Pick of the Litter

by Wendy Stone

The man turned, pushing at his friend. “I'm not kidding. She's got a big fucking panther in there. You get eaten if you want, my wife would kill me."

  "Fucking baby,” the other man sneered, letting his friend push past him. “It's probably just a big Tom cat.” He pushed open the door with his cast-encased arm, a present from the asshole who'd come into his bar the last time and fucked all of them up before taking off with the bitch. “Here kitty, kitty,” he joked, hearing the guys behind him laughing.

  The big cat crouched in front of the open door, a grunting growl coming from deep in her chest. She launched herself at the man, claws out stretched, teeth bared.

  The only thing that saved him was the cast, for he pushed it out in front of himself, an unconscious survival move. Marissa caught the thing in her teeth, snapping her head from side to side as if trying to kill it.

  Her victim screamed even as the guys behind him pushed forward to see what was going on. Her pounce knocked the man she was mauling onto the floor. The taste of the cast—dirt, oils, spilled alcohol, greasy foods—filled her mouth, leaving a foul taste. She shook it one more time before letting loose, sitting on the man's chest, her nails embedded in his skin.

  Looking up at the men surrounded her, their eyes filled with disbelief, she snarled, letting loose a shrill shriek that was suddenly echoed by another at the front door. Marissa snarled back, hearing Terry let out a short squeak. She jumped up suddenly, barreling though the men toward the sound of her friend, the woman being held like a shield between the man holding her and two beasts at the door.

  One was a sleek and beautiful panther, golden eyes echoed by the beautiful torque around his throat. The other was a strange looking beast. Not quite wolf, for his pelt was short and fine, lying against his skin with a satiny sheen. Not quite panther, for his ears were bigger, his muzzle longer and more canine than feline. He was bigger than the panther, though still as sleek and long-limbed. His eyes, green and piercing, glowed with malice.

  While the big panther was black as sin, his pelt shining with blue highlights, his companion was a shimmering silver, his fur gleaming beautifully. He was an oddly handsome, a mixture of the best of panther and wolf.

  Marissa noticed all this in about in the time it took to take a stride. She readied herself to pounce again, wanting desperately to come to her friend's aid.

  No! She heard in her head. Her eyes swung away from the man holding Terry and back to the big panther. He's mine!

  These are the men who hurt me, she snarled back, a strange grunting sound coming from deep inside her. I want them dead.

  So do I, my love. But you must not be involved. Take your friend and find a place to hide. I'll find you after. He growled at the man holding Terry even as he sent the thought to Marissa. His fangs flashed, white and lethal.

  With a shriek of his own, the man pushed a struggling Terry away from him and at the cats, as if to sacrifice her to save himself. He turned, screaming when he saw Marissa and the feline fury on her sleek black face. He turned again, took two running steps and knocked himself out against the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster the size of his head.

  Marissa hurried to Terry, nudging at her with her head until the woman looked up. “Mar?” Terry asked, hesitantly. “Who are they?"

  She couldn't answer, not in that form, and she wasn't sure if Terry was asking about the men who had pushed their way into her apartment or the beasts that slathered after them. Grunting deep in her throat, she grabbed Terry's hand gently in her mouth, pulling on her to force her up.

  They made a strange pair, the glossy panther and the disheveled woman, hurrying into the hallway past two more panthers and to the stairwell. Climbing one flight of steps toward the roof, Terry wrapped her robe around her, hunching down into the fabric. Then she sat on a step, staring down at the door to her hallway, waiting to see who would come through it.

  * * * *

  Nashe circled three of the men, snarling menacingly and trying to hide the joy and glee in his eyes as he reveled in the freedom he felt. Cooking fed a part of his soul, the creative part that enjoyed seeing the look in people's eyes when they tasted his cuisine. But this freedom came from being his true self. He snarled at one of the men who tried to sneak past him, leaping up on his back legs to push him back.

  The man screamed and Nashe smiled, a canine grimace that was more threatening to the man's shattered nerves. He bared his long white fangs, letting a feral growl come from deep in his chest. Another scream came from behind him and he turned, taking a quick glance at the men that Lukah had cornered.

