Big Cat Mates Lion in Wait

by Cynthia Sax

  I needed that, her. Since the moon-maddened wolf attack that had killed his parents and wiped out most of his pride, he’d worked damn hard. He’d focused on rebuilding his small family and strengthening the firm, vowing that nothing would hurt the ones he loved ever again. He’d neglected his own needs, his animal’s needs, and the tension inside of him had become unbearable.

  Until last night. Royce turned the glass of cognac in his hand, the flames lighting the amber -- the costly liquor one of his rare indulgences. Last night, Starr’s experienced touch had eased his stress and calmed his beast, leaving him more relaxed than he’d been for years.

  Any female could have accomplished that. He sipped the cognac, savoring the hints of leather and dry fruit. She wasn’t special.

  Mate, his inner lion purred, undulating inside of him, his animal sexually sated.

  He’s confused. Royce rejected his lion’s claim. A mate would expect to be wooed and seduced -- activities he hadn’t the time or energy for. Starr merely gave us what we needed; what we’ve craved for months, years, forever.

  And it was glorious. He smiled.

  “He’s smiling,” Dirk announced, the second eldest Leone male lounging in the chair beside him, his long legs stretched out before him, his black shoes scuffed.

  “He is smiling.” Tanner, the youngest, leaned against the bookshelf, holding a glass of cognac as though it were a mug of beer, having no respect for the aged liquor. “He’s been smiling all morning. What the hell happened last night, bro?”

  “You should know.” Royce slid his gaze to the young male, his smile fading.

  “How would I know?” Tanner’s constantly moving mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened. “You hired her.” He hooted, slapping his thigh, spilling his cognac. “I knew she’d be perfect for you. You’re both workaholics.”

  “Who are you talking about?” Dirk demanded.

  “Starr, the woman from the sausage place.” Tanner grinned his foolish grin, his face unblemished, the young lion having never fought for anything in his life.

  Royce tilted his hand back and forth, creating waves of cognac in his glass, his role as pride alpha requiring him to be stern. “My present for a birthday I distinctly said I didn’t wish to have acknowledged.”

  “Right.” His youngest brother laughed. Royce leveled a hard glance on him, the safety of the pride depending upon all members following his orders, and Tanner’s laughter stopped. “Come on, big bro. You may be a workaholic but even you can’t claim an assistant as a birthday present.”

  “Stop with the assistant story.” Royce set his cognac down on the table, glass clinking against wood, his brother’s continued lies disturbing him. “I know who she is.”

  Tanner’s forehead creased with lines. “Is this about her being a waitress? She went to school for business administration and she… I don’t know… when she waited on us, she was so…” He scrunched up his nose, acting and sounding too damn sincere for Royce’s comfort. “Motherly, as though she truly cared for us. I liked that. I thought you might too.”

  Motherly? Royce stared at his youngest brother, the sexy woman he had spent the night with as far from motherly as any female could be. Does Tanner seriously believe I don’t know about her being a prostitute? “Her name is Starr,” he pointed out dryly.

  “Yeah.” Tanner grimaced. “I asked her about that. Her late mother had a thing for Belle Starr, some badass Wild West cowgirl. Starr likes to joke about it being her stripper name. I don’t think clients will care once they get to know her and hell, we’re in advertising. If you want to hire her, we’ll figure out some way to frame it, making it a plus, rather than a negative.”

  She’s not a prostitute. Royce gazed at the fire, unsure whether to be horrified or relieved, having used her body last night for his own selfish sexual gratification. It doesn’t matter. I still don’t have time for a relationship.

  Mate, his lion rumbled, aggravated by his statement.

  “You’re hiring the waitress from the sausage place as your assistant?” Dirk raised his eyebrows. “Can she get us a discount on bratwurst?”

  “Ohhh… their bratwurst is the best, bro.” Tanner rubbed his stomach. “I ate over a dozen the last time I was there. I slept the entire afternoon.”

  “You always sleep the entire afternoon. I --”

  I don’t have time for this. “I’m not hiring Starr.” Royce interrupted their banter, his mood darkening.

  Mate, his animal snarled, fighting his decision.

