by Helena Ray
“Well, I guess it’s best to start at the beginning.” Phil’s voice drew her attention and she looked up from Sam’s chest. Marta’s legs faced Phil, and he wrapped his arms around her knees and pulled her forward so that her legs lay across his lap. A soft yelp escaped her throat when the sudden motion made her fall backward, but two strong arms caught her. She tilted her head back to see it was Mel’s chest she now leaned against. She couldn’t explain it, and everything she knew about relationships told her it was wrong, but never had anything felt more right to Marta than being caressed by these three men.
“First, a bit of a history lesson,” Phil continued. “I don’t know how much you found out when you were researching the town for that article you were writing, so some of this may be repetition.” He seemed to hesitate then, and Marta followed his gaze to see that something passed between him and both of his brothers. “In 1846, five families were travelling west on what came to be known as the Oregon Trail. They faced some pretty rough terrain in Wyoming, and by the time they made it to Colorado, nobody’s wagon was in very good shape.”
“And so,” Sam said, taking over for Phil, “those five families decided to settle down. Luckily, they happened upon an abandoned fur-trading post—the building that’s the bank now—”
“I knew that!” Marta interjected, proud of her small bit of Savage Valley trivia.
The rumbling of Sam’s laugh combined with Mel’s hands rubbing her back lit a small fire in her pussy. They’re all serious about this. Keep it together, Verner. Her arousal abated a bit at her self-admonition. But only in the slightest.
“Told you she was smart.” Phil rubbed her legs as he spoke, doing nothing to calm her growing excitement.
“Anyway,” Sam continued, that deep laugh still in his voice, “the five families conveniently found five abandoned cabins and settled in. In case you’re wondering, those would be the Cashes, the Popes, the Abbotts, the Yeatses, and the Sullivans.”
“Wait. That’s you! And they’re all still in Savage Valley!”
“Patience,” Phil cooed. “It’ll all be clear soon.”
Sam kissed the top of her head before he went on. “Now keep in mind, this was the middle of the 1800s. The pioneers were all about westward expansion and claiming the land and all that crap. This was even back before the gold rush, so the most compelling reason for sacrificing everything and heading west was the promise of a totally fresh start. The five families of the Valley were most certainly of that mindset, and they began clearing the land to establish a new metropolis.”
“Only that didn’t happen.” Mel spoke this time, and Marta twisted in Sam’s lap to see his beautiful face that not even streaks of mud could mar. “At the time, Savage Valley was under siege from all manner of animal attacks. You’ve seen the sign, I’m sure, about No Animal Attacks since 1846.” Marta nodded, and he continued. “Well, there’s a very bizarre reason for this. Before we continue our tale, let me clarify one thing. None of us has had any moonshine as of late, and this is definitely not a stumphole-induced hallucination.” Marta laughed, but Mel’s affect stayed grave. “When the five families, including our great-great-great-great-grandfathers, started making real progress on clearing the land and killing the animals, they ran across a Native American man named Cameahwait.”
“And let’s just say Cameahwait was none too pleased with the settlers.” Marta turned back to Phil when he spoke. “He was one of the Bannock Shoshone tribe that still lives in the southwest corner of Savage Valley, across the creek from the Woodland Den. His tribe had kept watch over the valley and the Mukuas for centuries, and he felt it his personal duty to make sure the settlers treated the land with as much care and reverence as the Shoshone.”
“Remember,” Sam said, interrupting Phil, “Colorado Territory wasn’t even organized until 1861. White settlers were few and far between, and the native tribes had more authority then.”
“But our ancestors didn’t respect that authority,” Phil continued, “and they paid the price for it. Cameahwait told the settlers to stop their hunting and to stop clearing the land, but they all laughed at the man. He warned that their spurning would have dire consequences—a warning our ancestors most certainly should have taken seriously.
