New Title 1

by Rain, Angelina

  Mal slid up on the bed, taking her in his arms. Ramsey did the same thing on the other side, leaving her sandwiched between them. With a sigh, she lay quietly, simply listening to them breathe. Occasionally, one of them would kiss a shoulder, cheek, or arm while they lay cocooned in contented bliss together. The warmth of their bodies kept the chill away. She’d never felt so secure, or so sexy in her life. She didn’t believe sex for the sake of sex could still feel so emotional and connected. There was something honest about it and Cora had to admit she had never felt more accepted by a man she slept with before. Exposing her soul and body like this for these men had been worth the anxiety. She didn’t want to leave their arms again. These two men were exactly what she needed in her lonely life.

  “Sweetheart, you’ve made me so proud.”

  “I know.” She kissed the hollow of Mal’s throat.

  “This isn’t enough for me. I want you to be a part of my life. Was this just sex?”

  She was surprised he even needed to ask the question.

  “No. Oh no, Mal. I…I don’t know what it is, but it’s phenomenal. I can’t wait to do it again.”

  Ramsey chuckled softly against her back. “I told you she’d be ours, Mal.”

  “No, she’s mine, but you’re lucky she’s going to let me share her with you.”

  Mal pulled her closer, tighter. “I love you, Cora.”

  Ramsey held her close, and somehow she knew he was smiling.

  “I’m yours, Mal, always. I think I love your generous nature most, and love is for sharing.” She giggled. “I think we should share our love with Ramsey, don’t you?”

  In that moment her teasing words sealed the bond between them. As kisses rained down on her skin, Cora couldn’t have been happier.

  What would the staff think of The Ball Breaking Miss Cora Cole now?

  The End

  Waking the Lioness

  Copyright © Tessa Morelock

  The heat of the steamy New Orleans night crept into Alchemy, despite the fan whirring idly overhead, as patrons came and went. Lara Carey set her empty tray down on the bar and fished in her pocket for a hair tie. She gathered her blonde hair up in a messy ponytail, wiping a few stray, sticky strands from her face.

  “I feel like all my make-up melted off,” she told Luc, the bar manager.

  He laughed, spinning a bottle of gin as he prepared a cocktail. “You look perfect, Lara, as always. Gorgeous.” He winked at her.

  She flushed, suddenly conscious of her thin white tank top, and the way the sweat beading on her chest slowly slid down her cleavage. She resisted the urge to tug her top up, covering her breasts. Luc flirted with all his waitresses; she knew she should just laugh and flirt back. But she couldn’t bring herself to.

  The inside of Alchemy, the hottest cocktail bar on the river front, was decorated in green leather, dark wood and brass fittings. Lara had been working here for almost six months now, leaving her old life far behind. She’d moved down from the wind and rain of the Colorado Mountains to the heat and haze of Louisiana a year ago, hoping for a fresh start. Alchemy was part of that: a job she liked and friends she loved.

  The only thing missing was a little action… She glanced at Luc, watching him toss bottles and shake drinks with flair and precision for a gaggle of impressed girls. He’d sleep with her, she knew that. But it would be meaningless, passionless sex, and she hated the thought of that.

  She wanted—needed—more. A primal connection, an animal lust to satisfy her inner lioness.

  She dug her fingernails into her palms, hard, as unwanted memories rose in her mind. A hard, sun-bronzed male body, warm amber eyes, and lush lips turned into a stern frown…

  Oh dammit, would she ever shake him off?

  Lara took a deep breath and picked up the fresh tray of cocktails one of the bartenders had shoved her way. The smell of Kahlua, crème de menthe, and vodka filled her nostrils. With her shapeshifter nature at work, her heightened senses kept her intensely aware of the world around her. She could smell the sharp tang of her own sweat, the floral and musky mix of perfumes from the girls at the bar, and the heavy reek of the river outside.

  Her better-than-human vision meant no detail went unnoticed, from a stain on the glossy tiles of the bar to the admiring glances she attracted as she sashayed through the bar. The waitress uniforms for Alchemy were a little skimpier than she’d have picked on her own, just a short black skirt and a white tank top.

