Hour of the Lion

by Cherise Sinclair

  Farrah murmured her obedience. Patrick dipped his head. "Yes, Cosantir."

  As the others headed for the cave, Calum‘s attention turned to Vicki. Alec felt her muscles tighten under the impact of the Cosantir‘s black gaze.

  "Kneel, Victoria," Calum said softly.

  She stiffened, her chin rising. Alec pressed the knife harder against her throat until a thin line of blood appeared. He had to suppress a shudder. Stubborn female had enough courage that she‘d die before complying. And he couldn‘t…couldn‘t.

  Well then. Fisting his hand tighter in her hair, he slammed his boot into the back of her knees, yanked her off-balance, and shoved her down.

  Vic landed painfully on her knees. She snarled, fighting the urge to struggle. Bastard. She‘d have rather died than kneel. Her anger burned away some of the panic icing her guts.

  Her scalp hurt from his controlling fist. Asshole. This wasn‘t the Alec she knew. Dammit, this was why she never let herself be sucked into relationships. If she survived this, she‘d cut her losses and get the hell gone.

  She raised her gaze to the man in front of her. His pupils were as black as the night sky behind him. Fear slid into her again, sharp as the knife against her throat as she realized that she might not leave this place alive.

  Not a good thought. As dread compressed her chest, she struggled to breathe normally, fighting the rigidity of her body. “Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains An" go to your Gawd like a soldier.” She was a soldier; death happened. Her muscles loosened slightly, her breath slowed.

  "We accepted the small amount of information you offered when you arrived," Calum said.

  "Questioning people isn‘t our way. But now perhaps we should ask a few. What really brought you to Cold Creek?" Shirt still unbuttoned, he crossed his arms over his chest.

  The damned knife hadn‘t moved from her throat; Alec waited immovable behind her.

  Probably her best bet would be to play stupid. Pretend to be an inquisitive woman, innocent of anything more threatening. She opened her mouth and…the words wouldn‘t come. Somehow the thought of lying to Alec, and even Calum, hurt deep inside for no reason. But why? She‘d spent the last years living untruths—why should she find it so hard this time?

  Calum could probably tell anyway, she thought, meeting his penetrating gaze. A second later, she realized she didn‘t have to lie at all. The lump in her stomach disappeared. "I was looking for shifters."

  Behind her, Alec stopped breathing.

  "Were you now?" The icy menace in Calum‘s voice made her shiver. Dammit. He continued as if he hadn‘t noticed, "How exactly did we catch your attention?"

  "A boy named Lachlan died in my arms." Just saying the words tightened her throat.

  Failure. Grief. She blinked furiously and took in a long, controlled breath.

  Alec said incredulously, " You were the female with him?"

  "Yes. I-I was there." Her voice cracked.

  Calum paced away from her then back. Having seen him shift, she recognized where that graceful prowl had originated, but the overwhelming confidence?—oh, that was all his own.

  "Why didn‘t you tell anyone?"

  "Tell someone?" The knife no longer pressed against her neck. She rubbed the burning slice, letting the pain anchor her. "Oh, sure, like I‘m going to walk up to you and ask, „Hey, are you one of those people who turn into cats?" Get real."

  A glint of humor touched his eyes. "Ah, no, that wasn‘t what I meant. Why haven‘t you told anyone about Lachlan?"

  She scrubbed her face with her hands, stalling for time. It would be better to escape this emotion-ridden location, achieve a stand-down. Knowing how the kid died wasn‘t going to make a shifter feel very kindly toward a human, even a woman. "Listen, can we discuss this somewhere else? My knee can‘t take kneeling for long. And I‘m bleeding."

  Alec grunted as if she‘d hit him.

  Calum hesitated, then nodded. "Lachlan‘s grandfather needs to hear this." He gave her an assessing look. "Unless there is a reason he should not be present?"

  Oh, great. "It‘s not a pretty story, but he‘s the reason I‘m here." She had two men who now hated her guts, one of whom she‘d slept with, and next would talk with an old man who‘d tried to kill her. The night just kept getting better and better.

  *

  A lonely beer sat on the small patio table beside him, only half-empty. Thorson had lost his taste for drowning his sorrows after trying to kill the little brown-headed human. A female.

