Courted by her Cougar (Cougar Creek Mates Shifter Romance Series Book 3)

by Felicity Heaton

  She went up on her tiptoes as he eased two fingers into her sheath, a gasp leaving her as she shook in his arms. She was still a moment as he stroked her, easing his fingers in and out, rubbing her with the pads of them, her mouth frozen against his as she breathed hard. As he found a smooth tempo and angled his hand so he could rub her little bundle of nerves with his thumb, she groaned and kissed him again, harder than before.

  Demanding more from him in the most blissful way he could imagine.

  He gave it to her, thrusting deeper with his fingers, stroking harder with his thumb, felt her pleasure mounting towards a crescendo as she clung to him, clutching his shoulders so fiercely that it hurt. He didn’t care. She could tear grooves in his flesh with her nails and spill blood and it wouldn’t stop him. All that mattered was bringing her to a shattering release.

  He needed to feel her break apart in his arms.

  Needed to know it was because of him.

  Her breath hitched.

  Her entire body tightened.

  He stroked her with her fingers and kissed her.

  Swallowed her cry as she jerked in his arms and her thighs quivered against his hand, her sheath milking his fingers as hot honey scalded them. He slowed his strokes, teasing her as she pulsed and shook, tearing moans from her lips that he savoured as she clung to him. His cock kicked, balls tight with need as he drew out her climax, the feel of it giving him pleasure but torturing him at the same time, making him ache with need of a release of his own.

  “Flint,” she murmured against his lips, beautifully breathless.

  He was going to take her up on that silent offer she issued as she drew back, her drowsy eyes meeting his and her kiss-swollen lips parting.

  He stroked her a few times more, finding it hard to stop when she felt so good, and then fixed her clothes for her, pulling her shorts up her shaking legs and following them with her jeans. He fastened them with trembling hands, his mind racing ahead to what came next, his hard length kicking with anticipation.

  Gods, he needed her to touch him.

  She tormented him by cupping his rigid cock through his trousers and stroking up and down with her palm.

  He needed more than that. He needed her hand on his bare flesh.

  He reached for his fly.

  The door of the cabin opened, and he cursed as he realised the part of his brain that had been responsible for monitoring his surroundings had gotten caught up in the moment after all. He swung towards the door, a growl on his lips.

  Cobalt arched a sandy eyebrow at him.

  Flint’s pulse accelerated as his brother gave him a look that was half-unimpressed, half-have-you-lost-your-mind.

  Fuck.

  His brother hadn’t exactly caught them in the act, but he had seen enough. Could smell enough. Yasmin’s scent was all over him, hung heavy in the air.

  “I don’t recommend breaking the rules.” Cobalt tossed a wary look over his shoulder, checking outside the cabin, and closed the door.

  Flint scoured the area around the cabin with his senses too, and loosed the breath he had been holding when he didn’t feel anyone nearby.

  “Breaking the rules?” A note of haziness lingered in Yasmin’s voice, and he stole another hit of pleasure from it.

  Cobalt nodded. “Flint would be disqualified, or worse, if the others got wind he was here making out with you.”

  “Worse?” That had all the drowsiness in her dark eyes instantly dissipating together with the sultry edge to her voice.

  Cobalt opened his mouth.

  Flint spoke before he could. “That rule is centuries old. No one would think to do it now.”

  “Do what?” Yasmin looked from Cobalt to him and back again.

  His brother either didn’t get the silent message in the glare Flint aimed at him or he chose to ignore it because he said, “A public beating.”

  “What?” She gasped and her dark eyes leaped between them again. “You’re serious?”

  Cobalt beat him to speaking this time, and he wanted to punch his brother when Yasmin’s pulse spiked and her fear flooded him. “The rules state that Flint would be shackled, beaten by every contender, and then left there until the end of the courting.”

  “That’s barbaric!” She stepped back from him and he growled at Cobalt for driving her away.

