Driving Force

by Andrews, Jo

  “He was dasari,” Gregor said harshly. He too had shifted back to human and was now dragging on the jeans he had discarded outside the door of the studio. There was blood on his mouth. Sierra shuddered. “Humans are no match for Shifters. An action like that is shameful. One doesn’t attack weaker beings. By trying to harm a human, he put himself outside the laws of any pride, just as Arrhan has done by ordering the attack.”

  “We don’t play by your rules, Sierra,” Ian said quietly.

  “Getting that,” she muttered.

  Abel skidded to a halt in the doorway to the terrace, breathless and gasping. His glance took in the situation swiftly.

  “You sure left me in the dust, Ian,” he said mildly. “Don’t let me catch you driving like that again. Though I am glad that you got to Sierra in time. Get dressed. There’s a couple of your hands coming this way and we don’t want them asking why the boss is nekkid.”

  Ian grinned involuntarily and caught the clothes Abel threw him. “Guess they might think that kinda weird.”

  “That lion,” said Sierra as Ian yanked on his jeans and tee rapidly. “Why couldn’t we see him? He was invisible! Is that normal for Shifters?”

  “No,” said Abel. “It has to be a spell. That means they have a mage.”

  “A spell?” said Sierra blankly. “You’re talking about…magic?”

  Abel shrugged. “That’s one word for it. My grandma told me stories of what the mages in the other world could do. It’s all hearsay, of course. No one here’s ever seen it because no mage has ever come through the Gate. But that’s the only thing that can explain invisibility.”

  Well, if Shifters exist, then why not magic? she thought a little dazedly.

  “And the lack of scent,” Ian mused, buckling his belt. “And even the opening of the Gate in the first place.”

  Gregor looked up sharply. “Didn’t you and Nick say that boy’s buddies were talking about revenge, Ian? Except we couldn’t figure how they’d be able to go back and get that. A mage would make it possible.”

  “That’s it,” said Abel. “Seize prides here, turn them into an army and take them back through the Gate to attack the people Arrhan’s got a grudge against.”

  There was a silence as they all thought that over. It would explain why Arrhan was so intent on expanding his pride.

  “Makes sense,” nodded Gregor.

  “But what can anyone do against an enemy that can’t be seen or smelled?” Sierra whispered.

  “The lack of scent is not that unusual,” said Abel. “Scent can be covered up or washed off. Even humans have created odor neutralizers to hide theirs. But invisibility is different. It requires the bending of light around a moving object. That’s a very complex spell and the way the legends tell it, a complex spell like that needs power. A lot of it. I doubt if even the most powerful mage could make more than a couple of individuals invisible at the same time, and then not for very long. Otherwise, why haven’t we been overrun by invisible enemies already?”

  “Yeah, this mage must have pulled the invisibility thing out of his box of tricks only recently,” Gregor agreed. “Remember that first attack when Arrhan killed one of the cheetah twins? We all saw him then. Did you see him when he attacked you, Ian?”

  Ian shook his head. “I was blinded by this green light and he came at me from the side. I was knocked into the river before I could see what jumped me.”

  “That light, too, must have been one of the mage’s tricks, a distraction to hide the real attack,” said Gregor. “Which means he wasn’t invisible then. And he wasn’t when Sierra shot that lioness.”

  Abel nodded. “Sounds like that spell really is something new.”

  “Could be that’s why it wasn’t completely perfect,” Ian said. “You saw something, didn’t you, Sierra? What was it?”

  “A distortion in the air. A kind of sparkly blind spot. So small I almost didn’t notice it.”

  “Could you smell him?”

  “No. Not even when he grabbed me. But then I can’t smell things as well as you all can.” She turned quickly. “I heard him, though, when he snarled and swore!”

  “That’s something.” Ian looked at the others. “We’ll have to keep an ear out for sounds that are unusual or out of place.”

  Maybe there had been eyes out there in the darkness last night watching her, Sierra thought suddenly. She should have mentioned it to Ian even though she had believed it was just her imagination, or perhaps Gregor making his rounds in cat shape. At the time she hadn’t consciously thought of it being Gregor, but now she realized that perhaps that comforting idea had been there somewhere in the back of her mind, allowing her to ignore the possibility that it might be an enemy planning an attack instead.

