Her Mountain Lion Mate (Shifter Special Forces Book 3)

by Summer Donnelly

  “She liked to tell men I was younger than I was. Dress me up in little girl outfits. Told me to talk like a child.” Tamara’s words were bitter. “I was her shark bait.”

  His hands trembled as he fought with his anger on her behalf. “That fucking bitch.”

  “We engaged in a battle of attrition. I shaved my head. Wore black lipstick. Found a job working long hours. Anything I could think of to get me out of the house.”

  He smiled at her, admiration in his eyes. “I would love nothing more than to hug you.” For a moment time stood still. Their gazes met as attraction arced between them. A magnetic force drawing them together.

  Tamara nodded, hoping she wouldn’t regret trusting Creole. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never let her down. But as her mother taught her, there was a first time for everything. “I haven’t been touched in ten years,” she admitted. Her lips trembled with emotion. “Be gentle.”

  “Forever,” Cree whispered reverently. He walked over with the same fluid grace he always had. As he looked at Tamara, his eyes burned with love and regret. Standing so close, he was in the shadow of her breath. Instinctively Tamara swayed toward him, needing the very touch that her mind wouldn’t let her accept.

  But their arms were awkward at first, neither knowing where to touch. “How about if you hug me,” Cree suggested.

  Tamara bent over and pressed her forehead to his chest. He was as warm as life itself. Offering peace and strength and asking for nothing in return.

  “Is this okay?”

  She hated the insecurity in his voice, wishing she could give him the confidence he so freely gave her. Tamara took his hand and clung to it. Old nightmares faded away as she basked in his strength.

  Slowly Tamara’s head came up. She drew in a deep breath sending much-needed oxygen through her starved cells. Cree’s hand hovered over her cheek not daring to touch. For that instant, his heat radiated out. Warming her.

  Tears stood in her eyes before flowing silently down her cheeks. His eyes never leaving hers, Cree wiped them away.

  With dream-like slowness, Tamara turned her face until her lips rested against his palm. When she spoke, her breath gently caressed his skin. “Thank you for understanding.”

  Cree’s body tensed. She knew he was fighting instincts to touch her. And at that moment, she loved him more than she ever thought possible. Slowly she released his hand. For a moment Cree held his palm against her cheek before he withdrew.

  “Are we okay?” he whispered.

  Tamara nodded. She knew it was less than what he wanted, but it was more than she ever thought possible.

  “May I?” he asked, body language indicating he wanted to kiss her forehead.

  Tamara nodded, relief coursing through her when neither fear nor bile rose at his touch. But it gave her hope that someday she could be his mate in body as well as in her soul.

  “Pick a movie,” Cree invited, withdrawing from the brief touch of his lips against her forehead. “I’ll pop some popcorn.”

  “Like a date?”

  “A cheap date,” Cree said with a wry grin. “But mostly a chance to sit next to you on the couch.”

  “Don’t you need to work?”

  “Jason is better with the customers. I handle the books and deal with the vendors. They know where to find me if something comes up, but for tonight I’m yours.”

  Tamara giggled. In surprise, she covered her mouth with one hand. Eyes crinkling with humor, she said, “Was that me?”

  Cree laughed. “Afraid so, Tams. Face it, you’re a giggly teenager.”

  Resisting the desire to fling the pillow at his head, Tamara looked at his DVD collection. “These are all the action movies,” she complained.

  “I’m a guy. I watch action movies,” Cree defended himself and his taste in movies.

  “Really? Then how do you explain this?” Tamara held up the 1940s rom-com.

  Cree blushed. “That’s a really good movie.”

  “Uh-huh. With Humphrey Bogart and Audrey Hepburn. Is the popcorn done?”

  They settled into the overstuffed couch. Near, but not touching, although she knew Cree took several deep inhalations to catch her scent.

  The movie logos appeared, and for a little while, Tamara forgot about her mother. Elliot. The truths she needed to reveal to Cree. The past was suspended, and they lived in the moment.

  For the next hour and a half, they were just Cree and Tamara again. Two old friends reconnecting and getting to know each other once more.