  Flint brushed his palm over her shoulder, hoping to calm her and reassure her at the same time, and stop her from pulling away from him. “No one would call for it, Yasmin.”

  She relaxed a little.

  Until Cobalt spoke and wrecked everything.

  “Mason would.”

  Flint glared at Cobalt, but he couldn’t deny that his brother was right. Now that they were on an even footing, Mason would do anything to get the upper hand. Even call for a public beating and get Flint disqualified.

  Yasmin stormed past him, heading for the door.

  “Yasmin, wait… he wouldn’t…” Flint strode after her but stopped as she turned on the threshold, the tears that lined her eyes hitting him hard.

  Those soft, soulful eyes held his, had all the fight leaving him as her hurt went through him.

  “I couldn’t bear that happening to you,” she whispered. “It’s bad enough that everyone is getting hurt because of me. The thought of someone being beaten… of you being beaten…”

  She shook her head.

  Flint could only watch her as she pivoted on her heel and walked out of the door, filled with a need to follow but unable to do it without risking someone seeing him. He didn’t want to hurt her, but gods, he hated it as she walked away from him, hated leaving her unguarded.

  He didn’t trust the other males. Mason in particular.

  Cobalt looked from the door to him and must have seen the fear in his eyes or scented it on him, because his face softened and his tone turned reassuring. “Everyone will behave… but I’ll stick close to her as much as I can.”

  He nodded, appreciating his brother’s support.

  Because he didn’t believe that everyone would behave.

  CHAPTER 14

  The beer was flowing when Flint left his cabin, the entire pride gathered around the fire in the clearing, enjoying the warmer night. He watched the golden sparks that erupted from the flames dancing upwards in the darkness, his backside parked against the railing that ran around the deck of Rath’s cabin.

  Ivy and Yasmin spoke to Rath closer to the fire, both of the females warming their hands on the flames.

  Flint had been tempted to join them, but had somehow found the strength to keep his distance. It helped that Rath was beside her, would be able to keep her safe from any males who got a little too drunk and thought to take a shot at her.

  Cobalt prowled the darkness to his right too, halfway down the clearing to the river. No guesses for who had most of his attention. His brother had sworn to protect Yasmin, but he was already slipping, caught up in watching Ember as she sat on her deck with two other females, sharing a bottle of wine and laughing.

  Flint swigged his beer, mostly for show. He didn’t intend to drink anything more than a bottle, not when Yasmin was among the pride, close to his competition as they all enjoyed the fire. He trusted that Cobalt and Rath would protect her, but he intended to stay sober and alert, ready to step in if anything did happen.

  Yasmin’s eyes landed on him.

  He felt it as a hot caress over his skin, one that set his blood on fire and had him thinking about that moment they had shared, and where it might have gone if Cobalt hadn’t interrupted them.

  Ruining things.

  He tipped the neck of his bottle towards her in a secret salute and offered her a smile, and she smiled back at him before she quickly looked at Ivy, making it appear as if she had been smiling at her instead.

  He still felt connected to her, as if whatever she had done to him had entwined their souls.

  His awareness of her ran deep, had him able to sense her emotions even at this distance, and had him aching to go to
her.

  Mason strolled past with a group of males and females, and Flint wanted to growl as the male regaled them with an extremely embellished version of today’s events, including an ending that was more fiction than fact.

  It grated, but he ignored the male as Mason slid his gaze towards him and smirked.

  Smirk away.

  Flint was the one who had ended up with Yasmin panting in his arms, her honey on his fingers, so who was the real winner?

  He frowned as Yasmin said something to Rath and Ivy and moved away, and tracked her as she wove through the crowd towards someone. He looked in the direction she was heading and wanted to growl as he spotted Nash sitting on a chair near the woods to his left, nursing a beer.

