Lion's Lynx (Veteran Shifters Book 2)

by Zoe Chant

  And she turned and started back along the trail. Ken allowed himself one minute of watching her generous curves as she hiked, and then looked away.

  After all, he had work to do.

  ***

  “So I hear the new environmental scientist is extremely handsome.”

  Lynn startled, and dropped the pile of papers she’d been sorting through—mock-ups of different possible brochure designs for the guide business. Murphy’s Law dictated that they had to end up all over the office somehow, and indeed they did, with several drifting under the desk, and one—how?—ending up behind the radiator.

  Lynn surveyed the paper blizzard. “Thanks.”

  Nina’s hand was over her mouth. “I’m so sorry!” she said, but the laugh was escaping even as she apologized. “No, don’t, I’ll clean them up.” She hustled over to the radiator first.

  Lynn sighed and gathered together the papers in the desk area. Maybe Nina would forget what she’d been saying in the flurry of brochure search-and-rescue.

  But there was no such luck. Standing up with a pile of brochure pages tucked neatly together in her hands, Nina said, “So, he must be really handsome if this is what happens when I bring it up.”

  “Where on earth did you hear anything about the relative handsomeness of the environmental scientist?” Lynn asked. “As far as I know, he’s only talked to me and Cal, and you’re not going to convince me that Cal’s been gossiping about handsome men.”

  “Aha!” Nina pointed a finger at her. “So you admit he’s handsome.”

  Lynn raised an eyebrow and waited.

  Nina deflated after a minute, and admitted, “From my mother. She met all of Cal’s old Marine buddies back at the wedding, and she remembered Ken. Although she said they were all very handsome.”

  “Good for them,” Lynn said flatly.

  “She said that Wilson says that he commanded all of them in combat, overseas, and they were all good Marines,” Nina added.

  Nina’s mother Mavis was married to a former Marine Colonel, Wilson Hanes. Wilson had commanded Cal back in the day—and apparently Ken, too.

  Well, good for him. Them. Whatever. It was no skin off her nose how good of a Marine Ken had been.

  Although it did add a kind of an...extra dimension to him. She’d been thinking of him as a wisecracking, womanizing type of man. But knowing that he’d served in combat—well, he had to have a certain strength of character to have done that, and come back alive.

  She pictured him in fatigues, somewhere in the desert sand. It was easier than she would’ve thought.

  Something else occurred to her. “So he must be a shifter.” Cal and Wilson were both shifters, and Lynn vaguely remembered something about top-secret all-shifter units in the military. “Right?”

  There was a little smile on Nina’s face. Lynn didn’t want to think too hard about what it might mean. “Yep. Mom said she didn’t know what type he was. I doubt Wilson would just go around telling people. But he’s definitely a shifter.”

  That added even more. No wonder he was so comfortable hiking through the wilderness. Normally, Lynn had to make sure she kept her pace slow and easy for regular humans. Even athletic men wouldn’t have the speed and power a shifter did. But Ken had kept up with her no problem, and she’d even felt like he could’ve outstripped her without too much trouble, if he’d wanted to.

  There were plenty of shifters living around Glacier Park—an unusually large amount, compared to other places. So it wasn’t strange to be spending time with another one. But for some reason, she’d just been assuming that Ken was a regular human man.

  If he was a shifter, she could tell him a lot more about how she knew the history of the forests around Glacier. He’d understand things like why she’d chosen the job she did...

  She pulled herself sternly to a halt. She didn’t want to get too caught up in personal feelings for Ken, after all. Because that would be too close to thinking about that date he’d asked for, and dating wasn’t for her. Too old, too used to being alone, too set in her ways...

  Too unwilling to watch anyone else walk away.

  “Time to get this brochure figured out so we can both go home,” she told Nina, and something about her tone of voice must have made it clear that she was serious, because Nina immediately came over and bent her head to look at the papers with Lynn.

  Good. It had been a silly conversation anyway. The idea that Ken might even be interested in her life...! Silly.

