Leap of the Lion

by Cherise Sinclair

  “You’re going to pay, little cat.” Owen’s deadly growl reverberated in her ear.

  She burst into another giggling fit and felt his lips curve against her cheek. It hadn’t been easy to set up the farting app to start making bowel noises on both phones at the same time, but…hey, she was a sneaky cat, and Ryder had been delighted to help.

  Gawain gave her a regretful look. “She’s out of control, brawd. We can’t allow our student to treat her aging mentors with such disrespect.” He lit a candle on the dresser.

  Aging mentors? Seriously? She almost strangled on a laugh. “Oh, sorry. How could I forget about your advanced years?”

  Gawain’s eyes narrowed at her syrupy sweet tone.

  “But, let me assure you, you two cats have still got it…even if you don’t remember what it is.” Ignoring the choked noise Owen made, she assumed a sad expression. “Then again, these days, maybe the only thing turning hard on you is your arteries?”

  “That does it.” Gawain ripped his shirt over his head, and oh, talk about powerful muscles.

  Her mouth went dry at the voracious desire in his eyes.

  “She is very disrespectful, aye.” Owen ran a finger down her cheek. “She should be naked before I beat on her.”

  “Beat on me? I don’t—”

  “Let me help with that.” Finished stripping, Gawain gripped the hem of her jeans as Owen undid her jeans button.

  “Hey!” Excitement rising, she pushed at Owen. “Two against one isn’t fair. Besides, I was hurt. Shot—remember?”

  Owen laughed. “Donal healed you, remember?”

  She scowled.

  Ignoring her struggling, he unzipped her jeans. “Now, brawd.”

  Gawain gave a yank, and her jeans came right off. Dammit.

  With ruthless hands, Owen rolled her far enough to grab the back of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. He grinned at Gawain. “Why don’t you pin her down while I get ready?”

  “My pleasure.” Stark naked, Gawain came down on her, hands gentle, but he didn’t need to fight—his sheer weight pinned her to the bed. And as she squirmed, she felt his erection lengthen against her bare belly. He rumbled a laugh. “Fuck, you feel good.”

  “So do you. Always,” she whispered. “Does this…need…ever go away?”

  The sun lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “Lust alone will fade. Lust when mixed with love? Never.”

  Oh, she was in trouble, because she was so filled with love for them it was difficult to breathe.

  He tilted his head in query.

  Instead of talking, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He teased her lips with his tongue, his teeth, then dove deep inside, possessing her with an intensity that sent her mindless.

  “I call dibs on these, brawd,” he said, moving down to kiss her breasts until she was arching up for more. “I can think of several ways to punish our female.”

  Now naked, Owen pushed her knees apart to make room for himself. He settled between her legs and licked over her pussy, looked up…and smiled.

  And she knew then, that her need for Owen and Gawain would never disappear.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‡

  Smiling, Gawain breathed in the sweet scent of female. The sun was streaming in the window, but the catling was still sound asleep. They’d worn her out last night. May the Mother save him, but Darcy was amazing. Beautiful. Generous. Sweet. Ours.

  He hated to leave her, even for a few hours. After kissing her rosy lips so lightly she didn’t rouse, he rose and reluctantly pulled on his clothes.

  Grumbling under his breath, Owen eyed him, then rolled off the bed and dressed. “No more early morning deliveries,” he muttered to Gawain.

  “Agreed.” But Ryder was ready to bring over the furniture he’d built for the female bedroom. Over at Ben and Ryder’s, Owen had been working on the headboard every moment he could spare. It was time.

  Darcy’s room—Darcy’s bed was finished.

  Gawain tucked the covers around her. She liked sleeping with them; she’d said so.

  The rest of the house was clean, furnished enough to live in, floors gleaming, walls ready to paint or wallpaper—ready for her. He glanced around the room, noting the vase displaying bright yellow and orange leafed branches, the myriad of candles, a bowl filled with pinecones. He wanted her living in their house, doing her nest making, adding the warmth of her touch.

  When she joined them, their house would have a heart.