  She told them now about those eyes and that half-glimpsed shape. The grimness in the faces of all three men deepened.

  “I thought I’d imagined it,” she said ruefully.

  “Looks like you didn’t,” muttered Gregor.

  Ian’s face was set. “We were careless.”

  “There’s a car coming,” Abel said suddenly. Ian and Gregor turned their heads to listen.

  “It’s Annie’s Jeep.” Ian came and took Sierra’s face tenderly in his hands. “How are you feeling? The whole thing must have been a hell of a shock to you.”

  “I am a bit shaken, but I’m fine.” Yes, it had been scary in the beginning, but then Ian had come and somehow she had felt that everything would be all right after that. And it had. “I think I must be getting acclimatized to weird occurrences.”

  He laughed a little, but ruefully. “It’s my fault you’re mixed up in all this.”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s Arrhan’s fault.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him lightly. “And even if it was your fault, I…wouldn’t change a single minute of it.”

  He drew in a sharp breath, then glanced at Abel and Gregor hauling the dead lion’s body toward the terrace door.

  “Do you think you’re recovered enough to go make sure Annie doesn’t come in here until we’ve cleaned up the mess?”

  “Sure I am! Think I’m a wimp? I’m tough.”

  “Of course you are.” His eyes crinkled up and long creases slashed down his cheeks in silent laughter. “Just as tough as those mountains you’re named for. My Sierra. I’ve always thought that name suited you.”

  He had always teased her about her name, but she had never seen the warmth that lay behind the teasing.

  I’ve been so wrong about him, she thought as she went out to make sure Annie stayed away from the sunroom. She had let her fears build up such a huge wall of prejudice. But now it was crumbling.

  A crazy bubble of laughter welled up in her. Here she was with her whole life turned upside down, threatened by determined and vengeful enemies, surrounded by beings from whom most sensible people would flee—and she didn’t care. Amazing, the things one could adapt to! She was scared, of course. Who wouldn’t be? But she wasn’t terrified into incapacity. She knew that Ian and the other Shifters would do their best to keep her safe. She could rely on them, trust Ian with her life if not her heart. Arrhan would kill her only over Ian’s dead body.

  Her lips tightened. Well, he would kill Ian only over hers.

  “Abel,” she said, pulling him aside later. “I want a gun.”

  He gave her a narrow look. “Do you know how to use one?”

  “Target pistols and rifles. Taylor taught me, even took me hunting. I’m great on the rifle range, but not at hunting.” She grinned at him wryly. “I don’t like shooting Bambi or Thumper.”

  “Well, you got that lioness right between the eyes, Ian says. And I guess you do need some protection in case Arrhan’s people get by us. I’ve got a Glock 26 at home that might suit you. Small, lightweight, but packs a punch without too much recoil. I’ll bring it around for you, fix you up a permit. Get Ian to give you some practice with it. Even Taylor might help you out on that, now that he knows you’ve been attacked right here on the spread. But Sie
rra?”

  “Yes?”

  He gave her a level stare. “If you’re going to use it, be absolutely sure ahead of time that you mean to kill. Waving it at a Shifter and yelling something stupid like ‘Put your hands up’ is plain suicide. Even one second of hesitation and he’ll not only have the Glock off you, but he’ll rip your arm right out of its socket. We move very fast.”

  Sierra swallowed hard, then nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

  I’m perfectly ready to kill, she thought that night, watching Ian sleep. If anybody tries to hurt Ian, I’ll kill.

  It occurred to her suddenly that she wouldn’t have been so ready to kill for Peter. The thought was disturbing. She didn’t want to face what it meant, all the implications.

  She looked down at Ian. She could see him clearly in the light of the one bedside lamp that was on. She had always made love to Peter with the lights out, the rawness of the act concealed by the darkness and by sleepwear and duvets. Ian, though, could see her clearly with his cat’s night vision, even with the lights off. That didn’t seem fair to her. She wanted to see the expressions on his face during lovemaking, so she insisted on at least one low light being turned on. Ian liked that, but for a different reason.

