by T. S. Joyce
“Can you double check,” Breshia pleaded.
“I’ve triple checked. He’s your mate.”
No. No, no, no. He wasn’t her mate and he wasn’t Shay’s. He was Logan’s brother, the bad seed of the bunch and she couldn’t imagine losing her virginity to such an awful man.
“What about the challenges? Can’t they fight for breeding rights? Please, Shira, don’t make me do this. Not with him.”
A snarl ripped out of the alpha and she stood, towering over the desk and glaring Breshia down until she knelt on the carpet with her arms flung across her middle.
“You’ll do what is best for our kind. Challenges are obsolete after Logan. He could’ve had any lioness he wanted, but he bowed out of the mating games. Now, our options are even more severely limited. This is your chance to be of use to this pride, Breshia. I’d suggest you thank your fucking stars you aren’t worthless after all, and jump at the chance.”
“Besides,” Winter said in a cold voice, “this way you’ll finally get laid.”
She hated them. She hated this pride and this house. She hated all the males for getting to avoid the politics just because they were born with dicks. She hated the bears and the humans and everyone who didn’t have to sleep with Thomas and bear his child.
A heavy pair of shit-kicker boots graced the thick carpet in her peripheral vision. Thomas angled himself until his toes almost touched the side of her leg. “Give me five minutes with her and I’ll tell you how close to her heat cycle she is.”
“Don’t disappoint me again, Breshia,” Shira warned as she made her way out.
The door clicked closed behind the alpha, and Breshia sat shaking on the carpet.
“You weren’t my first option either,” Thomas said. “In fact, I’d rather fuck any other lioness here or in the Chicago pride than you, but I’m a man of honor and this is my duty to the pride, and to our kind. Sit in the chair.”
A pathetic mewling sound left her lips and she found it impossible to move.
“I said, sit. In. The. Chair.”
“Please,” she begged. “I haven’t ever done this before.”
“Had a heat?”
“No, not that,” she said, looking up into his cold, gray eyes. “I haven’t been with a man.”
“Ah.” A cruel smile spread across his face. “Well, if you think this is the part where I’ll promise to be gentle, that ain’t gonna happen, sweetheart.”
Fear clogged her throat, making it almost impossible to breathe. He yanked her arm and pushed her back into the chair. The leather of it felt much colder than it did a couple of minutes ago. She was shaking all over, her hands, her legs…her breath. She was frozen like a creak in winter, unable to move her arms to stop him from yanking her pants down her thighs. Tears streaked down the corners of her eyes as he pressed his nose into her lap and inhaled loudly.
The jangle of his belt buckle sounded and, in horror, she watched him unsheathe his cock and take a long, slow pull of it. A smile crooked his lips, and he looked up at her like he was surprised. “This is going to be more fun than I thought,” he murmured. “It seems your pussy is the prettiest thing about you.” He held out his hands like it was a rare beauty. “I mean, just look at it.”
“I don’t want to,” she said in a trembling voice.
His face twitched, revealing the monster underneath for just a moment before he replaced it with his placid expression once again. He stroked himself again and canted his head. “It smells like you’re close, but I can’t be sure unless I taste you. Do you want me to taste you, Breshia?”
“No.”
“Now, mate. That’s no way to start off a heat cycle. I know you can feel it—the stirrings of something you can’t control.” He pulled his shirt over his head, and his taut stomach and chest flexed with the movement.
She inhaled sharply as her hormones surged. No matter how alluringly sculpted he was, all the beauty in the world couldn’t make up for his ruined soul. “You don’t know what being a mate is. Have you even seen Samuel?” At his blank stare, she said, “Your son. Have you even spent time with him?”
“That’s not what this is, and you know it. I have a job. It used to be to fight challengers to secure my right to breed, but now it’s all about genetics, and with Logan out of the picture, it seems I won the lottery. Not with you, of course, but with Shay and possibly with Winter. You’ll be bred by me every heat cycle from here on, and all of your many cubs will be my get. I’m all the mate you’ll ever have, so get used to seeing me. To feeling me.”