  He shook his head, still shocked— appalled—at how uncontrolled he‘d acted that night.

  Neither grief nor anger could excuse such behavior. She wasn‘t even that bad of a human, he‘d realized. She‘d choose her books and leave quietly. No silly blather, all business. And she was a good waitress according to his friends. He admired competence, no matter the species.

  He glanced up the hill at the dimmed light of the Wild Hunt. There‘d been a time he‘d never missed a Gathering, but he‘d grown old and needed his sleep.

  Not that he slept very long these days. He tended to get up and prowl around the house, avoiding the rooms where grief lay like dust in the corners. Sometimes the boy would join him out here in the back. They‘d lean back, put their feet up on the deck railing, and watch the clouds attempt to dominate the sky.

  Under the light of the full moon, the yard seemed very empty. Maybe he‘d return to bed and try to sleep.

  As he stepped inside the kitchen, someone pounded on his door. His mouth tightened. No good news arrived in the wee hours of the night. Then again, nothing could be that bad—his worst fears had already come to pass.

  After winding his way through the dark house, he opened the door and saw Alec‘s face in the tree-dappled moonlight. "Alec. Is something wrong?"

  "We need to talk to you, Thorson. Can we come in?"

  We? Thorson stepped aside. Alec walked in, followed by Calum and the brown-haired human. Alec led the way into the living room and even presumed to toss another log on the dying embers in the fireplace.

  "What‘s all this about?" Thorson let the irritation show in his voice, but giving the female the respect due her, he censored the profanity.

  Calum pulled her to the couch near the fire, and then he and Alec sat down beside her, one on each side like unmatched bookends.

  Or guard dogs.

  Thorson crossed the room to stand before the mantle, putting his features in shadow and theirs in the light. Alec smiled, and oddly enough, he saw the same understanding of the technique on the human‘s face. "Well?" he asked.

  "Victoria has a story to tell us," Calum said. He turned to put his hand on the female‘s forearm and not in a particularly friendly way.

  Alec leaned forward. "Joe. We just heard this ourselves. Vicki was with Lachlan when he died."

  The words clawed deep into Thorson‘s chest, and he choked on a breath. "She—she was the female who disappeared?"

  "Aye." Alec laid a hand on her other arm.

  Thorson frowned. She looked more trapped between the two than supported by them. He wasn‘t drunk, and he had an aversion to females being manhandled. "Are you here of your own volition or not?"

  Her gaze dropped to one restrained arm, then the other, and a wry smile graced her face.

  "Pretty much. I‘d been trying to figure out how to talk with you anyway—without a fight this time."

  The realization that he himself had kept her from his door was galling and turned his voice thick and bitter. "You‘re here now. Tell me."

  "It‘s not a pretty story," she warned. His jaw clenched, but he gave her the nod she waited for. "All right, then. I was walking down a street in Seattle when I heard a scream …"

  As Victoria‘s tale continued, Calum watched her. She talked about her brutal captors, and her face darkened with anger. When she spoke of how Joe‘s grandson had died, she blinked back tears. Obviously, Lachlan‘s death had hurt her badly. Some of Calum‘s worry eased. And she‘d known
about the Daonain for weeks and hadn‘t betrayed the knowledge.

  She‘d come here to honor her promise to a young man, the actions of an honorable person.

  A touch of guilt made him frown. He‘d been harsh with her tonight.

  Then again, she had been sneaking around, following them.

  She finished her recounting with, "...and I slipped out the back door, jumped the fence, and found a place to hole up for the night. I arrived here the next day." With a scowl at each brother, she pulled her arms free and wrapped them around herself. Calum could see Alec‘s desire to comfort her. He felt the same.

  Instead, he considered her story. "They deliberately threw you into Lachlan and didn‘t leave until he bit you."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Trying to make more shifters," Alec murmured. "Won‘t work."

  "Lachlan said that." She pushed hair out of her face. "So what happens now?"

  "We‘ll investigate further," Calum said. She didn‘t need to know more than that.

  "Right. But what happens to me?"

  Calum caught Alec‘s worried gaze. She did bring out a male‘s protective instincts, didn‘t she? "How many people have you told about us?"

