by Leah Kent
They were being bombed.
Naked and unarmed, there was no other option. John pushed Hilary off from on top of him so that she landed upon the mattress, and he sprang from the bed. The first priority beyond anything else was to save her, and to do that he needed to get her out of the hospital before it collapsed. John knew he could get her out fastest as the lion.
"You're going to get on my back and we're getting out of here," he told her above the noise. Sections of the building were crumbling, and new explosions further down the building sent shockwaves and added to the chaotic discord. They had to get out, and they had to do it now.
Not for a second did he consider the consequences. As the lights flickered overhead, power struggling to stay on, John let himself succumb to his true nature. From the fabric of his soul ripped the beast inside, and in the place of the man he'd once been stood a dark furred lion.
Hilary gasped. He caught her by the back of her scrubs with his teeth and pulled her to the edge to the bed, urging her to follow his instructions. It wasn't long before she came to her senses and draped herself across his back, letting his powerful body take the lead. Her arms wrapped tight around his thick neck and she nestled into his mane as they ran. The nurses had begun to wheel patients from their rooms, fighting against the rising smoke and the possibility that the roof would cave in. He'd help every single one if he could. As long as he had a heartbeat, John was going to make sure every soul got out of there alive.
The lion and his desired mate burst from the hospital and out onto the grounds. A US convoy had already appeared on the distance; soon there'd be support. Hilary scrambled from his back and looked down at him, shock keeping her stable. John offered her one last look before darting back into the building.
As long as she was safe, nothing else mattered.
Chapter Five
Iran seemed little more than a dream. After the bombing they'd cycled the whole nursing team out, at least, those that had survived. The first two months Hilary had been on paid leave, but soon the military connections she'd made set her up in a quiet government hospital on a base back in the states that did more than just pay the bills. In the end, comfort wasn't enough. A year had passed since the bombing had happened, and Hilary had resubmitted a bid to travel back.
"You're insane," her mother had scolded her when she'd found out. "Don't you remember what happened to you last time?"
The problem was that Hilary remembered all too well.
John Cassidy haunted her relentlessly. In her dreams she saw him, handsome and strong and brave. In crowds she thought she saw his face, and not a week went by when she didn't chase after a stranger only to find, upon closer inspection, that she'd been mistaken. John was gone. They'd met for such a short time, barely an hour, and yet he'd left an indelible impression on her. John had been no average man, and she guessed that the connection she felt was not one she could feel with any other human. It left Hilary with no desire to pursue anyone else.
The brave lion that had saved her had saved many more souls that day. The military convoy had wanted to shoot him on sight, but she and the other survivors had held them off. How was it possible to explain to them that a lion was saving American lives? How was it possible that the lion was none other than one of their own? The troops had thought them all delusional until they'd seen it for themselves.
And even long after the building was unsafe for humans to enter, the lion had continued to pull injured souls out from inside of it. Hilary had been placed into a vehicle and whisked away before she could see what happened to him, but she knew that the hospital had collapsed and the lion had not been found. They'd pulled bodies from the wreckage for days following, but never had they discovered Specialist Cassidy. He'd been pronounced dead a few days later, lost to the bombing. Hilary had not given up hope that somehow he'd managed to escape.
The paperwork went through and her transfer was approved. There was little to prepare for. What few belongings she'd collected since coming back to America were easily disposed of, and cutting the few social ties she'd made would be easy. All that was left was to ride out the last two weeks at work before hopping on a plane and starting fresh. Maybe, just maybe, she'd find John out there in the desert. Hilary knew she would look.
"Did you guys see the weird guy fixing the vending machines near outpatient?" One of the nurses whispered. They were clustered around the coffee pot, enjoying maybe one of the only moments of rest all day. Hospital life was busy. "I passed him a few times, and he didn't look like a mechanic. I mean, he looked hot."
"He's been there a really long time, too. I didn't even know the vending machine was broken, but I guess it must really have gotten jammed or something. I'm glad I didn't try to get those cookies I was talking about earlier. What a waste of money."
"And he keeps looking up and around, like he's confused or lost. Do you think maybe he escaped from psych and just put on a polo shirt with a name tag?"
They laughed. Hilary didn't. She hadn't noticed any guy by the vending machine, but she'd started her shift earlier than the rest of them had. Coffee cup unused, she set it back on the counter and left the small break room, bound for the vending machines near outpatient. There was a feeling in her gut, a kind of rushing excitement, that begged her to at least check.
He was squatted in front of the machine, its front pulled off to expose wiring. Broad shoulders, a tone body, short dark hair. Hilary felt herself begin to heat, and she struggled to hold back a laugh. John. It had to be. But as soon as his name began to spill from her lips, he turned his head. The face was not one she recognized. A slender jaw. Dark eyes. A long, sharp nose. From behind they'd looked similar, but this man was not the lion she'd met a year ago.