  His brothers turned their heads. “She made you smile, bro.” Tanner frowned. “You should, at least, consider it… for all our sakes. You’ve been a bit… intense lately.” Dirk, that idiot, nodded, his brothers for once agreeing on something.

  “I’m not considering it. I don’t need her,” Royce lied, needing Starr with every cell in his shifter body. “And I’m not hiring her. That decision is final.”

  “Yes, alpha.” The two fools snapped to attention, giving him an impertinent salute.

  Gods save me. Royce lurched to his feet, desperate to escape Starr’s scent, to concentrate on business. Yes, business. “Ask Jeanine to have the library cleaned.”

  His brothers stared at him. Royce ignored them. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled to his office -- an office he didn’t plan to leave until all traces of Starr were gone.

  * * *

  I’m tired. Starr grabbed her tote from her employee locker and hooked the straps over one of her aching shoulders. So very tired.

  It had been three long work-filled days since her non-interview with Leone Media, and she hadn’t yet caught up on her lack of sleep. Fucking Royce Leone had been worth it though, that all night sexathon the best experience of her life, her orgasms reaching double digits before she lost count.

  “See you tomorrow.” Starr waved to her fellow waitresses and slipped out of the staff entrance into the back alley. The night air cooled her flushed cheeks as she walked, the pavement rolling before her, black urban plains inhabited by cars and tall buildings.

  I still want him. She’d dreamed of Royce every night since their encounter, fantasizing about his calloused hands, his erotic purring, his enticing warmth, and his burning passion. And every morning, she had woken up, throbbing with need, her bed sheets twisted around her body.

  I’ll dream of him again tonight. Starr headed toward the bus stop, cutting through the parking lot, the area dimly lit by two flickering streetlights, inconstant stars in a midnight sky. Her lips curled into a small smile.

  “Is that smile for us, pretty lady?” Three large men stepped in front of her -- a pack of predators she couldn’t avoid -- their eyes gleaming, their denim-clad arms extended, boxing her in.

  A shiver ran down Starr’s spine. She recognized them, the cruelty in their faces memorable. They’d caused trouble at the restaurant during the dinner rush, grabbing the waitresses and threatening the guests.

  “It’s been a long day.” She lifted her chin, meeting the dead-eyed gaze of the leader, not allowing him to see her fear. “Please let me pass.”

  Starr reached into her tote and closed her fingers around the can of pepper spray, hoping she wouldn’t have to use it, praying that if she did, it’d be enough to stop them.

  “We can’t let you pass. Not just yet.” Their leader looked her up and down. His gaze lingered on her breasts, and he licked his lips, his saliva glistening. Starr shuddered, the thought of him touching her turning her stomach.

  “Not until you give us,” he continued, looming closer. Starr stepped back, her ass pressed against a parked car. “All of us.” His friends leered at her, their canine teeth unusually sharp and pronounced. “What we want.” The leader plucked at her white peasant blouse, the fabric ripping underneath his fingertips.

  A menacing rumble rolled through the space, the sound primitively deep. Starr turned her head. Royce leaned against a silver Maserati, his legs casually crossed, his big body clad in a black suit, his shirt startlin
gly white, his scarred face expressionless. Starr’s heart leaped, her terror flowing into relief and then into desire.

  “Does your alpha know you’re out?” Royce flicked a piece of lint off his sleeve, his fingers long and tanned and perfect, his nails surprisingly blunt considering the scratches he’d left on her ass.

  The leader growled. “Mind your own business.”

  Royce met Starr’s gaze, and he smiled slowly, his eyes glowing golden. “I am.” Her breath caught, his words possessive and arousing. He pushed away from the car and prowled toward them -- his gait fluid, loose, soundless.

  The three men moved closer together, tracking his movements, their expressions wary. “She’s ours, cat. Find your own toy.”

  Cat? Starr stared at Royce, his features, even his stride, catlike. Is the gossip about the Leone family true? Do I care if it is?

  Royce leisurely unbuttoned his suit jacket and removed it, the muscles in his shoulders rippling against his cotton shirt. “Hold this for me, beautiful.” He handed the expensive garment to Starr, his fingers brushing hers.