  Lukah had one down, flat on his back, his teeth to the man's throat. A twist of his big head would rip out the man's jugular, allowing him to bleed out quickly. Nashe could feel the almost primal urgings deep in his belly, the need to feel his teeth sink into hot flesh, to taste the coppery flavor of blood as it ran into his mouth, to rip steaming flesh from the body of an enemy and gorge himself upon the meat.

  Turning back to his, he pounced upon one, grabbing the man's wrist, hearing the cellphone the man had been holding clatter to the floor behind him. With a silent shout of glee, he bit down a bit harder, feeling the skin break under his teeth, tasting of the blood of his enemy. The man screamed harder, his other hand trying to beat at the thing that was holding him.

  With a quick twist of his head, Nashe broke the man's wrist, feeling only joy, none of the regret he thought he should feel. Is Lucinda calling the police? He heard Lukah say in his head.

  Beats the hell outta me, he called back, letting loose of the man's hand. He reached out with his big silver paw, batting at another of the men and leaving light claw marks on the man's back. Why don't you ask her?

  She's fighting with Marshal, and even in that thought, Nashe could hear the disgust in Lukah's thoughts.

  Young love, he sent back.

  Lucinda walked from the bedroom, naked as the day she was born. Next to her, padding with a predatory stalk to his gait was Marshal. He growled at any of the men trapped in the short hall who dared to glance at his mate, showing his teeth more than once.

  "Gentleman,” Lucinda said, her sexy, husky voice full of sarcasm, “and I use that term very lightly. I have called the police who will be here shortly to pick you up for trespassing, assault, and attempted rape. If you try to leave before they arrive, my companions here will gladly help you remember why it is you want to stay in this apartment unless you have a police escort. Any questions?"

  "You fucking bitch!” one of the men shouted. “You whore, I'm going to sue you and those other two bitches."

  Lucinda sighed, her hand resting against Marshal's head. She stroked his fur, drawing a pleased purr from her mate. “You can certainly try. More than one man has.” She shrugged, bending a bit so that her breasts swung away from her body. Kissing Marsh, she looked up at the man. “No one has every found their bodies. I know my companions would prefer you forget my warning, gentleman. If you'd like another romp with them, stick your head out that door after we have left."

  She strode away, her backside swinging with an eye-catching twitch, Marsh following along behind, growling at every man who looked. She reached the door, holding it open for Marsh before whistling for the other two. “Coming?"

  Nashe waited for Lukah, concerned. He rose from the man he was lying upon, his gait unsteady. He stumbled as he walked down the hall, Nashe following him, his eyes swinging from one man to the other. As soon as the door was closed, Lukah collapsed on the floor of the hallway, his body changing back to its human shape.

  His skin was a deathly gray, his breathing labored and slow—too slow. Nashe flashed to his human form, ignoring the clothes that Lucinda sat next to him. “Lukah,” he called. “Dammit cousin, I knew doing this would be too much for you.” He glanced up at Lucinda, seeing that she was almost dressed. “You've got to find Terry and Marissa. Terry needs to stay here and let the police in. Marissa...” he couldn't finish the sentence. If she refused to finish the mating ceremony with Lukah.
..

  Lucinda looked down the hallway, seeing the door to the stairs. She headed down that way quickly, glancing back only once to see Nashe dressing while Marshal was dressing Lukah. He was so pale, so dead-looking already.

  Bursting through the door, she startled the two girls sitting on the stair treads, Marissa dressed in Terry's robe. “Come on!” she growled, grabbing for Marissa's hand. “You've got to mate with Lukah. He'll die if you don't."

  "What do you mean, he'll die?” Marissa gasped, letting herself be dragged down the hall. She saw Lukah's body lying on the floor of the hallway, her face going as pale as his. “Noooo,” she cried, pulling away from Lucinda and rushing to his side.

  "What's wrong with him?” she asked as she threw herself to the floor next to his body.

  "He's dying, woman,” Nashe answered, disdain in his voice. “What do you think is wrong with him? You fucked him, starting the mating process and then you decided you didn't want to go through with it, sentencing him to death."

