Walk on the Wild Side

by Christine Warren

  Kitty looked back at Max, but he had disappeared. In his place lay the most magnificent African lion she had ever seen. His fur was the color of honey, rich and darkly golden, his body thick and heavy with muscle. He was enormous, almost twice her size it seemed, or maybe it was the thick ruff of his mane that made it look that way.

  Just like his hair, his mane was the color of coffee, almost black, until the light hit it and uncovered hidden tones of gold and red; and like his hair, the dark strands were interspersed with streaks of rich, golden toffee. Having never been this close to an adult male lion—not even during the few times she'd been an adult female lion—she hadn't realized that the mane would cover more than his head and neck. In reality, it covered the whole front of his chest and formed a thick pelt all along his belly until it gradually thinned and then disappeared on the undersides of his back legs. It made her want to sink her hands into it and feel all that dense fur and the powerful male underneath.

  Since she currently didn't have hands, Kitty let her instincts guide her and walked slowly toward him, her head down and her tail twitching restlessly behind her.

  I can't remember the last time I played, she admitted, her thought accompanied by a sound almost like a purr. She remembered reading somewhere once that lions didn't purr the same way cats did—vibrating their throats on both the in- and exhalation—but that they did make a similar sound, one that paused and resumed every time they drew breath. She guessed she'd just proven the truth of that.

  When she reached his side, she tilted her head flirtatiously and rubbed her cheek against his, the purr sound growing louder as she ducked and rubbed the top of her head on the underside of his chin.

  You might have to remind me of the rules, she thought, and when she pulled back, she saw a light in his dark-rimmed copper eyes that she remembered very vividly from the previous night.

  The rules are very simple, he told her, mouth opening until she could see his fangs under the feline grin. You run; I chase. And if I catch you …

  She shivered and backed away skittishly. Yes?

  When I catch you, he corrected himself, I get to do anything I want.

  That hardly sounds fair, she protested.

  Maybe not, he acknowledged as he pushed lazily to his feet, but I guarantee it's a hell of a lot of fun.

  She took one look at his fierce, predatory expression, spun on her haunches, and launched herself into a full-out run.

  He let out a fierce, joyful roar and sprang after her.

  She was too smart to look back to see how far behind her he was. He was so much larger, he'd clearly have a big advantage in the length of his stride, so she couldn't afford to lose even a fraction of a second.

  It didn't take her long to get the rhythm of running all out on all fours, and she savored the feel of her muscles bunching and stretching as she propelled herself over rocks and through scrubby desert vegetation. Unfortunately, it also didn't take her long to realize there was a big difference between being a werelion and being a werecheetah. Her big, heavily muscled form had been designed to overpower the prey she hunted, not to outrun it. In other words, she was a born wrestler, not a sprinter, but with Max breathing hard on her heels, she figured it was time to broaden her horizons.

  Not that she would mind so much if he caught her. In fact, she found the idea positively intriguing. The handful of shifts she had managed really had seemed to speed her heeling, and the painfully bruised feeling between her legs had faded to the kind of delicious soreness that only made her want to experience again the cause of that poignant physical reminder. Judging by how large he'd been last night, though, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out firsthand if the increased bulk of his lion form translated to every last inch of him. She wasn't sure she could take it.

  Digging her claws in for traction, Kitty twisted her body and veered to the left, headed for a concealing rock formation a few dozen yards away. Maybe she could hide herself under an overhang or behind a boulder and let him tear past before she backtracked toward the cabin.

  She laid on a last, desperate burst of speed and skidded behind the first boulder just as a hard, heavy body slammed into hers, knocking her off balance and sending her tumbling several more feet until she landed on her back, belly-up, paws stretched toward the sky.

  She lay there dazed, blinking up at the bright blue sky until a shadow blocked out the sun. She twisted her head to the side to see Max standing above her, his mouth open and his sides heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Far from looking upset with her, though, his eyes glowed with excitement and mischief, and she could feel his arousal as clearly as if he'd slid a hand across her bare skin.

