by Abigail Owen
She drank in the sight of him—all six-foot-two inches of muscle man, dark hair disheveled as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly, jaw so tense she’d bet he had a headache. And wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a look she rarely saw him sport, but liked. It gave him a raw, edgy quality that his suits and ties masked.
He searched the room and found her standing by her wardrobe. “Thank God,” he breathed.
Before she could say anything, he was across the room. He swept her up in his strong arms, lifting her feet off the ground. She held in the squawk that sprang to her lips as he squeezed her bruised back, because being held far outweighed the pain. With a shuddering breath, he buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply, and she wound her arms around his neck and did the same—the clean soap scent of him familiar now, like coming home.
“I thought I’d lost you.” His gruff voice, choked with emotion, was muffled by her hair.
She tightened her arms around him. “Not this time. Thanks to Zac and Sarai.”
He adjusted his grip to scoop up her dangling legs and carried her to the bed. “I want to hear every detail, but let me hold you for a minute first.”
He laid her on the bed with reverent care, then joined her there, curving his body around hers, holding her to him with an arm around her midriff.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Bumps and bruises. Nothing that won’t heal.”
But her assurances weren’t enough for him. With a gentleness no man his size should be able to master, he peeled her towel from her body and inspected every inch of her. A hiss shot through his teeth at the sight of her mangled knee. The hiss changed to a full-throated growl when he turned her over and discovered her banged up back.
“Tell me that the bastard who took you is dead.” The leashed wrath in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.
“Zac made sure of that.”
“Good. Remind me to thank him.”
She debated whether or not to tell him what Lorn had done. The Gage she’d left when she’d been taken would have asked her to trust him with the information. But which Gage had that been? Lorn or the man holding her now?
“He had your face.” The words popped out of her mouth, but she wouldn’t have recalled them even if she could.
He had to lean in closer as she barely squeaked the words out.
“What do you mean?” Still lying on her stomach, she couldn’t see his expression, but the confusion was evident in his voice.
“I was fighting him without seeing his face because it was dark and he wore a hood. But then the hood fell back and I could see his face. And he was you.”
“Help me understand, angel. Because that doesn’t make sense.”
“He had some…ravens…change his face with magic. Just to screw with me.”
Gage shifted positions and rolled her to her back to face him, careful of her back. “I’m right here. I would never hurt you.”
She tried to smile. “I know.”
He searched her eyes. “He really got to you.”
How could he see that? No one ever knew what she was truly thinking. If they had, she would’ve been dead long ago. Rick would’ve killed her.
She grimaced. “He made me hesitate. Would have killed me if Zac hadn’t shown up.” She kept to herself how her despair at thinking Gage had betrayed her had made her hesitate.
“And you don’t like not winning?”
She pursed her lips. “What’s the use of all that training if I can’t handle one assassin?”
“I suspect having to fight your mate, or someone who looked like your mate, would throw anyone.”
Sounded like excuses to her, but nice he tried.
“What’s the last thing we talked about?” She had to know which Gage she’d been with.
Understanding dawned in his green eyes. “I found you sparring with Daje. After we discussed that, we decided to give this mated thing a real try.” He frowned. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
She gave him a shy smile as the fear that had held her in its grip uncoiled inside her, like a boa constrictor releasing its prey. “No. I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Good.” He leaned forward slowly, achingly slowly, to lay his lips over hers in a kiss that started out as warm and comforting, but heated swiftly.
Her body came alive under his hands, responding to every caress, and she savored the tangy taste of him.
“The others are waiting,” he murmured against her lips.
“Let them,” she whispered as she tightened her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
He gave a low chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Care to take out your aggression on me?” a female voice called from behind Seneca.
Seneca paused in the precise sequence of strikes she was practicing against the dummy she’d set up to the side of the training arena. Since all her skeletons had jumped out of the closet and yelled boo, she saw no point in hiding her training activities. She might not be able to benefit from Daje’s instruction, but she figured her fitness level and reflexes would certainly benefit from daily use.
Besides, she needed to work out some pent-up energy. A sense of dread had settled over the castle, and cloaked her heart. Delaney was on his way with an army of cougars, many of whom she knew and with whom she was friends. He was coming to attack lions and cougars alike, and people she cared for would be hurt, even die. Could she have prevented this by taking him out? By fulfilling the destined path her mother had been set on all those years ago?
Wiping the sweat from her eyes with the back of her sleeve—lordy it was hot out here in the day time, the sun intense and merciless—she glanced over her shoulder. Andie, Sarai, and Tieryn stood off to the side, along with Zac. Andie, dressed similarly to Seneca in body-hugging athletic gear which would move with her motions, grinned widely, a challenge sparkling in her brown eyes.
Seneca cocked her head. “Don’t you want to see what I can do first?”
Andie raised her eyebrows.
Seneca shrugged. “I’ve seen you spar. Only seems fair.”
The grin on Andie’s face spread wider. “I think I can handle it.” She nodded toward the mat. “Come on.”
