Secret Baby Lion: A BBW Lion-Shifter Romance (Shift Your Fate Book 2)

by Cara Wylde

  The way her pussy throbbed around him, the beautiful view of her hips dancing in the rhythm imposed by him, the sight of his own cock moving in and out of her… it was all too much. He came deep inside her, his hot, thick seed filling her passage.

  Tristan fell on top of her, then rolled on his side, careful not to crush her frail body. She snuggled against his chest, and he squeezed her possessively.

  “Mine,” he declared.

  Liv chuckled. “We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”

  “Aww… You’re too hard to impress.”

  “It wouldn’t be as fun if it were too easy.”

  “Fair.”

  He kissed the top of her head. She sighed and closed her eyes, the wine she had had earlier and the two orgasms finally taking their toll.

  ***

  She tried not to listen, as she always did when Tristan was with a woman. She tried not to think about it, about them… not to think about him kissing her lips, her neck, exploring her body. It was useless. She couldn’t ignore what was happening. Why? Because this time, the woman wasn’t just a random fling to pass the time. Olivia was Tristan’s mate. Camille could sense it. She was sure he had sensed it too, and if he was too proud or stubborn to admit it, then his lion had surely made up his mind. She didn’t even have to use her witchy skills to confirm what her intuition had told her the moment she had met Olivia.

  Camille was pacing the living room frantically, but her mind wasn’t there. It was impossible to focus on herself, on the present, when the woman’s moans and screams could probably be heard from miles away, let alone from the house right next Tristan’s. When Tristan had brought Camille to live with his pride, he had wanted to have her close. As close as possible. He had even entertained the idea of having her live with him, but then he had thought better of it and built her a small, comfy house next to his. Thus, he could always check on her, ask for her when he needed a certain spell performed, or when he got paranoid about his people’s safety and wanted her to reinforce the protection she had put on their community. Even at 14, when he had found her, Camille was a powerful, gifted witch. Her skills had been the reason why Tristan had been able to track her to the orphanage where she was living. She hadn’t wanted to come with him then. She had tried to run away countless times. Eventually, when he considered her old enough to tell her about shape-shifters, supernatural people, and the Assassins’ Guild that hunted them, Camille understood she was better off with him than with his enemies. For a while, things worked fine between them, then she made the one mistake that had brought about her slow, but certain ruin: she had fallen in love with him. Her captor, her protector… the only man who would never see her as more than a girl, a witch, an asset.

  The box she had hidden in the cupboard when Tristan and Olivia had walked in on her was now in its usual, safe place. Camille went into her bedroom, knelt in front of her wardrobe, then pulled the drawer and removed the fake bottom. She took the box out and unlocked it with the key she always had on her. Carefully, she picked up the vial from between old notebooks and photographs. She held it into the light coming from the lamp on her nightstand, and shook it lightly, watching mesmerized how the transparent liquid moved and sparkled. The vial wasn’t full, but it didn’t have to be. Just a drop of the unique mixture she had managed to create after hours and hours of work in her personal lab was lethal. It didn’t matter to whom it was administered. Human, shape-shifter, vampire, fay… the victim would be dead within seconds. She had known how to produce the mixture for years, but she had never had the courage. Tristan had forbidden her, of course, but that was after he had learned about the properties of shifter venom. And that had been only a month ago. Camille had known since the day she had been introduced to the world of shifters and had started working with shifter blood to separate the venom. She had never told him, though. She was in love with him and there was nothing she wanted more than to tell him everything, but every time she had had the intention of revealing this particular secret, there had always been something that had stopped her, something inside her which kept whispering into her ear that might be the only leverage she had on him. Every time she had wanted to come clean, that inner voice had reminded her he didn’t love her. It was even more than that: he used her. Witches all over the world were controlled by the Assassins’ Guild, the Arte di Calimala, and Tristan Ward knew her value. He knew how important she was. So, he didn’t love her. He kept her safe, under his strict control, he made sure she had everything she needed, but he rarely showed compassion or understanding. After all, she was still a witch. As a shifter, he had the preconception that witches were naturally drawn to the Calimala, born to help the human assassins rid the world of supernatural people. He couldn’t have been more wrong, but Camille had never managed to convince him she was entirely loyal to him. If he didn’t trust her completely, then how could she trust him?

  When she had started mixing the three types of shifter venom, Camille hadn’t been sure why she was doing it. Out of boredom? Just to prove to herself that she could? Maybe she was thinking the vial could be useful to Tristan at some point, even if he didn’t want it? It was a powerful weapon, more powerful than any spell or curse she could cast. She would keep it hidden from him until the time came. But now, studying the liquid in the dim light, she was beginning to think the vial could have a whole different purpose. Yes, she could use it for something that would benefit her and only her. Why not? Since she had become Tristan’s personal witch, she had barely done anything for herself. She had barely wanted anything more than to be around him, if she were to be honest. But now… Now she couldn’t even have that anymore. Not as long as his mate was around.

