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

by Celia Kyle

  And also convince Katie to end things with Jeremy on her behalf. And tell her parents. And…

  Basically, fix all the things finding Ryland had broken.

  8

  She hadn’t exactly expected him to be sporting fur when he came to find her. And by sporting, she meant aaalll over. Head to toe, er tail. Since he’d left not long after she’d slammed her door, she’d decided to brave the porch again and get back to doing her raggedy looking toes. The weather was nice, breeze dancing through the trees and softly brushing her hair. Each gentle gust brought her the scents of the surrounding forest—rabbits, deer, and squirrels lurking in the woods and calling to her beast.

  But first—toes.

  Ryland hadn’t finished the clean-up job, so she figured if she screwed up again, well, it couldn’t get much worse.

  Yes, that was a selfish, bitchy thought and she shouldn’t destroy her sister’s property, but desperate times called for desperate pedicures.

  The whistle of birds joined the rustling of branches, nature’s song cooling her remaining temper at Ryland. He’d been an ass, she’d been… less than nice, so she couldn’t blame him for his anger, but…

  But she still did. She was still hurt at his emotions and the lack of insta-joy from him. Her parents were ecstatic when they’d found each other, and while Bethany had been frightened, her reaction could be chalked up to Carter being a predator while her sister was prey. With her and Ryland… they were both strong and fierce in their own right. She got to be afraid because of family expectations, but what was his excuse?

  Hannah sighed. She was his excuse. Or rather, her family. How many boyfriends had she dragged home only to have them practically piss themselves and leave skid marks on the driveway?

  She sighed and dipped the brush into the jar to gather more liquid.

  That was when her sigh was followed by a huff. Soft and gentle, the sound barely rising above the whisper from the trees, but her cat’s ears picked it up. On the heels of that realization came Ryland’s scent, the smoky flavors of his beasts teasing her nostrils and taunting her cat. The birds in the forest fell silent, the rustle of leaves from the other creatures no longer reaching her.

  Another whip of air brought her more of his aroma, a hint of sweetness joining the heat.

  She ignored him. At least for now. She’d threatened him with “maybe,” hadn’t she? She brushed the color onto her big toe, making sure not to leave streaks before dipping the brush into the bottle again.

  Ryland chuffed and huffed once more, the sound followed by the scrape of claws on wood as he gained the first step.

  She froze in place and slowly turned her head until their eyes met. “You break it, you fix it.”

  She should take her own advice and fix what she’d messed up, but hiring a handyman compared to fixing it herself was really splitting hairs. They said tomato, she said buy-your-own-tomahto.

  He froze, massive paw raised as if preparing to move up another stair. He narrowed his eyes and slowly retracted his claws. He may have pulled those deadly nails back, but he still approached. His footsteps were slow as he neared, the porch creaking with his added weight. His appearance as his beast gave Hannah an insight into the male she called her own.

  Hybrids were a crapshoot when it came to coloring and their inner animals. There was no telling which part of them would come out on top when it came to a shift. Carter was a massive Siberian tiger with the possessiveness and mating instincts of a wolf.

  His brother Ryland held the form of a full-grown male lion, but his coloring wasn’t one present within their species. He wasn’t golden nor white, but silver. His coat shimmered in the sun’s light, rays sliding over the varying shades of gray that covered his body. His mane was fluffy and full, his body sleek and toned like a pureblood werelion, his paws massive—possibly even larger than her father’s. And girls always giggled about the correlation between a lion’s paw size and the size of his cock. It looked like Ryland had no problems down south if his paws were anything to go by.

  He came closer, boards creaking and groaning beneath his weight. She knew it wouldn’t collapse beneath his bulk; Carter was even heavier and built the porch to withstand his own size.

  The nearer he came, the more her nerves came alive, nervous tension straining her muscles while she tried to figure out what to do. She’d been pissed when she sent him off, but now… now her cat wanted nothing more than to shift and rub against Ryland. She wanted him wearing her scent so all other she-cats knew he was off limits.

