by Clara Moore
***
The following night, after the zoo closed and a majority of the staff went home, Cassie ignored her research on the jellyfish completely and went straight to the lion’s den. She’d spent the day reading a book – a very strange mythological book – that may have had the answers she was looking for regarding the beautiful oddity that was the white lion, but to know for sure, she had to see him.
Except that he wasn’t in his den. Nor was he in his enclosure.
Panicked, Cassie stared at the empty enclosure, her breath heavy beneath the warm moonlight, and thought hard on where the lion might be. Perhaps the zoo director had loaned him out. Or perhaps he was sick and being looked after at the in-house veterinary clinic.
The vet. That seemed the most plausible. And the most worrisome.
She moved towards the direction of the clinic, but a loud clanging noise, like metal hitting the ground, caught her attention, forcing her back. It came from the loading dock where heavy equipment was transported in and out of the zoo. Trusting her instincts, she went to the dock.
And she found the white lion.
Mesmerized, she watched from behind a forklift as he paced nervously while two humans – a stunning blonde woman, not much older than her, and a dark-haired man – unlocked the back of a black utility van.
Oh my God, they’re stealing him! Cassie grasped.
She couldn’t let it happen. He had enough sadness in him as it was. Who knew what the couple’s intentions were. They could be urban poachers after the white lion for his hide.
“Don’t!” she screamed, revealing herself. “We have you on camera–” She stopped, realizing with a quick glance that the security camera overlooking the dock had been destroyed. Where was security? She prayed Doug was making his rounds and would soon find her. “Please, leave,” she insisted.
“That’s what we intend to do,” the dark-haired man sniped, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
Before Cassie had a chance to respond, the man flew into the air, his clothes ripping off him as his body writhed in impossible but flawless contortions.
When he landed, only inches from her, he was no longer human.
He was a lion.
And he was ready to strike.
***
Chapter Two
Sammi
Her life was over. Cassie was sure of it. She saw the lion-man move to attack. She saw how he gloated in her destruction. She didn’t run. That’s what predators wanted – the hunt. She was willing to stand her ground, to fight, but she couldn’t win. Not against an angry beast.
She braced herself, but when the attack came, it wasn’t against her.
It was for her.
The white lion sprang in the air and used his heavy weight to knock the lion-man away. Barely fazed, the lion-man immediately straightened himself out and growled at his opponent, ready for a fight.
But to Cassie’s horror, the blonde woman ran between them, holding her hands up like some warped traffic warden. “Stop!” she shouted. “We don’t have time for this. We need to go.”
In response, the lion-man backed down, but he cast a quick glance at Cassie. She could nearly read his mind. What are we going to do about her?
“I won’t let you take him,” Cassie re-asserted, sounding much braver than she felt. It was the only thing she could think to say. “He belongs to the zoo.”
“He belongs to no one,” the lion-man sneered, transforming back into his human form. He stood naked, completely unashamed, but the woman threw him clothes from the back of the van. “Do you know what it’s like to be locked in a cage when every muscle in your body screams to run free?” he asked as he pulled a pair of jeans on. “It’s cruel. And inhumane.”
Inhumane. Cassie turned to the white lion, a new reality dawning on her as the events of the night fully set in. “He’s like you,” she murmured. “He’s part human.”
“Yes,” the woman said, much gentler than her companion. “We’re shifters. I know it sounds crazy, but–”
“No,” Cassie said, interrupting. “It’s not. In my line of research, I’ve come across numerous eye witness accounts of shifters – people who turn into animals. The stories are always written off as legend or hallucinations, but there are so many accounts, from all around the world, that I long ago drew the conclusion that the stories must have some truth behind them. Science proves common belief wrong all the time. For instance, there’s a species of jellyfish that are immortal. The turritopsisdohrnii. We have them here at the zoo.”
She was rambling, she knew, but her adrenaline was peaking, as was her scientific curiosity. The ability to shift must be similar to the way a chameleon can change color based on chemicals within its nervous system…
“I think we lost her,” the woman said, amused. “Let’s go before she comes to.”
“Wait!” Cassie cried, pulled from her contemplations. “I’m coming with you.”
“Don’t fool yourself,” the lion-man sneered. “You’re lucky we’re letting you live.”
“Please,” she pleaded, looking at the white lion. “I just – I can’t leave him.”
She couldn’t explain it because she didn’t quite understand it herself, but the thought of letting him go was painful.
The lion-man protested further, but the woman was quiet, studying her intently. Cassie felt as if she were in one of those dreams where she suddenly realized she was naked in front of a crowd – vulnerable and exposed.
The white lion moved beside her, standing guard, as if a line had been drawn. Him and Cassie against the others.
“Fine,” the woman determined. “We don’t have time to argue. Kafele, you’re in the back. Weird science girl, you sit in the front with me.”
***
“So Kafele... is he your boyfriend?” Cassie asked, buckling her safety belt as the van sped away from the loading dock and out into the dark unknown.
