by Zoe Chant
Dale held his breath, waiting.
“Boston cream…” Dawn said, “...chocolate sprinkles, strawberry jelly. Got it. See you in a few—wait, where are you at?”
Dale watched as she picked up a pen and wrote down an address on a notepad.
“Great," said Dawn. “See you soon.” She hung up, and tore off the piece of paper and held it out to Dale. “Here you go," she said.
Dale grabbed it. It was about a ten-minute drive. He could be at Sam’s side in ten minutes. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m not surprised Freddie was convinced, that was amazing. You probably just saved Sam’s life.”
“I thought you believed in honesty in every situation," Dawn said, smiling tentatively.
“I believe in honesty in...most situations," Dale said. “In this situation—there are more important things than honesty, and you’re helping me save one of them. Thank you.”
“It was the least I could do, considering what I did to help them," Dawn said. “Good luck.”
“Don’t worry," said Dale. “I’ll bring her back.” He left without looking back, stuffing the paper in his pocket. He didn’t need to look at it again; the address was burned into his brain.
* * *
Sam was watching Freddie warily. After Chapman had left, he’d paced around impatiently, and Sam had just been waiting for him to hit her again.
The left side of her face was hot and starting to swell up from the first time, and she was pretty sure Freddie wanted nothing more than a repeat performance.
So she’d kept her mouth shut, not wanting to provoke him, and he’d gotten a phone call before he could work himself up to it. Sam hadn’t been able to tell who was on the other end, but apparently they were going to come by and bring doughnuts.
And Freddie had been reluctant to let them come over, so maybe it was someone who didn’t know about the plan. Maybe Sam could yell out and tell them what was happening. If they were a lion, too, maybe they could even get her out.
Maybe. But the odds were that they were in on it. Freddie had said, “Just stuck here with Dale’s stupid girlfriend," to whoever it was, so they at least knew Sam was here.
She’d try, though. She had to try something.
“Why are you helping him?” she asked Freddie, half out of morbid curiosity, and half because he was starting to look impatient again and she didn’t want him to get bored and take it out on her.
Freddie gave her a contemptuous look. “Who wouldn’t want to help him? He’s rich, he’s powerful, he can get whatever he wants, and he doesn’t have a stick up his ass like most of the pride. Your boyfriend especially.”
Sam could see how Dale’s strong values would discourage a certain type of person, but considering her current situation, she’d have been happy with a bit more discouragement.
“Whatever he wants?” she asked, instead of saying any of that out loud. “What about whatever you want? What does he give you?”
“He pays me," Freddie said. “I’m his assistant.”
“At his office?” Sam asked, fake-innocent.
Freddie hesitated. “No.”
“Oh," Sam said. “I was just wondering what the next rung of the ladder was. In offices, you get promotions.”
Not always, of course. Sometimes you stayed at a low-level dead-end forever...and sometimes you got laid off. But she had a sense that Freddie was a glass-half-full kind of a person.
“When he’s the alpha, that’ll be a promotion," Freddie said. “I’ll be the highest person in the pride, next to him.”
“What about Lynn?” Sam asked.
“Lynn won’t stay alpha lioness under Alan,” Freddie said confidently.
“Why not?” Sam asked. “Where will she go? Who will replace her?”
Freddie’s expression turned ugly. “You stop asking all those questions. Do you want to get hit again?”
“No," Sam said as calmly as she could. That had been dumb—she’d gotten caught up in attacking Freddie’s logic and pushed him too far. “I’m sorry. I—”
“I don’t think you are sorry,” Freddie said. “I think you’re trying to mess with my head. Do you want me to show you what I think about that?” He started toward her.
“No,” Sam said, fear rising in her. “No, no—please—”
The doorbell rang.
Freddie froze, and then relaxed so suddenly it was a little creepy. “That’s probably doughnuts. I’ll be right back.”
