by Chloe Cole
But was that really such an unfair price for freedom?
A branch crackled in the distance and I narrowed my gaze, scanning the trees and shrubs for the cause.
Just twenty yards away, almost completely hidden by a spray of massive ferns, was a large jackrabbit nibbling on its tender leaves.
It had been a long time since breakfast and now, after the many miles of running in the afternoon sun, suddenly my stomach growled even as my blood began to pulse. Slowly, I crept forward, taking care to tread as lightly as possible, keeping my body low to the ground.
Lions of Ironhaven, even in my small, poorer town, had it pretty good when it came to food. There were taverns that sold meat and kidney pies, and farmers who sold roasting pigs, but we were also hunters at heart. It was part of each and every one of us. The need for the chase. The urge to stalk and pounce and feel the warm, briny taste of fresh blood. Most family prides hunted monthly, both for their mental health as well as to source meat for leaner winter months. It had been longer than that for me and I couldn't bring myself to resist.
The rabbit continued with his meal, oblivious to my proximity as I leapt agilely over the running water and prowled the long way around to stay downwind of him.
I'd gotten within pouncing distance--for me, about twenty feet--when suddenly the creature froze. His long ears perked up and his nose twitched reflexively as I stood stock still, breath caught in my chest. It was too late, though. His instincts served him well and, in a rustle of leaves, he darted away, full speed ahead.
I shot after him in a great, bounding leap, adrenaline coursing through me as I gave chase. It was a merry one from the start as he bounced from log to stump and under bramble. A couple times, I thought I'd lost him, only to catch his scent again and start all over.
I was just starting to lose steam, my lungs were burning from the effort as, from the corner of my eye, I saw him bolt into a small cave. A triumphant thrill shuddered through me as I skulked forward. If there was no outlet, that rabbit was about to be dinner. I reached the mouth of the cave and peered in, careful to block as much of the exit space as possible. The sight that greeted me stopped me in my tracks.
The jackrabbit stood in the corner of the small space. At its clownish feet sat a pile of straw and leaves and seven little bundles of fur.
Not a cave. This was the animal’s hutch and those were its bunnies.
The saliva that had been pooling in my mouth at the assumption of a soon-to-be tasty meal dried and I let out a low growl.
Damn.
That was the one thing about being a lioness shifter, wasn't it? Deep down, there was always a part of me that was human. A part that I couldn't separate myself from, no matter how I tried.
I shot my wily adversary one last regretful glance and trotted away, disappointed by more than just the missed morsel.
As good as this run had felt...as heady as the thought of freedom was, it was also a reminder that I wasn't an animal. Not solely. I needed my family and my community. Sure, running around outdoors would be great.
For a while.
But eventually, the loneliness would wear on me. I'd grow tired of my own company and the lack of companionship and then what? It wasn't like I could go back with my tail between my legs. Once I left, there would be no returning. Those were the rules. Best case, I'd be alone for life. Worst? I'd be targeted by a marauder and I'd have more companionship than I wanted, by force.
I shuddered at the thought and quickened my pace as a firefly flickered like a tiny beacon in front of me.
I slowed and glanced to the sky in shock. The moon was already visible, a chalky thumbprint in the sky, and the brightest stars had begun to shine. This was bad. Very very bad.
With growing apprehension, I sped up to a trot, back in the direction I'd come, only to realize exactly how far I was. There was no question I was going to be in trouble for this transgression. Not only had I stayed out past dusk, I was pretty sure that, in my pursuit of the jackrabbit, I'd ventured beyond the king's forest. The groundskeeper would likely tattle to the Saint John brothers and then what?
My trot became a sprint as I followed my own scent back through the woods. The sounds of the night filled the forest as it grew darker. Luckily, in lioness form I was able to see well, but that didn't lessen my apprehension. I'd traveled maybe a half mile when the fur on the back of my neck stood at attention. I looked around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. More trees, vines, bugs and frogs moving along the forest floor.
Then I heard it.
Silence.
Dead silence closing in on me from behind. Not so strange—critters typically sensed my presence and tended to pipe down when I was near--but until now, as soon as I'd continued out of their path, the raucous noise had started again.
Not now, though. Now, it was as silent as a crypt.
The low, protracted growl from a few yards away rolled over me, making my spine tingle with horror.
Lion.
Male, and not a friendly introduction. That growl, with that timbre and ferocity, was as threatening as a sword pointed in my face. I looked down to confirm that my purple sash was still in place, but as I ran my gaze over my bare shoulders and lower, panic threatened to close over me like a fist.
It was gone. My mind whirred back to the chase through the woods and the branches slapping at my body as I ran. It had probably gotten snagged on a tree and I hadn’t even noticed.
So now what?
His growl grew louder as he skulked closer, his paws crackling leaves and sticks as he moved.
Flight? Surely, he would overtake me. Fight? It seemed just as futile. But, for some reason, the thought of dying face down as I ran and cowered in fear just didn't sit well with me.
Fight it is.