  The hope of a new life bubbled inside of her. It was far less than Cree deserved, but the sweetest dream she had ever had. A baby-step in the right direction.

  Cree

  Cree spent more time watching Tamara then he did the old black and white movie. He didn’t care which of the men got the girl, as long as Cree got his girl.

  What Cree did like, though, was watching her amused reactions. “Her chemistry with Bogart is palpable,” she said as she glanced up at him.

  “Yeah, you can tell they were a couple,” Cree commented absently.

  Tamara looked up at him. She stopped chewing as they watched each other. Letting the chemistry build between them. Cree was a hunter. Patient. Skillful. Stoic. He was prepared to wait five, ten, twenty years if he had to. But Tamara was not going to deny the chemistry that tied them together.

  Tamara broke their gaze first, digging into the bowl for another handful of popcorn. Once more, the storyline pulled her back under, and his heart beat faster with love as she watched the shenanigans of the actors.

  “Which brother do you think she winds up with?” she asked between mouthfuls of popcorn.

  “Are either of them shifters?”

  “Not everyone is a shifter.”

  “Well, whichever one is a shifter, that’s the guy who should get the girl.”

  Tamara smiled and tossed a piece of popcorn towards his face. Instinctively, he opened his mouth to catch the flying projectile.

  Her eyes opened wide, and for a moment Cree wondered if she still thought about that day. Did his snapping jaws remind her of the ugliness of her childhood?

  “You should get a job in the circus,” Tamara teased.

  “As what?”

  “One of the acts. Like those seals that play musical instruments.”

  Cree shook his head. “No wild animal deserves to live in a cage.”

  Tamara’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t mean like that,” she stammered. “Just when you grabbed the popcorn.” Her voice trailed off. “It was a joke.”

  “I know. But living in a cage is real for too many animals.” Cree shrugged and tried to lighten the mood. “Tell you what. How about I keep whenever you throw at me?”

  “Deal.” Her nose wrinkled adorably.

  Cree grinned to himself. He had it bad when even the woman’s adorably crinkled nose made his pulse race. He ached to gather her in his arms. To hold her, feel her melt and flow along his body as she accepted his embrace.

  “Tell me how you bought the Lusty Leopard.” Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

  Cree shrugged, settling deep into the cushions. “After I turned eighteen, I didn’t know quite what I wanted to do. It’s not like I could just get a job at a grocery store or something. I was now a registered shifter with a record.”

  “It was self-defense!”

  Cree smiled. He hadn’t realized how much he missed having someone defend him. “Still, I had a record. My name was in the paper. It wasn’t some petty theft where I could move to a new town and start over. I killed a man.”

  “A monster.”

  “You’re not going to get an argument out of me over that one.”

  “Did the army want you?”

  Cree lifted one eyebrow and looked at her. “I have a hard enough time with people around me, period. No way could my cat have tolerated that many other shifters.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, I guess you are a bit of a loner, aren’t you?”

  Moving in s
low motion, Cree twined one of her curls around his finger. “Some company I don’t mind.” He smiled when she blushed at his husky tone.

  “Is that how you got to Silver Fells?”

  “There were rumors in the shifter community about Maxwell Mountain. The guy who owned it, Quinn, was still in the army when I moved here. Met him when he was on leave, but by then I was pretty well settled on his land.”

  “He didn’t mind?”

  “No, you’ll meet him tomorrow. He’s a Mastiff shifter. Very laid back. Not alpha in the traditional sense. Not like bears and big cats. He just herds us along, as gentle as you please, and before you know it, you’re doing exactly what he wanted you to do in the first place.”

  “Sounds like a smart man.”

  “So, there I was. Young, in mourning for my mate. Angry. A bad case every which way I turned. I showed up at the bar and asked about work.” Cree flexed his muscles, and Tamara giggled appropriately. “Figured I could be a bouncer or something.”

  Tamara’s lips twitched. “I’ve seen several bear shifters, Creole. Even compared to you, they’re huge.”