  In order to do all that, she had to finish with the pedi and get to rubbing. With hands at first. She wasn’t ready to strip and sport fur just yet.

  Hannah closed the bottle up tight and lowered the foot propped on the railing. Setting the polish aside, she finally gave Ryland her full focus. Wolf eyes met hers, the yellow hue seeming to look deeply into her soul, and she licked her lips as her nervousness doubled. What did he see? What would he see? Every mistake in her life? Every misstep and stumble? The time she…

  She shied from the memory and closed her eyes, fighting to get her rapid heart rate under control.

  “You,” she cleared her throat. “You came back.”

  He grunted. Of course I did.

  Speaking male grunt was coming in handy, but she wasn’t gonna let him off easy. His stomping off hurt. It hurt more than she wanted to admit. All she’d ever tried to be was a good daughter, loyal to the pride, and her attempt at doing as her father desired now hindered her mating. She was being punished for being a good girl.

  She turned her attention to the forest and pretended a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “And you just expect me to welcome you with open arms?”

  His steps were quiet when he approached. Ryland nudged her arm with his gray nose, prodding until she lifted her arm. He slowly rested his head on her thighs, wolf’s eyes sadly staring up at her.

  “That wounded puppy—” Ryland huffed. “That wounded kitty look isn’t going to fix this.” He huffed again and lifted his head to nose her raised hand. He nudged it once, twice, and then she finally relented.

  “Fine,” she mumbled and dug her fingers into his gray fur. She slid them through the strands, gently caressing him. He moved his body, adjusting himself until he sat on his haunches and gave her more of his weight. Then he proved once more that he was part wolf. He waggled his lion tail. Wagged. His. Lion. Tail.

  She wasn’t going to laugh. She wasn’t. Really. But then… it just sorta happened. First it was a snuffle and then a snort and then a chuckle before it became a full laugh. It filled the air and broke the mounting tension between them, smashing it as if it’d never existed. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his and her giggles continued.

  A growl worked its way up his throat, vibrating them both with its strength and shaking her from inside out.

  Still no words from him in his cat form, but she could sense his frustration. It’s not that funny.

  Oh, but it was. So very, very funny. It was what she needed after the day’s drama, after the fundamental shift of her world from good Buchanan daughter to destructive Buchanan pride mate. There was a difference there—the difference between doing as her father asked and giving him trouble.

  Not mating Jeremy would give her father trouble. A lot of trouble.

  Perfect.

  Hannah couldn’t resist her next action, couldn’t hold herself back from what her heart—her lioness—desired. She nuzzled Ryland, rubbing her nose along his snout, between his eyes and near his ears. She didn’t have her cat’s musk in human form, but at least some part of her transferred to her mate. The beast wanted to claim him, wanted to sink her fangs into his flesh so one and all would see that he belonged to her.

  Then she wanted the same from him. Hell, high water, or betrothal, she wanted his bite.

  Just, not when he was furry and she wasn’t. Because… ew.

  She turned her head and rested her cheek on his. “Coming here furry won’t dela
y the conversations we have to have,” she murmured. “You have to shift back at some point and we have to talk about… everything.”

  All of it. His anger. Her frustration. Their future. Because they would have one. She couldn’t handle anything less. She may be a female, but she was her father’s daughter. Her daddy always said—more than once but not near her momma—that if she’d been born with a dick, she’d lead the pride.

  But she wasn’t, so she didn’t. That didn’t remove her needs though. Protect. Claim. Keep.

  Ryland sighed and released a soft chuff. Fine.

  Though she imagined him sounding like a kid with a high-pitched whine. Fiiinnneee.

  He stepped back, putting space between them, and she assumed he’d dart to the trees and grab whatever clothes he’d left at the edge of the forest. Yeah, she’d assumed and assumed wrong. He backed up and then snap, crack, and groan.

