When A Lioness Growls (A Lion's Pride Book 7)

by Eve Langlais

  JF couldn’t wait to set foot on solid ground. If only he could escape the woman responsible for his presence on a tropical island. While her mission on the island might have merit, he could just imagine the disaster she’d make of the execution. What was the lion king thinking?

  Surely no one thought this flighty princess could really make a difference?

  The door to the craft opened, and the freshness of the air, hinting of airplane exhaust and redolent jungle blooms, tickled his nose.

  So many smells. Things to hunt.

  The beast within looked forward to a change in diet. He, on the other hand, could already tell he’d miss the cool crisp weather of fall approaching back home.

  Heat, the moist kind that dampened the skin, filled the cabin, curling the ends of his hair. His naturally cooler body temperature kept him from sweating, but he’d probably have to ditch his coat. Which sucked. JF preferred to dress in layers.

  Emerging into the sunlight, he provided a large target at the top of the stairs, a scowling target, as someone jabbed a sharp nail into his spine.

  “Are you going to move that big butt of yours or stand there hogging the stairs all day?” Stacey asked, pushing at him. As if she could move him.

  “Don’t test me, woman.”

  “Afraid you’ll fail? What if I promised to make it multiple choice?”

  Why did she take everything he said and spin it? It made a man want to duct tape her mouth—or shove something in it.

  I have something just the right size…

  He went down the steps and noted a pair of people walking in from the terminal, both strangers dressed in crisp white linen. Shorts for the guy and a tennis skirt for the female. They could have been siblings with their matching golden locks.

  Not even on the ground two minutes and he’d wager already he’d found some lions. And they said rabbits multiplied all over the place. At least rabbit tasted delicious, especially when fresh. Speaking of which, he’d have to find a source for feeding.

  How about eating Princess?

  Tempting, but gnawing on her probably wouldn’t go over well. Gaston had a thing about his minions eating humans and shifters. Something about only cannibals ate sentient beings. Personally, JF thought his boss gave the shifters too much credit. Teaching them to talk didn’t make them evolved.

  As to those who might question his snobbery? The only thing above a whampyr was the necromancer who helped make them. And even then…whampyrs were not to be trifled with.

  “You must be Stacey.” The man with short blond hair wearing thigh-length white shorts and a pink shirt approached with his hand outstretched and a smile on his face. A smile that faltered, as JF kept frowning.

  “Who are you?” JF barked as he scanned the stranger for a weapon.

  “Um, I’m Maurice. I’m from Club Lyon. I am here to provide transportation and get you settled into the resort.”

  “Where’s your identification?” Not that JF needed more than a sniff. The cloying scent of lion filled his nostrils. For a young cub, the boy exuded a strong aroma.

  “Ignore my brother. Flying makes him grumpy.” Stacey pushed past him. “Hi, I’m Stacey. Delighted to meet you.” Balancing the package she’d brought from the plane, she shook the man’s hands, and JF did his best to not growl.

  The sight of her touching the other man ignited something primitive in him that he couldn’t explain. He didn’t sense any danger. On the contrary, the young man appeared nervous, which, in turn, made him seem weak.

  Yet, knowing he could probably knock him out with a single punch didn’t stop JF’s scowl. It did, however, cause Maurice to pull his hand free and take a step back.

  “Now look at what you’ve done,” Stacey exclaimed before pouting. “You’re being grumpy again.”

  “It was a long flight. He’s probably thirsty and hungry,” the woman by Maurice’s side offered with a shy smile in his direction.

  “And who are you?” Stacey asked, her tone sour, a princess interrupted.

  “I’m Jan. I’m also with guest resources. Let me know about anything you need to make your stay more memorable,” she said softly, the words aimed directly at him.

  A wasted effort. She smelled almost as strongly as Maurice did of feline. He already had his hands full enough with Stacey, thank you very much. No need for him to attract another stray.