  “Nothing between us,” he said. “Not even darkness.”

  She was used now to sleeping and waking with a light still on. And to both of them being naked in bed. She had expected to feel cold that way, but the heat of his body wrapped around hers kept her warm. Shifter metabolism was higher than human, which was why a thin sheet was the most he could endure and even that ended up at the foot of the bed half the time.

  She brooded over him as he slept, flat on his back, his face turned toward her on the pillow. He was beautiful in sleep, the tension that was there in him when he was awake finally gone, lids closed over that strange intensity always in his eyes, body relaxed and given up to her. It was so touching, the vulnerability and trust of sleep, that surrender.

  Head propped up on one bent arm, she traced his features with delicate fingers, careful not to wake him—the flat plane of his temple, high curve of cheekbone, hard jaw, firm mouth with its pointed corners and its deep indent above the upper lip, strong throat with the vulnerable hollow at its base where the pulse beat steadily.

  His lashes fluttered, then his eyes opened. He frowned drowsily up at her.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No.” She bent and kissed him lightly. “Go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Lovely way to wake up.” Still half-asleep, he purred, an honest-to-God purr, a deep vibration that ran through her body as she lay half over him.

  “Did you just purr?”

  He snapped wide awake, color touching his cheekbones. “No, I didn’t!”

  “You so did.” She laughed at him. “Why are you embarrassed? It means you’re happy, doesn’t it? I like making you happy.”

  “Oh, Sierra…” He let out a little shuddering breath and slid his fingers through her hair, pressing it to his lips then letting it fall across his throat. “I love your hair.”

  She tilted her head and shook it so that the heavy silken waves trailed back and forth over his chest and stomach, felt him shiver.

  “I see that. Hey,” she said on a sudden impulse. “Can I play?”

  One eyebrow shot up. “With what?”

  “With you. You’ve been all over me. Now it’s my turn. I’d like to explore. You’ve always made love to me. I’d like to make love to you.”

  “God!” He caught her head, pulled it down and kissed her hard. “Anything you want.”

  “Which means you mustn’t touch,” she purred against his mouth.

  “Can’t guarantee that.”

  She brushed her parted lips over his and sucked on the tongue that slipped into her mouth. When he tried to intensify the kiss, she pulled away, laughing.

  “Going to take my time and you’re not going to hurry me. If you touch, I stop.”

  “I never knew you had sadistic tendencies,” he muttered and she grinned.

  “Oh, I think you’ll like this.”

  She slid her lips slowly, sensuously, over his face—eyelids, cheekbones, the flat plane of his cheek, the line of his jaw, all the places she had touched while he was asleep and had wanted to kiss rather than caress. Smiling, he turned his face to her mouth, pushing against her like a cat enjoying being stroked.

  “I do like it,” he murmured. “A lot.”

  “Just wait. It gets better.”

  She sucked at his throat and smiled when he arched it to her mouth. She lingered there pleasurably for a moment, then licked her way along his collarbone to the point of bone on his shoulder, licked back again languorously to the other shoulder, then started working her way downward, back and forth across his torso. She could feel the deep vibration in his chest and stomach as she lay over him, the purr he couldn’t hold back.

  “This is what you do to me,” she teased. “I’ve got a good memory.”

  “And you don’t forget a thing.” He caught his breath as she licked his nipple.

  “I do love your nipples. So pretty.”

  “Pretty!” he muttered. “What a word to use about a guy!”

  “Well, they are.” She lapped lazily at the copper-tinged disc of his flat nipple, pressed the soft nub inward and felt it harden immediately under her tongue. “And you do have such a lickable six-pack. I’ve always thought so.”

  “God, Sierra!” he exclaimed as she started working her way down it. He was up on his elbows now, watching what she was doing, his eyes wide. “Where have all your inhibitions gone?”

  She grinned up at him. “You destroyed them.”