  "Nobody."

  "Why not?"

  "I promised Lachlan I wouldn‘t."

  "And if we‘d scared you?" Calum trapped her gaze, waiting for her answer.

  She said reluctantly, "If I thought you were dangerous, I‘m not sure what I‘d do."

  "Do you think we‘re dangerous?" Alec asked and tugged on her hair.

  She snorted. "You guys are damned scary. And I have to wonder, if I‘d just blundered into you in the forest, what would you have done?"

  "Would Alec have slit your throat, you mean?" Calum asked.

  "Ah, yeah, something like that."

  Thorson‘s eyebrows went up. They hadn‘t mentioned the events in the clearing.

  Calum studied the little human for a minute. Her hands had gripped together so tightly her knuckles were white. More worried than she wanted them to realize. And so he answered in greater detail than he had planned. "A Cosantir has the ability to blur a person‘s memory of the previous few hours. This has been our primary defense for generation upon generation. We are usually careful that a human doesn‘t discover us," he added with a hard stare at Alec who gave him a rueful look.

  "A messed up memory would be horrible," Victoria said slowly, "but at least you‘re not murdering people."

  Calum tilted his head without answering—for death could indeed be a penalty. A shifter whose actions exposed the clan was killed, either at the hand of his Cosantir or a cahir like Alec.

  Her brows drew together. "I‘ve known about shifters for longer than a few hours. How would you deal with me—if I wasn‘t such a nice person and all?"

  Awkward question. The mind-wipe ability was called that for a reason. Reluctantly, Calum said, "Then a longer period of time is...destroyed. As far back as is necessary."

  "Leaving big holes in a person‘s mind, and they wouldn‘t know why?" She shuddered. "I‘d rather die."

  "Well, you are not dead," Calum said, "but you do look exhausted." And still worried. An edge of pity slid under his defenses, and he ran his knuckles down her soft cheek. "You acted honorably, Victoria. Your memories are yours to keep."

  However, the rest of their discussion should be conducted without a human in attendance.

  Rising, he held his hand out to her. "I‘ll escort you home so you can sleep."

  *

  Calum wasn‘t his usual smooth self this evening, Vic thought, as he paced silently beside her. He tried to hide it, but ever since he‘d heard how Lachlan died, anger had simmered inside him. When a streetlight illumined his face, she saw his pupils had gone back to black. Must be some shifter thing, although no one else seemed to change their eye color like that.

  He caught her look and smiled slightly, setting his hand on her back below the edge of her coat. Funny how he could terrify her one moment and make her feel so safe the next. If Alec was like a comrade in arms, Calum was the best kind of officer, one who took to heart any harm to the ones under his command.

  His warmth, his nearness was both comforting…and disconcertingly arousing.

  He walked up onto the porch with her. After she‘d unlocked her door, he lifted her chin to study her face in the moonlight. "Will you be all right tonight?" he asked softly.

  "No problem." Her voice came out uneven. The feel of his warm fingers, the sure way he touched her sent her insides into quivers.

  His eyes lightened to a silvery gray. "Never admit to any worries, do you, little human?"

  Human? Little? The insult lost its sting under his affectionate tone. He stood close enough she could feel the heat of his body, and his scent surrounded her, brisk and clean and wild, like the wind from the mountaintops. "Um." What had he asked? "No."

  A vertical crease in his cheek accompanied the amusement in his eyes. "I‘ll bid you good night then." His fingers cupped her jaw as he bent and took her lips. With an arm behind her, he drew her closer. No teasing kisses for him, just smooth possession. His lips were far too knowledgeable, his mouth demanding, and her world began to swirl. When he lifted his head, her arms were around his neck.

  She pulled them down with a gasp and pushed him away—or tried to. His arm didn‘t loosen.

  God, in bed with Alec just hours ago, now kissing his brother? What kind of skanky whore did that make her? "Let go of me."

  He regarded her, brows pulled together, as if confused by her about-face. "Why?"

  She pushed again, even though her body wanted to move forward, to melt against him so thoroughly that nothing could separate them. And that was just wrong. Dammit all. "Calum, your brother, Alec and I…" She swallowed. Why the hell was she tongue-tied? And her tone came out nowhere near as cold as she might have wanted. Maybe because she was radiating heat to rival the sun. "Alec is interested in me," she finished finally.