  She clutched the jacket and breathed deeply, inhaling cologne and man, the warmth of his body lingering on the fabric. I don’t care. I want him, cat or human or whatever else he is.

  “You think you can take all three of us, old timer?” the leader jeered.

  Starr’s fear returned, this time for Royce, not herself. She glanced behind her, the parking lot remaining devoid of life. “I’ll get help,” Starr offered, reluctant to leave him.

  “I don’t need any help.” Royce kicked off his black leather shoes, claw-like toenails poking through his socks. “Not to defeat these three pups.”

  “Pups?” The leader coiled lower and leaped forward, his arms and face elongating, his body growing in size, short black hair covering his entire body, a tail protruding from his ass.

  Royce roared, the sound setting off car alarms and temporarily deafening Starr. He sprang to meet his shifting rival, his clothes shredding, golden fur where his tanned skin should be. His hair grew, his jowls stretched, claws extended from his paws.

  Paws. Starr pressed her ass into the car behind her, unable to retreat any farther. The two animals collided, her lion slamming the lighter black wolf backward. Lion. Wolf. Her heart raced, pounding painfully against her ribs, like a beating of a tribal drum. The other two men shifted into wolves, smaller than the first yet as deadly. They’re animals. They’re all animals.

  Starr glanced down at her hands, her fingers unchanged. I’m still human. Her relief mixed with worry. Her human form limited her ability to help Royce. And he needed help, desperately. The three wolves circled her lion.

  My lion. She forced herself to take deep breaths, calming down. Royce is a lion and he’s fighting for me, against three wolves, three big wolves. One wolf surged forward. Royce batted him back, leaving lines of red on the wolf’s fur.

  The wolves barked, positioning themselves around her lion. I have to help him. Starr twisted Royce’s suit jacket, evaluating her options.

  The wolves rushed forward. Royce swiped his claws over one wolf’s chest, knocking him to the side. The wolf crumpled to the pavement and didn’t get back up.

  Royce closed his jaws over the second wolf’s neck, teeth piercing through fur and skin. Bones crunched and the wolf went limp, his legs twitching.

  The third wolf, the black leader, jumped onto Royce’s back and tore at his golden hide. Her lion roared, rounding his spine and bucking, twisting his body, snapping his jaws, unable to dislodge him.

  Oh God. The wolf is hurting him. Starr glanced around her for a possible weapon. She dropped Royce’s jacket and picked up his shoes. She lobbed the left shoe, too frantic to aim, and missed her target, the designer footwear zinging past the wolf’s right ear.

  She pushed aside her emotion, blocked the sight of Royce’s gaping wounds, and focused on the throw. You can do this. Starr wound up and pitched the shoe. The heel connected with the wolf’s skull, the thud loud, and he toppled from Royce’s back.

  “Yes!” She pumped the air with her fist, that seasonal job she’d once taken as a funfair carny paying off.

  Royce pounced on the wolf, flattening his shoulders to the pavement, grinding his face into the hard surface, her lion an impressive sight. The wolf whimpered. Royce swatted him with one of his big paws, and the wolf slumped. Her lion tilted his head back and roared his victory to the starless sky.

  “Magnificent,” Starr whispered, awed by his strength, his feline beauty.

  Royce, her lion, turned his head and stared at her with his unblinking cat eyes. Starr stilled, her appreciation darkening into fear. Does he see me as a friend? A foe? Dinner? He padded toward her, his mouth slightly open, his teeth huge and sharp, blood matting his fur. She didn’t move. She couldn’t move, her feet frozen in place.

  He rubbed his great head against her bare legs, his mane silky soft. His chest rumbled. He’s purring. Starr smiled, grateful to be alive, giddy with relief. She threaded her fingers through his fur, scratching behind his ears and the rumbling grew louder.

  “You’re beautiful.” Starr crouched and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his mane. He butted his head under her chin and licked her neck. She quivered, imagining his tongue elsewhere, her face flushing at the inappropriate thought.

  I can’t want an animal… can I? She pressed against her lion, stroking him, caressing him, his scent surrounding her. “So beautiful,” she repeated, enchanted by his presence, her big cat, her predator, her beastly lover.

