Lion's Lynx

by Zoe Chant

  But he’d gone with the flow, like he usually did.

  And as the day progressed, he’d started to realize that he wasn’t happy with it.

  He wasn’t used to caring so much about what other people did. He really wasn’t used to feeling so on-edge, so desperately in need of certainty.

  He got a table at Oliver’s and waited. It didn’t take long; Lynn appeared in the doorway a minute later, and her eyes lit on him. She came over and sat across from him.

  Their feet touched, and it gave Ken a thrill. Even through two pairs of hiking boots. He still felt like he’d regressed to age thirteen.

  “Hi,” Lynn said. Her clear topaz eyes locked on his. She sounded breathless.

  “Hi.” He sounded breathless too. Yep, thirteen or so, that seemed about right.

  Lynn was hesitating. “I’m sorry,” she said after a long minute. “For making you wait all day. I realize that must have been…difficult.”

  I realize that must have been difficult. It sounded so detached. Like it hadn’t been difficult for her, too. Ken took a deep breath and tried to summon a rational adult to corral his inner infatuated teenager. “It was.” His voice came out quiet and even, and he applauded himself.

  But Lynn still winced. “It’s nothing to do with you, I swear. Or the mate-bond. It’s just—me.” She rubbed her eyes. “It’s me, that’s all.”

  She sounded exhausted, and whatever Ken had been upset about evaporated in a puff of smoke. “Is everything okay?”

  She looked at him again, and this time he really studied her eyes. She seemed…

  Afraid.

  Lynn was afraid. Of what? Or who? Ken felt rage rise inside him at the idea that someone might have frightened her. He’d find whoever it was and show them what an alpha male lion could do—

  Lynn looked away, and Ken let out a shuddering breath. Time to summon that inner adult again, maybe.

  Because he doubted that some amorphous boogeyman had appeared from nowhere today to scare Lynn. Speaking of adulthood, there was plenty to be scared of right here between them.

  His lion didn’t like that idea at all. Our mate can’t be scared of us, he insisted. We protect our mate. There’s nothing for her to be scared of when we’re here.

  “Everything’s not okay,” Lynn answered finally. Ken gave his lion an imaginary thump on the nose and focused on his mate.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

  But before she could answer, one of the servers came over and they had to order. Ken hadn’t even glanced at the menu, but he just asked for a burger, medium-rare. Lynn had the same, and then they were looking at each other again.

  “I’m used to being on my own,” Lynn began. “I’m not used to the idea that a person might—stick around for a while. I had to accept that a long time ago. To understand that for me, personal connections had always been temporary. That they probably always would be.”

  “I’m not going to leave,” Ken said instantly, and his voice rang with his own conviction. He knew it was true, down to his very bones.

  “I can’t tell if I’m afraid to believe you, or afraid to disbelieve you,” Lynn said on an airless laugh. “I just know I’m afraid.”

  Ken reached across the table, his hand open. Lynn’s hands were hidden below the tabletop, so he waited.

  Lynn stared at it. “I don’t know how you do that,” she said finally, as she slowly brought up one hand and rested it in his, twining their fingers together.

  He frowned. “Do what?”

  “Put yourself out there like that,” she said softly. “Make an offer and wait, without knowing what the response will be.”

  Ken looked at their hands. “You responded, didn’t you?”

  “But what if I hadn’t?”

  “Then I would’ve asked you why not, and we would’ve talked about it. Maybe some traumatic hand-holding experiences in your past?” He tried for a grin.

  There was the tiniest quirk of her mouth in response. Ken felt a surge of warmth, and decided right then that making his mate smile was going to be an ongoing, lifelong project for him.

  “That sounds so simple,” she said. “I don’t know why the idea seems so scary to me.”

  “I’m pretty sure I do,” he said.

  She raised her eyebrows. “You do?”