  The young cougar had taken a serious beating today on the mountain, had ended up trapped in a ravine with a busted up leg and broken arm, and several fractured ribs. Rath and Cobalt had apparently saved him with the help of a few other males, and Yasmin had tended to him.

  The instinct to keep her away from the male warred with one that said to let her be, because she was only concerned about Nash as his doctor. He could see it as she crouched beside the male and spoke softly to him. She had that Doctor Dubois look about her, the one she had tried to use on him when he had come around to find her sleeping on his arm.

  It had been a cover then, but it wasn’t now.

  All she felt for the male was concern.

  Flint felt a little sorry for him too, but only a little. The poor bastard had been forced to withdraw from the courting, his injuries too severe for him to continue.

  A shadow moved out from the woods, passing Yasmin, snagging Flint’s focus. He tracked Deacon as the male moved towards the fire, acting as if he hadn’t noticed Yasmin at all.

  As if he hadn’t just limped past her on purpose so she would notice him and would be drawn to checking on him too.

  Flint huffed and took another mouthful of beer. Still, at least Mason wasn’t trying to win her over by playing the invalid.

  He looked at the large male as he told his damned fable to another group, painting Flint in a poor light, doing it all on purpose. He was trying to rile him, kept choosing groups of cougars close enough to Flint that he could hear every fucking word he said. He was riled alright, but he wasn’t going to do anything about it. He hadn’t been born yesterday. He knew the rules.

  Although he had broken one today.

  One was enough.

  He wasn’t going to break the one about fighting outside of the courting challenges.

  Fear blasted through him.

  Yasmin.

  He scoured the clearing for her, heart thundering as his pulse accelerated and adrenaline flooded his veins. Fur swept over his skin beneath his navy fleece and he snarled as a commotion broke out beyond the fire, closer to the river.

  His eyes darted there.

  His snarl became a growl as he spotted Deacon manhandling Yasmin, saw her struggling against the larger male as he held on to her wrist.

  The urge to shift swept through Flint but her voice echoed in his head, warning him not to do it while the puncture wounds in his side were healing. He somehow found the strength to hold it back as he burst from the deck, sprinting towards her.

  “Let me go,” Yasmin snapped, gaining everyone’s attention, and he heard Rath growl and saw Cobalt move, running to help her.

  Before anyone could reach them, she shoved her palm against Deacon’s chest and slammed him into the ground with such force that Flint felt the impact beneath his feet.

  He reached her as she tore Deacon’s hand from her arm and rose to stand over him, her face darker than he had ever seen it as she glared down at the male. Her hands were shaking as she fixed her jumper though, the only outward sign of the fear he could feel in her.

  He stepped towards her and stopped himself. He wanted to gather her into his arms and hold her, comfort her until her fear faded and she realised she was safe, but he couldn’t risk doing it in front of everyone.

  Especially Mason.

  The male prowled past him, coming to tower over Deacon as he struggled to recover from the blow Yasmin had dealt him.

  His voice was dark, his words causing a stir among the pride.

  And pain in Yasmin as her eyes flew wide.

  “You know the rules.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Before Yasmin could gather her wits to protest, Mason had Deacon on his knees and was ripping at his clothes, tearing them from his back. Another man joined in, taking obvious pleasure from what was happening as he pulled Deacon’s jeans off.

  “Please,” Deacon muttered and tried to stop them, fought them as they violently stripped him, humiliating him in front of everyone. “It wasn’t like that.”

  She couldn’t defend him on that front.

  She had gone to see if he was alright and ask whether his injuries were bothering him, and the bastard had lured her away from the crowd, into the shadows, and had suddenly been pawing at her, grabbing her breasts and trying to get her clothes off her.

  Just as Mason and the man were now getting his clothes off him.

  “Rath?” Deacon looked to the dark-haired man for help but found none in Rath’s cold eyes.

  Deacon’s eyes flew wide and he shook his head, lost his will to fight for a heartbeat as Mason and the man hauled him onto his feet, but then it returned and he growled and snarled as he fought their hold.