“They continued on with their hunting and their chopping, seeing their dream of a modern city in the west coming to fruition until one day when—”
“Let me tell this part, Phil.” Marta turned and saw an oddly sincere plea on Mel’s face. “It’s always been my favorite.”
“Okay,” Phil said slowly, “but I’m stopping you if you start exaggerating.”
“Seriously?” Mel’s eyebrow shot up. “You really think this story needs exaggeration?” When Phil didn’t respond, Mel continued their tale. As much as Marta enjoyed a good history lecture, she really hoped the compelling meat of the story was to come.
Apparently Mel could sense her agitation. “Don’t worry. We’re getting to the good part now. So the settlers thought they’d successfully overruled Cameahwait with their bluster and were going about their merry way. Then on one night, when a shadow was just beginning to creep across the moon, all the men were drawn to the northwest corner of the town, where that”—Mel’s eyes shifted between his brothers—“abandoned stillhouse stands now.” Glancing to Sam and then Phil, she saw that neither of them believed his assertion of the stillhouse’s obsolescence. “And they found themselves all standing there at the foot of the Mukuas at midnight, staring at one another and seriously contemplating if a lake of fire would open in front of them and they’d be taken up to heaven.
“According to legend, each man experienced a series of truly bizarre sensations that they assumed at the time were sensory hallucinations. Their skin began tingling, a sharp ache formed underneath their fingernails, and their teeth started to crowd their mouths. They didn’t have much time to contemplate these feelings, though, because next thing anyone knew, they were all lying naked in the woods, totally unaware of what had happened to them.”
“Looking a little bit like we do right now,” Sam added.
“Needless to say,” Mel continued, “the citizens of Savage Valley were freaked the fuck out. It happened again, a little more than two weeks later, and this time, one of them remembered.”
All three men fell silent, and the tension in the room took Marta’s breath away. Her conscience kicked in, and the utter absurdity of what they might be about to say dawned on her.
“Wait just a goddamn minute.” Marta launched herself out of Sam’s lap and to her feet. “I’ve read Twilight, and I know where this is going.” She attempted to burn her gaze into each of their innocent-looking faces. “You want me to believe you’re werewolves, don’t you?”
The stoic looks they each wore unsettled her. Why weren’t they bursting into laughter? Oh, no. I found a family of inhumanly attractive men who actually think they’re not human. As they continued their silence, she edged backward, suddenly frightened of the men who completed her.
“Tell me what’s going on, guys.” Finally, her words broke their trance. Sam turned the full force of his watery blue stare on her, taking away her ability to move and to breathe.
“Marta, the settlers—our ancestors—they turned into mountain lions.”
“O–Okay.” Although shaken to the core, her curiosity got the better of her.
“Okay?” Sam’s eyes widened. “You’re okay with this?”
“We’ll see.” She crossed her arms. “Go on.”
Phil took over for Mel. “What was remembered, you see, is that they turned into mountain lions and hunted their prey. One of the men, the Sullivans’ great-great-great-grandfather Brock, recalled everything that had happened while they were in lion form. They tracked their prey, killed it, and ate together, and then each family took off on its own. They went to their homesteads, the area around each family’s cabin, and ensured nothing would harm their family’s land. They sabotaged building projects, destroyed saws for cutti
ng down trees, and hunted any animal that might prey on the humans, which is exactly the reason not a single animal has attacked since 1846.”
The buzzing of the fluorescent light in the kitchen was the only sound as Marta took in Phil’s words. Her logical mind couldn’t believe him. Human beings just didn’t transform into wild animals, and Marta was certain of that fact. But the niggling reporter inside her mind that pulled at her thoughts begged her to find out more, never to close her mind on any possibilities. Facts. It occurred to Marta that she couldn’t make any judgment yet. She needed evidence to build her story. Stick to the facts. Her journalism professor’s words rang in her head. Everything else is filler.
“Show me.”
Phil and Sam glanced at each other, wariness in their gazes.
