Southern Shifters: Press Paws (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Buchanan Clan Book 2)

by Celia Kyle

  Hannah turned her head and opened one eye. Maybe if she didn’t look at him with both, his effect on her wouldn’t be so overwhelming. That one eye absorbed the sight of him, the still-hard dick, flushed face and amber eyes. Nope, she still wanted to ride him like a pony. “She has dirty mind, naughty boy thoughts ESP.”

  “Dirty mind, naughty boy thoughts?” His breathing gradually slowed and he quirked a brow.

  “Yeah. She knows when I’m getting frisky, though not with who, and since I’m here without my fiancé, then—”

  Ryland really could roar.

  6

  Hannah shouldn’t be hurt that he hadn’t said a word since that roar, but she was, darn it. Well, that wasn’t true. He had spoken, but it was more in half-growled syllables. Eventually, she realized he was talking about the work she needed done around the house.

  After he stomped to his truck he’d quietly parked at the back of the house—how did he manage that?—she shuffled onto the porch.

  She’d laughed as she explained what’d happened.

  He didn’t crack a smile. Not one. Not even a hint of one.

  She should have forced the conversation about Jeremy. Should have.

  But didn’t.

  Instead, she took advantage of the silent treatment and hid inside the house, leaving Ryland to do handyman-y things outside. The second a solid door stood between her and her mate, she snatched up the phone. Not to call her mother. She wasn’t ready to come clean about all this until she absolutely had to. Nope, she took the “phone-a-friend” lifeline from Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? and twisted it to her own purposes.

  She didn’t phone a friend. She phoned a sister. Twins, although—even if they were identical twins—Hannah thought she had a better ass.

  Ten digits later, she had Katie on the phone. Her sister—younger by three minutes and sixteen seconds—didn’t get a word out before Hannah jumped on her.

  “Ifoundmymatebutitisn’tJeremyandwhatamIsupposedtodonow? Dadisgoingtokillme.”

  Silence met her and then… “It’s not Dad you hafta worry about. It’s Mom.”

  Hannah winced. Katie was so right. Her mother was gonna be pissed. And it wasn’t about the money spent on deposits and ordering things. It was the fact that Mom wouldn’t get to organize the princess-perfect wedding that outshined Missy Maclairen’s. There was a bit of a not-so-friendly rivalry between the Buchanans and Maclairens. Since the clans gave up bloodshed long ago, they now faced off against each other in social gatherings. Who had the best appetizers? (Mom.) Who had the best entertainment? (Missy Maclairen.) Who had the best dinner? (Missy Maclairen. She would have given it to her mother, but Missy served raw boar and there was nothing like…)

  Okay, she was getting off topic.

  “Shit, you’re right.” She groaned. “What if I let her plan a reception?”

  Katie snorted.

  Yeah, she knew a reception wasn’t a wedding and her mother anticipated a wedding. “Reception and baby shower?”

  Silence. Again. “Oh my god, how long have you two been banging? You just got there yesterday!”

  “Actually about 1 a.m., but, you see… The thing about it is…” Hannah plopped onto one of the barstools that lined the kitchen counter. “I screwed up Bethany and Carter’s deck and wasted perfectly good nail polish while doing it.”

  “Carter’s gonna kick your ass.”

  Like she didn’t know that already.

  “So I went to go find a handyman in town.” She dropped her head forward and rested it on her arm. “I found him.” She found him all over. All six rock hard feet of him.

  “Oh. My. God.” Disbelief filled Katie’s tone, and Hannah’s lioness bristled at the inferred slight.

  She shot upright, glaring at the granite as if it were Katie. “You don’t have to say it like that. Some of the world’s greatest minds worked with their hands. There’s no reason to suddenly get uppity—”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Righteous indignation filled her. “You. You were all surprised like he’s not good enough or he’s less because he’s a handyman. He’s—”

  “Ryland Evans.”

  Hannah clacked her teeth together. “Ryland who now?”

  “If we’re talking about the same handyman—Deals Gap only has one—his name is Ryland Evans.”

  “Yeah…” There had to be a trick in there somewhere. How did her sister know so much?