  "Nashe,” Lucinda said, aghast at how her cousin was handling this. He was brash and hard. After what he'd gone through, Cin could understand his feelings. “You aren't helping any here."

  "I didn't know,” Marissa cried, looking up at them with tears in her eyes. “How could I have known? He should have told me.” She picked up his head, cradling him in her arms, her tears falling upon his pale features. “Lukah,” she sobbed. “Why didn't you tell me?"

  His eyes fluttered, then opened. There was such weakness inside of them, such hopelessness that she caught her breath in despair. He lifted his hand, but after going only a few inches, it fell to the ground. She caught it, lifting it to her face, kissing his palm. “I'm sorry, Lukah,” she whispered. “I-I love you."

  A faint smile touched his white lips, his eyes fluttered shut and then he sighed.

  "Lukah?” she whispered, watching his chest, praying for it to rise as he took another ragged breath. “Lukah!"

  "No!” Lucinda screeched, grabbing Marshal and holding onto him tightly. “You've killed him!"

  "Luc!” Nashe growled, shaking his cousin. But his chest didn't rise and he didn't open his eyes. “Listen to me,” he said to Marissa. “Did you mean what you said? Do you love him?"

  "Yes,” she moaned, feeling as if half of her was being ripped away.

  "Then you'll mate with him, but we can't do it here.” He moved quickly, scooping up Lukah's body in his arms. “Get the button for the elevator. We'll have to do this in my car. You two,” he called back to Marshal and Lucinda. “Stay with Terry and field any questions the police might have."

  "But,” Marsh began, only to see the tails of Nashe's white chef's jacket as he pushed Marissa ahead of him into the elevator. “He's dead, isn't he?"

  "Shut up,” Lucinda groaned, tears spilling from her exotically-shaped amber eyes and streaking down the slope of her soft cheeks. “If anyone can come up with a way of fixing this, it's Nashe."

  Terry stared from one of them to the other, having no idea who they were or what they were doing at her apartment. The strangeness of the evening began to have an effect upon her and she took a step back, her elbow smacking into the wall with a resounding thud. “God dammit!” She grabbed the offending limb, stepping back until her back was against the wall.

  "I don't know what happened, or who you people are, but I want someone to explain this to me right away. What happened to those men? Was that guy dead? Where is Marissa going? Are you one of them too?"

  "One of them?” Lucinda asked, her eyes on Terry. “One of them? One of them just saved your life if not just your virtue. And we lost one of ours in the course of it.” She started stalking toward Terry, stopped in her tracks as Marsh reached out and grabbed her.

  "Come on, little baby, it's confusing for the human. She doesn't understand our ways or what's happening. Don't take your sorrow out on her.” He tilted his head, listening for a minute. “Besides, the police are almost here. We must get our stories ... straight?” he asked, unsure of the terminology.

  "You've watched too many mob movies,” Terry hissed.

  "No, he's right,” Lucinda said. She reached out and grabbed Terry's arm, yanking on the front of her tank top until it ripped, one strap coming undone. “I have to hit you,” she said quietly.

  "You're going to what?” Terry asked, not seeing the blow that came at her quickly, slamming into her cheek with bruising intensity. Her head went backwards, slamming into the wall and she saw stars.

  "Why the fuck did you do that?” she growled at Lucinda.

  "Shut up and listen. They came in when you were waiting for Nashe to return. One of them slapped you and knocked you out. When you came to, we were here and you were out in the hall. You're not sure what happened, only that there are a bunch of men in your apartment that attacked you first. Got it?"

  "But why should I lie ... those men did..."

  "Just do it,” Lucinda growled irritably. She didn't want to stay with the helpless human female. She wanted to know what was happening with Lukah.

  The elevator doors opened and the police poured into the hall. She braced her shoulders and prepared for the lie.

  * * * *

  "You'll mate with him?” Nashe asked again, hurrying her down the walkway to where his Mustang was parked. He hit the button on the remote with his thumb, waiting until she opened the door. “Get in the back,” he said, waiting until she did as he asked before laying Lukah down next to her on the seat. “Answer me, quickly. You'll mate with him?"

