by Fel Fern
Kane tightened his jaw. “Two.”
Abram chuckled. “Does that two include me?”
“Do you always resort to interruptions and changing the topic to hide how you really feel?”
Abram relaxed in the comfy armchair. He wasn’t a small guy, but the chair fit his frame just fine. “You’re the shrink. Tell me how I feel.”
Kane shook his head. “If you keep your emotions bottled up all the time, it will only make the other wounds fester.”
“Believe me, Kane. It’s better this way.”
Abram’s lion was a monster on his worst days, eager to tear out of his skin and leave all their human problems behind, except he didn’t have an outlet, not anymore. All Abram had to do was stare at the stump where his left front paw should have been to remind him he was a shadow of his former self.
Predatory shifters fought among themselves to establish dominance, lions especially. But if one decided to pick a fight with him, Abram would no longer be able to fight at a hundred percent. Besides, he’d rather not risk shifting these days.
He still could, even as a three-legged lion, but he was certain once he reached for his animal half, he’d never return to human form again.
It took him a couple of seconds to realize Kane was calling his name.
“Abram, talk to me. Where did you go?”
“To a place no one can reach me.” His voice came out ragged.
Kane was dangerous. He’d known that from the start. The moment those baby blue eyes connected with his, he was gone. Without realizing it, he’d made their weekly sessions the highlight of his life. Abram had nothing else, after all.
All the members of his old unit might live somewhere in the same town, but they had their own wounds to lick at. Abram had no family either. He’d been a child raised in the foster system and the moment he turned eighteen, he’d signed up as a soldier. Back then, the naive him believed the military could be his new family. In the end, Abram returned a broken lion, with nothing else to lose. Except this.
“Abram,” Kane trailed off and did something unorthodox.
Kane rose from his seat, leaving that annoying notepad and pen to approach him. A snarl worked its way out of his throat. Kane paused, looking less certain, but kept walking. The wrong move, because his inner lion wanted to play with this interesting little tabby.
“Don’t come any close, kitty, unless you want to dance with this broken lion,” he gritted the words out, gripping the armrests of the chair.
Any closer and Kane was within reach of him. Kane closed the distance between them and Abram reached out for Kane’s arm with his good hand. Kane’s pulse leapt at his touch, his skin fever hot.
From this angle, Kane’s lips looked so tempting, and it didn’t help they half-parted in surprise from his touch. Abram could feel his dick straining against the zipper of his jeans. He flared his nostrils, smelling Kane’s arousal in the air. He could no longer ignore the minuscule details.
It had been awhile since Abram had seen any action, but he still remembered what to do.
“Your lion might be a little broken, but your case isn’t hopeless,” Kane said, a little breathy as Abram thumbed the pulse point on Kane’s neck, making circles.
“What do you think, about me touching you, little cat?”
“Shifters value touch. It doesn’t have to be intimate.”
“Your hard-on tells me otherwise.”
Kane’s face turned scarlet. “You’re a pretty attractive guy, also a little intimidating.”
Not the words Abram used on his himself. Kane was flattering him, probably trying to use flirting as a means to get him to open up. Why would an attractive, smart little cat like Kane, who probably had it all growing up, want with someone like him?
The moment Abram lost the arm, he was no longer mate-worthy material—a weak dominant couldn’t protect his submissive mate. Mate? Where the hell did that word come from? Abram should back off now, apologize, leave, and never return. He was pretty certain this wasn’t orthodox and was unacceptable, but his lion didn’t care.
“If you’re okay with me touching you, what if I took those lips?” he asked.
Kane blinked. “Kiss me?”
The words came out like half-question and half-demand, so he couldn’t really tell. His lion saw it as consent nonetheless. He tugged Kane to his lap easily. The little cat let out a squeak of surprise, but instead of slapping him or running away, Kane gripped his shoulders, looking up at him with those devastatingly pretty eyes.
Kane was light on his lap and so warm. He’d spent so many nights over the past few months sleeping in his cold den, alone with his inner demons for company. He’d been barely getting by, existing, and Kane might be his first taste of life after everything went to hell a year ago. Abram gripped the back of Kane’s neck and tugged Kane close so his massive body crushed Kane’s slender one. Clothes were in the way, but the lion was a patient predator.
He waited for another second, for resistance, for Kane to say he changed his mind. Kane said nothing, merely shut his eyes, leaned in close, already anticipating what he was about to do. How could he refuse?
Abram slammed his lips over Kane, all roughness and heat, as if he’d forgotten how to kiss tenderly. Kane didn’t seem to care. The little cat ran his hands down his shoulders, his chest, his sides. When he pushed his tongue between Kane’s lips, the little cat opened up, and to his surprise, sucked hard on it.
Fire kindled in his insides and went straight to his dick, pushing him to do more. The eager little cat certainly wouldn’t say no.
Maybe the little cat knew how to relax, to play, too. Abram could taste Kane’s need and Kane could the same. Nothing wrong with a little stress relief, but an uneasy feeling took hold in his chest—that tangling with Kane was similar to danger.
He pulled away. Kane panted, so did he. Kane pressed a hand over his left pectoral, looking dazed. Abram knew it would happen any second. Desire faded in Kane’s eyes and turned to shock. The little cat leapt off him with astounding agility. Abram smiled grimly, seeing the horror in those baby blues. Maybe Kane had finally realized he’d been kissing a monster.
Chapter Two
Kane seldom lost control of himself, and had never once considered doing what had just transpired in the office. Hell, this wasn’t even his own office. The clinic had a little funding from the military but most of the counsellors on staff volunteered. Kissing Abram had been a mistake. Heck, he shouldn’t have told Abram to call him by his first name. Kane never crossed that line, prided himself on being a professional.
He fought his way to where he was today, out of sheer hard work and determination, but breaking rules seemed easy whenever Abram was around. God, but Abram was intense, especially when the werelion turned those amazing emerald eyes at him, the color so pure, one glance told anyone looking close enough that Abram wasn’t human.
Whenever the huge lion shifter entered the office, he couldn’t help but watch, admire. After all, the tabby cat in him admired another feline predator. Even when their session was over, Kane would remember the details in his head later. Like how Abram liked to keep his black hair brutally short, as if he’d never left the military. And he was pretty sure Abram hit the gym often, too. In the past few weeks Kane had been seeing Abram, the lion had only seemed to bulk up.
“Lost your nerve, little cat?”
That voice. Kane shouldn’t be attracted to that deep voice but he was. He couldn’t help but imagine Abram giving him orders in the bedroom. That sexy growl never failed to make his dick pulse and his imagination turn wild. Lately, when he was alone back at his apartment, needing some stress relief from work, he’d masturbate in his bedroom and think of a certain rough but sexy werelion.
That was the problem. Kane should have nipped this in the bud when he realized he’d started having feelings for Abram.
“Stop calling me that,” he said. He needed to re-establish control. Boundaries existed for a reason.
&nbs
p; “Are you giving me commands, little cat?”
Amusement appeared in Abram’s eyes, a good change, because when he’d first met Abram, the lion was the king of brooding. Well, Abram could do what he wanted. He’d read Abram’s file, knew few shifters could come back from the bombing incident, but Abram was a fighter. It was one of the things he secretly admired about the werelion.
“Abram, what happened just now, it can’t happen again.”
He saw brief hurt flash across Abram’s face, but like the wave of a magic wand, it disappeared. Abram once admitted to Kane that he saw emotion as a weakness. Abram was a hard man, one who saw and experienced horrors on a daily basis during his military service, and it had been a long career, too, spanning over a decade.
“It’s okay, doc. This old monster can handle rejection.” Abram had closed up, he realized, once again burying all feelings inside.
Kane badly wanted to help Abram, wanted to see if he could make the werelion smile, to wade through the murky waters of depression with Abram. Conquer the lion’s fears. That was before he realized he was out of his league. Instead, he’d hampered Abram.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said.
The air thickened with tension. Power rolled off Abram in waves. Standing so close to Abram wasn’t helping. He walked back to his chair and sat, noticing Abram looked out the windows of his office, a disinterested expression on his face.
“What are you apologizing for? I’m the one who kissed you.”
Kane had never been kissed like that, like Abram wanted to suck out his soul and heart. His dick twitched but he didn’t dare direct Abram’s gaze to it. Instead, he grabbed the notepad, covered his embarrassing erection, and took a deep breath.
“This will be our last session together.”
At his announcement, Abram snapped his attention back to him. Green eyes turned to gold and he swallowed. A shifter’s eye color only changed when they experienced intense emotions.
“Why? Did I scare you off that badly, little cat?”
Kane couldn’t shake off what Abram referred to himself as earlier, a monster. That had been a key word. Abram said it like he stated a fact, believed in it. Broken monster. It wasn’t hard to pierce how Abram saw himself, although none of it was true. He couldn’t end this session without explaining the reasons he was bowing out.
“You did nothing wrong. You’re right. I can’t help you. All I did was antagonize your beast. I recommend Dr. Matthews. He’s another therapist on staff and he’s had five years of combat experience—”
“Wait a fucking second. You see the first sign of trouble and you run away?”
Kane shook his head. “It’s not like that.”
“Then explain it to me, little cat, because I sure as hell don’t get it.”
Kane tried to count to ten in his head, because his next words would make him sound like some horny teenager. “Just now confirmed something I’ve been avoiding a long time ago.”
“What? You have a policy not to date fuck-ups?”
“You’re not that. Stop putting yourself down all the time,” he snapped, then blushed as he realized he’d raised his voice. “You’re a perfectly attractive man and that’s the problem. I’m too drawn to you to be objective. I’m a professional, damn it. I worked my ass off. You don’t know a single thing about me, how I started from nothing to get to where I am today.”
Oh God. Kane was throwing a tantrum, like a child, but at least Abram’s emotionless mask had cracked. Now, Abram mostly looked surprised, taken aback.
“Are you saying your attraction to me is getting in the way of you doing your job?” Abram asked, doubtful.
Jesus. Who knew a man like Abram could be so uncertain of himself? He blushed even deeper, quite aware he must look like some living tomato. “Yes.”
“You mean that or are you just a good fucking liar?”
“You don’t believe me.”
With cold precision, Abram said, “It’s fine, Dr. Briggs. You don’t have to make up lies to make me feel better. I’ll make this easier.”
Just like that, Abram rose to his feet and made his exit, slamming the door behind him. Anger swept through him.
What the hell? Kane had been honest and Abram repaid him by walking out? He clenched his fists. Didn’t he want this? Abram would be better off with another therapist, one who didn’t have any conflict of interest. But sitting alone in his office, it only just occurred to Kane that he’d never see Abram again.
Kane brushed a hand down his tie, a forest-green new addition to his wardrobe. He bought the tie a week ago because he’d stupidly hoped Abram would take notice and remark how it looked like the exact color of his eyes.
Without realizing it, he’d been looking forward to these sessions, too. What did Abram say, that the werelion came to their meetings to look at him? Kane had secretly been flattered, but the professional in him was appalled. His inner tabby liked Abram more than he should, whispering the one little word in his ear that terrified the fuck out of him.
Mate.
Kane spent most of his life running away. In his culture, the one goal of submissive shifters was to seek out a strong mate to protect them and ward off other dangerous predators. That old-fashioned thinking made him walk out on his clan.
Kane still had a good relationship with his mom and brothers, but he was no longer part of the domestic cat community. When he cut all ties, he wanted to prove that he could break free from that typical mold and be something else.
A mate was a curse word to him. He grew up seeing how that gift of submission weaker shifters gave to their powerful mates worked against them. Some dominant shifters saw it as an opportunity to abuse. Kane swore he’d never put himself in that kind of vulnerable position. Sure, he dated. Mostly humans, because he thought humans were safe. In the end, he ended up with a broken heart and the tabby cat in him grew unsettled.
Lately, he didn’t just have sexual fantasies of Abram, but also dangerous dreams of Abram being part of his life, his mate. Those kinds of wishes were toxic, because right now, Abram wanted nothing to do with him.
“God, Abram. I think I’m the one that needs fixing,” he muttered to the empty room.
Chapter Three
Abram didn’t know why he agreed to this meeting. He stared out the window at cars and the diner across the street. If he was the first to arrive, he’d make a hasty exit and text Mike. Make up some kind of lame excuse why he couldn’t come. An emergency would work, but everyone would see through his bullshit. One disadvantage of working together with his men closely was that no one had any secrets any more.
Trust built the foundation of their unit and he was their commanding officer. All that blew to smithereens when those fucking planes dropped a bomb designed to kill anyone on site—both humans and shifters. Thanks to the silver worked in the shrapnel, Abram lost an arm, Mike, a leg, Grover, his eyes, and Dusty, his ability to hear.
Wayne didn’t make it. He hadn’t been powerful enough to heal himself after the bomb went off. Mike once said it was a blessing Wayne, the only submissive shifter of their group, died a clean death. Abram understood what Mike meant. Better to die in glorious battle as opposed to living the rest of his life a broken shifter, wounded in mind and body.
Going down that line of thought made him remember his last disastrous session with Kane three days ago. That kiss had been world altering, certainly something, but then Kane had to ruin the illusion by making up some bullshit about being attracted to him. Fuck that. Kane had his file, knew that in addition to his missing limb, the rest of his body looked like a horror show. The scars wouldn’t heal because they’d been caused by silver.
He shut his eyes. He knew it had been too good to be true, but Kane should have let him enjoy that one kiss. When Abram was back at home, he could pretend Kane was genuinely interested in him, saw him as desirable, a potential mate.
“Fuck this, fuck you, Kane,” he muttered, realizing he’d been gripping the wheel of his car un
til his scarred knuckles turned white.
A knock on his window made him jump in his seat and snarl at the intrusion.
Seeing Mike, he relaxed, although it alarmed him he hadn’t sensed his old friend there. Mike leaned on his crutch, waiting as Abram rolled the window down.
“You started talking to yourself?” Mike said with a strained smile. “Were you thinking of blowing us off?”
“Why do you ask?” He glanced out the windows, realizing the others were there, as well. How long had he spaced out? Shit. If he’d done this while on a mission, he certainly would be dead by now, except he was no longer in hostile territory, no longer a soldier.
“You were sitting there, gripping the wheel so hard, it’s about to break,” Mike remarked.
“I’m getting out,” he grumbled. Mike took several steps back, or rather limped, so he could get out and slam the door shut.
Mike studied him carefully.
“What?” he asked.
“I’ve never seen you unsettled before.”
He growled but thought better of provoking Mike. Like him, Mike’s tiger was on the surface, ready to explode at any little thing, and Mike was one of his few friends, a brother who traveled the same roads with him.
“Wait,” Mike said lightly as they began heading to the diner where the others were. “Is this about a guy?”
Stumped, he stopped on the sidewalk. “How did you know?”
“It was actually a lucky guess, but fuck, Abram. You seeing someone? I’m so proud of you, man.”
He shook his head, looking up ahead, scanning the street up and down. Some old habits never died, but last night, he felt eyes watching his movement when he went to the store across from his apartment. Maybe he was growing paranoid, delusional. Not a good sign.
“I thought, well, nothing. It was a mistake. He’s like the rest, ran away after seeing what I really am underneath.”
“I’m sorry.” Mike looked like he genuinely meant it. Abram held the door, then realized Mike wouldn’t want that. At the start, when they all realized they’d lost something vital, none of them could believe it at first. They were paranormal special ops, the top of the food chain. When they’d realized they’d been downgraded, reality had been hard to accept.