A quick glance told Seneca all the lions around them had stopped what they were doing and were now observing with cautious interest. They’d watched closely when she’d first come outside and set up, but left her to her own devices once she’d got started. Strangely, after years of doing all this in private, an audience didn’t bother her now. Of course, continuing to gain the lions’ trust and respect also had something to do with her motives.
Now she grinned back. “You know this isn’t a challenge to be Alpha.” Rule number one in the Shadowcat Nation: never directly confront or disobey an Alpha directly unless you’re challenging them for the role.
“Understood.”
“Then let’s go.” Unwinding the tape around her fists, Seneca followed Andie onto the matt.
“Hey, Papa Bear,” Andie called to Zac. “No jumping in.”
The polar shifter grunted.
Seneca raised her eyebrows in clear question, and Andie shrugged. “He has a protective streak a mile wide. He can’t even watch when Sarai and I spar.”
They squared off on opposite sides. Seneca had seen Andie fight, and knew she favored the brutal, acrobatic method of Krav Maga. She also knew Andie could change her style depending on her opponent.
But so could Seneca, and Andie didn’t know that.
Now she had a choice. Fight fire with fire, or fight fire with water. Andie would start with Krav Maga, a relentless style of combat focused on disabling an opponent. But Kung Fu had the potential to be more powerful with its fluidity of movement and subtle strength.
In a split second decision, as Andie charged, Seneca decided on Kung Fu, specifically the Drunken Monkey style for its focus on misdirection and counter-attacks. Plus, watching h
er opponent’s face when she moved into the forms gave her a kick. Even Daje, ever serious, hadn’t been able to keep from laughing at Drunken Monkey.
Seneca crouched low, her arms in front of her, hands formed almost like snake heads, but with two fingers pointed out more.
As Andie reached for her, she flipped sideways, tucking her feet in as she moved. Her opponent swung and Seneca did a few wiggles in her monkey stance, imitating the animal the martial art was modeled after.
Andie stopped dead, stood up and gave a great big belly laugh. “Drunken Monkey? Seriously?”
Seneca smiled back but didn’t move out of her own form. “Appropriate to counteract Krav, don’t you think?”
Andie gave a shake of her head, still chuckling. “Maybe so.”
Let’s find out. Seneca danced closer and struck with swift pointed jabs and kicks, no two landing in the same place twice. She also stood and squatted randomly with each move, making it harder to predict where she would be and her next attack.
Andie blocked and parried, but couldn’t get in a solid strike against Seneca’s more fluid and erratic movements. Nor could she get a grip on her to wrap her up in a wrestling move.
Without warning, Andie switched styles, moving into Jeet Kune Do, a form of Wing Chung which held no prescribed movement, making it harder to defend against.
“Hey, that’s my style,” Sarai shouted from the sidelines. Which meant Andie was an expert, since Andie had trained Sarai to fight.
This’ll be fun. The two styles meshed in terms of defense. After Seneca landed several jabs, Andie managed to get in a particularly hard kick to her chest which sent her flying backward. She rolled with the movement, flipping her feet over her head and came back to standing. Time for something more fierce.
She changed positions and pulled her hands back in her tiger claw. Tiger style Kung Fu was hands down her most proficient form.
Andie tipped her head at the form change, then they went at it again. Movements gaining speed as they settled into each other, they traded punches and kicks, blocked, flipped, and maneuvered around each other for a long while. Finally, Andie went flying after Seneca landed a solid kick to her gut. She too rolled up on her feet using the momentum of her fall.
They stood, frozen in their stances, breathing hard. By unspoken agreement, both women determined the fight was over. They stood and bowed to each other, keeping their gazes firmly locked, a sign of absolute respect for the other.
Applause broke out all around them. Not only from those in the training arena who’d stopped to watch, but the open air space, a smaller version of the courtyard where she and Gage were married, was surrounded on all sides by walls with windows, Roman Coliseum-style, and lion shifters now hung out of many of the windows, gazing down at the action.
Andie simply shook her head as she walked off the mat, but Seneca gave into her goofy side, a side she’d kept under tight control for years, and gave their spectators a cheeky curtsy, drawing a laugh from the crowd. Nice to have smiles from most of the lions, rather than glares, although she was sure it wouldn’t last long.
She exited the mat to find Gage standing beside their friends.
“I wondered where you’d run off to. Damn sneaky tiger. I thought mountain lions were supposed to be the sneaky ones.” A trace of concern lingered in the strain around his eyes, and telegraphed down the line of their bond, but he softened the words with a grin. “Remind me not to mess with you.”
She laughed as she turned away to accept a towel from Tieryn. But then he stepped in closer, capturing her full attention, and took her face in his hands. He placed his lips over hers in a long, hard kiss. Despite the fact that she was hot, and sweaty, and probably stank of grime and sand. Someone nearby gave a wolf whistle.
Gage lifted his head to stare down into her eyes, then leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Please don’t disappear like that again.”
She scrunched up her face. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“For my own peace of mind. Please. Just until this is over.”