  “It’s like in combat. You know you’re safer when you’re behind cover. If you have…” He waved a hand. “A big berm, and your Humvee, and maybe some body armor, between you and the open air, then you can think, hey, if something bad happens, at least I’ve got all this protection around me. But if you’re just out in the open, in the middle of the road with nothing around, then if someone attacks, you’re toast. It’s the same when you make yourself vulnerable to someone you care about.”

  Lynn shook her head. “But this isn’t combat. I shouldn’t feel like that when no one’s attacking me. I’m not in danger.”

  “We’re both in danger,” Ken said quietly. “That’s what happened when I put my hand out, without knowing if you’d take it. I put myself in danger. In danger of having to show that I wanted to hold your hand, and learning that you didn’t want to. And sometimes the brain thinks that’s just as bad as being in danger of violence. If not worse.”

  “Worse,” Lynn said quietly. Thoughtfully.

  “I’d much, much rather face a big, strong guy—big, strong guy, I’m talking like the Rock here—and also he’s a shifter, right, something huge. A gorilla shifter.”

  There was that quirk of Lynn’s mouth again. Ken loved the sight of it.

  “—I’d rather the Rock, if he was a gorilla shifter, come after me with everything he had, really do some serious damage, than learn that you didn’t want to hold my hand. Okay? That would be worse.”

  “Worse than a gorilla-shifting Rock.” Lynn’s voice was dubious.

  “Way, way worse,” Ken said seriously.

  Now Lynn had a little frown between her eyebrows, thinking. Ken wanted to kiss that line, just press his lips to it and see if he could make her smile again.

  “I guess I didn’t think about it as going both ways,” she said finally. “Are you telling me you’re afraid, too?”

  “Big, strong men who could take on the Rock as a gorilla shifter are never afraid.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “Utterly terrified,” he admitted, and some sincerity crept into his voice without his permission.

  But it was good for her to know this, wasn’t it? And good for him to know it. Because that was what had been behind his anger, earlier. It wasn’t that he was angry with Lynn for needing some time to process, or wanting to take things slow.

  It was that he was afraid that she wasn’t as committed to this as he was. That the mate-bond meant less to her than it did to him.

  If he’d been totally confident in her feelings, after all, he would’ve known that everything would turn out fine, and it wouldn’t have mattered as much.

  He tightened his fingers around her hand. “I don’t want you to be afraid alone.” Sincerity bled through his voice, and he wondered if it was going to just spill out onto the table. He wasn’t used to being this serious for so long. “I don’t want you thinking you’re alone. The whole point of all this is that we’re together, right? So, sure, it’s scary. But we don’t have to be scared by ourselves.”

  Lynn smiled. This wasn’t the little amused quirk, but a dawning happiness that spread slowly over her face. Ken drank in the sight.

  “I wasn’t thinking about it like that at all,” she said. “I was thinking—what if you left, or died, or something, and then I was all by myself again? But I was behaving like I was all by myself anyway.” She squeezed his hand back. “Being together while we’re scared sounds like the better option.”

  “By a lot,” Ken agreed. “Hey, here’s our food.”

  They were both presented with burgers and fries, and so they took a break from the heavy emotional stuff to commit themselves to meat for a while. Ken not
iced with approval than Lynn attacked her burger with just as much gusto as Ken did, clearly hungry and not ashamed of it. He liked a woman who could eat.

  When they’d both reduced their plates to remnants of dinner, Ken pushed his away and sighed. “That was good.”

  “Oliver’s is a good restaurant,” Lynn said. “It’s like a diner, but the food is a cut above. My assistant, Nina, used to work here until I hired her away.”

  Ken remembered her saying something about that earlier. “So you’re doing well enough with the tour guide business to need an assistant?” he asked.

  Lynn nodded. “Nina’s mother, Mavis, helped me with some of the business side of things—she’s a financial consultant, and she used to work for bigtime clients in the city, but when she moved here, she starting putting a lot of work into helping little local businesses like me. I have her to thank for the sudden business boom, really.”

  “Mavis,” Ken said slowly. “Isn’t she the one Colonel Hanes was really obviously falling for, back when we were all here for Cal’s wedding?”