  The groan came from the rapidly forming human vocal cords while the others originated from bones breaking and reshaping to his two-legged form. It was fast, nearly as quick as her father’s, which proved his strength as a lion. The ripple of his transition flowed over him, his cat’s body fast succumbing to his two-legged form. In a handful of heartbeats, Ryland’s human body replaced the lion’s, her mate now nude and standing before her.

  And, because Hannah was Hannah, she took a quick peek down south. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly after she answered her own question. Yup, paw size and dick size definitely went hand in hand. Definitely. She couldn’t wait to see him hard and aching for her, his dick firm and ready to slide inside her again and again. She shivered with the thoughts, her mental images overtaking all other ideas in her mind. He’d be slick with sweat, muscles bunched and straining while he fought to pleasure her.

  A last crack snared her attention and her gaze shot up to Ryland’s head. She winced as his jaw reformed, shortening and shrinking. He rolled his head and shrugged his shoulders as if settling back into his skin, and she recognized the movement as one she also did. A strong lion fought to remain in place, battled the human mind before finally relenting. But it was that last push, the last nudge that ensured the beast remained at bay.

  Hannah tore her gaze from him and focused on the distant trees before speaking. “Do you want me to grab you some clothes? Carter…”

  “I’m not leaving and neither are you. I don’t wanna give you a chance to run.” His rasp slid over her skin. It shouldn’t have sounded sexy as hell, but it did. It teased her nerves, petting her in all the right places.

  “I wouldn’t lea—”

  “You already have once.”

  Okay, he had a point. “But you did, too.”

  She didn’t care if she sounded like a child.

  “And I regret that.” His voice filled her ear and she jolted in surprise.

  “How…” How did he manage to sneak up on her like that?

  “I regret leaving you.” He sighed and crouched at her side in all his nekkid glory. “But…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “There are a lot of reasons but not a single one of ‘em is good. They’re excuses, mostly.”

  With Ryland this close, his body within reach, she couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She reached for him, fingertips gliding over his skin. Her touch began at his wrist, pads of her fingers caressing his forearm that gradually led to his bicep, and then she got to his broad shoulders. That didn’t stop her exploration. No, she continued along the line of his neck and on until she finally reached his cheek. She stroked his bristled skin and then cupped his face, making sure his attention couldn’t stray.

  “Tell me.” Tell her about his past. Tell her about his life now. Tell her about… everything. “But first put some clothes on.”

  Otherwise she’d pounce on him, and once she started… she wasn’t gonna stop.

  9

  Hannah would have argued about their new position if she didn’t enjoy being in Ryland’s arms so much. With her mate now clothed, they rested on the ragged sofa, her mate relaxing in the corner while she nestled between his spread thighs—her back to his front with his arms wrapped around her.

  They didn’t speak at first, and Hannah didn’t press him. Now wasn’t a time for growls, grumbles or demands. So many things were in play, and they could only navigate the mess if they worked together.

  Then again, there was silence and then there was silence.

  Ryland stroked her arm, fingers dancing over her skin in a slow and gentle caress. The careful touch strummed her need for him, her body immediately reacting to his touch, his scent surrounding her. She wiggled in place, squirming deeper into his embrace with a soft sigh. Her mate nuzzled her head, nose rubbing against her hair before he pressed a soft kiss to her crown. His arms tightened ever so slightly and she sighed with his hold. She felt safe and secure in his embrace.

  Something she hadn’t experienced with any other guy… ever.

  She turned her head, rubbing her cheek along his bicep while drawing in a lungful of his musky scent. Man, heat and beast filled her nose, drawing her cat forward while also soothing the feline. Yes, the cat was calmed, but far from happy. The animal needed more than the closeness and the feel of skin on skin. With the lioness’ shove, Hannah opened her mouth and lapped at his flesh, savoring the heated sweetness of his innate flavors.

  A new hardness pressed into her lower back and she smiled to herself. Her mate wasn’t impervious to her desire. No, he was already hard for her and she couldn’t wait to mount him.