  "As am I." His confusion remained for a moment, then understanding glimmered in his eyes, and he smiled at her. "A human. Why is that so easy to forget with you?" He kissed her lightly, ignoring her words completely.

  Her body betrayed her, softening, yearning toward his. As if he could tell, that slight smile came and went on his face. "You look tired, Victoria. Take this weekend off from work." He ran a finger down her cheek, leaving heat in its wake. "Sleep well, little female."

  Using all her willpower, Vic stepped away from him and into her house. After closing her front door, she leaned back against it. Fuck, what a night. Her body hummed with arousal from Calum, and yet her insides ached wonderfully from how Alec had taken her.

  And she still had jitters from having a knife to her throat. She held her hands out, watched them tremble. God, she hadn‘t been so close to death since she‘d been caught in that firefight in Baghdad.

  Quite the evening, hey? A party, sex— great sex!— almost getting her throat slit, and for a grand finale, getting her hormones boosted sky-high from the wrong brother. There"s nothing like an exciting, event-filled life.

  She scowled, remembering how she‘d gotten caught skulking. If Wells ever heard, he‘d rip her a new asshole, even though Calum‘s being able to scent her didn‘t seem fair. Surely that broke one of the spy rules or something.

  Shaking her head, she crossed the living room to the fireplace. As she built a comforting fire, she couldn‘t stop thinking of all the unanswered questions she had. Like where had the shifters come from? Was this some mutation thing or what? As sparks shot up the chimney, one flame blazed higher, swirling in a unique dance. And… are those eyes?

  Jesus! She jumped back, shivering despite the heat.

  Bush-thingies, tree-thingies. Now fire-thingies? I"m only here to check out shifters, dammit.

  She frowned. Maybe she should return to Thorson‘s house and see if she could hear something.

  The way Calum had hustled her out like a five-year-old being sent to bed told her they planned t
o talk more.

  Or I"ll just stay here. Someday, maybe, she‘d forget the deadly look in Calum‘s eyes when he caught her spying on them. She touched her throat, tracing the thin scabbed line where Alec‘s knife had cut.

  Alec. He‘d been hurt, thinking that she‘d used him. God, as if anyone could. She closed her eyes as warmth flooded through her. Great sex was a cold term for what they‘d shared, how he‘d held her and watched her with those dark, dark green eyes. He‘d seen her, past the smart mouth and tough attitude to the needy person inside—and he hadn‘t taken advantage. No, he‘d grown even more tender and insistent about giving her pleasure.

  She rubbed her stomach. Yeah, her thoughts made her guts hurt—she glanced down and her hand stilled. She wasn‘t rubbing her abdomen, but her chest. Over her heart. God, get a grip. And needy? My ass.

  She jumped to her feet, paced across the room. So anyway, they hadn‘t killed her. She‘d fulfilled her oath to Lachlan by talking with Thorson. She was healed. Tomorrow she‘d call Doc Reinhardt and kick his ass until he‘d okayed her return to duty.

  Staying was...not a good idea. She‘d gotten far too involved with these kitty-cat brothers.

  Caving in to Calum‘s firm grip and demanding kiss. Swept away by Alec‘s hands on her body, his smooth voice murmuring to her, his eyes so intent—she shoved that memory aside. It had been great sex—nothing more.

  Instead think how Wells would ream her out if he heard she‘d laid a local. It"s time to blow this pop-stand.

  *

  Calum had left with the female, and Alec had gone to sit on the porch, leaving Thorson by himself. He tried to wrap his mind around the dangers to the clan, but his thoughts pulled away to follow their own path. Resting his elbows on his knees, he watched a salamander curvet in the blazing fire. It danced upward into the chimney before diving into the coals in a flurry of sparks.

  One ember landed, bright on the cold stone of the hearth, then its glow faded to dull black.

  Lachlan hadn‘t been alone when he died, and he‘d had comfort from the human. Oh, she hadn‘t said as much, but as she‘d tried to recall Lachlan‘s words, she‘d curved her arms as if around a person. Yes, the boy had been held and comforted at the end.