“So where do we start?” Caleb asked, breaking her miserable chain of thought. “This is your city.”
She sighed, trying to refocus her thoughts. “Well, if he'd been visiting family, why not start there? There should still be a scent, right?”
“I already tried that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. “The scent was too weak for me to track.”
Cat shifters, like natural cats, didn't use scent much in hunting. They relied more on hearing. Lara sighed again. “Okay, so we'll head to the Smoke Shop.” If Tate had been in New Orleans, and was still in New Orleans, someone at the Smoke Shop would know.
“What the hell's that?” Caleb asked suspiciously.
“A shifter-run bar,” she explained, changing direction so they were heading towards Frenchman Street. “If there's any word on Tate, it'll be there.”
* * * *
The Smoke Shop was not what Caleb expected. It had been a speakeasy during the Prohibition Era, and still retained a lot of that 1920’s charm: a clash of Colonial and Art Moderne styles in mandarin red and sage green. There were no humans inside; Caleb wondered about that. Shifters lived in secret—humans had no idea they existed. So how did the Smoke Shop's owners manage to keep their bar human-free?
He shoved the thought away. Didn't matter. All that mattered was that someone here might know something about Tate. It was a slim hope, he admitted to himself as he followed Lara through the crowd to the bar, but it was better than nothing.
Lara leaned on the polished wooden bar, the simple motion curving her spine so her rear rose up, perfectly grab-able. Caleb shoved his hands in his pockets and forced himself to stare at the man Lara waved over. He smelt like a fox, musky and earthy; his sharp features and reddish hair confirmed it. He grinned widely at Lara, sending jealousy knifing through Caleb. That was a knowing smile. An “I'd like to see you naked” smile.
“Hey, gorgeous,” the fox greeted her. “What'll it be?”
She shook her head. “We're not here for drinks, Remy. We need help.”
Remy's green eyes slid over Caleb, and that foxy smile fell away. “Okay.” His tone was suddenly neutral as he clocked Caleb's possessive posture, lurking just within touching distance of Lara, lips curled in an almost-snarl. “Okay,” Remy said again. “What's up?”
Lara explained briefly about Tate. Remy's eyes lit up. “Yeah, I remember him! He was in here just a couple of nights ago. Chatted with Gracia for hours.” He nodded towards one of the barmaids, a Spanish girl who smelt as foxy as Remy. He called her over. “Gracia, you remember the mountain lion?”
“Sure do,” she purred. “Handsome guy.”
Caleb couldn't help but growl now, a fresh stab of jealousy hitting him. “What did you talk about? He say where he was going?” he asked. Lara took his hand and squeezed hard. He wasn't sure if she was warning him to behave or offering support, but the contact buzzed through him, heating his blood. Why couldn't he focus, dammit?
Gracia shrugged. “He was heading out to the bayous to do some fishing, see some gators. That's what he said, anyway.”
“And that was two days ago?” Lara asked. “He hasn't been back since?”
Gracia shook her head and wandered off to deal with a customer. Lara and Caleb exchanged looks. “The bayous are pretty big,” she said.
“Then we'd better get moving.”
* * * *
At the edge of the bayou, away from the town and surrounded by cypress trees and cow lilies, they shifted. Lara didn’t even pretend not to stare as Caleb stripped off. She’d seen him naked countless times before, hadn’t she? The sight of him painted in moonlight, muscled body silvered, golden hair glowing, took her breath away as if it was the first time. Her greedy gaze drank him in. The dusting of pale hair on his chest, guided the eyes down, down... Those broad shoulders she’d clung to night after night, nails digging in as he pumped into her harder and harder...
She shivered, aware of her taut nipples and the warm burn between her legs.
“You okay?” Caleb asked as he kicked off his shoes. He stood before her completely naked, gorgeous, and magnificent.
“Fine,” she said, hurriedly stripping off her own clothes, keenly aware of his intent gaze raking her. Was she selfish to hope he was as aroused as she was? Did it make her a slut to want him so badly when they were out here looking for his missing boyfriend?