  Lynn nodded. “Turns out they’re mates. The Colonel’s been living here for a few months now.”

  Ken blinked. “Wow. I am out of the gossip loop if I didn’t know that.” Although he’d really been burying his head in work the last few months, determined to get noticed over his younger peers. That was how he’d landed this Glacier assignment, after all.

  He glanced around surreptitiously, suddenly aware that he could be surprised by his former commanding officer at any moment. “Do they come in here a lot?”

  “Sometimes,” Lynn said, starting to laugh. “Are you afraid of Colonel Hanes seeing us together?”

  “Well, if you put it like that, it sounds dumb.” Ken tried to figure out whether Lynn laughing at him counting as making her laugh. He’d give it to himself, he decided.

  “No, no,” Lynn said. “I just didn’t realize we had to make this a—a stealth operation.” Her eyes twinkled.

  She was teasing him. His heart bloomed with happiness. “Quick. You cover the exits, and I’ll sneak out the back. We can rendezvous back at the vehicles.”

  She laughed, and for a moment, Ken forgot about everything in the world but the sound of her laugh, generous and unashamed.

  “We do have to pay the check, at least,” she pointed out when she’d caught her breath. She started digging in her pockets.

  “No way,” Ken said immediately, and found his wallet, catching the waitress’ eye.

  “I invited you—” Lynn started to protest.

  “Nope,” Ken said. Lynn subsided when the waitress came over, not willing to argue in front of her, but the second the check negotiations were over and the waitress had gone off with Ken’s credit card, she gave him the evil eye.

  “Next time,” she said.

  “You’re on.” He grinned at the thought of a next time—of many, many next times. Having to execute more stealth operations to try and beat Lynn out for the check. He wondered what she’d look like when she won, and then was caught by a sudden burning need to see her with a smug winner’s smile on her face.

  Now, though, she looked hesitant. Ken leaned forward, wondering what was on her mind.

  “Would you…” She stopped, breathed, and focused on him. After a moment, she smiled. “Would you like to come back home with me?”

  An answering smile broke over his face. “I would love to come back home with you,” he said.

  She held out her hand. Ken reached forward without any hesitation and grabbed hold of it. “Then let’s go,” she said.

  ***

  Ken hadn’t been sure what to expect from Lynn’s home. Something utilitarian, he’d figured—maybe a small, neat house, or a duplex or something. She didn’t seem like the sort of woman who’d want something extravagant.

  He took in the big, old, rambling home that she led him to with muted astonishment. All right, he still wouldn’t call it extravagant—it was clearly old, and the paint was peeling in places, and it wasn’t like it was a mansion or anything—but it was definitely more house than he would’ve thought she needed.

  She led the way up the walk, and said over her shoulder, “This is my family’s house. I inherited it when my grandmother died.”

  Oh. That explained it.

  “Well,” she added, “technically, my sister and I inherited it together. But she doesn’t live here anymore.”

  Ken made a mental note to find out more about Lynn’s sister. From the bits and pieces he’d heard so far, it seemed like there was a story there.

  Lynn put her key in the lock and opened the old, weathered front door. Ken followed her inside…and stopped, staring.

  The foyer was enormous, stretching up two stories; only his shifter eyes allowed him to see the ceiling in the unlit gloom.

  Then Lynn turned on the light, and Ken could suddenly see the whole place stretching out around him—not just the enormous foyer, but the beautiful carved-wood staircase going up to another floor, a hall leading back into the depths of the house, and on either side of him, large rooms. The one to his left had huge windows, a fireplace, and a lot of overstuffed furniture, while the one to the right…every wall that Ken could see was made of built-in bookshelves full of books.

  “Wow,” he said finally.

  Lynn was looking at him, he realized when he tore his eyes away from all of the…house. She had a little frown between her eyebrows, but it didn’t look like an upset frown. More surprised.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve brought anyone here,” she said. “I forgot that it makes an impression.”

  “A hell of an impression,” Ken agreed. “This place is amazing. I want a tour.”