  And her better-than-human hearing meant she didn’t miss the whispers from the male customers in the bar. “Check out the legs on that. Wouldn’t mind taking a ride with her.”

  Lara flushed as she reached the table of men in question, setting their drinks down. “One Nasty Martini, one Black Russian, and one Cold Shower,” she announced. “Enjoy, boys.”

  The 'boys' were men, really, probably fresh from the office and ready to enjoy a wild Friday night. They’d loosened their ties and lost their jackets, and already stank of alcohol. As Lara moved away from the table, one of them slapped her rear—hard.

  “Hey, babe, how about a Screaming Orgasm over here?” he asked in a smug tone.

  Lara whirled round to glare at him, a growl working up her throat. “Back off.”

  His friends laughed. “Watch it, Greg, she’s got claws!” another one added, winking at Lara.

  They didn’t know the half of it. She started to walk away again, but Greg leapt up, catching her arm and yanking her towards him. “Hey, chill out,” he told her, leaning in way too close. She could smell the nose-wrinkling odor of vodka on his breath, not to mention the distinctive musk of an aroused male. “I’m just being friendly, you know?”

  Revolted, she shook him off. “No manhandling the staff, pal, unless you want to be barred.” God, she wished she could shapeshift right now. It would be so satisfying to bite his groping fingers off.

  “Come on,” he whined. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be so uptight. I bet I could loosen you up…”

  Alchemy's front door flew open and the cool scent of mountain rain and cats flooded Lara's senses. She gasped, whirling away from Gropey Greg to see Caleb Andrews walk through the door.

  Oh god. Her knees went weak. He looked just like she remembered—tanned and strong, dark blonde hair ruffled, big hands clenched into bigger fists. His amber eyes widened with surprise, and then narrowed with anger as he scanned the bar and saw her. He stormed towards her, those lush lips she'd never stopped dreaming about pressed together in a thin, angry line.

  Gropey Greg released her at the sight of the brutish wild man stalking towards him. He was obviously smarter than Lara had given him credit for. Caleb bared his teeth in a snarl as he reached Lara, planting himself between her and Greg. “She invite you to touch her, asshole?” he demanded.

  Greg paled, held his hands up defensively. “Hey, woah. Relax, okay? No harm meant, man.”

  Caleb shoved him into his seat. “You touch her again, I'll break your fingers off.”

  “Caleb!” Lara shouted, grabbing his shoulder. “What are you doing?” Her heart thudded, a potent mix of surprise, outrage, and pure lust.

  Caleb turned his fierce gaze on her, the heat in his eyes forcing her back a little. “You left Mace Creek for this?” he demanded. “Serving booze and getting hit on by scrawny creeps like him? Jesus, Lara.”

  Face burning, Lara grabbed his arm again and dragged him out of Alchemy. The eyes of the entire room were on her; she saw Luc watching with a frown on his face. This wasn't going to go down well with him—Luc hated trouble in the bar.

  Outside, Lara leaned against the wall, running her hands over her hair. If she'd felt hot and sticky before, she was positively boiling now. The last person she'd ever expect to see in New Orleans was Caleb. And yet here he was, larger than life and twice as sexy as she remembered. The shock of seeing him doubled by the second. “You... What are you doing here, Caleb?”

  He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, glowering at the cigarette butt
s littering the pavement. “I didn't come looking for you, if that's what you're worried about.”

  Her heart sank, and she scolded herself silently for her disappointment. She'd left Mace Creek to get away from Caleb, hadn't she? Away from the whole Mace Creek mountain lion community. She should be pleased he wasn't here for her. Shouldn't she?

  “Then it's just coincidence you strolled into my bar?” she challenged when he lapsed into silence.

  He stared out at the river, face dark and drawn. People pushed past them, and Lara smelt frying onions, lime, and shrimp from the grill next door. The air over the river shimmered, and Caleb seemed fascinated by it. For a few long minutes she thought he wouldn't answer—and how like him that would be—but eventually he sighed heavily and turned back to her.