The need to protect her rang in every syllable, showed in the tense muscles of his back and arms. Warmth spread through her that he cared enough to worry. At the same time, however, she couldn’t be kept on a leash, not now she’d found freedom. Neither she, nor her tiger, could handle that. Even when she’d been latent and submissive, she’d been left on her own. Of course, no one then had cared enough to think to protect her.
“What if this doesn’t end for years?” She placed her hands over his and squeezed. “I’m safe among the lions.”
“You weren’t safe in our own room.” His voice lowered to a growl.
She sighed. “I will tell you where I’m going before I leave. That’s the best I can do.”
He gave her another swift kiss. “I’ll take what I can get.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Seneca dawdled through what should’ve been a quick shower after her sparring match with Andie. The plan was to have breakfast followed by a teleconference with the Shadowcat Nation Alphas. So first she got to endure stares and glares from the lions, followed by those ever-so-fun discussions with the Alphas. Would the remaining portions of the Nation support them, or leave her new people to fight this out alone?
Honestly, she wouldn’t blame them either way. Decades of fighting and loss, with blame to be laid on both sides, made for blurred lines. For her part, after growing up with Rick Delaney, followed by hearing Zula’s story firsthand, she knew which side of the line in the sand she stood on. Everything could have been prevented if mountain lion shifters could have figured out how to negotiate peacefully with the other shifters around them. Her mother could still be alive. The lions had her support, not because they’d earned it, but because her role in this could bring peace, end the fighting, and save more lives.
Seneca was the last to get her food, having decided to make herself an omelet at the station set up for it. The sharp scent of cheddar cheese blended with the tang of tomatoes and peppers wafted up to her as she moved, but given the knots of tension in her stomach, she honestly wasn’t all that hungry. As she walked over to where the cougar shifters sat at the cafeteria-style benches, she could sense the eyes of every lion shifter following her.
Yup. Just as she’d predicted. Stares and glares.
Since the revelation about who and what she was had been shared with them, the lions seemed split fifty-fifty. Some had become more openly accepting and friendly. Others still viewed her with obvious suspicion. Not that she could fault them. A tiger shifter raised by cougar shifters, the supposed daughter of the cougar most responsible for this situation, also mated to one. Although they’d accepted Gage more readily since he’d defeated the lion who’d attacked him in this very room, whose name was apparently Adam, and who was third in line behind Edward in terms of Zula’s lieutenants. But Seneca was an anomaly, a not-all-that-former enemy, and trust had yet to be established.
Gage scooted over to give her room to sit beside him at the table, but she paused on that last thought. Trust had to be established.
Damn. She couldn’t do that when surrounding herself only with cougars. Could she?
At Gage’s questioningly raised eyebrows as she stood there, unmoving, she shook her head. “I’m going to go make friends.”
He frowned up at her a sec before realization dawned in his eyes, then his mouth twitched. “Go get ’em.”
Her shoulders dropped a fraction. Apparently telling him her plans wouldn’t earn her warnings or instructions to stop? Maybe they could figure out this whole mate thing after all.
She turned and headed toward a table of lions who’d been giving her particularly wary looks when she’d passed by a moment before. At her approach, they all tensed, their muscles rippling with it, but she ignored their reactions and bestowed them with her sunniest smile. “Mind if I join you?”
They didn’t speak or move for several seconds, baffled by her behavior and unclear on the best move. She held her smile
and waited expectantly for someone to make a hole.
“Sure,” one of the male lions finally said. He elbowed the guy next to him, and they all made room for her to sit.
“Thanks.” She swung her legs over the bench as she put her plate down on the table. Instead of the familiar, earthy scents of cougars, she was enveloped in the hot summer sun of lions. She really did love the way they smelled. “I’m Seneca.”
“We know.” A female lion glared at her from across the table, but fear, not anger, mingled with her summery scent.
“Oh.” She pretended like that was a surprise, blinking at them. Inside she chuckled. Of course they knew who she was. “What are your names?”
Before anyone could answer, the female jerked up.
Seneca gave her best wide-eyed look of innocence. “Do you have to go to the bathroom?” she asked.
A couple of shifters around the table choked back laughs. The female only snarled at her before she stalked away.
“I think she’s warming up to me,” Seneca quipped to no one in particular. But it served its purpose, garnering a laugh from the rest of the lions at the table.
“Back to my question. Names?”
She mentally repeated each name several times, wanting to make sure to call them by name when she bumped into them again. Politicians had nothing on her skills as a friend-maker. A skill which had been vital to her survival in the Delaney Dare.
The rest of breakfast went smoothly and she left her new lion friends with a wave, satisfied with her progress today.
“How’d it go?” Gage asked as she joined the mountain lions after breakfast.
She gave him a sassy wink. “Making friends and influencing people.”
She hoped. At the very least, the lions she spoke to might hesitate a fraction before blaming or even attacking her in the future. Much easier to make someone you don’t know personally the evil reason for all things wrong in your world. However, experience had shown her that rarely were people’s motivations quite so black and white. Take Zula. Much of her life had been dictated by circumstance—where she was born, what happened to her parents, the needs of her people, uncompromising asshats.