  Stacey stepped in front of him, forcing Jan to meet her gaze. “My very own concierge. How wonderful. And yet you appeared with no drink?”

  Jan’s lips tightened. “Sorry. We have water bottles in the Jeep.”

  “Water?” Stacey’s nose wrinkled. “I thought this was paradise.”

  “As soon as we reach the resort, we can find something more palatable for you.”

  Switching gears, Stacey turned from Jan to Maurice and gushed. “I can’t wait to hear all about the resort. Arik’s told me how wonderful it is. Melly doesn’t know we’re planning a surprise destination wedding for her.” As Stacey blathered, JF fought to not roll his eyes.

  What a load of crap. Why all the acting? Why not just tell people why they were really here?

  You have people missing. Tell us everything you know. Or else…

  After years of living in subterfuge, he was tired of it. Tired of hiding. However, this wasn’t his mission. He was just along as muscle. Which was fine with him. He had no interest in getting involved in pride problems. Let the cats sort it out themselves.

  “Oh, brother, be a dear and grab our bags while I use the ladies room and freshen up.” Stacey didn’t give him time to reply, as she turned and sauntered off, arm in arm with Jan toward the terminal.

  “I am not your bloody servant,” he muttered, only to realize Maurice remained behind.

  “Women never give a guy any respect,” said the young man with a wan smile. “A word of advice. If you like your sister at all, you should get her away from here.”

  “Why?” JF asked, trying for nonchalance instead of surprise. Not even on the ground five minutes and strange shit was happening.

  “It’s not safe right now on the island.”

  Heading for the cargo area of the plane, JF was able to sound casual as he asked, “What’s going on? Having problems with that Zika virus we’ve been hearing about?”

  “No, not a virus. What I’m talking about is something more dangerous, and only to someone like your sister.”

  “Annoying, self-absorbed, and demanding?” He pulled out the suitcases and tried not to grunt at their weight. No wonder she didn’t want to lug them around. Had she packed cement in them?

  “Women have been disappearing.”

  “Women as in more than one?” he asked casually as he lugged the two biggest bags to the golf cart parked nearby. Maurice managed to strong-arm the smaller bag on top of them.

  “Three in the last few months have disappeared.”

  Three. Stacey had mentioned the one from the resort and a history of others in the past. Was someone covering up their disappearances?

  “Are they dead?”

  “Not that we know of.”

  “Then why assume they’ve been taken? They could have gone native.” Not unusual by any means. Beautiful woman comes to paradise, meets a native of the area. A surfing instructor, yoga coach, salsa dancer. They’re swept off their feet and decide to start a new life instead of returning to their old one.

  “They didn’t go native. They were kidnapped.”

  “Appalling.” The right thing to say, even if he didn’t particularly care. “Do the police have any leads?”

  “The police aren’t investigating. They think the girls just wandered off.”

  “But you don’t believe that. Why?”

  Maurice kept his head ducked as he went around to the far side of the cart. “It’s not safe here. If you love your sister at all, you’ll take her and run before she disappears too.”

  JF couldn’t help himself. He leaned close to the little guy and said, “Actually, we’re not c
lose. Different mothers. I don’t even like her that much. She’s a brat. And it sure would solve some inheritance problems if she were to disappear. Any tips on making her more attractive to whoever is doing it?”

  The gaping mouth and wide eyes almost made JF chuckle.

  Almost.

  Until he heard the scream.

  Chapter Seven

  Stacey couldn’t stop shrieking. It was terrifying. Utterly terrifying. Which was why when Jean Francois banged on the bathroom stall door, slamming the flimsy portal open, she leaped from her spot atop the toilet into his arms.

  Built of solid stone, the man didn’t even stagger, nor did he drop her. Good thing because that would have put her too close to the thing sitting at the foot of the toilet.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he yelled.

  She got the impression he yelled a lot. It didn’t really bother her. Especially since he had a nice deep rumble.