  “Hannah,” Ryland moaned. “You can’t do that and expect me to talk.”

  Right. Talking. They had to do that.

  “You wanna go first or do you want me to?” she murmured and flicked her tongue over his skin once more.

  “Me,” he rasped. “You need to understand me,” he wheezed and jerked his arm from her reach.

  With a low whimper, she nodded and pushed away from him, intent on turning and facing Ryland while they spoke. “Okay, let me…”

  His large hands on her shoulders stilled her movements. “No, stay just like that.” Work-roughened palms scraped her flesh and then he crossed his arms just beneath her breasts. “Stay right there. I can’t get it out if you’re looking at me.”

  With the pain filling his voice, the ache tingeing every syllable, Hannah decided waiting and listening were her best courses of action. For now.

  Ryland lowered his head and spoke into her hair, his heat transferring to her body with that small touch. “You were right. I have problems with purebloods.” She immediately stiffened, ready to tell him where he could stick those opinions. “But that’s mainly because they—she—had a problem with me.”

  She. Hannah’s heart rate picked up, thudding against her ribcage. She? “Who?”

  Hannah could snatch out hair with the best of ‘em and someone needed to be bald.

  He huffed, a half-chuckle, half-snarl. “The one woman who can rip your heart out without even trying.” He shook his head and sighed. “My mother. She… My dad…” He grew silent, but she didn’t rush him. Not when something this important weighed in the balance. “It was a one-night stand and she ended up pregnant. The wolf was good for a ride, but not forever. By the next morning he was gone and all she had were a few scattered facts that eventually led me to tracking Carter down when I was older.”

  He nuzzled her, drawing in her scent before he continued, his face still hidden in her hair. She wanted to pull away, meet his stare and give him strength. Not physical strength—he would never need her in that way—but emotional support. Instead, she remained in place, letting him cover her in his scent. “The pride’s leader was at my birth.”

  Which was uncommon. Usually there was a doctor, nurses and the father. Pride leaders were only present when…

  “Dear God,” she released the words with a soft exhale—shock striking deeply in her gut. Pride leaders were present to pass judgment—to issue a kill order or grant leniency once a babe was born. Typically, it was th
e pregnant female facing the head lion. But having sex—children—with other species wasn’t a killing offense. Which meant he was there for Ryland… “They were going to kill you.”

  Ryland winced and nodded. “He didn’t want a non-lion hybrid in his pride. If I was born scenting heavily of a wolf, he was going to snap my neck. His pride would remain pure. I was lion enough—pride worthy—to stay his hand.”

  She turned in his lap and straddled his thighs, unable to keep her hands from him, needing the feel of his skin beneath her palms. She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You are worthy of life, Ryland. Not because you happen to shift into a lion, but simply because you’re a person. No shifter—no leader—should have that kind of control, that kind of power. I thank the goddess that you’re here today because I’d be lost without you, but never think you’re less because of that asshole.”

  He skirted her gaze, pressing his lips together until they formed a white slash above his chin. “They disagree.”

  “And I’m the daughter of the Buchanan leader, the oldest clan there is and I’m telling you that I’m right and they’re wrong.” So very, very wrong.

  He gave her a grim smile but continued his story without contradicting her. A silent objection to her words. “I was left alone for the most part. My mother left me with babysitters and hardly gave me a glance.” He swallowed hard and she stroked his cheek with her thumb, trying to soothe him with her touch. “Until I shifted for the first time.”

  He closed his eyes and slid his arms around her waist, resting them on the top curve of her ass. He gently squeezed her globes, his nails penetrating the cloth and pricking her flesh. She’d attended enough first shifts to know that it was a painful process, body reshaping into an animal’s form. The gain or loss of weight was damaging to the body, the shift inflicting injuries that were near deadly. In the beginning, the exhaustion would plague the girl or boy for hours, leaving them helpless and vulnerable.