A sudden image hit her hard: Caleb naked with the man in the photo, biting, scratching, kissing, growling, bodies grinding together in a furious passion as they fucked and tore at each other. It was such a visceral picture, and shockingly sexy. She felt her skin flush from head to toe, throbbing with arousal, and had to look away, unable to look at him anymore with that image blazing in her head.
She peeled her bra off and looked up to meet his eyes. “What?” she whispered.
He shook his head, turning away from her as if the sight of her hurt him. “Let's get moving,” he said. He dropped to his knees, stretching and arching as he shifted.
Lara watched with a different kind of hunger now. She'd chosen her exile from Mace Creek, but that didn't mean she didn't miss her own kind. There were no other cat shifters in New Orleans, and she missed the companionship of her kin. Soft sandy fur flowed over Caleb's muscled chest and down his limbs. His skull changed almost too fast to see; one minute a man's, the next a cat's, with a blunt muzzle and fine black markings around his ears and eyes. He was big for a male cougar, over eight feet from the tip of his tail to his nose, paws wide and hind legs strong. Lara's own lioness recognized him for what he was: a powerful alpha male in his prime. She was helpless to resist responding with her own shift, drawn to him like tides to the moon.
She dropped to the ground, digging her fingers into the damp soil, letting the change ride her. It was swift, a few sharp flashes of pain as her legs and arms shortened and thickened, but the pain was well worth the exhilaration of being in cat-form. She really didn't shift often enough these days.
Her hearing, acute in human form, sharpened until she could hear every little sound for miles around. The splish-splash of a frog leaping into the water, the haunting cry of a Great Horned owl as it glided through the trees. The distant beat of music carrying on the night winds from the city. She stretched, relishing the fresh strength in her body.
Caleb prowled towards her, rubbing his face along hers in a cat's greeting. She rumbled a greeting of her own, excitement thrumming through her at the contact. She pushed her body against his, letting herself pretend for a second that it was the good old days, just the two of them about to set off into the mountains for a few days of hunting and wild love-making.
Then Caleb sat back on his haunches and screamed. The high-pitched, eerie sound sent birds wheeling from their nests in panic, along with small animals scurrying through the bushes for safety. It even sent a shiver down Lara's spine, and she knew the sound intimately.
As the last echoes of his screech faded, Lara heard an answering scream somewhere deep in the bayou, and her heart leapt. Caleb's ears flicked, his tail twitched, and he jumped up. It had to be Tate, surely? Ignorant humans might mistake a cougar's cry for other animals, but Lara knew her own kind when she heard them.
Caleb lurched into the bayou and she followed.
* * * *
The territory was vastly different from Colorado. Caleb wasn't used to stalking through beebalm and Turk's cap, never mind all the mud and the dizzying array of new smells. Catfish and cranes; the hair-raising, cold-water scent of alligators. Every splash in the water, every ruffle of wings overhead was a distraction he couldn't afford. He recognized the scream as Tate’s, and it was weak, pained.
He let Lara take the lead, despite his instinct to push ahead. She knew the land far better than him, and he trusted her to guide him true. They'd hunted together countless times in the past; she'd never let him down. But of course, she was another distraction. With his sharper cat's senses he could smell her intoxicating musk, a raw feminine scent that
roused his desire and would drive him crazy if he let it.
Tate, he told himself. This is about Tate. Forget Lara.
As they paced through the wild undergrowth, he picked up Tate's scent for the first time and adrenaline flooded him. A potent mix of excitement and fear moved him on. Desperation to see Tate and terror over what he might find made him focus on the task at hand, and he was able to forget Lara's alluring presence, at least for a few seconds.
Tate's scent grew stronger and Caleb picked up his pace as he caught a trace of another scent mingled with it. Blood. Rusty, salty, and unmistakable. He chirruped to Lara, urging her to pick up her speed too.
She whistled back at him, letting him overtake her. In the lead, Caleb pushed himself as fast as he could, hampered a little by the tangle of thorny plants surrounding them. But he ignored the pricks and stabs he picked up, his entire being bent on reaching Tate. God, if he was hurt...
Caleb screeched again, unable to bear the thought of losing his mate. He needed Tate, needed him to be okay. The thought of him in pain was a strike to his heart.
