedroom.