by Abigail Owen
“Yes.” With that single word, the goddess stood before her. As always, no sound or hint of her arrival accompanied her appearance. She wasn’t there, and then she was. Today she was wrapped in a sari of various shades of purple that matched her swirling, eerie eyes.
Zula leaned back and crossed one elegantly shod leg over the other. She smoothed the material of her black dress over her knees in a deceptively casual move. “I’m afraid our day didn’t go quite as planned.”
The sheer rage behind those words beat inside her like a sand storm in the Serengeti, but she was careful not to betray an ounce of her emotions. ‘Not quite as planned’ was a massive understatement. Her forces had failed to penetrate a single one of the compounds that housed the dares of the Shadowcat Nation. Oh, they’d gotten in the front door on a few, but not much further. Someone had warned the dares an attack was imminent, and she knew who. Sarai Montclair, the Seer for the North American continent, was more powerful than Zula’d realized, and more devious.
“I was under the impression you blocked our plans from the Seers’ visions,” Zula accused.
The goddess settled in a chair across the way. Her bland expression revealed her bored disdain more clearly than words or a sneer might have. “I blocked what I could. They had no idea their Kuharte meeting would be hit, did they?”
Zula tipped her head in acknowledgement. She and her team had been able to penetrate the underground bunker, following on the heels of one of the cougar Alphas who’d led them right to the entrance. Fool.
The goddess shrugged. “You were the one who decided to attack all the dares at the same time. I did not guarantee being able to hide all those plans if you recall.”
“True, but our arrangement was contingent on the success of this plan. You agree, I’m sure, our deal is only final when I have defeated these cats that dare call themselves lions and secured the safety of my people’s new home.”
“What are you saying?”
She gave the other woman a contented smile. “I’m afraid I will be keeping our…friend…a little longer.”
Narrowed eyes were the deity’s only outward sign of her ire. “You agreed he was mine in exchange for my help.”
“In exchange for your help defeating the cougars. That’s not what happened today.”
A strong wind swirled though the room, kicking up the curtains, and blowing papers off Zula’s desk. The woman didn’t move, or even blink, from where she sat. “I could just take him, you realize.”
Zula merely raised her eyebrows at the small display of power, such a goddess thing to do. She knew the agreement they’d formed was as binding for the goddess as it was for her. She’d made sure it would be. “If that were true, you would have done so by now.”
Now she’d applied the stick, she dangled the carrot. “Of course, helping us could benefit you.”
The goddess appeared to settle back in her seat, though in actuality she didn’t change positions. “It what way?”
“Whatever issue you have with Oyandone, his brothers and sister are equally invested in what happens with the mountain lion shifters. Help me defeat the cougars, and you impact them. Perhaps we can even lure them here for you.”
Her guest tapped her long fingers on the arm of the chair as she considered those words. “How do you know such things?”
“Huginn and Muninn.”
Realization dawned in her opponent’s eyes. “Those ravens of Odin’s have certainly been beneficial to you. Take care you don’t bring the Norse god’s wrath down on your head.” The two shifters were the old man’s eyes and ears, reporting to him everything they witnessed.
Zula gave the other woman a sanguine smile. “Let me worry about the gods’ anger, yours included.”
If she got what she wanted, they could damn well do whatever they wanted with her when this was all over and done. Besides, she hadn’t captured Huginn and Muninn, not like she had Oyandone. They served her because they wanted to. Mostly. So she might have used a smidge of her abilities as a Seducer on them. They didn’t seem to mind.
The goddess’s fingers ceased their tapping. “What do you want?”
“All their supernaturals—the ones they call Kuharte. I want them dead.” If she could eliminate the advantage those additional powers gave, she knew her lions, in league with the wolves, grizzlies, and other shifters she’d gathered as allies, would have no problem taking out those who stood in their way.
“I’m not sure how much help I may be, but I’ll do what I can. Did you capture any today?”
Zula gave a satisfied smirk. “One of their Seers, a woman, and a male Seducer.”
The goddess tilted her head. “I’m surprised you’ve been able to hold a Seducer against his will.”
“He’s allowed contact with no one but me.” She had to admit his power affected her, but not as much as hers did him—a battle of wills she was confident she’d win. Her mother had taught her well.
“You haven’t killed them?”
“No. I plan to use them.”
“Does that power of yours work on women as well as men?”
Zula shrugged, which was not really an answer. “We also managed to take two of their Alphas.”
“You’re going to use them as bait.”
Zula nodded.
“So what do you need me for?”
“One of the Kuharte disappeared in front of my eyes.” She’d never seen anything like it. As far as she knew, no supernatural shifters of any kind had the ability to do anything even close.
Her comment garnered a frown from her guest, which told her the gift was indeed rare. “I haven’t known any humans or shifters to have the ability to teleport. That’s a gift only the gods possess.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Have your little birds located her?”
“Not yet, but when they do I would like you to take a group of my wolves and retrieve her for me.”
For a long, uncomfortable moment, she found herself on the end of a cold stare. Deities, in Zula’s limited experience, didn’t appreciate being given orders. But she’d guaranteed this particular goddess’s cooperation with her adding Oyandone’s siblings into the pot.
“Call for me when they find her,” the goddess finally agreed.
Then she was gone.
Chapter Eleven
Shane was up and out of the bedroom by first light. He left a snoring Tieryn still asleep in the large brass bed, amazed she could sack out like that after already sleeping fifteen hours. Transporting sure took a toll on her body. Meanwhile, he doubted he’d slept at all. He’d come so damn close to kissing her last night, and his body had not appreciated stopping. Her scent, something flowery that reminded him of spring, had engulfed him all through the dwindling hours of the night.
Worse, the pull to be near her, to touch her, to hear her voice and know she was safe seemed stronger than ever. The thought of how he might have reacted had she transported without him, leaving him wondering where she’d gone, made his stomach clench. And that reaction alone made him want to run. He couldn’t allow himself to care—it only made him vulnerable.
He’d done the love and marriage thing and look where that ended. Lust and vengeance were the only emotions he’d answer to these days. He didn’t think Tieryn would appreciate a one-night stand—she didn’t seem the type—so lust was out. Besides, she was the spoilt darling of her dare who had no idea of the real world, and she was engaged to be married. Shane considered himself a man of honor.
They were limited in selection of food, so he opened a can of beans and shoveled it down before he headed outside. The last time he’d stayed here, he’d reveled in the space and solitude. Hundreds of miles separated them from the nearest humans. Mountain lion shifters, like their wild counterparts, were natural loners who liked a lot of space.
This place offered space in spades. The mountains rose up around them like protective sentinels, keeping the world at bay. The air was crisp and clean with an underlyi
ng scent of pine. He inhaled a lungful but felt no less agitated. He tossed a glare at the door to the cabin, which housed the slumbering source of his angst.
Purpose filled him as he headed to the small shed around to the right. It took a bit to dig out a path in the drifts of snow to allow him to open the door. Once inside, he grabbed the axe that hung on the wall. He removed his shirt and left it on the small, covered porch at the front of the cabin before going into the yard. Cougars thrived in many elements, even when in human form, and he planned to work up a sweat. He worked a good long while, chopping plenty of extra wood. They already had a decent-sized stash, but the snow had stopped falling overnight. An emergency pile was always a decent idea.
However, even chopping wood didn’t work off the leashed energy that made him want to pace. He slid off the rest of his clothes, and left them folded neatly beside his shirt before he shifted, the process fast and soundless, as it was for all shifters. A perimeter run at a new location was common sense.
Letting himself loose, he bounded through the snow. Mountain lions had one of the largest ranges of any land animal. Consequently, they thrived in many types of environments, including snow. Shane had lived his entire life in Canada—first with the Carstairs Dare further south, then with Zac’s polar bears on the eastern side. Snow wasn’t remotely a problem.
He circled the property in an ever-widening path, eventually winding through trees as he left the clearing around the cabin, searching for any hint of intruders, visitors, or prey they could hunt and eat.
The tiny snap of a twig had him swinging around, ready to fight—ears flat back, teeth exposed in a silent hiss of warning. He pulled himself up when he discovered a female mountain lion. She was the palest blond he’d ever seen in a cat, with white markings around her mouth and belly. Startling blue eyes stared back at him with open curiosity, as though she was assessing his own form.
Tieryn—he was certain it was she—made a purring noise deep in her throat. She seemed to be trying to soothe him.
Shane rolled his eyes and growled his displeasure back. Had no one ever taught her not to approach a male cougar shifter without warning? He could have ripped her to shreds.
With a jerk of his head, he indicated she should follow him. Then he made straight for the house. Shane leapt through the drifts, clearing feet at a time. They were about halfway through the field when something large landed on top of his back then slid off. Tieryn bounded away.
Seriously? Did she have no sense of self-preservation?
Apparently not, because she turned and swiped a paw, scooping up a hunk of snow. With uncanny accuracy, it ploofed right in his face. Shane ignored her and kept cutting through the snow to the house. Except she wouldn’t leave him alone. She’d circle around behind him to attack from the side or from the back, only to bound away when he turned on her.
At first, Shane held on to his righteous annoyance, but her playful energy was infectious, and a goofy idea took root. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she stalked him from the right. Her head was below the snow, but her rump and tail stuck up above, allowing him to track her location.
He waited. Waited. Waited. Then she made her move. Instead of letting her plough into him, he reared back onto his hind legs, and she ended up under him. He came down on top of her, careful not to hurt her. They rolled and tumbled together until they ended with her underneath him.
She chuffed at him. Had she been human, he knew the sound would have been delighted laughter. He shook his head and bared his teeth again, only to have her whack him in the side of the head with her paw. She surprised him so much, she had time to scramble out from under him and make a break for the house.
The instinct to chase—to claim—surged through his blood. He even took a couple of leaping steps to follow before he pulled up short. What the hell was he thinking? What was she? He clamped down on the needs riding him hard and followed at a slower pace, though his aggravation was sorely tested when she made it to the house, turned and did a sort of prancing move—he assumed a dance of victory—before she disappeared inside. Her playfulness made him want to join her, to laugh. A stupid idea given all the issues they faced at the moment.
Shane took his time getting back to the house, shifting, and dressing before he went inside. He found her lounging on the beat up couch that used to be green and blue plaid. Laughter lurked in her eyes as she glanced at him over the top of the yellowed pages of the book she held.
Shane answered her with a glare.
Then she laughed—actually laughed—at him. “I see you’re back to grump-mode, Callahan.”
Which didn’t seem to bother her at all. He frowned. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you not to sneak up on another mountain lion who doesn’t know you in that form?”
“Grump. Grump. Grump,” she harrumphed. “There was no one else out there with us.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I watched you for a while. If you’d found even a hint of anything dangerous, you would’ve acted much differently.”
The fact that she was right aggravated him more. “That doesn’t mean I couldn’t have attacked you,” he pointed out.
She shrugged. “You would never hurt me.”
He shook his head. “You assume too much.”
Tieryn sobered. She gave him a steady look. “You would never hurt me.” She enunciated every word, absolute confidence ringing in each syllable.
He dropped his head, hands on his hips, and took a deep, calming breath. “I don’t know that, so how could you?”
He glanced up to catch a hint of confusion in her eyes. Directed at herself or him? But she hid it swiftly and gave another little shrug. “I just do.”
She returned to her book, tuning him out as she read. As he started to move away toward the kitchen, her voice stopped him. “At least admit you had fun. If only for a nanosecond.”
He looked over his shoulder at her to discover the laughter was back in those clear blue eyes. He wanted to be angry, frustrated, but her mirth tugged an answering humor from him. Instead of letting her see that though, he grunted and headed to the kitchen.
“I boiled water in the kettle,” she called after him. “There’s tea or instant coffee in the far right drawer.”
“Does anything ever bother you?” he muttered under his breath.
“Only you,” she muttered back under hers.
At least, he thought she did. He couldn’t be certain, and he was damn sure not going to ask.
Chapter Twelve
“I’m going to go try to scare up some meat to eat.”
Tieryn looked up from the book she’d been plodding through most of the day to find Shane standing at the door, his hand on the latch.
“Can I help?”
The look of total skepticism he aimed her way told her exactly what he thought about that.
“I can shoot,” she insisted.
“Yeah?” He didn’t sound too impressed.
She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Yeah,” she echoed.
“I’ve seen you try to be quiet in your human form. Can you hunt in your cat form?”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head.
“In the snow?” He had a point there. Another shake of her head.
“It’s too cold for the clothes you have on. Did you find anything else to wear?”
“You know I didn’t,” she gritted. Did he have to rub it in?
“Right. I’ll be back later.” With that, he was gone.
“Arrogant. Stubborn. Macho male shifter.” She let a frustrated growl loose deep in her throat. She’d run up against this crap all her life.
Instead of sitting there and taking it, she put down her book and hopped up. In his little point-making session, he hadn’t asked where she’d get weapons. She’d bet he would have pointed that out had there been none. Plus, this was a shifter safe house. No way would they forget to protect themselves. Just a hunch, but she had nothing better
to do today.
A detailed search of the cabin turned up a weapons locker in a small basement below the house. She grinned when she found a crossbow sitting there. She was better with a rifle, but this would do in a pinch.
While Shane had been right about her hunting and stalking abilities, which were subpar on a good day, what he didn’t know, what only her father knew was that she was a damn good shot. Granted, she’d only ever hit targets and skeet, never an animal, but it was worth a try. His point about her clothes and the weather had been spot on as well, which left her one option. She dragged a chair out onto the small porch. Then she wrapped up in the quilt, which she pulled off the bed and sat the crossbow on her lap to wait.
The likelihood she’d catch anything this way was low, and she’d have to be very careful about not shooting Shane, but at least she felt like she was doing something.
She sat there for a while. Despite her blanket, the cold seeped into her bones, causing her to ache and shiver. But she didn’t give up. Her patience paid off when she caught a rustle in bushes across the field.
Slowly she stood and drew, having set the arrow earlier. Now, she released the safety. Using the crossbow sight, she watched. Eventually a white snowshoe hare popped its long ears up over the snow. The creature hadn’t yet started to turn brown, and its white fur made it hard to distinguish from its surroundings. Taking her time, picking her shot, she waited.
Ready, she blew out a long slow breath and fired.
Then she smiled in satisfaction.
“Tieryn! Are you crazy?”
Tieryn’s eyes widened as a very pissed—and very naked—Shane charged across the field toward her. Before she could say anything, he shifted, sprinted over to her, shifted back, and ran up the stairs. She stumbled back a few steps, hampered by the blanket wrapped around her.
“You could have hit me,” he yelled.
Tieryn rolled her eyes. “I was careful to make sure you weren’t there.”
She laid her bow on the floor and pushed the blanket from around her feet. Then she walked around a speechless Shane. She smiled as she heard the sound of his scuffle to dress.
