Leap of the Lion

by Cherise Sinclair

  Alec dropped into a chair next to Vicki. “The hellhound will be disposed of in the canyon. The alley is cleaned up. And the gossip is some tourist tried to mug Jamie and ran into Vicki.” He grinned at his mate. “No one was surprised when we said the guy had to be escorted out of town, and we doubted he’d ever return.”

  “You’ve got quite the reputation, love,” Calum said.

  “Quite the bloody one.” With an evil smile, Thorson sat down at an adjacent table.

  Darcy gave him a careful look. The older shifter’s shirt was torn and his jeans scraped up, but he was moving without obvious pain. Spotting blood on his forearm, she frowned.

  He followed the direction of her gaze. “Just a scrape, lass. I get worse running past blackberries.”

  Jamie set a bowl of water and washcloth on the table next to the first aid kit.

  “Thank you,” Gawain said. He turned Darcy’s hand over and started to wash away the dirt.

  She hissed and tried to ignore the pain as she turned her gaze back to Calum. “Progress?”

  Calum leaned back in his chair. “Tynan continues to hunt in the city. Because the females haven’t gone through First Trawsfur, they won’t carry the scent of the wild. He has to rely upon matching your description of the property.

  As she fought the need to run out and do the searching herself, her muscles tightened. Owen’s hands pressed against her shoulders as if he could read her thoughts.

  Gawain’s deep blue eyes held sympathy and understanding—although his hold on her wrist was unbreakable.

  They wouldn’t let her leave.

  “But…” She had to clear her throat. “It’s taking too long.”

  “Faster would be better, but this is what we have,” Calum said.

  “Owen and I wondered if you can sense your littermates at all,” Gawain said.

  Darcy turned to face him. “Sense?”

  Gawain nodded. “I can usually tell where Owen is—at least the general direction.”

  “I didn’t know that was possible.”

  “Some littermates can, some can’t,” Owen said. “Try.”

  Bossy cat. She closed her eyes and tried to search for her brothers, then shook her head. “I can’t feel anything.”

  “That’s a shame.” Gawain patted her hand. “Of course, the distance might affect your ability to sense them.”

  They might be out of the country, true. But it was more likely the fact that she’d spent very little time with them in captivity. A few minutes every few months didn’t nurture a bond.

  “Could we ask Wells for help?” Vicki asked Calum. “If the Scythe are attempting to influence our government, they’re more than a simple mercenary organization. Wells needs to know, and he has resources we lack.”

  There was a silence for a moment.

  “All right. He might, indeed, be able to help.” Calum touched her cheek. “It will also give him an excuse to check on his Sergeant. I think he misses you.”

  Vicki’s eyes filled with tears. Saying a foul word under her breath, she wiped her eyes and told Darcy, “Don’t get pregnant. The hormones suck the big one.”

  “Ah. Right.” Darcy smiled at the Cosantir’s mate. Such a tough female, and her embarrassed frustration made her all the more likable.

  When Alec slid his chair closer to his mate, Vicki gave a husky laugh. “I’m all right. I’ll give Wells a call.” Her voice hardened. “He’ll be very interested in the bastards.”

  “Darcy.” Gawain waited for her attention and warned, “This part might hurt.” Holding her hand open, he spread ointment over her abraded palm.

  A yelp of pain almost escaped despite the warning.

  “Sorry, sweetling,” Gawain murmured…and continued. He was as stubborn as Owen was in his own steel-cored, calm way.

  She pulled in a breath and asked Vicki, “Who is Wells?”

  “He was my boss when I was a”—Vicki grinned—“you’d call it a spy.”

  A spy? And a soldier? “Oh.”

  “Wells is a human version of Thorson,” Alec said. “Mean, sarcastic, anti-social, extremely competent, and deadly.”

  Thorson nodded, more pleased than offended.

  “Wells heads up a covert operations force.” Vicki smiled. “Since the Daonain have been here since the country was founded, he knows they—”

  “We,” Alec corrected with a tilt of his eyebrows.

  “Right, we aren’t a threat, and he helps keep us undiscovered.”