  ***

  “So how’d you come to start working as a Park guide?” Ken asked Lynn, trying for a relatively casual tone of voice.

  But he missed the mark or something, because her head came up like she’d just scented prey. “Why?” she asked. Suspiciously.

  Which was completely unfair, because he’d done nothing suspicious whatsoever. “Just curious.”

  She stared at him for a long minute, with that frown-wrinkle settling between her eyebrows. Ken wanted to reach out and soothe it away with his thumb, stroke his fingers down the side her face. Ask her what had made her so careful, so suspicious, that an innocent question like this set off her internal alarms.

  But after a minute, the frown softened, and she said, “I kind of fell into it. I spent so much time in and around the Park as a kid, running wild, learning all the different places a person could go, to play or hide or what-have-you.”

  Ken wondered what little-kid Lynn had felt like she needed to hide from. Other kids? Parents? He was filled with a sudden and fierce protectiveness.

  But Lynn kept talking. “So...by the time I was a teenager, I felt like I knew everything there was to know about these woods. I felt like they were mine, and mine alone. But then I started talking to my grandmother about them.”

  She smiled, then, and Ken was startled by the amount of pure love that was alive in her face. “Grandmother knew everything about the history of the land. She told me story after story, about how the Glacier area was originally settled, the way people used the land, abused it, harmonized with it, fought against it...times when it fought back. I hadn't realized how much there was that I didn't know. And learning from her was such a—a profound experience. I thought that all I wanted was to be able to do that for other people.”

  She shrugged. “So as soon as I was old enough, I started taking little jobs as a guide, offering to show tourists around. And it took years, but eventually word got around, and it reached the point where I was making enough money that I could do it full-time. And here I am.”

  “Here you are,” Ken echoed. Here she was, standing right in front of him, and he was so—

  So something. So overwhelmed at the depth of feeling Lynn clearly had for these woods. So struck by the intimate space between them, alone here in the woods, as she told him that soft, simple story about her grandmother.

  “That's a beautiful story,” he managed.

  Lynn quirked a little half-smile at him. “Thank you. Now—” She looked around. “Did you want to spend some time on that map, then?”

  He started. “Oh, yes. Sure. Let's get to it.”

  Ken dug around in his bag for the map, and then a notebook and pen, feeling a little gobsmacked.

  Lynn had turned the tables on him. He'd been determined to make her laugh, take her out of her serious thoughts. Instead, she'd brought him to a place where all he could feel was the seriousness of the moment. Where he didn't want to laugh, just to feel what Lynn felt.

  “Here it is,” he said finally. “Let's see what you've got, then.”

  And of course, she had a lot. Ken wasn't at all surprised to find that Lynn seemed to know when every tree in a forty-mile radius had been felled over the last hundred years. Most of the time, she knew the name of the person or the company that had done the logging, even if it was long enough ago that they were dead or defunct.

  “Did your grandmother tell you about all of this, too?” Ken had to ask, as Lynn was frowning over the last finishing touches.

  She nodde
d without looking up. “Grandmother valued the forest. She always said that we needed it, out here, that we'd die off without it, and I think she was right. She always wanted to know when trees were being cut down, and how quickly they were growing back.”

  “Sounds like a woman after my own heart,” Ken said sincerely. “We could use someone like her at my company.”

  Lynn smiled again, this time a full-on grin. “Good luck. My grandmother would never have worked for a big corporation. She thought they had no souls.”

  Ken raised his eyebrows. “And what do you think?”

  Lynn shrugged. “Depends on who’s at the top, I guess. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have an organization big enough to accomplish so much. But once the people in charge lose sight of what’s really important...” She shook her head.

  “And what’s really important?” Ken asked, fascinated.

  Lynn threw her hand out, wordlessly encompassing the silent wilderness around them.

  “Right you are,” Ken said quietly.

  ***

  The following day, Lynn left to meet Ken with a feeling of trepidation.

  She hardly knew what she’d been thinking, yesterday. She’d practically told him her life’s story, with almost no prompting. Where had that even come from?