  “I'm looking for someone. A friend. Tate Beckett.” He fumbled in his pockets again and pulled out a battered leather wallet. He flipped it open to show Lara a photo. A golden-haired youth smiled at her from the picture. He had classic mountain lion coloring—blonde, blue-eyed, fair skinned. Very attractive. He probably wasn't as young as he looked if he was a shapeshifter.

  “He's missing?” she asked. Stupid question, really. Something about Caleb always robbed her of her wits.

  “He came down here three weeks ago to visit family and never came back,” Caleb confirmed. “He was supposed to be back in Mace Creek two weeks ago. We spoke. He had his flight booked and everything.” He chewed his lip, anxiety marring his handsome features. “I came down here, scouted around, smelled mountain lion... I didn't expect it to be you, Lara.”

  He looked at her properly for the first time, his eyes softening, scowl relaxing. “It's good to see you,” he added. He reached for her, brushed a damp lock of hair from her cheek. His fingers barely made contact with her skin but his touch was still electric, sending little lightning bolts dancing over her skin and down between her legs. She shivered.

  “It's good to see you too,” she said, horrified at how breathy she sounded. How did he still do this to her? It had been a year—shouldn't she be over this? “I … I … Can I help? With your friend, I mean?” She gestured to the photo.

  Caleb snapped the wallet closed and hid it away. “I don't know. I could be overreacting, I know that. Everyone back home says so, anyway.”

  “How is everyone back home?” Lara couldn't resist asking. She spoke to her mother and sister once a week, but the rest of the community—all her old school friends and neighbors—she'd lost touch with. Well, chosen to lose touch with. She hadn't wanted to hear any news about Caleb. Not after…everything.

  He shrugged. “Same old, same old. You know Mace Creek. Nothing changes.”

  Yeah. Another reason she'd left. “Listen, my shift ends in an hour,” she said, wetting her lips. Her heart raced dangerously fast. She was on thin ice here. The thrill was delicious. “How about you come back to my place? We can talk. Try to figure out where your friend is. I mean, there aren't that many shapeshifters in New Orleans. And hardly any cats at all. So if your friend, Tate is here, we can find him. I'm sure we can.” She bit her lip, painfully aware she was babbling.

  Caleb smiled, quick but spine-tingly warm. “I guess it's a better plan than just wandering the streets and hoping.”

  “Great.” Lara ducked her head to hide her dumb smile. She really didn't want him to know how pleased she was to see him. “That's great.”

  * * * *

  Lara went through the rest of her shift like a zombie, working on autopilot, achingly aware of Caleb propping up the bar, watching her every move. His eyes followed her everywhere; she felt his hot gaze slide up her legs, over the curve of her breasts, down the arch of her spine. Felt it as surely as if he actually touched her, because she remembered so clearly what his touch felt like.

  They should have been married by now. He'd proposed two years ago, and the whole of Mace Creek had celebrated. Their boldest, strongest alpha male and their brightest, most vivacious female to marry and produce the next generation of mountain lions. It was the talk of the town. Lara walked on air for six months, dizzy with love and delirious with happiness. Until Caleb sat her down and confessed his deepest, darkest secret to her.

  She still heard the words ringing in her ears, imprinted in her memory. “I don't think I can just be with a woman, Lara. I think…I think I need a man too.”

  It wasn't that he was bisexual—she didn't care about that. But knowing he didn't think he could be happy, or satisfied, with just her...that was too much. She tried, they both tried to make it work. For almost a year they did couple's therapy, tried to find a way to make it work. But they couldn't. Lara couldn't trust Caleb, and he couldn't promise her he wouldn't stray. So, heartbroken and lost, they parted.

  She never thought she'd see him again, except in her dreams. Steaming hot dreams where Caleb took her hard, filled her body with his and made her scream with pleasure, just like he had time and time again in reality.

  With him watching her the way he was now, like he wanted to pin her against the wall and take her in front of the whole bar, she couldn't help but wonder if he had the same dreams.

