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

by Eve Langlais

“What are you talking about?”

  “The way you were cock blocking me there.”

  “You’re not actually thinking of getting with that skank, are you?”

  “She’s not a skank.”

  “You’re not seeing it because you’re thinking with the wrong head.”

  “Who I fuck with is none of your business.”

  “It is totally my business.” She kept talking and couldn’t quite seem to control the possessive words coming out of her mouth.

  He noticed. “You sound more like a freaking girlfriend than a sister.”

  “I am just a concerned observer.”

  With slow steps, he moved toward her. “What game are you playing, princess?”

  “No idea what you’re talking about. Unless you mean Clash of Clans. I have to check on it daily to collect my stuff.”

  “Don’t pretend to be stupid. I’m talking about your attitude with me.”

  She batted her lashes. “Whatever are you talking about?”

  He stopped in front of her, a big, menacing presence, still half naked. So tempting.

  She placed her hand on his chest. Felt the oddly slow beat of his heart. A beat that split into two and the flesh under her fingertips warmed. “In spite of what just happened, princess, we are not a thing. I have no interest in you.”

  “Would you like me to prove that statement wrong?” Said tersely. She didn’t like the fact that he denied what happened.

  “I am not some toy you can play with. I don’t belong to you.”

  “I should hope not. No one should ever belong to another person.” But borrowing on the other hand… He can borrow my body any time he likes. Her fingers trailed up his chest, tracing along his jaw, rubbing over his lips, the tips of them pressing against his incisors. His eyes glinted with red.

  “Stop that.”

  “Make me.”

  “You’re playing with fire, princess.”

  “Ever think that maybe I want to burn?”

  He pulled her hand from him. “Try to stay focused.”

  “I’d probably focus more if we had sex.”

  “I’m sure the resort could arrange something if you’re that hard up. Although I imagine you could crook your finger by the pool and summon the stud of your liking.”

  “Are you really telling me to go screw another man? Is that what you want?” She couldn’t help an incredulous tone.

  “I don’t care what you do.”

  Said with a straight face, and yet her inner lioness immediately growled, lie. “You really don’t care?”

  “No.”

  “So the thought of my hands running over another man’s body doesn’t bother you. You’d be okay with some other dick slipping into the heat you started.” She cupped her mound through her dress and noticed him staring.

  “Stop it,” he growled.

  “Stop what? You’re not supposed to be bothered by the idea of another man licking my skin. Or my mouth—”

  “Enough!” he roared. “I don’t want you fucking anyone else. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “Yes.”

  He slashed a hand through the air. “It means nothing. We are here on a job, so how about you focus on why we’re here and keep your libido and hands to yourself?”

  “That’s no fun.”

  “Exactly. We’re not here for fun.”

  She sighed. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a spoilsport?” And a pussy tease.

  “All the time.”

  “Are you really going to leave me alone for the day? You do realize that you were sent to keep me out of mischief.”

  “Are you threatening to misbehave if I go?”

  “Threaten? Me? I’ll be acting like myself. Not my fault if some people are offended by it.”

  “Can you manage to not land in jail for one day? I’d rather not use up my cash to bail you out.”

  “Does this look like the face and body of a woman who spends time in jail?” She gestured to her elegantly attired frame.

  “I hear the pride has great lawyers.”

  She laughed. They did, which was why the biatches got out of more fiascos than most.

  “I’m not going to change your mind, am I?” Stacey said.

  “Nope.”

  “Fine. Go on the little road trip with Jan. See how much the little slut tells you.”

  “And what will you do?”

  “I shall plan a wedding and, at the same time, question people,” while attempting to not turn into a lobster. Good thing she’d brought that box with her military-grade sunscreen. Bought from a scientist selling secrets from NASA, it was strong enough to protect her even from UV rays beamed at her from an alien planet.

  “Stay out of trouble.” He wagged a finger.

  She almost bit it.

  “I will promise to be good for a kiss.” Bargaining for sexual favors. A new thing for her.

  But it worked.

  He drew her close, of his own volition this time. He pulled her up on tiptoe, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers. So close she could feel his breath.

  He murmured, “You want a kiss, then be good until I get back.”

  A whole day without getting into mischief?

  That would be a challenge.

  Before she could ask for a preliminary taste, he whirled from her and began to dress.

  In short order, Francois was gone, and Stacey was left to her own devices. She opened the package with her special sunscreen, a giant keg of it. With Francois gone, there was no one to tote it around for her, so she tucked it under one arm but didn’t have to go far before a male offered to carry it for her. The little foxy French dude from overseas grabbed it, grunted at its weight, and dropped it. On his toe. His screams brought other guests.

  The next two fellows struggled with the keg too.

  Weaklings. She missed Francois and his strong arms already.

  Those arms better not hug anyone else. Or she’d rip them off and beat him with them.

  Chapter Twelve

  In truth, JF didn’t want to go on a stupid fucking tour. If he wanted to explore the volcano, he’d do it himself by air where he’d cover more ground. Problem was he wouldn’t see much at night, and before he began flying over it during the day, he wanted a better idea of what to expect.