Hilary stopped in her tracks as the excitement died. Of course it wouldn't have been him. If John was anywhere it was back in the desert, and soon enough she'd join him and begin her search in earnest. Just a few more weeks and--
"Nurse Lucev." In person the voice sounded so much better than in her dreams. A firm hand gripped her shoulder and turned her around. "Never thought I'd want to be in a hospital again, but here I am."
Blue eyes. A strong jawline darkened with stubble. And that grin. John Cassidy stood before her, dressed vaguely like one of the hospital's janitors. Hilary couldn't believe it.
"John," she whispered. It wasn't supposed to be a whisper, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything more. He looked more tired than she remembered. The year they'd been apart had aged him.
"God, Hilary," he whispered back, "you have no idea how good it sounds to hear my name on your lips. I've missed you so much."
It was as though they were lovers with a long, passionate history finally reconnected. Hilary's heart pounded in her chest. John grabbed her hand and led her down the hall and immediately through the first door into a small, unused examination room. As soon as the door had closed his lips were on her lips and the rest of the world melted away.
All this time and she'd been right; John wasn't dead. And he'd come half way across the world to find her.
Chapter Six
Even in her scrubs she looked beautiful. Round and curvy, just as he'd remembered, with her sweet eyes and full lips. Kissing her in the hallway was near impossible to resist. A full year they'd been apart, and a full year Hilary Lucev had been on his mind. He'd seen her when he closed his eyes, she visited him in his dreams, and it seemed that no matter where he went, she danced in the corner of his field of vision and left him feeling haunted. Time did not ease the feeling. Now that she stood before him, he was able to indulge it in full.
The examination room wasn't an ideal location, but all that John needed was a little privacy. Back in that hospital room in the desert they had been about to mate, and he'd be damned if after a year apart he'd waste another day without her marked as his.
Their lips met. John slid a hand behind the back of her head and held her steady, increasing the passion of their kiss. His tongue slid into her mouth and dominated, and
her tongue rose to greet his sweetly. God, did she make him hot. Hilary was unlike any other girl he'd ever been with, and he was determined to worship her for the rest of her life.
John's hand flipped the lock on the door handle before they backed across the room together, kiss never breaking. They stopped only when Hilary bumped up against the examination bed, already lined with paper. John hoisted her up and set her down amongst it, the paper crinkling and crunching as it was disturbed. It could make all the noise it wanted to; nothing was going to stop him now.
"John, what are you..." The sentence trailed off as Hilary gasped. John ran his hands underneath the hem of her shirt and up to her bra, caressing the silken breasts he'd fantasized about for so long. Full, plump, and soft. He felt himself begin to harden. She was so beautiful, and he would make her all his.
"I can't wait any longer," he replied. Their eyes met, hers shimmering. "Not a day has gone by where I haven't thought about you, and now that I have you I can't hold back any more. I want to make you mine, Hilary. I want to make you my mate, for now and forever. God knows that you're already my mate as far as my heart is concerned."
She was silent, so he pressed a sweet kiss against her lips.
"Do you mean it?" she whispered when their lips had parted.
"Mean what?"
"That you love me. That you want to be with me." The vulnerability was heartbreaking. John's hands slipped down, caressing the supple curve of her stomach. One settled on her hip, the other raising to cup her cheek. What had happened to her that had left her so injured? She was just as worthy of love as any other woman. She was just as beautiful.
"Yes." How happy he'd once been to run free and hook up with anyone and everyone. Now all John wanted was her. "Hilary Lucev, I love you. I came all the way across an ocean to find you and make you mine forever."
"And I want you, too," she whispered back. It was all he needed to hear. The paper upon the examination table crinkled as he pressed her backwards against it and hasty hands, both hers and his, worked to free them of their clothes. Hilary was his, for now and forever. He'd never let her go again.
Chapter Seven
Clothes hit the floor, and even beneath the harsh and unflattering overhead lights, Hilary found that she didn't mind showing her skin. John made her feel safe and comfortable and beautiful, and for the first time in her life she was not ashamed of her body.
John's chest was just as firm and toned as she'd remembered it; a year spent missing had not done him wrong on a physical level. But now, stretched from his hip upward and around to his back, there was a new marking. Hilary recognized it as a recovered burn. John must have stayed in the building until the end, must have suffered for the lives of others, and now for it he bore a scar. To her, the imperfection only made him more handsome.
Blue eyes ate up every inch of her body, and Hilary could tell from the look on his face that he was smitten. So many times men looked at her with disgust or pity. John wasn't like them. And as his gaze made its way down her body, so too did John's body. It wasn't until he kneeled at her feet that Hilary knew what was happening.
One firm hand pressed against her thigh and encouraged it to part for him. Both of them were nude, his erection prominent. Despite his arousal, for now John only wanted to focus on her pleasure. With a graceful dip of his head he nuzzled against her inner thigh and pressed inward until his tongue darted across her clit. Hilary gasped; the sensation was incredible. John's tongue worked in unpredictable patterns, lapping and darting and swirling, and it wasn't long before Hilary was dripping with arousal. They had to be careful not to make too much noise, but she couldn't resist the small moans he teased out from her. Beneath them the sterile paper crunched and complained, but Hilary couldn't keep from twisting and rising to meet his tongue.