  It was time to move out of the Wildwood Lodge. The cabins and interior rooms were filled with villagers who were assigned to Cold Creek as well as the injured shifters who needed Donal’s care.

  He grinned at Owen who was pulling on his soft, high leather boots. “Let’s go get our cat her bed.”

  Owen’s green eyes lit. “Aye.”

  *

  Later that day, Owen walked into the Wild Hunt with his brother. Behind them came Tynan and Donal. The tavern was more crowded than normal, considering it was only four in the afternoon. The Daonain were still discussing the past events and making plans for the future.

  “Now there’s a lovely sight—one I haven’t seen since I left Ireland.” Tynan nodded to the left.

  Owen followed his gaze.

  Near the fireplace, Calum’s daughter Jamie held brown-haired Artair. Vicki sat beside her, feet up on the short game table.

  Her face soft with delight, Darcy cuddled another cub with a golden fuzz of hair. Even though he’d seen the little tinker only a few hours before, his heart still lifted.

  “Darcy’s here,” Gawain murmured in pleasure.

  Owen moved closer, rubbing his shoulder against his littermate’s. Ours. Would she accept them? His hopes had risen. She’d been in their bed every night since the rescue.

  “Joe’s going to have those cubs reading before they learn to talk.” Smiling, Donal pointed toward the window where the bookstore owner, Thorson, held Toren in his uninjured arm. As the grizzled old cat talked, the cub’s eyes were fixed on his face as if taking in every word.

  “Aye, he will.” Chuckling, Owen glanced around.

  Calum was behind the bar, his faint smile apparent as some shifter told a story, hands waving in the air. Having the Cosantir in his usual place was oddly heartening, indicating all was right with the world.

  “Beer?” Donal asked Owen.

  “In a bit. We have a female to harass first.”

  Donal laughed and headed toward the bar with Tynan.

  Owen followed Gawain toward Darcy.

  When she saw them, the way she brightened sent his heart to bouncing like a mountain goat within his chest. Her loose black hair shimmered in the light from the window, and when he bent to kiss her, he couldn’t help running his fingers through the soft waves. She smelled of a light clean shampoo and her own feminine fragrance, and he nuzzled the curve between her shoulder and neck to savor the scent.

  After collecting his own kiss, Gawain went down on his haunches beside the infant in her lap. With an expression of wonder, he carefully touched the infant’s round cheek. “She’s so tiny,” he murmured.

  Seated next to Darcy on the couch, Owen stroked a finger over the cub’s hand—and was startled when the tiny fingers closed around his. “She’s got a grip on her.” He grinned at Vicki. “Takes after her mother, doesn’t she?”

  Mother. The word no longer tasted like cinders in his mouth. Only a lingering sorrow remained.

  “Sorcha is going to kick butt and take names.” Vicki bumped shoulders with Jamie. “She takes after her big sister.”

  Jamie grinned. “Damn straight.”

  Gawain glanced over at Vicki. “Do we know anything about what happened with the Scythe prison in Seattle?”

  “Yep. Wells called with a report.” She smirked. “The manor where I was held was gutted by the fire. Nothing was recovered. The other manor isn’t in much better shape”

  Owen grinned. He’d never seen anything
burn as fast as those two houses. “Good to hear. What else?”

  She continued, “The human hostages were quietly returned to their families, and the FBI is openly investigating. They think a hostage’s family must have hired a mercenary group.”

  “That’s not far from the truth,” Gawain noted.

  Vicki scowled. “Unfortunately, the person called Director wasn’t on the property at the time. He’s in the wind.”

  When Darcy shivered, Owen put his arm around her. She’d tried to hide how much the fighting and death in Seattle had unsettled her. She was getting better and, by the God, it made him feel good when she’d said sleeping between him and Gawain drove away her nightmares.

  “Any idea what will happen next with the Scythe?” Gawain asked Vicki.

  “Wells will track the rest down, and I think he’s planning something with the Dogwood males.” She frowned. “He’s not exactly sharing though.”

  Silently appearing, Calum plucked the mite from Jamie’s lap, cuddling the tiny male cub against his shoulder.