  “Protect me from that monster. Kill it!” Stacey pointed at the arachnid that had dared crawl into her stall while she sent a few texts back home. She’d opted for a visit to the bathroom where she could get a Wi-Fi signal and some privacy. What she’d not counted on was being interrupted. It was only by chance she noted the disgusting hairy thing heading for her open-toed sandals.

  “You’re screaming as if you’re being murdered because of a fucking spider?”

  Arms wrapped around his neck, legs around his torso, she was pressed too tight to see his face, but she could hear his incredulity.

  “It’s not just any spider. It’s a big spider. With hair.” So much hair, sob. “And legs.” Just remembering all those legs moving sent a shudder through her.

  Squish.

  “There, are you happy now?”

  Gag. “No. I heard that.” She gagged a bit more. “Ugh. I can’t believe you stepped on it.” More heaving. “It’s probably all over your shoe.”

  “It is. You’re right; it was big. And very squishy. Want to see?”

  When he began to crouch, she sprang away from him, away from the stall and the scene of the disgusting spider carnage.

  “I hate you,” she declared as she marched out of the bathroom. She glared at her blonde guide, who pretended innocence, but Stacey saw right through the girl. There was something sly about her. Something Stacey didn’t like. Especially how Jan eyeballed her fake brother when he exited the bathroom.

  “Thank you for taking care of your sister,” Jan simpered. “I would have done something, but she wouldn’t let me in.”

  Well duh. “Opening the door would have required stepping onto the floor.” Which would then have given the bloodthirsty arachnid a chance to attack.

  Jean Francois snorted. “If you’re done being a big baby, then our stuff is probably out front by now.”

  “Arachnophobia is a documented medical condition.”

  “Also known as being a pussy,” he retorted. “It was a spider. About as dangerous as a fly.”

  “I’ll have you know spiders kill people every year with their bite. And flies are known disease carriers.”

  “Would you like some cheese to go with your whine, princess pussy?”

  “See if I save you when you scream because your life is in danger,” Stacey grumbled.

  “You won’t have to because, unlike you, sis,” he said in a mocking tone, “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she murmured as she walked past him. Even the biggest, boldest of men feared something. Once she discovered his weakness, she’d exploit it, just like she used Joan’s love of jalapeno cheese dip against her whenever Stacey wanted to borrow that red dress of hers. Joan was spice intolerant but couldn’t resist the lure of nachos and cheese sauce. Which then bloated her, which meant Stacey could scoop up that hot red number and paint the town.

  If Joan were smart, she’d just give in and gift the damned dress to Stacey. Then again, part of the reason she enjoyed wearing it so much was the challenge in getting it in the first place.

  Their ride to the resort wasn’t in a car but an open-top Jeep with four spots. Maurice, of course, took the wheel, but instead of Jan sitting beside him, she slid into the back and patted the bench beside her. “We should give your sister the front. The windshield will block some of the wind from messing up her hair.”

  Then Jan tittered.

  Stacey hated tittering. Especially at her expense. Did this little kitten seriously think to challenge her? Playing up to Jean Francois as if she had a right?

  He’s mine. Which in turn made her frown. He was here as a cover and shield only. Not as potential boyfriend material, no matter how sexy she found him. For one thing, he wasn’t a big-time business man. Or a lion.

  She could handle maybe a bear, or a wolf. Even another necromancer fellow would have the right kind of genes and prestige to make her momma happy. But a simple assistant to a bar owner? One that wasn’t even really a shifter or a vampire?

  I can do better than that. She deserved better than Mr. Dour Face in the back.

  Determined to ignore him, she slid in the front and not once looked back at him—or the little tart surely pressing herself against him.

  Stacey made conversation with Maurice, who answered all her questions about the island.

  It wasn’t a very large island, less than a hundred square miles with a chunk of it left undeveloped.

  “You see that over there?” Maurice took a hand off the wheel to point at a lush green mountain. “That’s a volcano. It’s dormant now, has been for ages, but the natives in the area hold it sacred, which means the mountain itself and the area around it is protected.”