“Life mate,” the woman answered. “How could you tell?”
“He listens to you. I figured he was either a boyfriend or brother.”
“No, my brother, Gowon, is the pale furry guy next to him.”
“The white lion – he’s your brother?” Cassie was still trying to get her head around it. How could this woman next to her be the sister of the lion in the back? She knew they were shifters, but it was still unreal, in an exciting way. Her book on mythology had been right. “Gowon. Gowon Blanc. He’s a person, with a name. And yes, he is my brother.”
Now that Cassie studied the woman closer, she saw the resemblance. Her hair was pale, like lilies in the moonlight, and her eyes were the same grey-green color. The difference was that hers held a lot more optimism, and a lot less sadness.
“I’m Sammi Blanc,” the woman introduced. “From your badge I see you’re Cassie. Pretty name. Pretty girl. I see why my brother is so protective of you. But before this goes any further, you should know exactly what’s going on. This isn’t some field trip. Where we live in New Mexico – live has its dangers, something my brother knows all too well. He’s afflicted, unable to change back into a human. He hasn’t in over a year. Being afflicted is kind of like a curse, except being a lion is no curse. It’s a cherished part of who we are. But to have the choice stripped from you... no longer free to shift at will... that’s the real tragedy. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to repel the affliction, for now.”
It was clear Sammi wasn’t going to elaborate, so Cassie didn’t press. Instead, she asked, “How did he end up at the zoo?”
“Our enemies. They came on our land. Normally, they’d never get away with something like this, but we’ve been so distracted... Anyway, we tracked him down as soon as we could.”
“And your home is New Mexico?”
“Yes. We have a range there – miles of wilderness on an open plain. Land that is both desert and green.” She paused. “Listen, like I said, things are dangerous at home. There is a war between prides, a battle for territory. You’re invited. Gowon wants you there
. But once you’re in, I’m not sure you’ll be allowed to leave, for your own sake. So if you want me to drop you off at the next bus stop, just say the word.”
Cassie looked out into the night. Though pitch black, it seemed to have a new vibrancy to it. The night didn’t shield shadows. It protected beautiful mysteries.
“No,” she said firmly. “This is something I need to do. I can feel it in my soul.”
Then she added silently to herself, No matter how dangerous.
End of the sample, you can read the rest of the book by clicking on the cover or by going to this link.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Clara Moore is a Canadian born Romance writer that currently lives between Toronto and Albuquerque. She has always had an interest in animals as well as love stories. She started her career as a reporter for wildlife magazines and decided that the stories needed a little enhancement to become truly hers. Since them she writes paranormal romance books.
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Here is another complete SEAL story for free:
A SEALed Secret
By: Claire Hewitt
I.
“Izzy, you can’t imagine just how much I love you,” Doran said, his slight Irish accent tinged with emotion. “How much I’d love to lay you down and kiss every inch of your body.”
His lips drew close to hers, so close she could taste him and feel his stubble on her chin. She wanted to answer with something sensual and sexy, but froze under the pressure. She longed for his kiss deep in her bones - every inch of her wanted him.
“Are you not awake yet?” he whispered.
“What?” she replied, finding her voice.
“Isadora, you should be awake by now.”
“Wha…”
BANG! A book slammed next to her head, making Isadora Rosellini jumped up from her bed. Her father, a tall man with wide shoulders, stood above her with a deep frown. She examined the room, wondering where Doran had gone.
He was never here at all, you idiot. And you wouldn’t want him here anyway.
“Don’t you remember that we have to pick your brother up from the airport?” her father asked.
“He’s not my brother, Mario” she answered, rubbing her eyes to wipe away the sleep.
“I’m your dad. Call me ‘Dad.’”
“Why do I even have to go? Can’t I just go back to sleep?” she asked.
“Your mother wants you to go.”
She fell back into her bed and held the pillow over her face, “Ugh, she’s not my mom.”
“Excuse me?”
She removed the pillow, “I’m feeling a bit under the weather. I don’t think I can go.”
“I want you downstairs in ten minutes,” he said as he stomped out of the room and slammed the door.
Isadora sighed and stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck to the ceiling as a reminder of her childhood. She once dreamt of fairy tales and SpongeBob, but now she dreamt naughty fantasies of her step-brother. She chuckled to herself, feeling overdramatic. Her orange cat, Tess, meowed at the end of the bed.
“Ten minutes isn’t enough time to do anything, Tessy,” she said softly to the cat. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s only Doran.”
She rose from her bed, still trying to wake up (and forget her dream.) She bent down so her hands could grab her favorite pair of jeans from the floor. She glided to her open dresser to pull out a black v-neck t-shirt and a blue sweater. She quickly put on some makeup and gave herself a long look as the cat swirled around her legs.