  Cree snorted. “No freaking shit. You can’t give those assholes an inch. I’d take one of them on in a heartbeat if I had to. But no way was I going to be able to bounce one of them out if they started a fight.”

  “What job did he give you?”

  “I was his bar back. Lousy job, heavy work, shitty hours. I hated it, but it kept me out of trouble.”

  “Eventually, you took it over?”

  Despite the early hour, Tamara’s eyelids were starting to droop. “He still owns most of it. I saved my money and bought in as a partner.”

  “But you’re not a leopard.”

  He snorted. “If I had a dollar for every time someone told me that, I could buy my own damn rosettes.”

  She laughed at his joke, yawned, and settled deeper into the heavenly soft cushions of the couch. From one heartbeat to another, she fell asleep.

  Cree held his breath, not wanting to move. Not wanting to shift gravity in his favor. Wanting, no needing, to respect his Tamara’s boundaries. He reached over her for the quilt he kept on the back of the couch, but when he did so, she slid into him.

  Feeling as though she had died and gone to heaven, Tamara snuggled into his chest and began gently snoring. Cree settled the blanket around her and closed his eyes. Damned if a nap didn’t sound good to him, too.

  Chapter Four

  Cree

  “You’re sure your friends won’t mind an extra guest?”

  Cree glanced over at Tamara hugging the side of the truck. “You aren’t a guest. You’re family.”

  Tamara glanced out the side window. “Thank you for that. And for letting me sleep all night.”

  “You were exhausted. I would have put you in my bed, but I thought that might make you uncomfortable.”

  “Is that why my things are in the back of your truck?” Her hands clenched and Cree was hit with the unmistakable scent of salty tears.

  “I thought you’d be more comfortable with Lacey and Quinn up at Little Yellow. At least until we can find you a place of your own.”

  She’d fallen asleep so sweetly. Her sweet breath tickling his chest. Despite the near torture to himself, Cree allowed her to sleep as she wanted. Eventually, he’d stretched her out on the couch and went to his own cold bed.

  But this morning, she was withdrawn. Sullen. Not at all the same mood she’d been in yesterday.

  Silence fell between them. Lengthened. Finally, Cree couldn’t take it anymore. For a man used to living alone, he had quickly adjusted to Tamara. “Did I say or do something wrong last night? I didn’t touch you or take advantage in any way. I promise.”

  He pulled the truck over to look at her. Small movements told him a lot.

  “You’ll think I'm silly,” she confessed, her voice so low even his superior hearing had trouble picking up her words.

  “We won’t know unless you tell me.” Cree held his hand over hers, letting her feel his heat and life force without touching.

  “You’re so patient with me.” Tamara flipped her hand, letting their palms touch. The sensation of his mate voluntarily touching him shook Cree to the core.

  “You’re my Tamara. My Tams. My—”

  “Don’t say it!” she warned with a laugh.

  “My Tam o’ shanter,” he finished with a chuckle.

  “I hated that nickname,” she grumbled.

  He let her statement stand, but they both knew it was only half-true. She may not have liked when he called her Tam o’ shanter, but it was nothing like the other one. Tammy. The one both Elliot and her mother called her.

  “Now that we’ve established what I can and can’t call you, why don’t you tell me what I did wrong?”

  “You’re getting rid of me.”

  Cree stopped breathing, not sure he heard her correctly. He opened his mouth to ask her but shut it. He scented how real her feelings were to her.

  “I am not getting rid of you. There is no way we can live in my 500 square foot house and not touch, Tam.” He reached over to hug her close to him, but she flinched.

  “I’m sorry!”

  “No, stop. Baby, please, look at me. Look at my eyes. It’s me. Creole.”

  Tamara took a deep, shuddering breath before forcing her eyes opened. “You have beautiful eyes,” she whispered.

  “I know you’re afraid of me. You have every right.”

  “No, I’m not afraid of you.”

  “I killed a man in front of you. You were a child. I was just as much a part of the trauma as that bastard was.”

  “It was in defense of me.”