Sam got ready to scream, but on his way to the door Freddie stopped at the window to peek out at the front step. “What the fuck?” he snapped.
Sam jumped. “What?”
Freddie turned to stare back at her. “What is he doing here? How did he know where to come? If you told him, I swear to fucking God—”
Sam listened to the rant with a rising hope that only peaked when she heard. “Let me in, Freddie," in a deep, commanding voice from outside the door.
Dale was here.
* * *
Dale could hear Freddie’s angry voice as he came up the front walk to the little broken-down house, and as he approached the door, he heard Sam saying, No, no, no—please—
His lion reared up and roared inside of him, but he knew he couldn’t just break the door down. He had no idea where Freddie was; he could easily be between Dale and Sam. If he rang the bell, Freddie would be right in front of him, thinking he was Dawn, instead of anywhere near Sam, ready to do something desperate.
But when he heard the high-pitched What the fuck? he knew the game was up, and then he saw Freddie’s little rabbity face jerking back from the window.
“Let me in, Freddie," he shouted through the door.
“I have your girlfriend!” Freddie shouted back, sounding panicked. “Don’t come in or I’ll hurt her!”
Dale tried the door, and it was locked, but that was fine, because it meant that he could do what he’d been craving since Alan Chapman had picked up Sam’s phone. He shifted.
The house was pretty broken-down, and the door was in no way up to withstanding the almost five hundred pounds of lion that hit it straight-on.
It splintered away from the frame, and Dale leapt over the broken pieces and charged into the kitchen...where Freddie was hiding, in human form, behind a handcuffed Sam. He had a knife held to Sam’s throat.
“I’ll kill her," he warned. “Don’t come any closer.”
Dale wanted nothing more than to pounce on him and savage his throat, but he couldn’t risk Sam getting hurt. She already had the beginnings of what was going to be a spectacular bruise on one side of her face, and her wrist was raw where the handcuff was digging into it. She looked furious and determined and beautiful.
He couldn’t pounce, he reminded himself, flexing his claws so that they dug into the linoleum. Freddie’s eyes skipped downward, and he swallowed.
Dale snarled at him, and he jumped, nervous and startled, the knife jerking in his hand.
Dale froze, afraid Freddie would accidentally cut Sam’s throat. But he didn’t.
In the split-second when the knife had jerked away from her throat, Sam slammed her big chunky heel down onto Freddie’s left red Converse. Freddie howled, and she twisted away.
She was bound by the handcuff, though—she couldn’t actually get away. Freddie shifted into lion form with a swirl of displaced air, and snapped at her just as Dale leaped.
He hit Freddie’s flank and bit down hard, and Freddie let out a high-pitched screech of pain and shifted back instantly, until Dale had his jaws just gently pressing against Freddie’s ribcage.
He pulled back, tasting blood, and shifted to human. “Get out," he said. “I don’t ever want to see you in this city again. I don’t ever want you contacting me, Sam, or Alan Chapman ever again. If I hear your name, even once, you’ll have every pride in America after your blood. Do you understand?”
Freddie nodded. His teeth were chattering.
“Get the handcuff key," said Sam. “He’s got it in his right front pocket.�
��
Dale reached into Freddie’s pocket and found the key, and then yanked him to his feet. He swayed, but he stayed up.
“Go," said Dale. “Now.”
Freddie ran out the door.
Dale breathed out, and turned to Sam. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. She was shaking, and Dale went up to her and slowly, carefully, put a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t jump or flinch away, just leaned into it, and he took the cue and wrapped her up in his arms.
She pressed her face into his shoulder and shuddered. “That was awful," she said. “Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.”
“I am going to do everything in my power," Dale said, “to make sure nothing like that ever happens to you again.”
He rubbed a hand up and down her back for a minute, and then took a deep breath and said, “I mean it. Whatever you need. If you want to move away and start a new life somewhere where there aren’t any lions, I will help you do that—”
“No!” Sam lifted her head. “I thought we were mates.”