  Lynn smiled. “Of course. There’s the front room.” She gestured to the room with the fireplace and the couches. “When I’m home, I spend a lot of time there. With the fire going, it’s cozy. This place can get pretty chilly in the wintertime, so it’s good to pick a room, close up all the doors and windows, and heat it as best you can.”

  Ken pictured Lynn, wrapped in blankets, curled up in front of the fire, and smiled. “And over there?”

  “That was my grandmother’s library,” Lynn said, a little wistfully. “She read a lot. That’s something I didn’t really inherit—Stella’s the one who loves books, and her daughter Eva. I wish they spent more time here, so someone was using it. Anyway, my grandmother used to write her letters at that desk there. Back before email.”

  Ken pictured it—a sturdy old woman, keeping in touch with her friends and family, writing gracefully with some kind of antique pen. Surrounded by books. “I wish I could’ve known her,” he said quietly.

  “Me, too,” Lynn said, even more quietly.

  “I’ll know her through you.” Ken took her hand, lacing their fingers together, and she squeezed it and smiled at him.

  “And through the house,” Lynn added. “My great-grandfather built this place, her father, and she grew up in it and made it hers.” She nodded toward the hallway. “Come on.”

  They went back down the darkened hallway, which opened up into an enormous kitchen. “This is wasted on me,” Lynn said over her shoulder. “I barely cook. The appliances are all old, but they’re sturdy, built to last.”

  Ken wasn’t much of a cook, either, but he liked the idea of learning in a place like this. Mastering this enormous space. Cooking for his mate. Bringing her breakfast in bed. He smiled to himself.

  Lynn was already moving forward. “There’s a sun room back here—perfect for curling up and taking a nap when you’re shifted.” Ken saw a big room encased in windows, with wicker furniture but also a nice, thick carpet. He could just picture a sunny afternoon in there, stretching out in his lion form alongside Lynn, snoozing together.

  “And a bathroom, and a pantry,” Lynn finished. “And the yard, of course, but you can barely tell the yard from the forest. Half the time, I forget where our property technically ends.”

  Ken could see the darkness of the
trees stretching out from the house, sloping upward towards the mountains.

  “Some of the neighbors get a lot of wildlife messing with their gardens or their trash cans,” Lynn said with a smile, “but we never do.”

  Ken smiled back. “They must smell that this is a predator’s territory.”

  “They sure do,” Lynn said, with casual confidence.

  That was sexy. Ken hadn’t ever quite realized it before, but there was something about a woman who was also an apex predator, just like him. Who was sure of her ability to protect her home and her family.

  Yep. Very, very sexy.

  “Okay, upstairs,” Lynn was saying, so Ken followed her up the stairs.

  Appreciating the view as he did, of course. He kept his hands to himself, because he was certain that Lynn was not a woman who’d appreciate a surprise grope on the staircase. But he was tempted.

  “Mostly bedrooms up here,” Lynn said. “My grandmother’s sewing room is back there. Except she never really sewed.” She smiled. “She said that she called it her sewing room so that she’d have somewhere to go where people would think she was doing something useful and serious, when really she just wanted to read a trashy novel without anyone seeing.”

  Ken laughed. He liked Lynn’s grandmother more and more every time Lynn mentioned her.

  “Otherwise, it’s bedrooms.” Lynn pointed them out. “That was Grandmother’s.” She opened the door, and Ken saw a beautiful old four-poster bed with a floral blanket on it, and windows looking out over the mountains.

  “And that’s Stella’s, and that’s my niece Eva’s, and…this is mine.” Lynn led him down the hall to a back corner, and opened the door.

  It was immediately clear to Ken that this room, alone of the rooms he’d seen so far, had a person living and breathing within it. Lynn’s things were spread all around—jackets and shirts in a pile on a chair, papers on the dresser, random little bits of outdoor-survival equipment scattered around. A pile of loose change on the nightstand. The bed was only half-made, the comforter in a soft-looking pile on top of the sheets.