  “Ryland.” Pause. “Evans.” Another pause. Hannah was sure they were for effect, but they were flying over her head. “As in, half-brother to Carter Evans. As in—”

  “Bethany’s mate,” Hannah whispered. “That’s…”

  “Almost like incest.”

  “It is not incest!” Then she kinda threw up a little bit in her mouth. Just a little. Nothing a sip of soda wouldn’t fix.

  Katie cackled because it was what she did best, while Hannah… Hannah swallowed her tongue. Why?

  Because that was the moment she turned her head to look out the window and Ryland Evans, half-brother to Carter Evans, took off his shirt.

  Took.

  Off.

  His.

  Shirt.

  “Do me a favor?” She lifted her hand and wiped away the bit of drool that tried to escape her mouth. “Call Mom for me? Hell, call everyone for me?”

  “And say what?”

  That I’m boinking my new mate and I’ll call her later?

  No, Katie couldn’t say that to Mom. Now, if it were Bethany… Mom thought Bethany was cute as a bunny. Mainly because she was one, but still. Bethany the Bunny Buchanan could do no wrong. She wondered if interrupting Bethany and Carter’s honeymoon was okay.

  No, no, she couldn’t do that either.

  “That I found my mate and Jeremy Lachlan can suck a dick?”

  She should have gone with the boinking thought. And on the heels of that thought came another. One that had everything to do with ending the call and nothing to do with Jeremy Lachlan. As the words suck a dick left her mouth, Ryland met her gaze, his beast’s eyes still out in full force and just as alluring as when she’d first collided with him. They flared with the end of her sentence, as if he’d realized that she was his.

  Yeah, she was his, but that also meant that he was hers.

  Hannah ended the call, not really paying attention to her sister’s ranting. Conversation over and direction decided, she let herself feel. Let herself be lured by the thought—and scent—of a mate. She’d found him. Against all odds, Hannah found her true mate. And she wasn’t going to let him go, fiancé or not. First, she’d have to get the lay of the land. They’d gotten off to a rocky, albeit pleasurable, start.

  Steeling her nerves, she placed her phone on the counter and pushed to her feet, quickly making her way to the door before she could lose her nerve. Time to put her big girl panties on and do this. Oh, damn. She needed to order new panties because these did not feel like big girl panties. They felt like holey period panties that she’d owned for years and that no man should ever see.

  Taking one last breath, she grasped the doorknob, gave it a twist and tugged the door wide open. The breeze shifted, bringing her morsels of Ryland’s scent. It was a smell so like Carter’s and yet not. Similar, but not the same as Bethany’s mate’s. It was better, hotter, richer, and… hers. All hers.

  Desire unfurled from within her, stretching and reaching to encompass her body, and she shoved the feelings away. Talking. They had to talk. With actual words and not kisses. Words. Words that did not include right there, a little more, or harder, Ryland, harder.

  7

  Hannah picked up her brass ovaries and steeled herself for the coming confrontation. (Not balls, she didn’t have those, much to her father’s annoyance. He still complained—via low grunts—that he hadn’t had even one son.)

  She remained on the porch near the door, waiting for some sort of acknowledgment from her mate-who-was-not-Jeremy and got zip. Bubkis. Nada. Zero.

&
nbsp; Yeah, so not happening.

  She’d tell him so. Just as soon as she was done ogling him. Ryland ran his hand over the smooth wood, following that movement with a glide of a dampened rag over the grain. The wind shifted, bringing her the stinging scent of rubbing alcohol, and her cat immediately objected to the aroma filling her nose.

  She sneezed once, twice, and he finally gave her his attention with the third. Yet when their eyes met, she sorta wished he would go back to working on the deck. Mainly because more than a hint of Ryland’s inner beasts lingered in his expression. Anger was there—fury, really—as well as something else. Something like… pain?

  That emotion swirled in his eyes, the hue ranging from spring green to amber and then cat’s yellow. Fur rippled over his skin, only to disappear as quickly as it’d come, random sprinkles sliding free and then vanishing to reveal tanned flesh once more. His chest rose and fell in an ever-increasing rhythm, and his nostrils flared with each deep inhale.

