Ray, Helena - Taste of Pride [The Pride of Savage Valley, Colorado 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Helena Ray

  It was a tale passed from generation to generation of Savage Valley mountain lion-shifters. Every thirty or so years, when a new generation took over protecting the land, their fathers would speak in hushed tones about the overwhelming experience of finding their mates. Mel had known without even seeing her. When his ears registered the click of her deadbolt as Marta walked out of her apartment that first day they met, every sense lit up. He knew something monumental had happened in his life.

  And when he glimpsed her—oh, when he first glimpsed her—he had known beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had found his mate. Her pink lips, her dark hair, and her lush, feminine body called to him in a way no woman had before. He knew, and he knew he had to claim her. When Sam and Phil had called claiming they’d found their mate, the feelings warring within Mel’s chest forced him to turn them away. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Mel still competed with his brothers, and locating their mate was the ultimate boon. He had found their mate, and they would have to learn to live with that.

  She stirred next to him and opened her eyes then squeezed them shut again.

  “Shh.” Mel ran a hand through her hair then leaned over and kissed her sleep-swollen lips. Her arms wound around his neck, and she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. It took all the strength he could muster to pull away from the heavenly softness of her lips. “Marta, I have to go.”

  “Don’t go,” she whispered, still with her eyes closed. “Please, stay as long as you can.”

  “Believe me, I want to.” She would never know exactly how much he wanted to stay and indulge in the carnal pleasures of last night. “But I have a…” How could he explain his clandestine hunting mission to her? He looked to the blinds again and saw the sun intensifying. He only had a few hours to hunt before the tourists would be out at Adam’s Point, scaring away the deer and distracting from Mel’s leonine mission of completing his contractual obligation to kill. “I have a…commitment,” he finally said, “and I can’t break it.”

  Her eyes blinked open then, and the forlorn expression on her face twisted his stomach. He wished he could explain it all now, but he would have enough difficulty convincing her to believe he was a shape-shifter, let alone explaining the politics of covenant killing. Damn it, if he didn’t need the money right now, he would tell Cleve and Ezra they could go fuck themselves.

  “Am I going to see you again?”

  “How can you even ask that?” He sealed his words with a quick kiss. “You’re not the kind of girl that a man fucks then walks out on.” Her breathing hitched, and Mel suddenly felt the need to relieve his morning erection. No. If I do that, I’ll be here until the damn curse calls me to the next pride hunt.

  “Tell you what. I won’t take my jacket.”

  Marta’s lips curled into a smile. “Good.”

  With a sigh of deep regret, Mel sat up and crawled out of the warm, alluring bed with its even warmer, more alluring occupant. Funny, sex had never given him this warm glow, this feeling of complete satisfaction before, but Marta deserved that and so much more. She deserved all a man could give, and she deserved the protection of the pride.

  He reached the door and turned back to her.

  “I’ll be back. Soon.”

  Marta only made a sound of contentment and turned over to go back to sleep. He nearly started back to the door when a mark on her otherwise unblemished skin drew his attention. Four parallel long, red cuts on her side had scabbed over, but the irritated flesh on either side of the incisions indicated they were freshly made. Mel held his breath as he found the strength to open the door and exit the small apartment.

  After gently closing the door so as not to disturb the soporific angel inside, Mel leaned against the front wall of the apartment. His breaths rose in billowing clouds, reduced to steam by the chilly morning air. He watched as the sun crested over the Mukua Mountains and cast light over the jagged landscape. Only an hour or two now. He knew that Cleve and Ezra needed him for the unauthorized hunt, but his mate beckoned him from her den of iniquity.

  His mate. Though he hadn’t formally mated her, that was what she was. And not the pride, not the curse, and most certainly not his brothers would stop him from having her.

  The image popped into his head of the scratches cut into Marta’s soft flesh.

  Yes, he would mate Marta. After all, he’d already marked her.

  Chapter 6

  A knock sounded on the door to Sam’s office. He looked up from his laptop, grateful for the interruption of his biweekly payroll duties.