  But he’d listened with interest, and not just interest. Something more. There’d been a sense of...happiness, even wonder, radiating off of him as she’d told him about Grandmother and her stories.

  Like just hearing about it had lifted his spirits. Which made her wonder about his family life. Had he been reminded of someone he loved?

  Or had he been amazed to hear about it because he hadn’t had that sort of mentor, growing up?

  Silly speculation, of course, but Lynn was less hard on herself than she’d been a day or two ago. Ken was turning out to be a better man than she’d suspected at first. He didn’t seem to have the sort of ego she’d automatically assigned to anyone as good-looking and charming as he was.

  He was even willing to acknowledge that she knew more about the woods than he did. And not just acknowledge, but actively ask her for help.

  And he hadn’t asked her out again.

  She’d been expecting, as they worked together, that he’d reiterate the invitation. Men, in her experience, weren’t very good at understanding the concept, No, I don’t want to go out with you.

  But he hadn’t. Even now that they’d been getting along a bit better, now that they’d had a personal conversation or two, even—there’d been no, So hey, how about that dinner?

  Almost like he respected her ability to know her own mind, and express her own opinions.

  Shocking, she thought drily.

  And all right, maybe she was cynical about men. But she’d never had any kind of great romance to convince her to be otherwise. Most of the time, she considered herself a realist, not blinded by love like some of the women she knew. Her sister among them.

  It wasn’t like there weren’t good men out there. Joel, Nina’s mate. Cal, of course. In fact, the men of the snow leopard pack were, in general, a stand-up group, hardworking and genuine. Which was especially clear when she considered the women they’d ended up with. None of the ladies of the pack would’ve put up with insufferable egos or lazy dickheads.

  So good men did exist. They just seemed to be...rare.

  But maybe Ken was one.

  Maybe. She barely knew him, after all. She reminded herself that they’d spent all of a couple hours together. He could still turn out to be an asshole.

  And if he did, it was no skin off her nose.

  Right?

  Shaking her thoughts away, Lynn hopped out of her truck and started the quick hike through the woods that would lead her to the spot where she’d left Ken.

  She remembered that he’d designated a sun-dappled rock as their official meeting spot—free parking!—and smiled wryly. He was a bit of a joker, no doubt about it.

  She hastened her stride, remembering that she had to be back at the Glacier visitor’s center at six to meet her first morning appointment, an older couple from Maine who were touring every national park in the country. Glacier was number thirty-seven, they’d told her, and one of the parks they’d most been looking forward to.

  Lynn wasn’t going to keep them waiting, that was for sure.

  Fortunately, she knew this area well, and it wasn’t long before she was coming up a slope towards the little hollow where she’d left Ken yesterday. She circled a thicket of underbrush and stepped out into a clearer area—

  —to the sight of an enormous lion asleep on the rock where they were supposed to meet.

  Lynn froze, all of her human prey-instincts shouting at her. Predator! they screamed. Get away!

  Her shifter instincts, on the other hand, sat up and purred.

  Because this was Ken, Lynn belatedly realized. Of course. She’d already known he had to be a shifter, and it made a thousand times more sense that the lion was Ken, rather than assuming a wild lion had suddenly shown up in northern Montana.

  Look, her lynx said to her. It’s him. Look how big and beautiful he is. Look at that glorious mane.

  It was a glorious mane. Auburn like his hair, falling over his face and tumbling down to his back. Lynn wanted to walk right over and bury her hands in it—or shift and curl up next to him on the rock, right up against that warm fur.

  What are you thinking? Snap out of it!

  There was no reason to be so fascinated by another shifter’s mane, for Pete’s sake. Sure, Lynn had never seen a true lion shifter before. Mountain lions, yes, but this was a real, honest-to-God huge African lion.

  Asleep with his chin on his paws, breathing softly in the dawn light.