  I win, he purred, lowering his head and nudging her belly with his blunt, dark nose. And I see I have a few things to teach you about your body language in this particular form.

  Kitty thought about that for a moment, searching her instincts and her mind and her heart for an answer, and the one she found surprised her. Actually, she responded slowly as she rolled onto her belly, I don't really think you do.

  She saw surprise and desire flare in his eyes and pushed to her feet just as he would have moved to cover her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she walked several paces forward, her tail twitching until she could almost picture the little tuft on the end tickling his nose, taunting him as she moved away.

  Something about this form made her feel so incredibly feminine, as strange as that sounded. She felt powerful like this, sensual, as if she were the world's sexiest temptress. She wanted to flirt and tease and drive Max completely out of his mind. She wanted to hear him roar his desire for her and demonstrate to her powerfully and primitively that she belonged to him.

  This time, she didn't run but strolled slowly away from him for the pure pleasure of knowing he had no choice but to follow. Desire drove both of them, and she felt as if the sway of her hips held him hypnotized, completely under her seductive control. She heard the noises he made, low, rough rumbles of hunger, and when she looked back over her shoulder she saw his gaze fixed with obvious intent on her prowling, teasing strides.

  Her breath caught and a shiver rolled through her. She saw the flare of heat in his gaze just before he lunged forward and raked his teeth gently along her flank, turning the shiver into a full-bodied shudder. Instinctively, she halted and sank to her belly, stretching herself out for him like an offering, exposing herself to her mate. To the man she needed like air and light and water.

  He made a growling sound of approval, and when he moved to stretch over her, to press his chest against her back, her head fell forward to expose the back of her neck. She purred when his hot breath stroked the sensitive spot, and whimpered when she felt his teeth close around her nape. He bit down gently, holding her still, dominating her with power and pleasure as he began to ease himself inside her.

  Kitty wanted to sob with relief. She hadn't realized how empty she'd been until he'd filled her, hadn't realized how much she needed until he gave. Arching her back, she lifted her hips to take him deeper and shuddered when his rumble of satisfaction vibrated through her like a full-length caress.

  He still felt huge within her, nearly overwhelming as he thrust high and hard inside her sensitive passage, but it felt so incredibly right that she doubted she would have noticed more pain even if he had caused it. His possession felt so wild, so primitive, so absolutely perfect, that her heart threatened to burst inside her chest. He had her pinned beneath him, his mouth holding her in place with teeth that could easily have injured her, and she felt dominated, helpless, and so incredibly treasured that she felt tears gather at the corners of her eyes.

  Nothing in her life had ever felt more perfect.

  And nothing in her life would ever be the same.

  It overwhelmed her in a flash of understanding just as he pressed deep and threw her over the edge into climax. She had changed. This man, this place, this experience, had changed her. For the first time in her life she felt complete, and fo
r the first time since her mother's truck had run off the road, she felt… perfect.

  She pressed her cheek to the ground and let the tears fall as Max shuddered and roared at the power of his own orgasm. When he finally lay still and heavy above her, she pictured how the two of them would look, twined together in the bright desert sun, pale freckled curves pressed against wide planes of golden muscle, his face relaxed in the aftermath of passion, hers streaked with tears.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw exactly that. She didn't know when they had shifted back, at what point their lion forms had melted back into human, but it didn't really matter. She understood now that a body was just a body and that each of them was the same person no matter what skin they happened to be wearing.

  Max wrapped his arms around her and rolled to his side, cuddling her against his chest.

  "Hey, what's this?" he asked, lifting a finger to wipe a stray tear from her skin. "Kitten, what's wrong?"

  Shaking her head, Kitty pressed her lips together and buried her face against his shoulder. "Nothing," she whispered. "Everything is just perfect."