Tate had saved him. Pulled him out of the depression he'd slumped into when Lara left Mace Creek. Tate with his quick laughter and easy smiles, his clever hands and skilled lips, had pulled Caleb out of a dark place, tumbling into a love that took him completely by surprise. If he lost Tate now, he didn't think he'd cope.
He burst through a clump of snake root into a clearing at the edge of the bayou. Dark water lapped at a rotted wooden fishing platform, and a small cabin stood a few feet away, the smell of mould and damp permeating the air. But Caleb wasn't interested in that. At the edge of the clearing, one leg caught in the rusted jaws of a bear trap, laid Tate.
Cat-shaped, limp, and still, Tate barely had the strength to open his eyes when Caleb growled and raced over. Caleb nudged at his head, whining, trying to get a reaction. Tate huffed and whined himself, but that was it. Frustrated, heart tripping in panic, Caleb moved to the bear trap. It closed around Tate's hind leg, vicious metal teeth sunk into skin and down to bone. Blood matted around the wound, and Caleb thought he smelt rot and the nauseating scent of infection. His panic magnified. He scraped at the metal, tried to chew at it, all the time growing crazier at the thought of the pain Tate must be in. He growled and hissed, spitting his anger at the trap.
Suddenly warm, gentle hands clasped around his scrabbling paws. “Stop.” Lara's voice was firm and calm, penetrating the haze of mad alarm filling him. “Let me look, okay?”
He hissed at her and moved back reluctantly. Cat's paws were useless here, but Lara's human hands and shifter strength might succeed. He watched, twitching with impatience, as she murmured comforting nonsense to Tate and worked her hands around the bear trap, feeling out the weaknesses in the metal. Then, with a sudden growl of effort, she snapped the jaws of the trap back, her arms shaking with the strain. “Move him!” she ordered Caleb.
Caleb grabbed Tate by the fur of his throat, trying to avoid nicking his skin, and dragged him free of the trap. Lara released the trap with a cry, the nasty clang of the metal snapping back together echoing through the bayou. She gasped and fell back into a bed of dead leaves, wringing her hands. “Fucking hell, that hurt,” she muttered, and then crawled to them.
He nuzzled Tate, purring and whining in turn. Tate's eyes flickered open, dull and glazed, and he managed a tiny chirp at Caleb. They needed to get him somewhere warm and safe, Caleb knew, and they needed to get him shifted back to human. The shift would heal the worst of his leg wound, and burn off any infection he might have.
Caleb shifted back to human and carefully slung Tate up in his arms. Tate wasn't much bigger than a natural mountain lion in shifted form, smaller than Caleb himself, and felt light in his arms. The steady thud of Tate’s heartbeat against Caleb's ribs conveyed an answering pulse of relief through Caleb. They'd found him. Thank fuck they'd found him, and he was alive.
Lara stood, still massaging her fingers. “Think we can get into the cabin?” she asked, gesturing to the door. Caleb strode over and kicked at the wooden door. It creaked, the sound almost plaintive to his ears, but it took several more hard kicks before it broke open.
It was dark and damp inside, humidity hanging over the cabin's interior. Caleb blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, picking out a single bed against the far wall, a tiny stove and sink along the right wall, and a couple of uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs opposite. Obviously the place wasn't designed for long-term stays. And clearly nobody had been here in months—dust and cobwebs covered everything in a dirty grey tangle.
He took Tate to the bed and laid him down. “See if you can find some lights,” he told Lara.
She moved to obey, naked body brushed by moonlight falling through the single window. God, even her silhouette was sexy. He wet his lips and forced himself to turn back to Tate. The other lion watched him with dull eyes, barely aware. How could he to get him to shift?
Lara flicked a light switch and warm light flooded the small room. “How's he looking?” She knelt beside Caleb at the bedside. Tate's nose twitched as she did, no doubt picking up on the scent of an unfamiliar female.
“I need him to shift, but I don't think he's aware enough,” Caleb replied, crouching down to stroke Tate's fur. “Any ideas?”