  “How many people on the island?”

  Apparently, that number depended on the resorts themselves. If counting only the locals, then only a few thousand residents. But the resorts themselves swelled that number, especially in peak seasons.

  Stacey could see why. They were literally in paradise. Warm weather, lush foliage, and a land bursting with life.

  There were only a few vehicles on the road, most of them short buses and vans, emblazoned with the names of resorts. Of houses and other amenities, they saw little, the road from the airport mostly traveling through chunks of jungle, intersected only by other roads, usually bordered by a sign with the name of the business. Club Paradise. Beach Club. Club Springs.

  A lack of originality existed with the names, but they all promised one thing in common. A spectacular vacation.

  But I’m not here to relax and unwind. She was here to find out what had happened to Shania. Maybe hook up with the liotaur and make her biatches jealous.

  I wonder if Jean Francois gets jealous.

  A cold and lacking in humor man, he probably didn’t have enough passion in him to care.

  Heck, did the man even enjoy sex?

  She thought she’d felt an erection when she plopped herself on his lap, but she didn’t stay on it long enough to be sure.

  I should totally try again. A decision that made no sense. She didn’t like the guy. At all. However, she had to know. Does he find me attractive?

  Maurice certainly did. The poor boy couldn’t look at her without blushing. So cute. Whereas Jean Francois couldn’t stop scowling. Even cuter.

  The gates leading into the resort were bordered by towering golden lions. The arch overhead a golden filigree with the name Club Lyon’s Resort etched within the curlicues and fancy scrollwork. Pretty, but even the tall fence wouldn’t stop someone determined to get in.

  Beyond the gates lay paradise. Lush trees, the green of their leaves vivid, bordered the paved drive leading into the property. Bright blooms popped with color and exuded lovely scents, the perfume tickling her nose. She closed her eyes in pleasure as she inhaled deeply. Smells good enough to roll in. Because, yes, lions did so love to roll in foliage.

  With her eyes still shut, she inhaled some more, this time looking past the obvious scents to filter those beneath. The exhaust from the Jeep. A touch of acrid smoke. A hint
of salt in the air. The ocean was nearby. She couldn’t wait to dip her toes in the warm water. After dark. Her pale skin couldn’t handle the midday sun.

  The Jeep pulled to a stop in front of a large building made of bleached coral. Unique and very pretty.

  Maurice saw her looking. “The entire resort is built from natural resources found on the island.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call harvesting coral to build things natural,” Jean Francois stated as he jumped out the back of the Jeep. He then offered a hand to Jan, who took it with a smile.

  No one helped Stacey out of the Jeep.

  Maurice shook his head. “All of the materials were recycled, not harvested or cut down. The jungles have plenty of fallen trees or those in need of trimming to keep them from getting knocked over in storms. Just like the coral goes through cycles where older parts die and break off. We even use the parts that wash up on shore.”

  “Is that lava rock?” Stacey asked, pointing to the darker stone mixed into the walls. “I thought I read the volcano was on protected government land.”

  “It is, but over the years the islanders have uncovered stashes of it outside that zone. And then, of course, there’s the stuff found on the beach.”

  In reality, Stacey didn’t truly care where the resort got its supplies. She asked because the more she knew, the more likely something would pop out at her. Joan might disparage Stacey’s job as an event planner; however, the one thing she didn’t understand was Stacey’s ability to read situations and people. Stacey had to be good in order to avoid bridezilla situations.

  Once they reached the interior of the building, the check-in process was much like other resorts. A thick silicone band was placed around her wrist, the ends sealed to prevent removal. Its presence proved her guest status with the resort.

  She held it up with a smile. “Free drinks.”

  “Drinks. Food. Towels. Anything you need. Plus it acts as your key.” Maurice showed them. “Place your wrist in front of your door, and the sensor within will allow you entry.”