I wheeled around and didn't wait for him to make the first move. I used my hind legs to launch myself off the ground straight at him, claws extended, razor sharp teeth bared. A responding roar exploded from his mouth as my front paws connected with his shoulder. I sucked in a breath and realized that it was only him being downwind that had allowed him to get close to me at all. This close, he smelled awful. A cloying mixture of rotting food, desperation and madness.
He whipped his large body back and forth with a snarl, hard enough to send me sailing off him and crashing into a tree. The breath whooshed out of me as I landed in a heap a few yards away. I shook my head hard to chase the ringing in my ears away and then leapt back to my feet. Before I could even get my balance, though, he was on the attack. He cuffed me hard with one paw, again sending me sprawling.
I let out a snarl as his teeth closed over the back of my neck. Using his superior strength, he pinned me in place, grinding my muzzle into the underbrush as he crushed my body with his own. The blood gurgled in my mouth as I bucked in a futile attempt to shake him off but he outweighed me by a solid eighty pounds.
I stilled, mind racing for some alternative. Some lifeline that I could grasp at, no matter how tenuous. It was no use, though. He was already pinching down, blocking off my airway with his bite, pressing me harder to the ground, smothering me. There would be no future to fear. No tomorrow to dread.
Strange, in that moment as I waited for it--the singular strike to my jugular...the tearing claw that would open my throat--all I could think of was being held in Connor Saint John's arms on the dance floor. I'd come out here to run in the forest and feel a sense of freedom, but as I faced death square in the eye, I realized that there had been a freedom in that moment. I'd squandered it out of fear of the unknown and now I would die here in the dirt, alone but for my miserable, half crazed attacker.
But seconds ticked by, and that killing blow never came. It wasn't until he relaxed his grip and I scented the sickly sweet scent of his depraved arousal that I realized this marauder didn't want to kill me. Not yet, at any rate.
A snarl so deep, so unbearably primal, tore from my mouth, building to a roar as I gathered together every ounce of strength I possessed and
jerked upright hard enough to send his head snapping backward. Still pinned under the weight of him, I wriggled violently, digging my claws into the earth in front of me for purchase. And then, suddenly, I was free.
I scuttled forward, feeling the hot rush of blood running down my neck but very much alive. I was already on all fours, primed to break into a run for my very life, when a ferocious bellow echoed in my ears. Against every instinct, I paused and turned back to see a second lion in mortal combat with the first. He was massive, his healthy, thick muscles and glowing umber mane the picture of full health for a male in his prime. The marauder didn't stand a chance and I watched in awe as my savior lunged forward in a full-on attack. Their jaws clacked together as they tangled.
The marauder spat in fury, desperately trying to stay on his feet as the larger male used every bit of his superior strength to force him onto his belly or back. With one, last, mighty roar that shook the trees surrounding us, he reared up onto his haunches and took one, great swipe with his lethal paw, shredding his opponent’s vulnerable neck on contact.
The marauder fell back with a cry and stumbled, giving the newcomer a clear shot at his throat.
It was over in an instant and the metallic scent of fresh, running blood filled the night air. I was still trying to process what had happened when another scent nudged at the first.
I snuffled, filling my nostrils with it as dread coated my veins.
It was a smell I recognized instantly. My savior was none other than Gatlin Saint John.
Which meant I was in deep trouble.
Chapter 10
I didn't mean to shift back. It just happened. Awash in shock and horror, my brain fritzed out and one second I was a lioness, the next I was a naked, shivering woman.
I strained to see in the dark, still trying to get my bearings, but it wasn't necessary for long. Gatlin Saint John, in his lion form, prowled right up to me and stared directly into my eyes, his gaze penetrating to my very soul.
"L-look," I said, reflexively lifting my arm up to cover at least some of my breasts and my hand to cup my naughty bits, "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize how far I'd gone until I was on my way back. There was this jackrabbit and I've been feeling so cooped up and--"
I broke off as he morphed before my eyes, his leonine face transforming into the gorgeous face I'd still not yet become accustomed to. Too bad that gorgeous face was screwed into a fierce scowl.
"Have you lost your fucking mind, woman?" he demanded, raking a hand through his hair before scowling some more.
He was massive as both a lion and a man, and he towered over me, crowding me against the tree I'd been pressed against.
"What do you think would've happened if I hadn't come out for a run and happened to catch your scent?"
I let out a squeak and shrugged, unsure of what he wanted me to say. Was it really necessary for me to recount my near-rape and death in order to placate him? Even now, my gut churned at the thought of exactly how close of a call it had been.
"Well, since you don't seem to know, why don't you let me educate you," he muttered, his eyes flashing in the moonlight. He stepped closer until we were toe to bare toe and leaned his head down to mine.
"He would have pinned you there and taken you against your will. If you were lucky, maybe he would've killed you and eaten you afterwards."
I opened my mouth to point out that this scenario hardly seemed "lucky" but when his gaze narrowed the words died on my lips.
"Worst case?" His voice dropped to a near whisper, which didn't make the words sound any less ominous. "He'd have dragged your abused body to his lair and continued to brutalize you until you died. It's the stuff of nightmares, Anaya. Have you no sense at all?"
"Why are you yelling at me?" I asked, my throat aching with unshed tears. "He's the criminal here, Gatlin. I should be able to go out for a run without expecting to be attacked."