  Lynn had to admit it. The sight moved her. She’d inhaled sharply when she saw him, and that breath pulsed hard in her chest still. She let it out on a sigh, and acknowledged the truth to herself: she was drawn to this man.

  To this lion.

  Slowly, she walked forward, closer and closer until she was right nearby. She kept expecting him to start awake, but he kept breathing slowly and softly until she was right next to him, almost close enough to touch.

  Reach out, her lynx urged. Reach out and touch him. He’s right there. I want to feel his fur under our fingers!

  Lynn hovered on the edge of giving in to the impulse. Almost, she was ready to lift her hand—

  And then his eyes blinked open.

  Lynn jumped. “Excuse me,” she said instantly. And then quickly pulled herself together. She didn’t have anything to be sorry for; it was after five, and time for them to meet. “Good morning,” she tried instead. “Ken, I presume?”

  Those tawny eyes blinked at her for a moment. If she’d had any doubts about who the lion was, they would’ve been dispelled by now: his eyes were exactly the same warm golden shade in his lion form as they were when he was a man.

  Blinking, he lifted his head from his paws, then shook out his mane. Lynn watched. It really was glorious.

  Then he stretched. His claws flexed, his muscles rippled, and he yawned a great yawn, revealing huge teeth and a pink tongue.

  Let’s shift, her lynx suggested. We could go on a run together! He probably wants to run, now that he’s awake.

  No, Lynn told her lynx firmly. Half her attention was still on the majestically wonderful sight of the male lion coming fully awake.

  He shook himself once more, then padded to the edge of the rock and hopped down. Lynn was struck all over again by how enormous he was: standing on all fours, his head was almost level with hers, on two legs.

  Then he shivered, blurred, and shifted, and she was looking at Ken Turner, wearing a T-shirt and boxers and standing barefoot and human on the forest floor.

  His auburn hair, she couldn’t help but note, was in the same messy tumble his mane had been.

  “Good morning,” Lynn managed.

  “Good morning,” he said, sounding remarkably composed. “Sorry for oversleeping
. I was sure the sun would wake me up.”

  “It’s only just barely risen,” Lynn said. “Not as bright here in the thick forest as it is elsewhere, also. Ready to get going?”

  “Mmm, just about,” he said, and gave another jaw-cracking yawn. It was funny—he was in his human form, but she felt like she could see echoes of the lion’s enormous yawn in his. “Let me get my things together.”

  He turned to gather up a few belongings, tugging on jeans and a clean shirt as he did. Lynn caught herself watching the muscles of his bare chest and deliberately looked away, just as Ken said over his shoulder, “So you don’t seem too surprised that I’m a shifter.”

  “I heard you and Cal served under Colonel Hanes, back in the Marines,” said Lynn, aiming for a calm and composed tone, and—she thought—managing it okay. “An all-shifter unit, apparently. So I guessed you must be, although I didn’t know what your form was.”

  “I don’t shift much unless I’m sure I’m alone.” He hefted his pack and stood up, striding back over. “Hard to explain a lion roaming free in an American forest.”

  Lynn started off with him. Should she tell him she was a shifter, too?

  She should. It would make sense to mention it. It didn’t make sense not to mention it. He might even have figured it out, if he was so careless about his lion form around her.

  But then maybe he’d want to see her shift.

  And that gave her a shivery, uncertain feeling. Like it was too intimate a thing to show him.

  Show him! her lynx said. He should see us. See me. We should shift and run together.

  And she wanted to.

  So much it scared her.

  She avoided the issue, and all the self-conscious feelings that that brought up, by asking, “So did you grow up in a pack of lion shifters? Was it hard to keep secret? I can't imagine where you'd all be able to shift, being so conspicuous.”

  Even here in Glacier, it could be difficult for the bigger, more ostentatious animals to find places to shift. She knew the snow leopards all used caution, because Nina talked about it sometimes—and snow leopards were built for camouflage; they practically turned invisible on a mountainside. Maybe lion shifters lived down south somewhere, in southern Utah or Arizona, where they'd be much better concealed in the scenery?