  Logic, however, didn’t make him any happier, not given he was jounced about in a fucking truck, which could have brought along Stacey if Jan wasn’t determined to glue herself to his side.

  The annoying female wasn’t necessary to the tour, something he realized not long after their departure. Jan commandeered the seat beside him in the all-terrain vehicle, a modified pickup truck. In the bed of it, two rows of benches with roll bars overhead. Each bench sat four people, all men. All shifters. The benches could have squeezed one or two more.

  But then again, probably best they didn’t. As it was, JF was getting too close to Stacey.

  Too hungry for her.

  If Jan hadn’t interrupted this morning, how far would things have gone?

  All the way, the beast replied with a dark laugh.

  JF had mistakenly—no, he’d purposely nicked her lip for a taste. It only made things worse. Now he truly knew how sweet she tasted. He wanted more.

  Drink up, buttercup. His inner monster didn’t have any qualms.

  How long could he hold out if she kept insisting?

  Not long if she attacked him with kisses again.

  I need to stay away. Keep himself out of temptation’s reach. Away from those luscious lips.

  What of my promise to her? The one he’d made promising her an embrace if she behaved. Probably nothing to worry about. No way would Stacey go an entire day staying out of trouble.

  She was trouble with a capital T. The woman needed a keeper. A man to watch over her and punch out those that might take offense at her princess airs.

  I should have stuck close to her.

  He looked back in the direction of the resort. They hadn’t gone too fa
r yet. He could jump out and make it back within an hour.

  The mere fact that he calculated it meant he deserved the mental slap.

  The strange urge he had to watch over her was why he had to escape. Why he’d chosen to embark on this lame jungle adventure.

  Stay away. Far away. Even if bored and tortured by a desperate woman.

  Give the expedition a chance. Maybe he’d learn something.

  Yeah, like where to hide a body on this island.

  Hehehe.

  The front cab of the truck held a driver and a partner who read off a script as they drove through a rutted track in the jungle. A history of the island, which he tuned out, much like he tuned out the woman beside him.

  Jan babbled, and he grunted and nodded every so often, only partially listening. Not once did the bubbly blonde reveal anything he needed to know. Such a waste of air, so he interrupted her to ask a question.

  “I thought the volcano was on protected land.” And yet here they were supposedly driving to see it.

  “It is. However, you can’t really expect people to ignore it’s there. The government and enforcement agencies turn a blind eye to small expeditions that go in to take a peek. So long as we don’t create any new trails or destroy anything, they don’t really care.”

  “And we’re actually going to the volcano?”

  “The base of it at any rate. The sides of it are pretty sheer. You’d need to be a spider monkey to climb them.”

  He tossed out some of the lore he’d learned from Stacey. “I heard there was some kind of cult that used to worship the volcano.”

  “They weren’t a cult.” Said with vehemence.

  “You’ve heard about them?”

  “More than heard. I studied them when I came to the island. They were the basis of my cultural thesis. They were more than a cult. The Lleyoniias”—spoken with a hint of a drawl—“were here before any of the human islanders. They were an ancient race of gods.”

  “Gods don’t exist.”

  “Or do they simply choose not to show themselves to you?”

  “How can you believe without proof?”

  “I’ve studied the proof. Seen the history and the pictures.”

  “Pictures?” He snorted. “Men wearing lion heads.”

  “You’re describing one way they’ve been depicted. Apparently, they were lions. Shapeshifters, but of a more advanced sort than we see today,” she added softly, with an eye on the other tourists. Given their scent placed no humans among them, he wasn’t sure he understood her caution.

  “Maurice says the island population is all human now. Did these god fellows die out?”

  “The stories are murky on that point. Some say the islanders refused to give the Lleyoniias a part of their bounty, and when invaders came, the gods left with them on their ships. Other legends state the volcano erupted and wiped them out.”

  “No matter their fate, their legends live on. What do you think happened? Do you think they all died out, or have they simply been in hiding?”

  “I think that it’s an interesting story.” She smiled. “But I’m much more interested in you. What are you?” A direct question.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’re not a shifter.”

  “You are correct. I am not.”

  “But your sister is one. Surely you carry the gene too.”

  “Alas, it skipped me. I’m just a simple man.”

  She shook her head. “You’re lying. You might not be shifter, but you’re also not human. You have marks on your body.”

  Denying it was pointless. They were hard to hide, but that didn’t mean he had to spill what they meant. “What I am is none of your business.”

  “What if I want to make it my business? As an employee of the resort, I am obligated to find out if you might pose a risk to other guests.”

  “So long as they leave me alone, they’re fine.”

  “Not good enough,” was said with a shake of her head. “You can’t expect me to take you at your word. The fact you keep adamantly refusing is rather suspicious.”

  “Because it’s none of your fucking business.” It took control to not let the angry beast rise to the surface and give her a hint of what he was.

  For a young woman, she proved awfully pushy, but Jan would find that he didn’t care what her sex or age was. If she shoved too hard at him, JF would shove back.