"John," she uttered, tone darkened with desire, "I want you."
His skilled tongue flitted across her clit one last time, and then John crawled on his hands and knees back up her body. His erection bobbed as he moved, and Hilary found she couldn't keep her eyes from it. More than anything she wanted it inside of her, claiming her.
"Then show me how much you want me," John challenged. There was that sly, playful glint in his eyes again, and Hilary's heart raced for it. "I want you to ride me. I want to see just how much you want to be mine."
The strong arms that had lifted her onto the table picked her up, and with little effort John laid down in her place. It was just like they were back in the hospital room, his naked body on display, hard cock waiting for her. She'd just started to stroke it when the first bomb had hit. Now she had her chance to play with it in full.
Hilary straddled him. Her hand closed around the base of his shaft and positioned it so that as she slowly lowered it met her soaked entrance. John lay back upon the bed, watching, grinning. There was fire inside of him that she knew would never burn out. Cocky, playful, sure of himself, and all hers.
The smooth head of his cock invaded her, and Hilary moaned and sank down further. His unprotected shaft filled her and conquered her depths, their bodies finally joined. She lowered herself until there was nowhere left to go, and then she started to ride.
At first the motions were slow. Hilary picked herself up and sank down on him, conscious of how her breasts and tummy jiggled with each movement. As though he could feel her concern, John reached up and cupped both breasts, squeezing and toying. His eyes were on her, but they were far from critical. As Hilary realized it, she moved faster. The length of John's cock moved inside of her by her own direction, and she leaned forward to change the angle and chase the spot inside that would leave her gasping for more. It wasn't long before she found it.
"Oh my god," she whispered, striking down upon that spot again and again. John held her breasts and watched, entranced, as she rode his cock. Her clit throbbed, and each time she buried his cock inside of her, Hilary grinded against him to bring it pleasure. All inhibition left. She moved was abandon, impaling herself, craving him. Her brave hero, the lion who had saved her life and the lives of so many others, was hers at last.
Orgasm was encroaching. Hilary could feel the primal need building up inside of her. Each time she pushed down against his cock it brought her closer until she was flirting with release, but just as she was about to let herself go to it, John gripped her by the waist and pulled her off. Before Hilary had a chance to complain he'd lifted her and changed their positions yet again, placing her belly down onto the paper covered bed. She was gasping and panting, driven wild by her need for him. Every second they spent apart was a second too long; she needed his cock, and she needed to cum against it.
John didn't keep her waiting long. In moments his body lay flush on top of hers, and Hilary lifted her ass to coax him. The hard rod of his cock slipped over her wet lips, over and over, until his crown found her entrance once more and pushed in. Hilary moaned and buried her head in her arms, thrusting back against him. The lion may have lived inside of him, but it had woken something primal inside of her.
Chest upon her back, hands gliding down her arms to brace themselves on the bed beyond her head, hips bucking into her wildly, John fucked her. Hilary perked her ass to meet his thrusts, orgasm building once more. John was breeding her like an animal. There was something about the thought that made her clit throb and brought orgasm that much closer. And while he fucked her like the animal he was, she presented her ass to him like a bitch in heat. Both of them had needed this, and there was no stopping it now.
"I'm going to cum," he growled low in her ear. In his voice she heard the lion, possessive and dominant and powerful. Hilary shuddered, but she did not refuse him. John had picked up the pace, and it had amplified her pleasure. He felt so good.
When the first spurts of hot, sticky cum coated her walls, Hilary cried out. John clamped a hand over her mouth and pushed in deeper, more of his load spilling forth. She could feel it fill her, more abundant than any human's. John was going to get her pregnant. The thought only
made her hotter, and as it settled in her bones that he had used her body so irresponsibly, her own orgasm set in. Hilary's sex tightened around his leaking cock, quivering and milking him for more. John groaned and buried his head in the crook of her neck, gasping for breath as their bodies came together. His hot breath against her skin felt fantastic. Hilary, exhausted and depleted, focused on his warmth. His heavy body atop hers, his thick cock inside of her, and the scratch of his stubble against her sensitive skin made what had just happened so much more real. This wasn't a dream, not anymore. John was really back.
"I was," the words were hard to come by, as if language had fled for its safety from the tidal waves of pleasure John had brought her, "going to go back overseas, to the Middle East, to find you. I was supposed to leave in two weeks."
"No." Finality. John pressed a heated kiss to her neck. The cock buried inside of her was softening, and Hilary knew that soon it would slip out. For now they shared joined perfection, but that moment wouldn’t last forever. It needed to be savored. "You're my mate now, and I need to keep you safe. You're staying here. We're going to start a life together, start a family. I won't let you go back into a war zone, not now that I've finally found you."