I stopped short, knowing my protests were feeble and would fall on deaf ears but, Gatlin surprised me by inclining his head in a clipped nod.
"That's so true. And it's a constant ache in my heart that it isn't that way. If I were king, I would--" He broke off and shook his head sharply. "That's not the point. We have marauders and have had them for decades. Until we solve that problem, as wrong as it is, females and cubs need to be on constant alert. I'm sorry for that. And I'm even more sorry that you won't be allowed to leave the estate going forward."
"No!"
Every ounce of terror and rage and helplessness I'd felt over the past few minutes bubbled up at once and the tears flowed freely. Modesty forgotten, I lifted both hands and shoved Gatlin in the chest as hard as I could. "No, you cannot do that to me. I won't allow it. My father forced my mother to stay indoors except around town. Forbade her to even shift or hunt, and she's nothing. A shell of a woman. I'd rather be dead, Gatlin."
My chest heaved with fury as he glared down at me.
"Do you ever think of anyone but yourself, you little brat?"
I drew back like he'd slapped me but he didn't give me a chance to reply.
"My brothers and I serve at the pleasure of the king. He is waiting for you to join the harem, and it is our job to bring you to him when he calls for you. What do you think he would do to us if we had to tell him that we didn't protect you?"
His words struck like tiny daggers and I realized that, as justified as my own anger was, these men weren't exactly free themselves. Like the marauders, they weren’t royalty, and were not free to mate with the woman of their choice. They had a pool of acceptable females that they might choose from, but if they fell in love with someone higher born?
They were out of luck.
In some ways, they were almost as powerless in this society as I was. The lavish home, the food, the relative cushy nature of the job...none of those things negated the fact that they had very few options and they were entirely expendable.
My carelessness could have cost them dearly.
"Gatlin, look, I--"
"Are you bleeding?" he demanded suddenly, gripping my nape and turning my head to see more clearly in the moonlight. He let out a low snarl and traced a finger over the already healing wound. "He fucking hurt you. Jesus, if I could raise him from the dead and kill him all over again, I would."
He pulled back and held my gaze. "I know it's not fair, Anaya. But you have to obey. Behind closed doors, between us, we can give you leeway, but that ends when you leave us… You have to promise me. I can’t—" He bit back a growl and slid his hand into my hair, tugging gently. And suddenly, I was very aware that we were both naked. My breath stuttered in my chest as he bent even closer. "I almost fucking lost you, and it's killing me."
His mouth was hot and hard as it slanted over mine. There was nothing gentle in this kiss. The teasing, slow glide that he'd been so keen to teach me at our lesson was a thing of the past as he consumed me in a violent clash of teeth and tongue. I should've pulled away. After all, this wasn't a lesson and I belonged to the king…didn’t I?
But Sebastian was a thousand miles away in my mind as I let my arms curl around Gatlin's neck and pressed closer to him.
Surely, this was a sin of the worst kind. These aching, raw feelings that kept curling up inside me every time I got close to one of the Saint John brothers. I couldn't bring myself to stop, though. With a moan, I arched against him, reveling in the hard planes of his thick muscles.
Lord, I was on fire. It didn’t matter that this was likely just misplaced fear and rage on his part. I wanted it too much to pull back. My thoughts fizzled away as his tongue slid deeper and his hands slid lower to cup my bare bottom. Instinctively, I arched into him, grinding against him, feeling every inch of his thick erection. His chest abraded my nipples, making them peak as a pulse of need shot through my belly.
This was insanity. Somewhere in these woods hung a purple sash that marked me as another man’s property. The king’s property.
“But you’re not wearing it now, are you?” a reckless voic
e inside me whispered. “And it’s only a kiss.”
In the deepest part of my mind, though, I knew different. It was more than that. Some soul-deep pull between me and all of the Saint John brothers. Something that could have drastic repercussions for all of us if I didn’t strengthen my backbone.
I moved to pull away, but he growled, low, so full of need that it curled around me, yanking me closer like an invisible chain. His hand skimmed upward, over my back and up around my ribs to cup my breast. I moaned, sucking his tongue into my mouth, aching with the need for something more. So much more.
But when a wolf howled in the distance, he broke away, breath sawing and out of his lungs as if he’d been under water the whole time.
"We need to go back. If he was part of a rogue pride I can’t fight them all and protect you at the same time.” His voice was all rasp, which made my skin prickle, but I managed to nod. “But we’re not done talking about this, little one.”
He stepped back, the loss of his body heat leaving me bereft, and then slipped easily back into lion form. I followed suit and then trailed behind him as he led us at a trot back to the estate grounds.
He led me to the stable changing rooms, waiting as I shifted back and dressed. When I emerged, he remained in lion form and walked me to the front door, watching me go in before loping off into the darkness.
I closed the door, leaning my hot face against the cool wood, a thousand questions running through my mind.
Did he really mean it when he said I couldn't go outside anymore or was he just angry?
Did he only care that I'd almost gotten killed because of the king or was it more than that?
But most of all, the one that had a chunk of ice wedged in my chest where my heart should be...
Was what we had different?