  Camille squeezed the small vial in her palm, and sighed. After a few more minutes, she placed it back in the box. Who was she kidding? Tristan would never be the same if his mate was gone. And if she, Camille, dispensed of her by making her drink the contents of the vial, or by injecting her with the mixture, Tristan would never rest until he found out the truth about her death. And when he did… What would he do to her? It wouldn’t matter that she was the only witch he had, the only witch who could keep his whole pride hidden from the Guild and its army of witches. She locked the box and slid it back into its place, then stood up and started removing her clothes, intent on taking a shower.

  The noise coming from Tristan’s bedroom was even louder in the bathroom. Camille turned on the water, but it didn’t help much. Olivia screamed again, then again, and again. Camille’s blood was boiling in her veins. Her heart ached, and her stomach threatened to make her throw up the gin and the little food she had had at the bonfire party.

  “No. This won’t do,” she whispered.

  She left the water running and ran back to her bedroom. Her phone was on the nightstand. As she picked it up and typed the number she knew by heart, her head started pounding. What was she doing? This was wrong. Yet, she couldn’t take it anymore.

  “It’s not fair,” she said as she stared at the screen. “Not fair. Not fair. Not fair.”

  She couldn’t take Olivia down and keep Tristan. That was simply impossible. But she could take them both down. She could take Tristan’s whole pride down, all he had built here and had struggled to nourish and protect. That would be the supreme punishment for having taken her from the orphanage against her will, having turned her into an asset and nothing more, then having ignored her feelings, desires, everything that made her human. She could take them all down. Why not? They weren’t her family, after all. They had always accepted her, but never quite adopted her as one of their own. She had nothing to gain from staying loyal to them. Not anymore. This wasn’t home. It had never been her home.

  Camille pressed the phone to her ear, her hand shaking. Olivia screamed one last time, then the night was finally quiet.

  “Yes?”

  The man’s voice on the other end startled her, although she had been expecting it. She recognized it, even, although she had only heard it once be
fore.

  “Nathan Moore?” Her voice trembled. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help it, so she gave up.

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “I’m sorry for calling this late…”

  Silence. He sounded calm and collected, which meant she hadn’t woken him up. As a respected New York attorney, he was probably used to being called late at night by clients who were too rich to care about anything other than their own problems.

  “We haven’t met,” she continued, her voice and attitude a bit bolder now. “But I know who you are.”

  “Miss, I’m in no mood for pranks,” he said in a dead serious tone.

  “Your work for the Calimala.”

  Silence again, but this time heavy, unsettling. For a second, Camille thought he would hang up. She had to get his attention, she had to make him listen to her no matter how insane she sounded.

  “You work for the Calimala,” she repeated, “and I work for Tristan Ward, the only lion-shifter in the world who has managed to hide an entire community of lion-shifters from the Guild. I can give him to you. And you can give them all to the Calimala.”

  Another long moment of silence, then Nathan Moore’s hesitant answer: “I’m listening…”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Camille placed the cup of hot coffee in front of Olivia, then sat down with hers. When she was sure Olivia wasn’t paying attention, she dug her left hand into the pocket of her long, loose hoodie and squeezed the small glass vial. It was early, and it was chillier inside than outside. It wasn’t chilly enough for two rounds of clothes, but Camille had always been more sensitive.

  “Thank you,” said Liv.

  The blonde girl smiled and nodded. She took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes when the hot liquid warmed her whole body.

  Olivia looked around the kitchen. It was small, but clean and well organized.

  “I really like your house,” she said. “It’s perfect. I’ve always wanted to have one just like this. Simple, cozy, easy to maintain…”

  “Where do you live in London?”

  “A two-room apartment. It’s enough for me and…” Liv stopped herself on time. She took a huge sip of coffee and burned her tongue, as punishment for being so careless. She couldn’t say why, but she felt comfortable around Camille. Could it be because she knew they loved the same man? It was strange, really. Naturally, Liv would’ve felt threatened by a woman who was interested in her boyfriend, but not now. Now, she had the odd impression that Camille and she had something in common, that they shared a secret.

  Camille was too lost in her own thoughts to notice Olivia’s weird answer. She was only half listening to her, her fingers playing with the vial in her pocket, her mind focused on what was to come. This was perfect. Her plan couldn’t have been smoother and easier to accomplish. Olivia had wanted to have coffee with her since the day they had met, and Camille had found it easy to invite her over after the rather friendly conversation they had had last night, at the bonfire party. Now, all she had to do was wait for Nathan Moore’s text. The pot of coffee was on the stove. She could always pour more into Olivia’s cup. When the time came, she would empty the vial unnoticed, and when Olivia dropped to the floor, no one would care she was dead, because the assassins of the Arte di Calimala would be on their way, and they’d all have to pack and leave.

  “When are you going back?” asked Camille. She figured she should at least try to make some small talk, lest Olivia became suspicious.

  Liv thought for a second. “I don’t know. I really don’t know…”

  “You said you have a job there.”

  “Yes.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Honestly, I never intended to stay too long in the States. My life is there.”

  Camille fixed her with her faded blue eyes, suddenly a bit more interested.