  "Yes,” Marissa said, her fingers running over Lukah's cheek.

  "You'll have to do what I say and do it without comment, got me?"

  "Yes,” she said again, nodding her head before looking up at him. “What do I do?"

  He gave her a cheeky grin, climbing over the passenger seat and sliding behind the steering wheel. “Hang on!"

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twelve

  The police stared at the men lying about the apartment, some bleeding, others sitting up and looking shocked. None looked like the rough neck men that they were.

  "What happened here?"

  "We told you, officer. This young lady grabbed us as we were heading off to surprise a friend with a visit. She'd been knocked out cold. When she came to, the men who had been going to rape her were in the condition you see now. She doesn't know what..."

  "I think we'll let her tell us that.” The officer turned to where Terry was sitting on her couch, a paramedic working on the bump on her head as well as holding a cold pack to the swelling bump on her face. “Miss, can you tell us what happened here?"

  "I was in bed and heard a knock on the door. My friend Marissa was supposed to come over and spend some time with me. I thought it was her so I didn't bother to look out the peephole.” She shook her head, shivering a bit as memories of what she'd seen and done this night came back in a rush. “They pushed inside demanding to know where the ‘bitch’ was. I figured they were talking about Marissa since she was just attacked last week. Probably by the same men,” she added, looking up at the cop with hollow, too big eyes.

  "Then what happened?” he asked, writing information down in his notebook before looking back up at her.

  "One of them hit me when I couldn't tell him where Marissa was,” she said, indicating the huge bruise that started just at the edge of her hairline, swelling as it surrounded her eyes and ending at her nose. “My head went backwards and I hit one of the walls. That's the last thing I remember until I woke up and all these men were ... were like this."

  "Yo, Jennings,” another of the cops called, drawing the attention of the cop that was asking questions of Terry. “Come here and look at this."

  "What is it?” Officer Jennings said, holding up a finger to Terry as he walked over. The two cops spoke quietly, looking at the man who was being handcuffed at the moment before Jennings once more turned back to Terry.

  "Do you have a dog, Miss?” he asked, glancing around the apartme
nt.

  "No, my apartment manager doesn't allow pets,” she answered. “What does this have to do with me being attacked?” Her tone of voice betrayed her anger and her distrust of cops as well as fatigue, a fact that wasn't lost on the police officer.

  "The men are claiming that they were attacked by four huge animals. They also say that you, Ma'am,” he said, turning to look at Lucinda, “were walking around with one of them, naked."

  "Did you ask them what they've been smoking?” Terry smirked. “Four animals, yeah, right. The only animals in this place are those men. They attacked my best friend and came here looking for her. God knows what would have happened if she'd have been here. They could have killed her or ... or tried to rape her again. They might have raped me. I'm the victim here, why are you questioning me like I'm a suspect?” her voice rose on the last word, becoming very shrill.

  "Whoa, Miss. No one here thinks you're a suspect. We just have to find out what happened.” He held his hands out in a placating gesture, trying to calm the situation and keep her from becoming hysterical.

  "I've told you. Those men broke in, attacked me, hit me and knocked me out. I woke up, crawled into the hallway and saw these two. They called you people and have been kind enough to stay with me until you arrived. What else is there to tell?"

  "Some of your attackers have some deep bite wounds and they are all telling the same story, Miss Taylor."

  "Oh, yeah, that I have some big mean animals here in my apartment. Do you see any sign of animals here, sir?"

  "No, no, not at all."

  "Then do me a favor and get those criminals out of my home!” she ordered shrilly, pretending a panic she didn't have to go too far to enact.

  "We're going to want to transport you to the hospital, Miss Taylor,” the paramedic said, putting his hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

  "No! Just slap a bandage on it and then all of you can get out.” Terry was adamant, refusing to go to the hospital, no matter that her head was spinning and her face was throbbing from Lucinda's fist.

  "It's for your own good...” he tried again, recoiling when Terry glared at him.