  She was enjoying exploring him, feeling him surrendered to her and seeing the helpless pleasure in his eyes. He felt so good, the deep muscles of his abdomen solid under her hands, the taste of his skin salty against her tongue. He flexed uncontrollably and shuddered. She liked that, liked seeing that she could move him as intensely as he moved her.

  “This is fun,” she murmured into his navel. “Such lovely reactions.”

  “You’re torturing me.” He reached for her, grabbing her by the waist, and tried to pull her upward. “Want you. Now.”

  “Oh, no, no. You didn’t let me off that easily.” She twisted away from his grasp, caught his wrists and shoved his arms above his head, then closed his hands firmly on the rails of the headboard. “Hold on to that if you have to, but don’t touch.”

  “I may have created a monster,” he muttered, gripping the rails as she ran her nails lightly down the sensitive skin of his inner arms. His head came up to catch one of her nipples in his mouth as her breasts swayed over his face.

  Laughing, she pushed his head away. “I thought you said you liked to take things slow.”

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t on the receiving end.”

  She chortled, sliding her mouth down from his throat to the taut drum of his stomach. “We haven’t even got started and I’m in no hurry. This time I’m gonna drive you crazy. Now where was I?”

  She ran her tongue over the hollows of his pelvis, one after the other. He hissed. His head fell back on the pillow and his throat arched.

  “Very nice reaction,” she purred. She was enjoying herself immensely playing with him this way, using fingers, tongue and nails to tease and torment him, kneading and shaping his body the way he had kneaded and shaped hers.

  He was starting to writhe and twist now, unable to help himself, his whole body surging involuntarily against hers. His eyes had glazed over, their pupils huge and unseeing, their focus internal. She loved seeing him that way, lost in pleasure, in the sensations she gave him. It was intensely erotic to have that power over him, to see what she could drive him to. She was nearly as aroused as he was.

  “I do like that V-cut of yours.” She ran her fingers and then her tongue down the two shallow furrows from his hip bones to the flat plane just above his cock. “You really have the most gorgeous bod
.”

  “Then let me use it on you!” It was half a snarl.

  “Not yet.”

  She bit him just under his navel. His whole body bucked.

  “Now that was effective,” she remarked with satisfaction.

  “You’re killing me here, Sierra!”

  “Learn fast, don’t I?” she said smugly, then dropped down to tickle the back of his knee.

  “Damn! I thought you were taking things in order. You, uh, missed a spot.”

  “I know. I’ll get there. Eventually.”

  She bit her way up the inside of his thigh. He groaned, his head falling back. His other knee started to tremor.

  He was swearing under his breath. She laughed in triumph, hearing that.

  “Keep your hands on those rails or I stop.”

  “You’re a cruel woman.”

  “Guess who taught me.”

  She was using friction as a weapon now, sliding over him, using nails and teeth and her own body, stretching it out, varying the pressure, varying the places of contact—throat, inner thigh, nipple, rib cage, pelvis—touching him everywhere except where he wanted to be touched the most. He wasn’t purring anymore, he was snarling, and still she held back.

  “Getting to you, aren’t I?” she murmured.

  “It should damn well be obvious!”

  He was fully and painfully erect. Being free to play with him this way, tease him, incite him and see him lose control, was immensely liberating. She flipped her hair so that it trailed over his stomach and cock. He made an agonized sound in his throat.

  She was shuddering herself, lost in sensation almost as much as he was, drunk on power. They were both so sensitized now that it was painful. The last of her inhibitions fell away.

  She had never used her mouth on a man’s cock, never even wanted to. But he had gone down on her and seeing him in the shower had made her want to repay the favor. She wrapped her fingers about his erection. His whole body jerked and she laughed in surprise.

  “Wow. Talk about being responsive.”

  “Well, what did you expect?” he muttered.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

  She still wasn’t used to how big he got when he was fully aroused. The width of her palm took up less than half his length. His cock was hot and thick and throbbing within her grip, the glans at its head already exposed and gleaming with pre-cum. She drew her hand upward to make room for her other hand, then hand-over-handed him for a few strokes to see what would happen.