He ran his hand up her bare thighs, and she clenched them together instinctively.
“Oh, no, no, no,” he said with a pout. “That won’t do. Not when I’ve been charged with telling Shira when your heat cycle will start. Come here, love.”
“Don’t you fucking call me that. You’ve never loved anything in your life.”
Thomas’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Oh, ho, hooo. Sassy. I thought you were a submissive, love. Keep riling me up like this. I like a feisty cat in my bed.” He pulled another slow stroke of himself.
Breshia was going to be sick. She eyed the half-full trashcan in the corner, but Thomas yanked her arm and pushed her face down over the desk. She squirmed and kicked at him, but his dug his inhumanly strong grip into the muscle of her neck, and the pain made her freeze in place.
“You’re hurting me,” she whimpered.
“Then don’t move. You wouldn’t want to be disappointing the entire pride again, now would you?”
Right now, she didn’t give two craps about disappointing anyone, but his fingers were pressing on nerves she hadn’t known existed, and she couldn’t move her limbs. “Okay. I’ll be still.”
His cold hand ran the length of her spine and rested on her bare backside before the sting of his resounding slap hit her. The sound of it filled the room and she squeezed her eyes closed against the urge to flinch. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“You turn the most enticing shade of red when I’m rough, love.” He slapped her other side and she stifled a whimper.
The girls had talked about how much they liked this kind of behavior in the bedroom, but Breshia found no pleasure in this. It hurt and scared her. Even her pre-heat hormones had hunched into themselves and left her dry between her legs.
“I’ve never fancied your curves. I’ll admit I am more attracted to the lithe lines of the other lionesses, like Shay and Winter. But this,” he growled, palming her round cheeks, “could prove to be fun too. Maybe you won’t be a pity-breed after all. Hmm?”
Breshia gritted her teeth as he lowered himself behind her, and she closed her eyes in disgust when she felt the moist tip of his tongue flick out and touch her sex.
“Ahh,” he rumbled. “I was wrong, love. You’ll be hot in two days.” His hands gripped the backs of her thighs and spread her legs wider. “You won’t get pregnant now, but there’s no harm in me opening you up in anticipation of what is to come.”
“No,” she growled, pulling her legs tighter together. “You’ll wait until I have to do this. I’m not doing this for your pleasure, you selfish, woman-hating asshole.” She twisted her body and spat at him. “You’re the pity-breed. Not me.”
Thomas’s eyes tightened and he stood. “If we were wild lions, you wouldn’t fight me. You’d accept your place under me, and I’d be able to mark you however I please.”
The word mark, made her insides clench. His eyes looked so cold, and so empty, and her mouth went dry as a new wave of fear washed through her.
“Shay!” she screamed. She didn’t know why she said it, only that her only chance at escaping Thomas was sitting in the other room.
A feral snarl rippled from Thomas and his eyes blazed gold as he raked his transforming claws down her back.
She screamed out in pain and writhed away from him. Warmth trickled down her ribs and she thrashed wildly. The door creaked open and Shay stood there, looking pale and shaken, heaving breath like she’d run a
great distance. Her eyes landed on Breshia’s back, then at Thomas, who stood there and watched her with disgusting smugness.
“You ready for another round, Shay?” he asked.
An inhuman screech sounded from her as she lifted a glass vase she must’ve pilfered from the hallway. He barely had time to react as Shay swung for his face.
“Run,” she screamed as glass exploded against his temple. Thomas hit the carpet with a sickening thud.
“Where?” Breshia asked through burning tears. “Where do I go that will keep me from his reach?”
“The bears,” Shay breathed.
“But Shira—”
“Is gone.” Shay looked down at Thomas’s limp body. “Find the Seven Devils and follow them in. Bron will kill you, but find the alpha of the Seven Devils clan and beg sanctuary.” Shay gripped her shoulders. Her eyes looked crazed and fever bright. “It’s your only chance to get away from this.”