  He was part wolf. Was he huffing and puffing and trying to blow her house down?

  Ugh. Now isn’t the time for jokes.

  It wasn’t, but that was Hannah’s approach to uncomfortable situations. Jokes were always a good fallback. Though in meeting Ryland’s furious gaze, she realized that wouldn’t work here. These were the first few steps to building a relationship, and the foundation of their future couldn’t be established with a few laughs. It was time to be serious.

  -ish.

  Hannah padded across the space and lowered herself to the top step, settling on the hard wood with her body angled toward Ryland. She propped her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin in her hands. “So…”

  Ryland returned his focus to the slow rub of his soaked rag on wood, giving her nothing more than a grunt.

  Of course she’d mate someone like her father. Of course.

  “I’m Hannah—”

  “Buchanan. Bethany’s sister.”

  “And you’re—”

  “Ryland Evans. Carter’s brother.”

  “And we’re—”

  “Mates.” That word was snarled, almost like he wasn’t happy about being her mate.

  Dammit, she was totally a catch! Sure, she talked a lot and cursed a bit and her family was a little crazy but… still! Hannah narrowed her eyes and released a snarl of her own. “Am I ever going to be able to finish a—”

  “Sentence?” The corners of his lips twitched, but he kept his head lowered.

  “I saw that.”

  A grunt. One that meant, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Hannah was fluent in grunt-ese.

  “Look, Ryland, we should talk.”

  A half-grunt, half-snort with a hint of snigger that translated to, “You think?”

  Yes, she did think, and she didn’t appreciate being answered in grunts, groans, snorts, and sniggers.

  “Fine,” she snapped. “Don’t talk. You can just listen.” He lifted his head and quirked a single brow. Whatever. “Know what? Never mind.” She pushed to her feet and propped her hands on her hips. “I’ll just take my happy ass on home and you can shove this mating up your—”

  She was gonna say “ass” again, but suddenly Ryland was there—surrounding her, crowding her. Hannah stumbled backward until she collided with the door, moving away from his six feet of fury even as her cat encouraged her to get closer, to rub against him and cover him with her scent. He didn’t stop until less than six inches separated them. Then he bracketed her head with his large hands, one on either side of her, flat against the wooden panel.

  “No.” No snarl, no growl, just a firm and unbending “no.”

  She licked her lips and swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. A hint of unease meandered into her mind and she stiffened, fighting back the sprinkle of worry that assaulted her. He was a massive male, a determined mix of lion and wolf. She’d spoken with Bethany about Carter’s hybrid nature and her sister told her hybrids tended to get the best (and worst) of both worlds. So Bethany was faced with a massive weretiger with the possessive nature of a wolf.

  Was Ryland the same? Did he have the same domineering attitude, the same need to hide his toys—her—from the world?

  In an instant, his expression softened from enraged to sweet, transforming his forbidding gaze to one that had her melting toward him.

  “No,” he whispered. “You’re mine. I just…” He sighed and closed his eyes, lowering his head until theirs touched. “This is a whirlwind and I’m being an ass. I never thought,” he shook his head. “Even though Carter found Bethany, I never imagined…”

  Ryland turned his head and nuzzled her, rubbing his cheek over hers, and then slid his nose along her throat. He breathed deeply and exhaled slowly, bathing her in his scent. “I never imagined I would have a true mate. Then I found you and you ran. And when I hunt you down again, I hear you mention another’s name and…” Wood groaned as he dug his fingers into the firm surface. She glanced at his hands in her peripheral vision and mentally winced at the damage his claws caused. At least he was skilled enough to fix it. “And you’re mine. Completely. Entirely.”

  He closed what little distance remained between them, their bodies flush, his hardness cradled by her curves. “And I won’t let you go.” His body tensed, door protesting even louder. “I will fight for you. I will kill for you. I will destroy anyone that dares step between us.” His voice dropped to a low rasp. “Anyone.”

  “But you ran.”