As a child, she used to travel with her mother, Gaea, to work. Gaea worked as a medical transcriptionist for a neurologist firm, and the employees would say, “There goes little Gaea following close behind.” As Isadora grew, she saw more of her mother in her looks. She shared the hazel eyes and the dark, long hair, but her mother had a certain grace, an elegance, Isadora never thought she’d see again.
“Isadora! We have to go!” Mario’s voice boomed through the house.
“I’m so excited,” she said under her breath. “This is going to be so fun.”
Gaea died from, ironically enough, brain cancer the day after Isadora turned eleven. She thought her father would never remarry, that they’d live together in shared grief for the rest of their lives. But after four years, things changed. Mario met a new woman, an Irish-American divorcee named Angela, and all bets were off. It would’ve been fine if she didn’t bring her bratty son, Doran with her. He made the worse mess of all.
Doran had been living with his father in Ireland until he got into some trouble - his father sent him home to Angela for “better raising.” Though Mario never had a son or a troublemaking child, he took the boy in with open arms. Isadora’s arms were not as abiding - the only family member she wanted was her mother, and that would never happen again. Truthfully, she thought she’d never stop mourning – she’d only better adapt to being alone.
When Doran went off to join the Navy, Isadora relished the day. Although he’d grown to be a handsome young man with a perfectly chiseled face and eyes so blue she could swim in them, his attitude made her skin crawl. He had this smirk that made her want to smack him (even if it also made butterflies burst in her stomach and scrape nervous circles on her insides), and he always knew the cruelest thing to say at any given time.
Isadora hated him.
She grabbed her headphones on the way out the door. She did not want to hear her father and her step-mother sing all of Doran’s praises on the way to the airport. Since he’d joined the Navy SEALS, he could do no wrong. She wanted to remind them about the time he tied a firecracker to their dog on July 4th (thankfully the dog lived, but the hair on his tail was burnt for the rest of his life), or when he stole a Harley Davidson only to drive it into the local lake. The parental figures never wanted to be reminded of these stories, however; they only wanted to praise his few good deeds.
Thankfully, the earphones made the drive to the airport not only quiet, but also peaceful. She fell into a pleasant sleep to make the hour and a half trip more palatable. She dreamt again of Doran being so close to her, she could feel the heat radiate off his body. This time, he leaned forward and kissed her, sending an electric current surging through her body. His hands, smoother than she expected, walked up her legs and under her skirt. Before he could finish his exploration, the car stopped and shook Isadora awake. She frowned, a blush still burning on her cheeks.
“I hope you don’t expect to listen to those earphones while Doran’s here,” her father hissed.
“Well, I was going to go jogging with them, but usually just listening to earphones doesn’t do anything worthwhile,” she shrugged.
Angela chuckled while Mario frowned. Isadora thought her joke was quite clever. She laughed at it in her mind. They walked out together like a picture-perfect family toward the airport. Isadora hated airports. They felt sterile and oppressive, like how she imagined the world of 1984 to look - travelers always looked expressionless, bored, and unhappy while waiting for their respective planes.
One could argue, she thought, that the emotion came out when travelers returned home, but that wasn’t always true. Sometimes the travelers still looked like the walking dead. And that, really, she couldn’t ignore (fear of an impending zombie invasion, perhaps?)
She sighed, deducing her irritability came from being woken up both rudely and too early. “Hey Dad, can I get a coffee?”
“We are waiting for your brother,” Mario snapped. “Can’t you wait?”
“On
e, he’s not my brother,” Isadora snapped back. “Two, if you want me to be nice, I need coffee now.”
“Let the girl get her coffee,” Angela swatted her husband’s shoulder and pulled out her wallet. “In fact, get us all one too. Doran likes plain black coffee. You know what your dad and I like.” Isadora looked at her blankly with the money in her hand. “I’d like a caramel macchiato, and your father will have a hazelnut latte.”
“Great, I’ll get right on that.”
Stopping at the first coffee shop she found,, it seemed like a swarm of people had the same idea, leaving her in an entirely too long line for her irritation level. She gave heavy sighs as she waited behind a professional looking middle-aged man.
“Do you have a problem?” the man asked after Isadora sighed for the third time.
“My brother is returning from the military overseas, so I’m just a little impatient,” she said. “Trying to get him and my family some coffee before he gets here.”
The man gave her a surprised and apologetic face, “Please, go ahead of me. And thank your brother for his service.”
She nodded, giving him a grateful smile. Using the same story, she somehow managed to reach the front of the line. Part of her felt bad about being so manipulative, but another part of her needed the coffee.
“Hi, I’d like mediums of a caramel macchiato, a hazelnut latte, and a dirty chai with two shots,” she gave a pleasant smile to the cashier.
“Anything else?” the cashier asked.
“Yeah, could I also get a small black coffee?” She leaned in, bringing the cashier in so she could whisper. “Could you also put some grounds in there? It’s really weird, but my brother loves it.”
“Um sure. We can do that.”
“Thanks. He’s been a little loopy after going overseas for the military.”