  “Come in!”

  The door opened, and Rita Copely marched into his office, hands on hips.

  “Samuel Zachariah Pope, why in the good Lord’s name is there a suit out there talking about Savage Hunger—and I quote—‘becoming a part of the NormCorp empire?’”

  Well, shit. Sam hadn’t planned on telling his employees about the sale until it was final. As it stood, Sam had only spoken with Norman’s receptionist over the phone about setting up an appointment to draw up the papers. Nothing had been signed, at least not yet.

  Rita continued looking at him with an accusatory expression. Although hesitant to discuss the situation with anyone, Sam considered making an exception for Rita. The woman had worked for his family most of her life, and since one of her sons had married a Yeats woman, she knew plenty about the pride.

  “Sit down.” Sam closed his laptop and gestured to one of the chairs across his desk.

  “Don’t you give me orders, Sam. I’m going to Haven after my shift, and I’ll give your mother a piece of my mind.”

  Sam reluctantly recalled that Rita and his mother shared everything as they received their routine manicures and pedicures and engaged in assorted womanly beauty rituals at the Haven, Savage Valley’s beauty salon. He and his brothers had long since learned that if any of their behavior was reported to their mother, there would be hell to pay, even as adults.

  “All right, all right,” he conceded. “Why don’t you please take a seat, Rita?”

  “There’s that infamous Pope charm.”

  Sam blew out a quick breath of air. Any mention of the Pope charm, a legendary family trait, reminded him of his generation’s other Byronic son.

  “Well, what do you want to know? I know you’ll just ask around until you find out anyway.”

  “You bet your ass I will.” Rita winked at him as she took a seat, crossed her legs, and leaned over the desk. “And you bet your ass that you’ll tell me why you’re selling out to that cue-ball-headed Norman. I’ve talked to your mother, and I know you boys aren’t hurtin’ for cash.”

  “The business has done well, yes,” Sam said as he nodded, delaying confessing everything. “Phil’s cooking is becoming nearly as infamous as the singles nature walks at the Woodland.”

  “Sam, tell me.”

  “Well, you see, there’s—”

  “Out with it, sug.”

  Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t relish having to tell another soul why he was about to jeopardize Savage Valley’s future.

  “We found our mate.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Rita clapped her hands together, and her eyes shone with excitement. “When do we get to start planning the wedding?”

  “Not yet. You see, by ‘we,’ I mean Phil and me.”

  Rita’s face fell.

  “Not Mel.”

  “No, not Mel. We’ve reached out to him, but he won’t accept our overtures. He’s claiming that he’s found someone else and that he needs to be with her. And you know how he is, Rita. He won’t even live in the cabin with us. And you know that I believe that if the curse didn’t compel him, he wouldn’t even participate in the hunt.”

  “Oh, hon.” Rita’s tone became gentle and nurturing, a sign she was about to invoke her rights as a woman who damn near raised Sam and his brothers. “Don’t be so hard on him. He’s a good boy, but he just has a hard time fitting in with the rest of you Popes. You know that.”


  “The reason he doesn’t fit in is that he doesn’t want to.”

  “Oh, hush. You know that’s not true. Growing up, you and Phil had Oliver and Roarke. The four of you were inseparable. Mel never resonated with the Cash boys, and it doesn’t help that families with three shifters are so uncommon. In this generation, it’s only you and the Sullivans, and you never got along with them. Maybe Mel felt a little—”

  “I don’t want to have this conversation.” The last thing Sam needed was another discussion of how his actions had contributed to drive away the youngest Pope.

  Rita pursed her lips, looking as if she held back a nasty comment, but nodded anyway. “Okay, Sam, but you still haven’t explained why that wool-clad slimeball outside thinks Ulysses Norman is going to buy up my place of employment.”

  “I was getting there.” He gave her a pointed look and then continued. “Since we can’t get—” Rita narrowed her eyes at Sam. “If we can’t get Mel onboard with taking our mate, then we’ve talked about invoking the infertility clause in the treaty.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Rita gasped.