  The truck jolted to a stop as their guide hopped out of the front and advised them they’d now keep moving on foot.

  It was with more wariness than before that JF followed, noting how Jan stayed behind the group. He glanced at her from time to time, wondering at her sudden distance from him, noting how she watched the forest. So when the ambush came, he was ready.

  The wild boar came racing out of the jungle, a group of them, their bodies big and bulky, their coarse hair striated for better camouflage. Their eyes focused on the invaders to their territory. They uttered loud snorts and snuffles as they ducked their heads to charge, leading with their sharp and ragged tusks.

  “Can we?” asked one of the guests, fingers on the buttons of his shirt.

  “Go right ahead. Humans aren’t allowed in this sector,” answered the guide.

  The men of the group scattered, excitement firing their veins. He could hear their shouts as they stripped and ran, the excitement of the chase, which would turn into a hunt, a vivid battle cry that rose all around him. When presented with another predator, one that threatened and promised a good fight, shifters couldn’t help themselves, the call to their more primal side too hard to ignore.

  So they left, and the jungle filled with the catcalling sounds of feline predators at play.

  Only the guides, Jan, and JF remained clothed and by the truck.

  “Aren’t you going to hunt with them?” the driver asked.

  “I think I’d prefer to explore the volcano instead.”

  “Then you’ll want to go that way.” The guide pointed but didn’t offer to lead him.

  Not that JF needed help, but he was surprised Jan didn’t comment.

  Perhaps she’d finally given up on her obsession with him.

  He took off in the direction the guide recommended but veered slightly from the main path once he saw the secondary trail someone had tried to hide, the big fat leaves too carefully positioned to be natural. Pulling them to the side revealed a less used option. The odd thing about the second faint track was the lack of scent.

  No odor at all. Almost as if someone had tried to hide it. Or make it seem as if a whampyr had left it.

  Just because shifters couldn’t smell them, though, didn’t mean whampyrs lacked a smell. Theirs just resided on a more esoteric level. Another whampyr could scent it; it just took a little more effort.

  JF let only a part of himself change, a peek of the beast to truly inhale and filter the air around him.

  Still nothing—

  Wait. A hint of chemical. Something manmade and unnatural. To what purpose? Had someone intentionally neutralized all scent?

  Interesting. And why do it other than to hide something?

  Secrets. Always with the secrets.

  Although he now had one less secret with Stacey. I can’t believe I told her what happened to me.

  Told her and tried to find the anger to hate her. It was because of her kind he’d more or less died.

  But it wasn’t her.

  However, she had some of the same brash nature. The same violent tendencies.

  I’m more violent too. He definitely wasn’t a man that could be pushed anymore.

  Sasha was an anomaly. A sick lioness. Stacey wasn’t sick. Hot, sexy, and frustrating, yes, but she was the cure to what ailed him.

  But would she also be what brought about his downfall? When he was with her, he lost all control. All common sense fled. What if he didn’t hold on tight enough and the beast took over?

  Maybe I should buy myself a pink fucking dress and start talking in a high-
pitched voice about my fucking feelings. What the hell was wrong with him? Mooning over a goddamned princess.

  Fuck her and get over it.

  He’d just have to be sure he didn’t bite her again. No biting. Just hot and sweaty sex.

  Speaking of sweat… The heat of the jungle made his linen shirt stick. He’d opted for a muted print shirt, long-sleeved, plus slacks he’d ordered from a shop in town. Maurice had made the arrangements. As if he’d wear the crap Stacey had packed for him.

  Reaching the base of the volcano, he paused and looked up, noting the jagged sides, black and gray chunks with scraggly greenery struggling to push through. Not conducive to climbing. Although an agile person could probably make it to the dark ledge he noticed partway up.

  It would be easier to fly.

  But he didn’t dare right now. Who knew who might be watching? He also wondered if there was any point. The second path he’d followed led to a dead end. Perhaps this place meant nothing.

  He certainly couldn’t smell anything out of the ordinary. Not a single scent of human or shifter. Just flowers and foliage, along with the older musky scent of wild boar.

  With his hands shoved in his pockets, he strode closer to the base of the mountain, eyes scanning a dense curtain of shrubs. Extremely dense, and yet he spotted—

  “Oink!” The loud pig sound had him jerking his gaze to the left in time to see a tusked boar charging from the woods, squealing.

  If only he were here alone. It would make a great al fresco lunch, but keeping his secret was more important.

  No flashing the monster in public.

  Agility, though, wasn’t just for his whampyr shape. JF eyed the charging boar, timing his leap. Once he landed behind it, he’d have to move fast. He’d have to wrestle it with his bare hands since he’d not brought a weapon.

  Intent on the charging pig, he didn’t react when he heard a whir. A moment later, an insect nipped him, a sharp bite to his neck.

  Ouch. He didn’t dare raise a hand to slap it. Not with the boar only paces away.

  Another insect nipped him in the butt. Seriously?

  The distraction took his eyes from the boar hurtling at him. He dodged to the side, but his body felt sluggish, slow.

  Clumsy.

  He stumbled. And fell—