“Darling,” Phil began, “I wish that we could, but…”
“It’s not that easy.” Sam reached a hand out, and Marta placed hers in it tentatively. As he closed his hand around hers, the tenderness of his touch reminded her that no matter if they were mentally stable or not, she had developed a rapport with these men, a real relationship. They deserved at least a chance to prove themselves. “I really do wish we could, but the lions signed a treaty with the Shoshone in 1869 outlawing shifting in front of humans. The magic in the curse changed then, and without getting permission from the Shoshone shaman, we can’t—”
“You can’t.” Sam and Phil both snapped their heads to stare at Mel.
“Oh, and you can?” Sam’s voice held some venom, and concerns formed in Marta’s mind about the stability of the Pope brothers’ relationship. After all, neither Sam nor Phil had mentioned having a brother, and Mel had clammed when she asked his family name.
“Yes, I can.” Mel glared at his older brother. “Not fully, but enough to prove my status as a shifter.”
“How in the hell is that possible? And why hadn’t you told us about this? You know that this could get us in trouble with—”
“Sam.” Phil placed a hand on his older brother’s shoulder. “Can we save this argument for later? I sincerely doubt Marta will go running to Bo about this.”
“Who’s Bo?” Marta asked.
“See. Nothing to worry about.”
“I hate to interrupt the brewing existential crisis, but I’d like to show her already.”
Sam opened his mouth to speak but shook his head and waved a hand at Mel. “Go on, then.”
“Marta,” Mel called to her in his deep, clear voice. “Come sit with me.” With a hesitant glance at his brothers, she lowered herself to the bed again, this time in Mel’s lap. “Remember the other night? When I spent the night?”
A heated flush crawled up her neck. “Uh-huh.”
“And do you remember when I held you”—he placed one hand on her waist, eliciting a sharp gasp—“right here?”
“Uh-huh.”
The shock of Phil’s story had dispelled some of her arousal, but Mel’s light touch had it racing upward again. Without warning his hand slipped under the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. She thought to protest—the idea of her breasts exposed to all three Popes was as intimidating as it was tantalizing—but the cool air hardening her nipples to taut buds silenced any complaint.
“And”—Mel’s voice was hushed now—“do you remember when I made this mark on you?” His fingers danced lightly along her flesh, and a slight, stinging pain accompanied the sparks of pleasure. Marta twisted so she could see his hand, and for the first time noticed for long, red scratches down her side.
“When did those—”
“Watch.” Mel laid his palm on her side. His whole hand rested in the place between the two center scratches, and she didn’t see how he could have made the marks. Then, as Marta studied his callused hands, his fingers began shaking. At first it was only slight, but the movements turned into harsh, jerking motions. The hair on his fingers grew, obscuring his light skin, and the most remarkable thing she had ever witnessed occurred. Mel’s fingers became shorter, but thicker, and his fingernails grew into long, curved claws. The vibrating suddenly ceased, and Mel flexed his—Marta couldn’t believe what she was thinking—his claws. The four sharp, hooked nails matched exactly the spacing of the four red marks on her sides.
Mel had left his lion’s mark.
“How did you…” Marta trailed off and looked into Mel’s eyes, hoping to find some sort of answer there.
“I didn’t mean to.” He shrugged. “At least, my human mind didn’t want to. My lion has burned for you, baby. I’ve burned since the instant I saw you.”
She looked down again, but Mel’s paw was gone. Now only his human hand—the hand that had driven her to such heights of ecstasy—rested on her side.
“We’ve all burned for you,” Sam said, finally drawing her attention away from the fantastical transformation she had just witnessed. “Because we’ve known from the very beginning that you were our mate.”
We? Our?
“Hold on.” Marta leapt from Mel’s arms, landing on her feet again in front of the three men. The slight bounce of her breasts reminded her she was still topless, not that she had enough energy really to care at the moment. “Back up. Now, lion stuff aside, what is it with all this we talk? Aren’t the three of you upset? I mean, I essentially cheated on you!” A tear formed at the corner of her eye as she looked between them. God, how could she ever have so betrayed each man? “I cheated on all three of you.”