* * * *
Lara watched Caleb's strong fingers move over Tate, gentle and soothing. The movement was tantalizing, reminding her of being stroked the same way by him, as if she was unbearably precious. She swallowed the lump in her throat, but the image wouldn't go away. And her earlier flash-fantasy of Caleb and Tate together came pounding hard on its heels. Arousal hit her sharply, beading her nipples and stirring a hot ache between her thighs. No way Caleb wouldn't smell it, never mind Tate. Her cheeks flushed.
But—hey, if she was going to be turned on, maybe they could use that? Strong emotion often triggered uncontrolled shifts. Heart pounding wildly at the audacity of what she was about to try, Lara rested her hand on Caleb's thigh, digging her nails in to get his attention. “Caleb,” she breathed. “I've got one idea.”
He looked at her, surprise on his face. “Lara...”
She smiled, hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt. “Is Tate the jealous type?” she asked, flexing her fingers. Caleb let out a ragged sigh.
“Lara, this isn't—“
She moved in front of him, sliding her hand down his torso until she cupped his balls. Another ragged sigh. Lara licked her lips and kissed his throat, nipping lightly. The smell of male arousal mingled with her own musk. She kept her eyes on Tate as she teased Caleb, raking her nails over his balls and rubbing her thumb across that soft, sensitive stretch of flesh beneath, just the way he loved. If Tate was the jealous type, she could be making a major mistake here, one she'd never recover from.
But Tate didn't look angry or jealous as the dull glaze faded from his eyes. He looked…curious.
Caleb groaned as she encircled his hardening cock. He pulled her hard against him, crushing her breasts to him with just the right balance of pleasure-pain. She whimpered as he dug his fingers into her hips, silently urging her on.
She worked her hand slowly up and down his shaft, her other hand making lazy trails up and down his chest. It had been so long since she'd been with anyone. The slightest contact burned like wildfire, and this was Caleb, the only man she'd ever loved. Breathless with desire, wound tight with need, it was impossible to pretend she did this only to force Tate into a shift. She was doing this all for her own selfish pleasure and she wasn't going to stop. And if Caleb's reaction to her touch was anything to go by, he didn't want her to.
On the bed, Tate raised his head and chirped at Caleb. Caleb raised his head, a little growl escaping his lips. “You know the rules. You want in, you shift,” he said in a voice thick and throaty with desire.
The words caught Lara off-guard; they implied so much with so little. Just the inflection Caleb gave him hinted at so much history, past threesomes, maybe. Her he
art skipped. Did Caleb think... Would she even...?
Her stomach filled with butterflies as she realized she would. Dammit, she was so starved for skin contact, and so in love with Caleb, that she would. She'd take both men. Excitement raced through her. She'd take them both and savor the thrill of it.
Tate shook his head and pushed himself up, his wounded back leg clearly hampering him. Lara's hand faltered for a second, worried he'd hurt himself worse, but then Caleb's hand closed over hers. “Finish what you started,” he growled softly.
She held him tighter, pumped him faster, and Tate slunk off the bed to the floor, watching with now-clear, sharp eyes. Caleb growled again, his head rolling back in sheer pleasure as Lara stroked Tate's head with her free hand. He purred, closing his eyes and his honey-colored fur rippled as he began to shift.
It was beautiful to watch, a slow revelation as the mountain lion rolled away to reveal the young man within. Tousled hair, chiseled face, long lean limbs. Lara inhaled sharply, fingers now tangled in his sun-kissed hair. Tate looked up at her through dark lashes, heat in his eyes.
She dropped her hand and gazed down at his leg. Instead of a blood-crusted, oozing wound, there was now a thick, ugly scar, fresh and pink but clean. She released a sigh of relief, relaxing her hold on Caleb.
“No,” Tate said. His voice was low and rough, matching the heat in his eyes. “Keep going.”
It was an order, not a request, and it took Lara by surprise. She'd assumed, given his apparent youth, he wouldn't be an alpha. Obviously she'd assumed wrong, because her inner lioness was roused by the command in his voice, rearing up inside her and filling her with the animal lust she'd thought only Caleb could inspire in her.
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