  “Your mother was right,” Cree said, pain roughening his voice. “This last decade? There wasn’t just the memory of him. You’re running from me too. I can’t imagine any woman wants to believe that the man she loves this a killer.”

  “No!” Tamara’s voice shook with emotion. The single word became a ragged cry of denial.

  “Yes,” Cree said flatly. “I killed Roger Elliot.”

  “No, Adele was wrong. You didn’t enter our trailer planning to kill Mr. Elliot. You saved my life.”

  “Which is why I was charged with justifiable homicide, not murder one. A man is dead just the same.”

  “I know you. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “There’s something that you still haven’t faced, Tamara.” Cree spoke slowly. Clearly. Leaving no room for any misunderstandings between them. “When I saw that bastard hurting you, he was a dead man walking. There was no way I was going to let him leave your bedroom alive.”

  Tamara’s closed as she accepted what Cree said. “Cree,” she whispered.

  “I remember, even if you don’t. The horror in your eyes as I let Elliot die in front of you. It will haunt me forever.”

  “I was just a little girl! What was I supposed to do? I shut down. That kind of trauma at nine? After we moved, I went to a mental hospital for over a year. It was too much, Creole!”

  “I know.” He remained calm. Steady. Secure. Cree wanted to close his hand around her smaller one but was afraid of triggering her again. “I am proud of you for facing your demons then. For facing me, now. Your bravery humbles me, Tams.”

  She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks, breaking his heart.

  “I need you to know. You don’t owe me anything. Certainly not trust. I haven’t earned that yet. You’re here. Alive. That’s all I need. That’s all I have ever needed.”

  “But I do trust you,” Tamara cried.

  “We will both know when that’s true,” Cree said sadly. “When being near me no longer makes you flinch.” Their gazes met as he let his words sink in. Quietly. Securely. “It has nothing to do with not wanting you. It has nothing to do with me loving you. If anything, I love you enough to give you the space you need.”

  Tamara wiped her cheeks and nodded.

  “We will take this day by day until you are no longer afraid of m
e.”

  Cree waited until Tamara nodded before starting the truck and heading to his friend’s house.

  Tamara

  “Creeeeee,” Lacey called as she bounced off the porch and ran towards them.

  “Laceeeee,” Cree said, hugging Lacey close. “Lacey, I’d like you to meet Tamara Brennan. My mate.”

  Tamara’s eyes filled with tears at the pride in his tone. She smiled and purposefully slipped her hand into his as a sign of solidarity.

  Lacey’s eyebrows raised. “Oh.” She looked back and forth between them. “I take it you’re not dead.”

  Tamara laughed and in spite of her initial distrust of Lacey, found herself warming to the woman who clearly spoke her mind. “I’m afraid the news of my death was a bit premature.”

  “Go play with the boys,” Lacey ordered, effectively dismissing Creole. “There is a story here I am dying to know.”

  “Play with the boys?” Tamara asked.

  “Hmm. Yeah, they’re playing shifter kickball. Crazy sport. I don’t recommend it for us human types.”

  “You’re in good hands. I promise,” Cree called before jogging to the courtyard between the cabins to play a few innings of shifter kickball.

  Tamara watched their antics. “Are there rules?”

  “None that we’ve been able to tell,” another woman said as she approached. “Hi, I’m Hadley.” She nodded to the man currently arguing with Cree. “That’s my mate, Hunter.”

  “The dude with biceps as big as my head?”

  Hadley sighed, smitten. “Yep, that’s my man.”

  “Why is he fighting with Creole?”

  “They sometimes get on each other’s nerves,” Hadley said with a wry smile.

  “Yo, Hunter! Remember who saved your life,” Lacey called, her voice rising above the general rabble of shifter arguments.

  “Creole saved his life?” Tamara was instantly curious. “He doesn’t talk much about himself. What happened?”

  “It was the fire last summer.” Hadley played with the hem of her T-shirt. “Hunter went in to save some kids. He got Quinn and a little boy out, but the smoke inhalation was too much. He couldn’t get out.”

  Hadley and Lacey exchanged a look. Tamara felt she was again missing a key plot point but didn’t push for answers.