  Darcy nodded. Undiscovered was always good.

  “There you go,” Gawain said, giving her hand a pat. “All fixed up.”

  “Thank you.”

  Leaning forward, he ran his fingertips over her cheek. His calm eyes held hers. “You’re most welcome, pretty panther.”

  As a flustered quiver woke in her center, she dropped her gaze, but then she couldn’t avoid seeing the broadness of his chest, the strength in his corded, thick forearms. He had a blacksmith’s muscles…and her fingers wanted to touch.

  A wave of heat rolled up and right into her cheeks, and she tore her gaze away. What was she thinking? She couldn’t get interested in a male. By the Mother’s breasts, she wouldn’t even know what to do with one…although from the intimidating confidence in his gaze, Gawain knew exactly what to do with a female.

  Chapter Ten

  ‡

  The prospective property was off the main road and a couple of blocks from the tavern. Owen yawned as he walked with his littermate down the private graveled lane. Last night had been dark of the moon when the cahirs patrolled the town all night. It’d been quiet, but his tail was dragging today.

  He’d have slept longer, but both he and Gawain wanted to check out this two-story log cabin. Yesterday when they’d complained about turning down all the houses shown by the realtor, Calum had suggested this place. He’d also warned that the house was in bad shape.

  How bad could it be?

  “At least with Calum in charge of the property, the paperwork should be quick.” The last owner—a shifter—had died without an heir, so the property had gone to the Cosantir to manage for the good of the Daonain.

  “Why should the legal stuff be faster than normal?” Gawain asked.

  “Calum was a lawyer before the God yanked him into being Cosantir. According to Alec, his littermate wasn’t at all pleased with the change in his profession.”

  Gawain grinned. “The God does what the God does. I take it the Cosantir is used to babysitting Daonain property.”

  “I don’t know how many places he has, but the Wildwood Lodge was one. Zeb and Shay had managed it before they talked him into letting them buy.” Owen shook his head. “In the purchase contract, Calum added a clause so the Cosantir of the territory would always have one room to loan out—free—at his discretion.”

  “There’s a lawyer for you.” Gawain glanced over. “Darcy has the free room?”

  “Um-hmm.” As they approached the cabin, Owen studied the layout. The driveway made a lazy circle allowing access to a converted barn, then the house.

  According to Calum, the property had been tended lovingly…until the last generation turned it into a rental. Owen scowled at the run-down appearance of the cabin. Even if he hadn’t needed a place, he’d have bought the place just to bring the house back to the way it should be.

  Gawain climbed the porch steps and frowned as a board cracked under his weight. “Got our work cut out for us.”

  “So it seems.” Owen tried the door, but the deadbolt was engaged. Calum had said the key was lost. “Let’s find a window to crawl through. I’ll bring tools to change the lock next time.”

  “Hold on.” Gawain flattened his hand over where the deadbolt connected to the metal plate.

  Owen took a step back as power radiated from his littermate.

  A minute passed. Turning the handle, Gawain set his shoulder against the door and pushed.

  Owen shook his head. “Brawd, that’s a deadbolt. Not—”

&
nbsp; The door opened, something thudded on the floor, and Gawain walked in.

  Well. Owen knelt to check out what had fallen…and it was the actual deadbolt. The metal had melted into a teardrop shape.

  Blademages were rare, secretive, and more powerful than he’d known.

  Owen walked in.

  “Nobody’s been here for a long time,” Gawain called from the living room.

  Owen sniffed in interest, but took his littermate’s word for it. Gawain’s nose had always been the more sensitive.

  In the living room, the solid hardwood floor was in good shape. The walls…not so much. Someone had used one wall to write down phone numbers. Fists and boots had left holes and dents here and there.

  There was garbage everywhere.

  He frowned at a bare ceiling light bulb dangling from a frayed wire. One spark and the whole place would go up. “Brawd, we can’t live here until an electrician checks it out. And until the litter is gone.”

  Gawain’s expression held disgust. “Agreed.”