  “What changed?”

  Liv smiled. “A lot of things changed.”

  The blonde girl removed her hand from her pocket and placed it on the table. She waited for Olivia to say more, as she could feel her desire to talk. To her, to anyone… her witchy instinct told her Tristan’s woman was in need of a friend, or a counselor, or someone to whom she could simply unburden her soul. Camille couldn’t care less about her. Her doubts and emotions were meaningless now that she had decided her fate. It felt so weird, yet unique and exhilarating, to have the power to choose if someone should live or die. She had this power, and she felt like she also had the right. After all, she had been here first. She had loved Tristan first. And she was a witch. A naturally talented witch, not some mere, pathetic human.

  Olivia studied Camille’s pretty face for a minute, then decided why she liked her so much, why she felt like she could trust her: it was her silent attitude. Unlike Miranda, or any of her friends in London, Camille didn’t push her, didn’t ask uncomfortable questions, and didn’t try to guess what she’d say before she even opened her mouth to say it. Camille wasn’t curious. She was patient, and she gave her the feeling that she respected her and her intimacy. If Olivia wanted to tell her something, then the girl would listen. But if she didn’t want to open up to her, then the girl would nod and change the subject.

  A few minutes had passed, but the silence between them didn’t feel awkward. When Liv started talking, Camille wrapped both her hands around her cup and listened to her carefully.

  “I know we’ve just met,” said Olivia, “but I feel like I can trust you.”

  Camille eyed her phone. It remained silent, which meant that Nathan hadn’t told the Calimala yet. Last night, she had given him all the information he needed. Unfortunately, he was a new member of the Guild and had to go through some formalities until he could reach the right person to pass that information along. On the one hand, Camille was frustrated that Nathan Moore, the attorney who had managed to kill a compromised assassin of the Calimala under the very eyes of three shape-shifters, was in fact a newly recruited member with little to no power. On the other hand, helping him advance quickly and gain a respectable position within the Guild made her feel better about what she was doing. At least someone had something to gain from her betrayal.

  “Sure you can trust me,” Camille encouraged her.

  “You know Tristan so well,” continued Liv. “You know how he thinks, how he reacts in certain situations… to certain news…” She couldn’t believe she was actually going to tell someone else first. She had wanted to tell Tristan the night before, but she hadn’t had the chance. After spending more time with him, and realizing she was slowly, but surely, falling in love, she had started to fear the moment when she’d have to tell him the truth: that he had a son.

  “He can be unpredictable,” said Camille. “No matter how well I know him, he always manages to surprise me, so I can’t promise you anything. But I will help you, if I can.”

  “It’s all so complicated…” Olivia sighed. She wasn’t quite sure where to begin. If this whole confession thing was proving to be so difficult with Camille, then what should she expect from a possible confrontation with Tristan? “First of all, Tristan and I met for the first time about two years ago.”

  “Oh.” Had Tristan known then that Olivia was his mate? This new piece of information added a new perspective to their relationship. For some unexplainable reason, it made Camille uncomfortable.

  “Yeah. It was a brief… encounter.” Liv smiled, a bit embarrassed. “The very next day, I moved to London.”

  “I see. And you came back and looked for him after all this time. Why?”

  “That’s the thing.” Liv sighed and took another sip of coffee. It was cold. “The ‘why’ is the thing. He’s been asking the same question since I got here, and I still haven’t found the courage to answer it.”

  Camille cocked an eyebrow. Nathan hadn’t texted her yet, and now she was thinking that, maybe, it wasn’t such a bad thing that he was taking his time.

  “It must be important to you if you need… courage,” she said.

  “It’s the most i
mportant thing in my life. He, actually. He’s the most important person in my life.”

  Camille nodded, thinking she was talking about Tristan.

  “My son. Tristan’s son, Camille. That’s why I came back and now I don’t have the courage to tell him. I kept his son away from him for over a year. Until recently, I never even wanted to tell him. How will he react? What will he do? I don’t know…” Liv reached over the table and took Camille’s hands into hers to draw her attention to how desperate she was and how much she needed her help. “How do I tell him, Camille? Will he want to meet him? Will he run away? You know Tristan. Does he even want a son?”

  Camille was frozen in her seat. She forgot how to breathe, how to blink, how to send commands to her own muscles. She could see Olivia’s hands covering hers, but she couldn’t feel them. She was completely disconnected from this world, her brain stuck on that one thought: Tristan had a son. The mother of his child was the woman she had been planning to murder by slipping a lethal mixture of bear venom, wolf venom, and lion venom in her coffee. Tristan, the man she loved so much that she wanted to hurt, had a son, and that son would become an orphan when she, Camille, killed his mother and brought the Assassins’ Guild on his father’s doorstep. An orphan. Just like her.

  “What’s his name?” she managed to utter.

  Liv smiled. “Liam.”

  Camille swallowed heavily and pulled her hands out from under Olivia’s. Slowly, her brain was starting to function again, and her body to react accordingly.

  “Olivia, I have to make a phone call. Wait here, okay?” She grabbed her phone and stood up.