  * * * *

  An hour later, Caleb followed Lara back to her apartment. Her place was a few blocks from Alchemy, nestled over an antique shop. He looked around the chaotically colorful apartment with a flicker of surprise. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but he was sure this wasn't it. Lara was always so cool and contained; this small apartment with its terracotta walls and jewel-colored artwork was wild and hedonistic. It was a side of her he'd glimpsed from time to time—mostly in bed—but never seen out in the open like this.

  “Nice place,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She pulled her hair free of its tie, letting the pale gold locks fall free. The motion fascinated him. He remembered her hair tangled and wild, a halo framing her face as she rode him, their bodies slick with sweat, her moans driving him crazy as he pushed her ever closer to the edge.

  Damn. He tried to push that memory aside but his cock was already running with it. It throbbed painfully as he watched Lara pace around her flat, putting things away, fluffing cushions, fiddling. She was so tense, her shoulders and back so stiff. He wondered if she'd let him give her a back massage...

  Then he remembered why he was in New Orleans. Tate. Shit. Tate. Where the hell was he? Caleb threw himself onto the sofa, crushing the freshly-plumped cushions, and ran his hands through his hair. “Goddamn,” he muttered.

  “Are you okay?” Lara asked, taking a seat beside him. She rested her hand on his knee tentatively. He resisted the urge to twine his fingers with hers.

  “Worried about Tate. I shouldn't be,” he admitted. “He's not a kid, he can take care of himself, but it's not like him to be out of touch, you know?”

  “You think he's hurt?”

  “Hurt, lost…dead. Shit, I just don't know, Lara.”

  “Well, where do we start looking?” she asked. “You said he was down here to see family. Have you spoken to them?”

  He bit his lip. “I…yeah. I mean, I tried. They didn't...” He took a deep breath, reluctant to tell her the truth, fearing her reaction. But then, she already knew the truth, didn't she? She was the only other person who did. “Tate and I are together.” It came out in a rush, explosive almost. He turned his head away, not wanting to see her reaction. Could be disgust, anger, even pity. He couldn't stand pity. “His family didn't take the news well.”

  “He was here to tell them?” Lara asked. “Caleb, you don't think they'd hurt him, do you?” Alarm filled her voice; he had to look at her.

  In the lamplight falling across her, she looked angelic. Her hand still rested on his knee, an electric pressure that sent blood rushing to his cock again. Her eyes were wide with genuine concern, for a man she'd never met. Typical Lara, brimming with worry for everyone else. He gave in to his urge and covered her hand with his, relaxing slightly at the skin-on-skin contact.

  “I don't think so,” he answered. “But th
eir reaction might have pushed him into doing something dumb-assed.”

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged. Tate had a wild streak, and his family's approval meant everything to him. “I don't know, Lara, I just don't know. I need to get out there and find him.” He rose abruptly, the need for action overriding the slow-burning lust Lara's closeness caused. “I've got to go, Lara. I'm sorry.”

  “Well, wait.” She jumped up too, grabbing his hand. “Let me come with you. Two heads are better than one and all that, right?”

  He looked down at her, those big blue eyes, and those soft, kissable lips. She'd distract him. He already felt guilty, standing here with a hard-on for her when he should be out looking for Tate. Taking her with him would be asking for trouble.

  And yet his inner lion was already roaring for her. His mate. He was hungry for her, ready to tear those clothes off and ravish that luscious body the way he used to. The way she liked it.

  He swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he said thickly. “Right.”

  * * * *

  Just as Lara told Caleb, there weren't that many shapeshifters in New Orleans. Not many of them cared for city living, except maybe the werefoxes who adapted to any environment they found themselves in with enviable ease. So Lara was pretty sure finding Tate was just a matter of time. Provided he wasn't… Well, she wouldn't think dead. She was sure that was just Caleb overreacting. And why wouldn't he, when his…boyfriend was missing?

  Boyfriend. God. She shook her head as she locked up the apartment and followed Caleb downstairs to the still-bustling street. Was Caleb happy with a boyfriend? Had he taken Tate aside and told him that he couldn't be content with just a man in his bed?