  “We’d have to,” he said solemnly.

  “But what does that have to do with selling Savage Hunger to NormCorp?”

  “It would ensure some measure of protection for the land and for the Pope sector of Savage Valley. Otherwise Phil and I staying unmated will just drain the pride of much-needed strength. I truly believe that selling to NormCorp, leaving the curse, and ending our line would be a better decision for us and for the pride.”

  “But the infertility clause means Marta won’t be able to have children. What if she wants them?”

  “Maybe that’s just a sacrifice we’ll—” Wait. He hadn’t mentioned Marta, had he? “Rita,” he continued slowly, “how did you know it was Marta?”

  The meddling but endearing older woman grinned from ear to ear.

  “Sug, it’s more than obvious. You and Phil have been falling over yourselves since she waggled her pretty little ass into this joint.”

  Sam felt his jaw drop. Once able, he closed it and spoke.

  “If I did anything, Rita, to make you feel uncomfortable in the workplace or showed favor to her in any way, you—”

  Rita threw back her head and howled in laughter. Sam looked from side to side, wondering what exactly had caused her hysterical outburst.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Rita said as she returned from her fit of hooting merriment, and Sam swore he saw her wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “But Sam, honey, you’re an excellent boss. And you haven’t shown any sort of professional favor to Marta. It’s just so damn clear in the way you and your brother look at her you’re completely wild for her. Honestly, your mother and I have been waiting for you boys to ’fess up for days now.”

  Sam could only laugh dryly at Rita’s comment and shake his head.

  “If only it were that simple.”

  “It could be, you know, if you would only patch things up with—”

  “No,” Sam interrupted. “Even if Mel, Phil, and I were able to magically work out all our differences, it wouldn’t matter. I killed our chance.”

  “Oh, hush now. Any girl’d be salivating to have a nice young man like you.”

  “My attractiveness aside,” Sam said with a laugh, “I think we pushed her a little too hard. Honestly, growing up amongst the pride, I sometimes forget how odd ménageamy appears to outsiders.”

  Clucking, Rita shook her head, rose from the desk, and walked around to where Sam sat. She placed her hands on his wide shoulders and swiveled his chair so that he faced her. With Sam seated, she almost saw eye to eye with him, a rare occurrence.

  “Sug, you just hit upon what’s been plaguing this town for the past hundred and fifty years. Your mother accepted it right away, and so did little Miss Chelsea, but you’re talking about a different woman.” Rita turned and walked back to the chair then sat emphatically and crossed her legs. “Now, do you have any paper?”

  Perplexed, Sam nodded.

  “Good. Now take this down.” Sam opened his mouth to object, but the look on Rita’s face made him think the better of it. “Here’s what you need to do. The three of you boys need to have a good, long talk first of all and work things out—”

  “As if that would happen,” Sam grumbled under his breath.

  “—and then you need to talk to Marta. Whether or not you want to tell her first about the Pope family’s tradition of all the brothers taking the same woman, or about how the three of you are…that you expect her to…”

  “That she’s walked into a fucking Animorphs book?”

  “Well, that’s one way of saying it, I guess.”

  The metallic taste of blood danced across his tongue, and Sam realized that his canines had begun to extend and pierce the skin of his lip.

  “Shit!” The overly large teeth muffled his voice. “Rita, could you give me a moment?”

  Having witnessed one of Sam’s partial-shifting episodes before—he couldn’t shift fully around her—Rita hopped to her feet and went to the door.

  “You take a minute, sug. I’ve only got a short spell left on my shift. But think about what I said. You need to let Marta make the decision for herself. Don’t go sellin’ off the family business just because you’re afraid things won’t work out.”

  Sam looked up at her and mouthed a completely heartfelt, “thank you,” while trying to keep his canines from showing as Rita slipped out of his office.