  Someone tossed a rope to Mason.

  The anger burning inside her went from a spark to a wildfire as the man tied Deacon’s wrists, so tightly his hands turned white.

  “Stop this.” She turned to Rath. “Stop this now.”

  Because she wasn’t going to stand by and let Deacon end up beaten. He had tried to hurt her, but he didn’t deserve this.

  “Just throw him out of the courting. Stop this madness.” She scanned the crowd, heart sinking as she found no support.

  “I can’t,” Rath finally said, a note of regret in his deep voice.

  She glared at him. “You can. This doesn’t have to happen.”

  Her words fell on deaf ears, no one listening to her as Mason dragged Deacon to a tree, forced him to stand facing it and bound him to it.

  Yasmin stormed over to him, grabbed his arm and hauled him away from Deacon. “Stop this.”

  Mason turned a glare on her that was so dark she took a step back, afraid he was about to lash out at her and strike her down.

  A warm hand caught her arm.

  She turned to hit whoever had dared to try to stop her and froze as she found Flint looking down at her, his grey eyes soft with understanding.

  She shook her head and swallowed hard. “They can’t do this. It isn’t right.”

  His eyes gained a sympathetic edge, but he said nothing as he gently tugged her away from Mason and Deacon.

  The man who had helped Mason handed him a thick branch that had the smaller branches broken off from it, their stems forming spikes along the length of it.

  She shook her head and whispered, “Stop this.”

  Flinched as Mason struck Deacon’s back with the weapon and Deacon bellowed.

  She shoved out of Flint’s grip and strode away, barrelling through the crowd, past Rath and Cobalt, heading for the river. She tensed with each thud of the branch and each cry that left Deacon’s lips, furious and sickened, both with herself and by what was happening. She should have made them stop.

  She would make them stop.

  Before Deacon was seriously injured.

  She twisted on her toes and stormed back towards the crowd, pushed everyone out of her way until she was standing at the front of them again.

  Blood streamed over Deacon’s back, glistening in the firelight to reveal the deep puncture wounds that littered it.

  She glared at Mason as he stepped back from Deacon, a satisfied glint in his eyes.

  This was too brutal. Too cruel.

  Nothing Deacon had done had deserved such punishment.

&nbs
p; Mason grinned and held the branch out to Flint. “Your turn.”

  Her stomach plummeted.

  Heart hitched.

  Flint just looked at Mason and shook his head. “No thanks.”

  She didn’t hear what Mason said in response to that, was too busy staring at Flint, relief washing through her to ease some of her pain. His refusal touched her too, because it made her see that he was serious about her, and that he knew her well already, knew that she would have hated for him to hurt the male for his overzealousness.

  Deacon had been drinking, despite her warning not to when she had given him meds for his pain. It was part of the reason she had gone with him to the river. She had worried he would do something stupid, like falling into it and passing out.

  She looked at him where he hung from the tree, her eyebrows furrowing as she charted all the wounds on his back.

  “At least let me tend to him.” She knew the answer Rath would give her before she had even let the words leave her lips.

  Rath shook his head. “I know you need to… but… you can’t.”

  She could, and she would. But she would have to wait until everyone had fallen asleep.

  She went to Rath’s cabin, feeling Flint’s eyes on her. When she slipped out to help Deacon, she was going to pay him a visit too.

  He deserved a little thank you from her for what he had done.

  The trouble was, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stop at just a thank you.

  CHAPTER 16

  Yasmin crept through the trees, on high alert, every rustle of the branches setting her on edge. The creek was quiet though, still in the darkness. She hadn’t felt anyone near her when she had taken care of Deacon’s back, cleaning his wounds and picking splinters from his flesh. He had been out cold, and she wasn’t sure whether it had been the pain from the beating that had caused him to lose consciousness or the meds catching up with him. Hopefully those meds had dulled the agony he must have felt.