“We are." Dale couldn’t help leaning down to place the gentlest possible kiss on her swollen cheek. The skin was hot under his lips. “That’s why I want to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re happy and safe.”
Sam pulled back and looked him in the eye. “I will be happy to see Chapman sent running like Freddie was. And I will be safe when he’s gone. So you can do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
“Done," said Dale. “And it’ll be my pleasure.”
Sam smiled. “Good.”
Dale started to smile back, and then stopped when he realized his face might still be bloody. “We should clean up," he said, glad that at least it didn’t seem like he’d scared Sam. “And—you’re still handcuffed!”
Sam lifted her hand, the chain dangling from it. “Didn’t seem as important with you here instead of Freddie, somehow. Want to undo me?”
Dale still had the key wrapped in one hand; he’d just forgotten about it in the haze of having Sam back with him and safe.
“I’ve never in my entire life been absent-minded like I am with you," he said as he uncuffed her.
“Do you like it?” Sam asked, extracting her wrist.
“Yes.” He held her hand gently in both of his—her wrist was abraded, but not bleeding. “We should wash this and put something on it, but it’ll be fine. Are you hurt anywhere else? Is your head okay?”
“My head is okay," Sam said. “My face just needs some ice. I think Freddie nicked me, though.” She twisted, and Dale saw the rent in her sleeve, and the little thread of blood on her upper arm.
“With his knife?” Dale pulled her closer to look at it.
“No, it was when he was a lion," Sam said.
Dale froze. “Was it his claws or his teeth?” he asked carefully.
“His teeth," Sam said slowly, her eyes on his face. “Why?”
“Do you know the two ways people can become shapeshifters?” Dale asked.
He kept his hands very light on Sam, but the part of him that wanted to dig his claws into something had returned full force. He was sorry he’d let Freddie go.
“I know that much from TV,” Sam said. “It’s hereditary or they get bitten.” She looked at her arm. “Does this...count as a bite?”
“Any time the teeth break the skin, the transformation can happen," said Dale. “It’s not guaranteed. You’ll know within twenty-four hours.” He looked up at her face. “Sam, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be," she said, a little frown on her face, like she was thinking. “Don’t be. You didn’t bite me, and—I could really turn into a lioness? What are the chances with a little nick like this?”
“It’s...possible," Dale said. “Even with a small cut. Are you—aren’t you upset? That this happened without your consent?”
“Well," said Sam, still looking at her arm, “obviously it would be better if it was voluntary—how often do people volunteer to be bitten?”
“It’s not something we do lightly," Dale said. “There are a lot of people who want it—if you go on the Internet, you can find them no problem.” Sam quirked a little smile at that. “But there’s a long waiting period, a lot of formal procedures, and the entire pride has to agree to accept the person in a unanimous vote. It’s difficult to do, even for people’s mates.”
“And on the other hand, biting someone like this is a terrible thing for a lion to do," Sam said softly, looking at him now instead of her arm.
“Yes." Dale watched her anxiously—as someone who’d been born into a pride, he couldn’t imagine how she was feeling right now. What would it be like to know that your whole being could be changing, right this moment?
“Well," Sam said, “it’s been a really crazy morning, and you should probably ask me again how I feel about it in twenty-four hours, but right now...being a lioness doesn’t sound so bad.”
Dale stared at her. “Really? Are you—you just said you aren’t sure, never mind. But—”
She was looking at him with a fond expression. “I love it when you get flustered, have I told you that yet?”
He stopped. “No.”
“I do," she said. “You’re worried I’m going to be upset or mad.”
“That’s an understatement," Dale said. “Sam, your entire self might be changed.”
“I’ll still be me, won’t I?” Sam asked. “I won’t undergo a total personality transplant?”
Dale hesitated. “The lion can...influence your thinking sometimes.”
“Make you fierce," Sam said.
“Well...yes.”