  And it would be, she promised herself, if she could just figure out how to fall back out of love with him.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-one

  SHE WAS QUIET ON THE WAY BACK TO THE CABIN, BUT that didn't worry Max. He didn't talk much, either. Of course, he knew that his speechlessness was a direct result of the most erotic experience of his life. The trouble was, he couldn't be entirely sure Kitty's had the same cause.

  He wouldn't have worried so much if it hadn't been for the tears. She had dismissed them easily enough when he'd asked, laughing that he knew women got overly emotional at times, and that was true, as far as it went. Hell, when he'd come back to his senses after that orgasm, he'd almost teared up himself. He'd never felt anything as intense as that primitive outdoor mating with her, not even the night before when he'd taken her for the first time and realized he'd do whatever it took to make sure she never left him. Not even when he'd pictured her heavy with pregnancy and glowingly, obviously, his. Something special had happened in the desert, a true mating, and he could only hope she felt the same.

  As they crested the last hill behind the cabin and the small structure rose up ahead of them, he laid his hand on the back of her neck, on the place where his teeth had marked her, and squeezed gently.

  "Are you okay, kitten?" he asked quietly.

  The smile she gave him was quick and bright and patently false. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

  He frowned and shook his head. "I'm not sure. That's why I'm asking. You just seem like something is bothering you."

  "Don't be silly. I'm fine." Then she looked down at herself and grimaced. "Well, I will be as soon as I take a shower," she corrected herself, pinching the fabric of her—his—shirt away from her skin. "I feel like I just climbed out of a mud bath and forgot to rinse off before I got dressed."

  He had to admit, she did look a little darker than usual, her freckles blending together in places due to the fine coating of red, desert soil on her fair skin. Personally, he thought she looked adorable, especially with little pieces of sagebrush tangled in her hair, but he figured she wouldn't appreciate him pointing those out.

  "Well, if you're sure…" he said, leaving the question between them.

  "I'm positive," she insisted. So he let it drop. At least for the moment.

  He did not, however, lift his hand from the back of her neck. As far as he was concerned, she needed every signal he could think of, no matter how subtle, to remind her of whom she belonged to. And even if she didn't, he did.

  With his hand on her warm skin, he guided her across the rough ground and around the side of the cabin. When he'd built it several years ago, he hadn't bothered to add a back door. Technically, there was a second exit through the root cellar, but with only one story and wide, tall windows on every side, he'd never worried about escape routes in the unlikely event of a fire. And what else could hurt him out here? The building site was surrounded on all four sides by Red Rock land, and if someone threatened him, he could shift into a five-hundred-pound African lion with anger management issues. Somehow, he wasn't worried about burglars.

  He hurried her over the last stretch of open ground, wanting to get her inside. Maybe once she stripped off her clothes and washed off the dirt of their impromptu encounter, she'd feel more comfortable about confiding in him what was bothering her. He knew there was something, and to be blunt, sitting on his hands while his mate brooded and fretted about something without telling him how he could help did not sit well with him. He was fundamentally Leo; his first instinct was to claim his mate, but his second and third were to protect her against all danger and to help her over any obstacle.

  It would make things a whole lot easier, he reflected grumpily, if she would just accept that as the way things were and let him help without a fight.

  They were rounding the corner of the cabin when the first shot rang out. He didn't recognize it right away—few Leos carried guns after all… what would be the point?—but Kitty froze the instant she heard it and looked around, her expression intent and alert and slightly worried.

  "Does Martin allow hunting on his property?" she asked.

  Misunderstanding, Max chuckled. "Of course. It's one of our favorite pastimes. I'll take you one day, if you want. I'll even promise not to make you bring down the prey yourself."

  Scowling, she smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "That's not what I meant. I'm talking about hunting. You know… 'duck season, rabbit season'… men in pickup trucks carrying thermoses and wearing bright orange vests?"

  The light dawned and Max's smile faded just as the second shot cracked through the air and a stone about three feet to his left exploded in a cloud of dust and debris.