  He shook his head, but didn’t lift it from her. “No, I kept myself from committing violence. From destroying your phone because it was a connection to another male. A threat to our mating.” He lifted one hand, bits of hardwood falling to the porch, and rested it on her hip. He gave her a gentle squeeze, soft while his body remained tense. “I’m not what you deserve in a mate, Hannah. Carter is my half-brother and we hardly talk. I’m friendly with your sister—”

  A low growl built in her throat, the cat making herself known while jealousy filled her heart. “How friendly?”

  Ryland’s lips curled into a cocky smile. “Not that friendly. She’s my brother’s mate. The point is, I’m not what the Princess of Lions deserves.”

  Hannah jerked as if he’d slapped her, pulling away even if she didn’t have anywhere to go. “I’m not the princess of anything,” she hissed.

  That smile vanished as quickly as it’d come and the hand resting on her hip went into motion. Ryland eased away from her, maintaining their contact as he shifted their position on the patio. He moved with the grace of a cat, lifting her into his arms and then settling on the swinging bench in one graceful move.

  Any other woman would have tensed and squeaked at the sudden change, but Hannah simply leaned into him, trusting him to care for her. Why? She had no reason to trust the strange male. Except that fact that he was her mate. He was her mate and Hannah’s cat trusted his—no butt sniffing needed.

  Ryland stroked her back, a large hand sliding up and down her spine while she rested her head on his shoulder. She was still annoyed with him, but annoyed or not, he was her mate. Hers. She couldn’t maintain her claim if she was easily driven off by his dickish tendencies.

  “Okay, you’re not the princess of anything,” he murmured, his scent and touch calming her like nothing else ever had. “But you’re still too good for me.”

  She shook her head, denying his words. “No, I’m simply Hannah—”

  “Buchanan. Your father leads the oldest and most respected pride in the world, Hannah. I’m…” He sighed. “I’m the backwoods bastard of some nobody wolf who could charm the clothes off anyone. I only found Carter by chance when I went hunting for the asshole.”

  A growl rumbled in her mate’s chest and she placed a hand over his heart, rubbing small circles in an effort to calm him. “Carter’s mother managed to take care of the two of them, and from all accounts, they had a good life. Mine…” He didn’t speak for a while. The chatterbox in her wanted to fill the quiet, but she
managed to keep her lips clamped shut. Barely. “I’m a hybrid in a pureblood world, and in my mother’s pride, that mattered. And you’re…”

  Hannah slid her palm over his body, fingers ghosting over his collarbone, up his neck and not stopping until she cupped his cheek. From there, she encouraged him to look at her, to bring his gaze to hers. “I’m just Hannah. Princess of nothing, daughter to Angus and Fiona, and sister to a white rabbit and an annoying twin. That’s it.”

  He swallowed hard and she stared at this strong man, one who’d had a crappy mother and a crappier life. “You deserve—”

  “You.”

  “You’re engaged.”

  “To an asshole.” Though, really, she didn’t know Jeremy well enough to know if he was, but she was acquainted with his type. Jeremy was the epitome of the Prince of Lions. Snooty. Elitist. “I don’t know him beyond a few ‘how are ya’s. I agreed to a mating because it was good for the families.”

  “We’re not in the eighteen hundreds.”

  Hannah shrugged. “Daddy thought it was a good idea.”

  “And now you’ve got me.” He didn’t make it sound like a good thing. In fact, he seemed pretty dismayed about it. Almost sorry for her that she’d ended up with him. Well, she wouldn’t have anyone talking shit about her mate, especially himself. If he wanted to sulk and talk shit about himself, he could do that without her.

  “Yes,” she snarled. “I’ve got you. A lion-wolf who runs off when he hears I’ve got someone else. He doesn’t bother to hash it out or talk about things or fight for me, but gives me the best kiss of my life and then stomps off until I come find him.” She shoved her way free of his embrace. “And now it’s my turn to stomp off.” She jumped to her feet and pointed her finger at him. “When you’re done with your pity party—”

  “Pity party?” He curled his lip.

  She kept talking as if he hadn’t interrupted. “You can come find me and maybe I’ll listen.”

  Okay, she would listen, but she wasn’t gonna do the chasing. She could see his point, could see how her family was a little intimidating. But until he nutted up and came to her, she’d finish enjoying her little pause on life.