“I want to be fierce," Sam said. “I want to be a lioness.”
Dale leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. She tasted amazing. “You are a lioness," he said against her lips. “It doesn’t matter what happens in the next twenty-four hours. You are.”
* * *
Dale drove her back to the studio. He’d said he would take her home, but Sam didn’t want to go home and wait and wonder; she wanted to see this through.
He parked in the parking lot, and they got out and went in the back door. “Wait a minute," Dale told her just inside, and stopped to listen.
Sam could hear yelling voices coming from the direction of the lobby. “That’s him.” She was never going to forget his voice as long as she lived.
“And that’s Lynn," Dale said with some relief. “Okay, let’s go. Slowly.”
She followed him through the halls, listening to make sure Chapman was still up front. The voices got louder and louder, and finally Dale said, “They’re just around the corner. Wait here for a few minutes. I have an idea.”
“Okay," said Sam. She wasn’t excited about being left alone, but at least Dale would be between her and Chapman. And Lynn was there too, she reminded herself; she’d bet that Lynn would be able to kick Chapman’s ass if she wanted to, human or lion.
“I’m here, Chapman," she heard Dale say as he came around the corner.
“You’re late." Chapman sounded unimpressed. “I could accuse you of a lot of things, Dale, but I never thought you were a coward.”
“I was trying to find Sam," Dale said flatly, and Sam drew in her breath as she realized what Dale was doing. She hoped he managed it—he didn’t seem like the kind of person who found deception easy.
“Went to my house anyway, did you?” Chapman asked, a laugh in his voice. “Well, I hope you didn’t do any property damage, or I’ll have to sue. She’s nowhere near there.”
“Just get on with it," Dale said. Good, Sam mouthed silently. She was glad Dale wasn’t trying anything elaborate. And he didn’t sound like he was faking anything. After all, he was plenty mad at Chapman.
Because of her.
That sent a little thrill through her, the idea that Dale was furious on her behalf—that he’d fought Freddie and he was ready to fight Chapman just because they’d hurt her.
She’d never had anyone do anything like that for her before. It warmed her all the w
ay through.
“Dale Addison," said Chapman in formal tones, “I hereby challenge you for the position of alpha of the pride.”
“I accept your challenge," Dale said, equally formally.
“Witnessed," said Lynn.
“Witnessed," said another female voice. Dawn the receptionist, Sam thought. Had she been there the whole time?
“I’ll meet you at the fighting ground at four o’clock today," Dale said. “For now, get out of here.”
“With pleasure," said Chapman, and Sam heard the sound of the door as he left.
She breathed out. She knew that with Dale and Lynn there, there was no way that Chapman would be able to hurt her, but it was nice to know he was gone.
“Dale, what—” Lynn started to say.
“Wait a second. Come on out," Dale called.
Sam stepped out into the open.
“Oh thank God," said Dawn, and ran out from behind her desk to give Sam a hug. Sam bemusedly returned it.
“I am so sorry," said Dawn. “I gave him your address. I swear I didn’t know he was going to hurt you—oh God, look at your face—!” as she pulled back. “I will do anything to make this up to you. Whatever you need, just let me know. I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay," Sam said hurriedly. “You didn’t know, like you said.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing," Dawn said, “but that doesn’t matter. You got hurt and it was my fault!”
“I’m okay.” Sam tried to think. Too much had happened today for her to deal with an upset teenager on top of it all. “Look, how about after this is all over, you and me get coffee or lunch and talk it all over, okay? We can go over everything and you can say sorry as many times as you want to.”
“O-okay," Dawn said, sniffing hard. “My treat.”
“All right." Sam figured that Dawn would feel better if she felt like she was doing something for Sam.
“All right, that’s enough, Dawn," said Lynn finally, and Sam turned to her in relief. “Sam, what on earth happened? I couldn’t get anything out of Alan before Dale showed up. Are you hurt?”