  He dropped his head to his hands and ran his fingers through the tangled locks of his hair. It appeared as though all his demons were conspiring to turn this day against him. Upon waking, his morning erection instantly wilted when he realized that he had ensured that he would never wake with Marta’s warm body curled against his. His words and his actions when he walked in on her with Phil had so alienated her that Sam worried he could never win her back. Every single morning since he laid eyes on her, and especially in the short span of time since his first taste of the sweet berries of her lips, he had looked around to ensure Phil had made his morning run to the Savage Hunger then stroked himself to completion by imagining Marta waking up beside him. Each morning the hallucination returned—waking with his cock pressed against her luscious ass, the swell of her breasts heaving as she rode him, the cries of exquisite agony as they came together—but not this morning. His actions had ensured his fantasy would never make it through the transformation to reality.

  And once he had dragged himself to the office to perform the loathsome duty of payroll, Rita had marched into his office and reminded him once more that he was the root cause of his family’s woes. He knew the feud with Mel was ridiculous, and he knew that he was the one stoking the fires of their inimical relationship. But Sam’s pride could never allow him to acknowledge his servitude to his brother, especially to the youngest Pope’s face.

  Finally, even the heavens tangled themselves in the conspiracy against Sam. The waxing gibbous moon would shine upon the Mukuas tonight and, as it had for his forefathers, transform all the members of the pride into their lion form for their hunt. Sam leaned back in his chair as he imagined the agony and humiliation he’d endured for the past two years since Oliver, the pride alpha, hit thirty years of age and their generation had come to dominate the pride. Sam’s size made him intimidating in human form, but clumsy as a lion. Over the years, he’d become a formidable tracker, but he never developed the talent for killing, for stalking their prey and sinking in his teeth.

  No, Mel was the hunter in their family. Being the oldest, Sam had used his seniority as a child to coax Mel into covering for him when their fathers would gather the boys for hunting practice. Now, no such luxury existed. Instead, Mel’s rebellious nature had led him away from the family and into a life of vice. Sam shuddered to think that one of his own family had become a covenant killer—one of the lions who hunted for hire when other lions couldn’t fend for themselves, despite the harsh punishments outlined in the treaty. The only thought mor
e disturbing to Sam was how often he patronized Mel and the Yeatses’—also covs—clandestine operation.

  Yet another knock interrupted Sam’s thoughts, this one as welcome as the last.

  “Rita, you can just leave your things in the kitchen, and I’ll have Dave come get them,” Sam called to the door. Luckily, his fangs had retracted, and his voice was once more clear.

  “Uh, it’s not Rita.”

  His chest contracted at the clear, ringing voice that penetrated straight to his soul.

  Marta.

  He cleared his throat before giving her a quick, “Come in!”

  Marta’s usual attentiveness was gone, and her mind appeared elsewhere as she walked over to the row of lockers on the south wall of Sam’s office. After she retrieved her uniform, Sam noticed a sloppy grin across her face. Never making eye contact, she waved to him casually before exiting his office again.

  Something occurred to Sam that he had never dared contemplate before. Another had claimed his beautiful mate. A mixture of anger, regret, and possessiveness toiled in his chest, leaving Sam too dizzy and light headed to return to work right away. Mates were normally loyal to their shifters because the strength of their attraction overwhelmed any urge to look elsewhere. But as the truism echoing in Sam’s mind reminded him, it was the exception that proved any rule.

  Why had he dragged his feet? Why had he let his damned ego get in the way of marching over to the Yeatses’ cabin and demanding Mel meet Marta? At least he hadn’t sold the diner, he consoled himself.

  Nothing, however, could provide consolation for the hole in Sam’s heart that widened with each passing second.

  * * * *

  Phil pulled Sam’s car up to the abandoned buildings at the northwest edge of Savage Valley. No other cars surrounded the building, although given the late hour, Phil was certain the entire pride had already assembled. Most of the shifters preferred the transportation of their paws hitting the earth at a gallop. He killed the engine and hopped out of the car, but his brother didn’t follow. Through the windshield, Phil saw Sam still belted into the car, staring straight ahead and white as a ghost.