Shay had never said a kind word to her, but she’d just saved her soul from being tainted by that awful man. Everything in her screamed for her to flee this place before he came to, before Shira came back and forced this pairing. But Shay needed help too. “Come with me.”
“I can’t,” Shay whispered. “I have Samuel.”
Oh, she understood. Samuel might not be the important gender to Shira, but the alpha would bring hell to earth if the last of the pride’s cubs fell into the paws of the Hells Canyon shifters.
Shay gripped her shoulders painfully tight and shoved her through the office doorway. “Go now!”
Sobbing, Breshia fled, fastening her pants into place as she ran. Her back hurt so bad, she grew dizzy with the pain, but she couldn’t pass out now. There wasn’t time. She yanked her car keys from the hook by the front door and bolted for her old Volkswagen beetle that sat waiting on the gravel driveway.
She’d be forever marked for treason against her own kind for this, but she couldn’t stay here and be broken by Thomas. She couldn’t bear cubs with a man who hated her. She couldn’t end up with the same future as Shay.
She hissed at the pain as she sank into the driver’s seat of her car and slammed the door closed beside her. Revving the tiny engine, she peeled out and watched the big house disappear in her rearview.
The bears would likely kill her, but if she stayed here, her fate would be worse.
Chapter Three
Five and a half hours of driving was more than enough time to thoroughly overthink leaving the pride. So many questions swirled around in Breshia’s head, and all of them fogged by the constant pain in her back.
She’d stopped once right outside of Portland to refill her tank with the ten dollar bill she kept stashed in the glove compartment of her old beetle, but the gas station manager looked at her like she was a serial killer when he spied the shredded, bloody blouse she was still wearing. And now, she was out of money.
What had she been thinking when she left without her purse or even a change of clothes?
Panic. Fear. Terror at what would be done to her for the sake of saving her species—that’s what she’d been thinking. It had clouded her judgment, and now she was speeding down the highway in her old bug toward certain and painful death by bear claw.
Who would win in a fight—a bear or lion? That was the easiest question to answer. The damned bears, every time. And she wasn’t even a good fighter. Her ingrained submissiveness screwed that little talent right up. She’d probably roll over, retract her claws, expose her belly and faint while they maimed her. God, this was so stupid.
But what choice did she have?
The pride were excellent trackers, and no way would they let one of their females go quietly into that good night. Even her. As much as they pretended to hate her, they needed her. Or, at least they needed her genetics.
And some instinct inside of her screamed that Thomas wouldn’t let her go until she was his, and utterly shattered by his poisonous affection. No, if she was to survive leaving the pride, it had to be like Logan had done. He was smart. She’d always secretly wished he would be the one to breed her. Not because she harbored any feelings for him, but because he seemed to hate the pride as much as she loathed being a part of it. And he seemed gentle. Or at least he had looked at her like she was actually a person, and not just a slimy hole to stick his dick into.
When she’d heard he had found a love match with a bear, she’d been happy for him. Relieved even that at least someone had been able to escape. If she was going to ever be okay again, it would have to be outside of the pride, and the bears were her only shot at sanctuary.
Douglas firs and Ponderosa Pines blurred by the window as she navigated the winding mountain road. She had to be getting close. Dipping a worried gaze to the gas gauge, she inhaled slowly and tried to slow her hammering heartbeat. Any moment now, the gas light would come on and trigger the full-blown panic attack that was lurking just under her surface. Her lion had long ago shriveled in on herself until Breshia was basically a human. Pussy, pussy, pussy cat, she thought as she eyed the map sitting in the passenger’s seat again.
The turn off should’ve been right around here, but all she saw was more road.
Crunching metal sounded as Breshia’s car lurched forward. Terror seized the scream in her throat as the front end of her car brushed the guardrail that separated her from a massive drop off. Straightening the wheel, she lifted her terrified gaze to the rearview.