  “Ben, one of the cahirs, is a general contractor. We can hire him for anything we can’t handle.”

  “I’ll tell Shay to book us at the lodge for a while to come.” Gawain shrugged. “Since we’re mentoring Darcy, it’s just as well. It’s not good to leave her alone too long.”

  “True enough.” The female looked as frayed as this house’s electrical wiring. He couldn’t even imagine how he’d react if Gawain or Bonnie were imprisoned and he couldn’t rescue them. He’d be clawing things apart before a day was up. Actually, Darcy had been a marvel of patience. He grinned at Gawain. “When we’re not out in the woods with her, let’s put her to work here.”

  “I’d say you’re taking advantage of free labor, but she does need to keep busy.” Gawain studied him. “I’m impressed you’re willing to have a female underfoot.”

  “Eh, she’s not all that bad.” He ignored his littermate’s grin. “Let’s check the upstairs.”

  With Gawain behind him, Owen walked up the stairs, making mental notes. The railing needed to be replaced. The hole-ridden carpet on the stairs and hallway should be ripped up.

  The second-floor rooms were designed in traditional Daonain fashion. Down the left hallway, the female’s suite was encircled by three smaller male bedrooms. The hallway to the right led to bedrooms for cublings.

  The place was designed for a big family. Owen frowned. Having just him and Gawain here was a waste. Fuck knew, he had no intention of lifemating. Although…how did Gawain feel about mating and children? It was something they should discuss someday.

  Maybe after they’d lived together for a decade or so.

  A glance at the various bedrooms gave an idea of what would be needed to make them habitable. Wallpaper was peeling away in long strips. The carpets had holes and rips. There were leak marks around the windows. Several windows were broken. Debris was strewn everywhere.

  Gawain walked around silently, his expression disgusted. “I’ve seen cleaner gnome-holes.”

  Since gnomes brought their garbage back to their dens, that was quite an insult. Owen couldn’t disagree. “Want to pick a room?”

  “The east-facing one, if you don’t mind. It overlooks the barn.”

  “Fine with me. I prefer one closer to the forest anyway.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Gawain chuckled. “Let’s see the kitchen—although the thought makes me cringe.”

  Cringe was right. Whatever yellow color the walls had been had turned to a sickly urine tint. Mold and grime covered the wood countertops.

  “Who could live like this?” Gawain shook his head. “Think we can hire some older cubs to clean out the garbage and strip the walls?”

  “Better them than us. It’d be worth the money.”

  Although receiving a stipend from the clan, he and Gawain worked at other jobs…as did most God-chosen. Owen sold his carvings; Gawain sold metalwork. Since neither of them lived extravagantly, they had ample funds to toss at this problem.

  “Let’s check out the barn. As far as I’m concerned, the shop space will be the make or break.”

  Once outside, Gawain walked to the back of the faded-red massive barn and grinned when he saw the covered carport with an extremely high roof. “I bet someone built this for an RV. It’s perfect for my outdoor forge.”

  Owen ran his hand over the barn wall. The wood was in fine shape. “The barn’s a lot newer.” They went in the smaller door to the side and looked around. Still holding the faint odor of hay, the huge open space had a tack room and bathroom in the back. No litter—the renters must not have bothered to use it.

  “I can work with this. I say let’s take the place,” Gawain said.

  Owen smiled as pleasure rose inside. He’d be living with his littermate again, and they were making themselves a lair. Although mountain lions didn’t tend to create permanent dens, the human side of a shifter had a profound influence when it came to homes. As a result, werecats were almost as den-happy as werebears. “Agreed.”

  Gawain turned in a circle and frowned. “We’ll need to put in windows, though.”

  “Easy enough.” Owen glanced around. Plenty of space. One corner was all he’d need for his carving stuff.

  “How about I take the left side of the barn?” Gawain asked. “There’s a door to the covered area, and I can set my outside forge up under there. Then I can set up a ritual area in the grassy space on the left.”

  “Sure.” Owen grinned at the light of anticipation in his brother’s eyes. The blademage had obviously been missing his tools. “I’ll take the back right corner. I mostly need a quiet area and storage.”