  “MomVee,” Jamie whined. “He stole my baby.”

  “Our cub,” Calum murmured and kissed the top of Jamie’s head. “As are you, kitten.” With a smile, Calum rubbed his cheek against the baby’s and leaned on the armrest next to Vicki and said to the group, “Donal reports the wounded are ready to travel. I’ve made arrangements with the other territories to house everyone, including the females, currently in Rainier Territory.”

  He looked at Gawain. “Owen says you enjoy driving. If you are amenable, I’d like to you to transport the Dogwood females to their new homes. Owen will accompany you to ensure their safety.”

  After a startled second, Gawain bowed his head and gave the formal answer. “Your will, Cosantir. When do we start?”

  “I believe Bree would gut me if I sent you away before her Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. Will Friday suit?”

  Gawain glanced at Owen for his nod and answered. “We’ll be ready.”

  “I’m glad.” Darcy’s lips curved, and she rubbed her shoulder against Owen’s. “The females will finally be able to start their lives. And they’ll get to meet Daonain guys. They’re in for such a lovely surprise.”

  A lovely surprise. Pleased, Owen squeezed her.

  “Speaking of meeting guys, full moon is coming.” Vicki frowned up at her mate. “My darling Cosantir, although I love you, if you even think of mating, I’ll hurt you.”

  Calum burst out laughing. “Indeed. No worries, cariad. There will be no heat for you for a couple of months, at least. Remember, if you’re not interested, neither are we.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What if other females are interested in you? Two months is a long time.”

  “Time is irrelevant when you’re lifemated. The only female Alec and I want to mate with is you.”

  “Huh. Sometimes this Daonain stuff isn’t all that bad.” With a soft smile, Vicki leaned against her mate.

  Turning toward Owen, Darcy bit her lip. “I’ve never been to a big Gathering. It was scary enough with only four of you. And I don’t really want…”

  Owen drew her more snugly against him.

  Kneeling beside her, Gawain set a hand on her knee, brow drawn with worry. “Darcy.”

  Calum’s expression turned gentle. “I will be there, Darcy, and will keep an eye on you.”

  Although her worried look didn’t ease, she smiled back. “Thank you.”

  Uneasiness trailed cold fingers across Owen’s nape. A Gathering? How the fuck could he stomach seeing Darcy—his Darcy—get escorted to the mating rooms by other males? Just the thought sent possessive rage streaming through his veins.

  The muscles in Gawain’s cheek had gone taut.

  They were fucked.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‡

  Darcy sat in Angie’s Diner, drinking coffee and tearing a donut to shreds. Rain ran in clear rivulets down the glass windows. The diner was almost empty. Apparently, the noisy storm had discouraged people from venturing outside.

  After a swallow of coffee, she resumed tracing her finger through the brown liquid she’d spilled on the table. She wasn’t really hungry. Bree had made huge omelets for breakfast. Of course, that had been hours ago.

  Face it, her appetite had fled because the full moon was tomorrow. As Vicki would say…god fucking dammit all to hell.

  Gawain and Owen weren’t back.

  Honestly, they’d been gone…for­ever…deliver­ing the Dogwood females to the various territories. Okay, four days. She’d heard from them only once—using Shay’s phone—but like Tynan, they were being exceedingly cautious about being traced. She agreed. Once the Scythe rebounded from losing the prìosan and forest compound, they’d start a hunt for their lost shifters.

  Ice filled her belly at the thought. She still wondered if she should have disappeared into Canada as she’d planned. At the time, she’d expected the villagers would all hide together. Scattering made more sense. Probably.

  She sighed. The days were long and dull without her guys. How long could she last without hearing Gawain’s big laugh or being wrapped in the muscular blademage’s arms. She missed Owen’s low growl and how the ever-so-deadly cahir would nuzzle her cheek. And, oh, she missed mating with the both of them.

  Hunger slid into her bloodstream as she remembered the ways they’d made love—sheer carnal sex, loving sex, slow sensuous sex, fast, pounding sex, and every other variation they could think of. Sex in bed, on the floor, in mountain meadows, in the shower…although—she grinned—the lodge shower had been a bit small for the three of them.