  Royce’s golden fur became golden skin, his mane retracting, his muscles rippling under her fingers. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her cheek. He scattered hard kisses over her jaw, his mouth firm and hot. “And brave.” His lion reflected in his unusual eyes. “And you have a killer aim.” He caught one of her hands and pressed his lips to her knuckles, his tongue darting over her skin.

  “Not normally.” Starr trembled, aroused and excited and relieved, her pussy moistening, her nipples tightening. “It’s gotta be the shoes,” she joked, attempting to ease her nerves and distract him from her physical response.

  “It’s gotta be.” Royce’s lips twitched. “They were my favorite pair.” He straightened, wondrously naked, her man-beast, his cock hard and his muscles defined. He looked back over his shoulder, his face darkening. The black wolf remained sprawled on the pavement, his chest rising and falling, alive… barely.

  “Your shoes were nice.” She sighed, three years of working in a now-out-of-business shoe store giving her an appreciation for quality footwear, a lifetime of being a woman giving her an appreciation for the lion-man in front of her. “I’d offer to pay for a replacement pair but that would mean working a fourth job.”

  “Is that why you work so hard? To buy shoes?” Royce linked his fingers with hers and prowled toward the car, his gait rolling, his ass cheeks clenching and unclenching, the man clearly comfortable being nude.

  “I wish.” Starr gulped cool air, trailing behind him, not as comfortable with his glorious male form. “First, it was to pay for school, then to cover my mom’s medical and funeral bills, God rest her sainted soul, and now I have a rescuer who likes expensive footwear.”

  “You wouldn’t need rescuing if you worked for me.” Royce opened the passenger door of the Maserati, the scent of leather and new car mixing with his natural cologne, the heady concoction causing Starr’s head to spin.

  And me to hear things. He wants me to work for him? She stared up at Royce. “I thought I blew the interview.” She shifted her weight from her left foot to her right, unwilling to raise her hopes only to have them dashed once more.

  “It wasn’t the interview you blew.” His eyes glinted with promises of sexual delights. “I don’t have time for a relationship, Starr,” Royce confessed. “But I can’t not be with you. I’ve been spending hours I don’t have stalking you.” He raked his fingers through his shaggy hair, his turmoil reflecting hers. “I --” />
  Starr pressed a fingertip against his lips, stopping his words. “I understand. Boy, do I understand.”

  He needs me. And I need him. She grinned, joy filling her heart, Royce possibly the only other being on the planet who knew what she was going through.

  “How about you pay me an outrageous salary to work for you, more than I’d earn at all three of my other jobs, and if we have time, we do more?” she brazenly suggested.

  He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, his fingertips pressing against her pulse, and he lowered her hand, freeing his lips. “It won’t be romantic,” Royce warned. “I’ll work you hard. My previous assistant burned out.”

  “I’m not your previous assistant.” I’ll be the best damn assistant he’s ever had. Starr leaned into Royce, determined to take care of her lonely workaholic boss. He won’t be able to live without me. “And you couldn’t burn me out even if you tried.” She raised her chin, challenging him.

  “I’ll try.” Royce chuckled, and the knots in Starr’s stomach untangled. “You’ve been warned, beautiful.”

  He dipped his head and covered her lips with his. Starr wiggled with excitement, wanting, needing him. Royce flattened his palms on her back and pulled her body toward his, nestling his hard cock against her stomach, his arousal reassuring her that their relationship wouldn’t be purely business.

  This handsome man-beast is mine, all mine. She held onto Royce’s bare shoulders as they kissed, his skin golden under her pale fingers, his heart beating against her breast. My rescuer. My boss. My lover.

  Chapter Three

  Royce feigned an interest in the advertising copy on the mahogany desk in front of him, the antique piece of furniture reminding him that although he was relatively young for an alpha, his pride had a lengthy history, stretching back through many generations.

  He needed that reminder today as the seductive present was stealing his attention away from his work. Royce watched Starr out of the corner of his eye, his lion pacing restlessly inside him, eager to fuck their luscious new assistant again, the fourth fuck of the day.