  “Sounds good. I figure I can set up enough to handle blademage requests within a few days, although it might take a while for people to realize I’m here.”

  “It’s a small town and an underpopulated territory. You’ll be surprised how quickly the news gets around.” Owen glanced at the driveway. “Having our businesses just off the main highway will help.”

  “This is true.” Gawain’s smile widened. “Actually, we should put a sign out there on the road. Something eye-catching. What are the chances I can talk you into carving a sign for both of our businesses?”

  Now there was a fine compliment. “You design it. I can carve it.”

  “Perfect.” Gawain sighed. “How about we check out the other rooms in the downstairs. Something tells me the plumbing will need work, too.”

  “And you said I was the pessimist.”

  After thoroughly inspecting the entire house again, Gawain went into the kitchen to finish the to-do list.

  Owen wandered through the big downstairs, envisioning how the rooms would appear once clean and furnished. He stopped to brush dust away from the beautifully carved trim beside the kitchen door and murmured, “We’ll get you fixed up, house. Don’t worry.”

  Despite the neglect and mess, the place had a good feeling to it, as if years of contentment and happiness had seeped into the wood.

  He looked forward to living here. Working here. Although…a touch of guilt edged in. Would he and Gawain be letting the house down by not filling the empty rooms with cublings?

  Chapter Eleven

  ‡

  Darcy had spent Thursday afternoon helping Owen and Gawain clean up their house. A hoard of teenaged shifters had shown up to assist. It had been fun watching the two males work with pups. Gawain, big and confident, was so friendly the cubs were quickly at ease and telling him all their stories. And Owen… Was it her imagination or was he more relaxed? Laughing easier? Thrilled to be hired by the deadly cahir, the youngsters worked vigorously to get his rare word of praise and flashing smile.

  Admit it, tinker, the cubs aren’t the only ones striving to earn his smile.

  The day had been a success. The walls were stripped and all the garbage was gone.

  And she’d been in the shower forever, trying to remove the stink and grime.

  Finally, when all she could smell was soap and sha
mpoo, she got dressed in jeans and a pretty teal shirt. The innkeeper and Angie at the diner had rounded up a wonderful assortment of outfits for Darcy. Fun, bright clothes. What a pleasure it was to be free to choose what she wore each day.

  After brushing out her damp hair, she trotted downstairs, hoping for some company. Gawain and Owen were planning to work on their house all evening, but maybe Bree would be up for some conversation or Zeb would want to discuss mysteries.

  She’d miss her mentors, though—and her lessons on how to play pool.

  Really, they all were enjoying being together in the evenings. Maybe because all three of them had spent their nights alone in the past. In the prìosan, she’d been locked in her cell every evening after supper. Although sociable, Gawain had lived alone in Pine Knoll. Owen had his isolated high mountain land.

  Since the lodge had a big screen TV and DVDs, they’d been sampling human entertainment. Some of the movies were hilarious. But why were there so many stories about werewolves and none about werecats or werebears? How insulting was that?

  She stopped at the foot of the stairs and considered. Watching a movie alone had no appeal, and the long leather couch would feel awfully empty. Originally, she’d sat on the couch, the males in chairs. One night a gory movie had her shaking harder than an aspen leaf, and suddenly, she had a male on each side of her.

  Even after that night, the guys had never returned to their chairs. And she’d soon grown used to being sandwiched between their warm bodies. She could feel them breathe. Gawain would hold her hand if she was worried. If she started to tremble, Owen would put a big arm around her shoulders and pull her close.

  Nothing in the world had ever felt as…wonderful…as sitting between the two of them.

  Hearing voices outside, Darcy walked into the dining room…and then silently retreated. Zeb, Shay, and Bree had lit a fire in the new fire pit and were cuddling on the stone bench, obviously enjoying a quiet twilight together.

  Bree had once said that while the outside cabins were usually occupied, the inner lodge rooms were rented out as a last choice. What with her, Owen, and Gawain living in the lodge, the innkeepers hadn’t had any time alone. She should give them that.