Thomas’s black SUV was tailing her.
“Oh, my gosh,” she breathed.
This couldn’t be happening. He shouldn’t have been able to catch up to her! Unless…unless Shay told him where she was headed. No, Shay was the one who told her to come here. She wouldn’t betray her like this. Unless…
She swallowed a sob.
Unless Thomas made her tell him where Breshia was headed. She swallowed bile just thinking about the awful things he could’ve done to Shay to get answers.
He rammed her car again, sending her skidding sideways against the guardrail.
He was going to kill her! He wasn’t here to bring her back at all. Thomas had lost it and was going to end her life before he surrendered her to Hells Canyon.
Gritting her teeth, she straightened out and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. If he was here to end her, she wasn’t going down without a battle. She would scratch and claw for her life, because she wanted to live. And despite what she’d been told her entire life by the pride, she deserved to live.
There. The sign for the turnoff was coming up. She just had to make it to the campgrounds and she would be safe from Thomas and his infinite rage.
She slowed just enough to take the curve on all four wheels. Ding. The gaslight came on and she muttered a curse. From years of experience with her ride, she had about eight miles until she was running on fumes. And right then, a big yellow sign informed her that the campsite area was fifteen miles away.
Panic chilled her blood, congealing it in her veins until it was hard to do anything but grip the wheel while her knuckles turned white. From years of little money and long commutes to work, she knew she should be coasting down hills and conserving gas, not burning it faster by topping out her speed. But Thomas was right on her tail, swerving left, then right behind her like he was looking for a way to nudge her off the cliff.
If she slowed down, she died, simple as that.
She ticked the miles off as they passed, dropping her gaze to the odometer every chance she got. Any second now, her car would run out of fuel, and she’d be stuck in this car at Thomas’s mercy.
No, scratch that. She had two legs and a lion buried somewhere in her. She could run like the wind, and Thomas’s lion would be weighed down by his mass. She’d seen his animal before. He was muscular, and bulky, but she was lithe and built for hunting. She just had to buy herself enough time to change.
At the first putter of the engine, she slammed on the breaks, threw the car into park and jumped out the driver’s side. She fell onto her knees with the force o
f the momentum, but righted herself and bolted for the trees. Thomas cut the engine behind her, but she hadn’t time to look back. He was coming, whether she saw him or not.
Branches and brush whipped by her as she ran, clawing her face like they were ushering her back to her fate. As if these woods weren’t her home and didn’t want her here. Bear or lion, bear or lion—she was going to die today, but at the hands of which?
She could smell them now. The rich scent of unfamiliar fur. It was faint, but the bears were close. She followed a thin trail, grateful for an idea of where to go. A deafening roar sounded behind her, lifting the birds from the canopy above her. She sobbed in terror as her heart filled her throat.
Thomas was coming, and he wasn’t hunting her as a man.
She wouldn’t be able to hear him like this. Not with his stealthy movements and soft padded paws. Every instinct in her said to turn and fight, and every downy hair on her body electrified with fear. If he caught her, it wouldn’t matter if she fought back. She was no match for a lion his size. The urge to change was overwhelming, but it would take too long. She was too frightened and her inner lion was still cowering deep within her. It would take time to conjure her.
Screeching tires filled her oversensitive ears just before something big and metal blasted against her.
Thomas was coming.
Breshia pitched forward and hit the side of a tree as she spun out of the jeep’s way.
Thomas was coming.
A woman with bright green eyes exited the vehicle that had struck her.
Thomas was coming.
There she was. Amid agony and terror, the lioness within her stirred. And with an explosion of ligaments, bones, and skin, she fell into the skin of a predator and bolted away from the woman who’d struck her with the forest colored jeep.
Pain. Everything was pain. Every footstep burned, every twitch of muscle hurt. She ran and ran until she felt nothing but a red ache, and when at last she stopped in near a rocky cliff that shot straight into the sky, she looked back for the first time.