  Being with them and loving them fulfilled something in her.

  She shook her head and took a sip of coffee.

  As she set the cup down, she smiled at the cell phone sitting on the table. It was a present from Vicki. One evening when the females had gathered at the tavern, Vicki’d tried to thank her for going into the prìosan to get her out. In return, Darcy’d tried to thank her for the clothing, the friendship, for standing up for her, for…

  They’d decided friends didn’t keep score.

  This morning, Vicki’d handed over the phone with a smirk and reminded Darcy they weren’t keeping a tally. The Cosantir’s mate had a seriously devious nature.

  Leaning back, Darcy finished off her coffee. The rain still fell outside…and her walk back to the lodge would be dismal. Maybe she’d run across the street to BOOKS. She was getting more repair jobs and could afford to indulge in a new book. Really, she’d probably be able to make a good living here in Cold Creek.

  Her phone rang, shrill in the silent diner, and she spilled her coffee.

  She picked up the cell and swiped the ANSWER. “Hello?” Must be Vicki since no one had her number.

  “Darcy?” The voice was familiar—and unexpected.

  “Patrin.” She frowned. “How did you get my number?”

  “The Cosantir’s mate gave it to Wells so we could call you.”

  Vicki, you’re an amazing friend. “Good for her. How are you guys?”

  “We’re good.” After a moment of silence, Patrin said, “You’re on speaker, so…on the rare occasion Fell might speak, you can hear.”

  Over the phone came a smack and a yelp. Darcy grinned. Fell had obviously walloped Patrin.

  “When are you two going to be done with whatever you’re doing?” she asked.

  “Not sure,” Patrin said. “Wells said something about a mandatory night off, but didn’t explain what or when. Soon, I think.”

  “Good. Since Owen and Gawain have moved out of the lodge, Bree’s holding their room for you two.”

  “Those the two males who were with you at the safe house?” Patrin asked.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Her lips curved. Mine.

  “They seemed concerned about you. Awfully fucking concerned.” Patrin’s voice held a growl.

  “Well, we’re…” Mating more often than rabbits? Sleeping together? “Um, they’re my mentors in learning how to be Daonai
n again.”

  “Oh…good. Very good. I’d thought—”

  “And I care about them,” Darcy added. “A lot.”

  “A lot?” Fell’s dark voice came over the phone.

  “Yes. I do.”

  “Chwaer…” Their word for her—sister—made her smile, despite Patrin’s disapproving tone. Oh, she had missed them.

  “Darcy, being stuck in prison, you never learned about guys. How they think…” Patrin was obviously trying to keep his voice even. “And you’re all by yourself in Cold Creek with no one to protect you from assholes who will take advantage.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine in this town, thank you. And Gawain and Owen aren’t assholes. If you call them names, I’ll be seriously pissed off at you.”

  The silence sounded…bad. As if her defense of her males had backfired.

  “Darcy, we’ll return soon,” Patrin said finally, “and have time to spend with you. We can catch up on everything from the past.”

  “Sounds wonderful. I’ve always wondered about your missions.” Although from eavesdropping on the Scythe leaders, she knew far more than her brothers realized. The shifter-soldiers had specialized in stealing, in destruction, and in assassinations. “Um, guys. You haven’t exactly been around females either, have you? Should I be giving you the same lecture?”

  “Well…” Patrin cleared his throat.

  “Oh my Gods, you have?” She straightened. “When? After you were released or before?”

  “Before.” Patrin was getting as close-mouthed as Fell.

  But hadn’t they’d been stuck in their compound? She frowned. “How did you manage to meet women?”

  “When the Scythe human soldiers trained us overseas, they were careless. In the evenings, they’d pay women to join them, not knowing how well we hear, how much we can see in the dark. When we were finally sent out on our own, we…did the same now and then.”

  Gawain said Daonain females never wanted humans, but that young testosterone-laden males who were unsuccessful at full moons would sometimes mate with human females. Her brothers had never been around Daonain females; they probably still didn’t know the difference. “I see.”