  "Holy fucking shit!"

  Without stopping to think, he grabbed Kitty's hand and sprinted for the cabin door, kicking it open and shoving her inside as bullet number three embedded itself in the wood of the porch post just inches from where their heads had just been. He heard someone cursing, it sounded like a man, then the sound of a motor revving and the bump and scrape of tires peeling out on the gravel and dusty soil of the surrounding landscape.

  "What the fuck was that?" Max yelled, flinging open the door just in time to see a dark shape on a dirt bike disappearing over the top of a hill about a hundred yards to the east.

  "Lucky for us, just a twenty-two," Kitty said from just behind Max.

  He whirled to face her, his heart pounding in his chest as if it would burst through his ribs, while she looked as cool and collected as a spring breeze.

  "A what?" he growled, fisting his hands to keep from grabbing her and shaking a decent sense of fear into her pretty head.

  "A twenty-two," she repeated, watching the cloud of dust behind the motorcycle settle back to the earth before she turned to meet his gaze. "Twenty-two-caliber long rifle. Back home, they mostly use them for hunting squirrels. Around here I don't imagine they'd be suited to much beyond the occasional jackrabbit."

  Her voice didn't even quaver. He'd nearly had a heart attack thinking she could have died, and she barely blinked. He doubted her blood pressure had even gone up. And to top it all off, she'd had the unmitigated gall to refer to someplace else as "home." If she survived the next sixty seconds without winding up end over ears across his knee, her guardian angel deserved a brand-new harp of gold.

  "What about a person?" Max ground out, quietly shutting the door and forcing her back into the coolness of the cabin. "Would they be at all suited to hunting a person, do you think? Could they put a bloody little hole in someone? Stop her heart? Tear through a vital organ and make her bleed to death?"

  She actually pursed her lips and considered the question. "At that range? Maybe. He about picked the limit for accuracy. They say a twenty-two can kill a man a mile away, but I'm pretty sure that would take a miracle. Not to mention a good tailwind."

  He just stared
at her.

  She'd struck him speechless. Completely and utterly speechless. All he could picture was her body lying still and pale and bloody in the dirt and she was cracking jokes.

  Lord give him strength.

  "You goddamned little fool," he hissed, and, finally, something he said seemed to get through to her. Her head jerked up and her eyes widened as they traveled over his grim expression. "You could have been killed. You almost were killed! He could have shot you and there was no way in hell I could have gotten to him in time, no matter how fast I might be. He could have shot you and then driven away and I wouldn't have known so much as who he was. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?"

  Hesitantly, she shook her head.

  He barked out a laugh, even though he'd never felt less amused in his entire life. "Well, let me tell you, honey. It scared me shitless. But what I want to know is why it didn't scare you. Huh? How can you be so calm?"

  He stalked toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, noting with satisfaction that at least she'd developed the good sense to be nervous.

  "I-I don't know," she stammered, stumbling and nearly falling when her heel caught on the edge of the braided rug. "I guess when you have a close call for the fifth time in less than three weeks, the shock starts to wear off."

  Max muttered a vile curse and grabbed her by the arms, yanking her soft body against him and crushing her mouth beneath his. It was either kiss her or kill her, and he knew this was the one choice he wouldn't live to regret.

  Kitty uttered a startled squeak, but he'd already trained her body too well to accept him. Her lips flowered automatically beneath his, her teeth parting, her tongue welcoming his with softly encouraging strokes. He growled low in his throat and released his grip on her arms only to wrap his around her and press her full-length against him.

  In the back of his mind, he worried that he might be giving too much away, might be frightening her with the intensity of his feelings, but it didn't matter. He couldn't have let her go if he'd tried. He couldn't have kissed her more gently. His fear rode him too hard. He'd come too close to losing her, and having her remind him that it wasn't the first time only made his need to reassure himself of her well-being all the stronger.