Her tears began falling in earnest, the emotion of the early morning finally overwhelming her. She wanted them. That much she knew as fact. Each of them had won her over, Sam with his dry wit and sparkling smile, Phil with his intelligence and openness, and Mel with his independence and rebellious attitude. No way would she be complete without each one of them, but their revelation caused her stomach to turn.
Luckily, Phil stood and held her to his chest because Marta didn’t think her legs could hold out much longer. Displaying impressive strength for his lithe figure, he lifted her and cradled her in his arms. Her sobs escalated, shaking her body and making her breath come in gasps.
“Please don’t worry about hurting us, darling.” Phil pushed her hair back from her face and trailed a finger across her cheekbone. “You didn’t let me finish the story.” He sat gently on the bed and spoke to her softly. “You see, the curse that forced each of the pioneers to become mountain lion-shifters had another key component. The Shoshone revere the mountain lion as a sacred protector of the earth, and after the five families shifted, Cameahwait returned to Savage Valley. He informed them that it would be their purpose and the purpose of all their male descendants to keep Savage Valley safe from harm. They would shift twice during each moon, at the waning and waxing gibbous lunar phases, to hunt and protect, but the lions needed to patrol the area regularly to ensure the town and the environment stayed safe.
“Then Cameahwait landed the blow that still stings many of us to this day. None of the male descendants of the five families could leave Savage Valley, at least not until their children took over their duties as protectors.”
“So you can’t leave?” Her inquisitive nature began to chase away the tears. “Wait, but how did you go to Zurich?”
“Well, actually,” Phil said as he looked to his brothers, “I can leave, but none of the other members of our pride can. One shifter born every generation, called a pilgrim, can leave between hunts. I was lucky enough to be this generation’s pilgrim.”
“So that’s how you got to Europe.”
“Exactly.” Phil smiled down at Marta. “But you must let us finish the story. I promise you’ll quite enjoy it.”
Two strong arms wrapped around Marta’s torso and hauled her out of Phil’s lap. She found herself encased in Sam’s warm embrace. In the midst of all that was happening, she remembered exactly how much she loved the way Sam’s impressive height made her feel dainty and protected, quite an unexpected joy.
“This was a lot of stress to put on five sets of brothers lost in th
e wilderness. By then, all the women that had started on the trail had been lost to dysentery and rattlesnakes.” Marta shivered at the idea of death by either gastrointestinal failure or envenomed wound. “The Shoshone knew that their curse had the power to split families. Hell, it still does.” Marta looked behind her to see Mel and Sam share a meaningful gaze. She would have to explore the exact nature of the Pope family’s rupture later.
“So he added a very specific caveat to the curse,” Sam continued. “Each set of brothers could only take one mate to share between them.” Marta’s senses flared to life as soon as she heard the word “share.” Phil was right. She certainly enjoyed where this was heading. “If any shifter entered into a relationship without the other males in his generation of his family, any children resulting from that partnership would die before they reached three years of age.”
“It’s happened,” Mel added. “One of Cleve and Ezra’s grandfathers had a child before he found his mate. He didn’t even live to see his first birthday.”
“The consequences are grave, you see,” Phil said, drawing Marta’s attention to him. “So no, we’re not upset. You finding all three of us worthy of your attentions is the best damn thing that could have ever happened to us.”
A proverbial lightbulb went off inside Marta’s head.
“Wait, you said the Cashes were one of the founding families, right?”
“Yes, indeed,” Sam said from above her, a slow smile crossing her face. She suspected the brothers had been waiting for Marta to reach this realization.
“So they’re lions, too.”
“Yes, darling.” Phil wore the same sly grin as Sam.
“And that’s why Chelsea…” It made so much sense now. Why her best friend, always the shy, cautious one, had taken on two lovers. Chelsea had found the same bliss that was being offered to Marta right at that very moment.
