To Lie With Lions: A BBW Shifter Romance (Wolf Rock Shifters Book 4)

by Carina Wilder

  If she’d never known what it was to be in heat, she knew now. Her body was fighting her with a violence that she’d never experienced, her tiger attempting repeatedly to emerge, ready to pounce; ready to claim her mate.

  In Cecile’s mind, everything was backwards: it was the man, the male, who chose the mate. He was dominant. He was strong. Yet her cat told her that she had no choice, and therefore he had no choice either. He was to be inside her, and that was that.

  But her human suffered the fate of considering actions and consequences. Was she willing to accept being cut off from her inheritance, let alone losing her father? She’d already lost her mother and would, for all intents and purposes, be an orphan at twenty-three. Her father was misled, she knew, and had lost his tiger somewhere over the years. There was a pain in him. But she loved him still, and she knew that he loved her. She couldn’t bear to deprive him of another woman in his life. Her sister was an ocean away, and Cecile knew that she was all he had, whether he appreciated it or not.

  So she got in the car and drove, hoping that a few days away would give her and her body some perspective.

  Whether it would work or not was yet to be seen.

  ***

  It was on the fourth day of working with the extortionists that Nash made a breakthrough. Until then he’d done his job satisfactorily, getting vicious when he was supposed to and remaining threateningly looming at other times. Fargo and Larry seemed pleased with him. But only when they came upon someone who recognized Nash did the trust begin to build.

  It was a hardware store. By now, every shifter in Wolf Rock knew what was coming; they’d heard that a lion shifter would likely tear their throats out if they didn’t agree to what was now being cynically referred to as the “city tax.” Since the shifters didn’t pay national income tax, many of them went along with it, but in back rooms and pubs, there was a lot of discussion of how to take down the syndicate. The lack of an organized wolf pack and of general teamwork that came alongside a town filled with independent shifters meant that nothing could yet be done.

  In the hardware store, Nash heard his name.

  “Nathaniel!”

  It was an old man, standing behind the counter. Nash had known him when he was a child.

  “Hello, Mr. Christensen,” he’d said politely.

  “And what are you doing here? I haven’t see you in years.”

  “To be honest with you, I’m…” Nash hesitated, eyeing Fargo, who was watching him for signs of breaking. “I’m here to ensure that you pay up.”

  “Pay up? To whom do I owe money?”

  Fargo spoke now. “To us. Technically, to our boss. For protection.”

  “Ah. I suppose it was only a matter of time before you showed up,” said Christensen, his face contorted into a wrinkled expression of sadness and anger. He turned to Nash. “I’m surprised at you, son,” he said. “In all my years I would never have thought that you could turn on your townspeople.”

  Nash’s instinct told him to come clean. “I’m doing this for the town. I’m doing this for my family. For Cecile.” But he couldn’t.

  “It’s for the best,” he said instead. “You really need to pay up.”

  Christensen, who was a puma shifter, knew that even as a young man he’d never have stood a chance against the lion before him.

  “I will pay my percentage,” he said. “But I’m disappointed in you.”

  The words were like a knife in Nash’s gut. Why was it that an old man expressing disappointment was like the worst punishment ever? “Act,” he told himself.

  He walked up and towered over the man.

  “I don’t give a flying fuck what you think of me,” he said. He took Christensen by the collar and pulled his face towards his own. “I only care about your money making its way out of your pocket and into ours.”

  He could feel the man tremble as he let go. Nash was a protector. He wanted to steady Christensen, to calm him. But he couldn’t. He held his breath, waiting in hopes that the old guy didn’t have a heart condition.

  When they left the store, Fargo turned to Nash and said, “I had my doubts about you, kid. But you’re a real asshole.”

  “I’m learning from the best,” growled Nash. “You’re an excellent role model in the field of douche-baggery.”

  “Well, keep it up and there’s a promotion in it for ya.”

  “I’m counting on it,” thought Nash.

  Dinner at the ranch that night was difficult, to say the least.

  “How could my son be roaming around with these…these thugs?” asked Mrs. Richardson, tears streaming down her face. This woman who’d once been so sleek, so vicious in her younger days, had become a simple mother of a boy who’d been steered wrong. “How is this possible? Christensen told us everything.”

  “We raised you better than this, son. What’s this all about, anyhow?” Nash’s father asked. “I refuse to believe that my son, my heir, would be capable of this sort of derelict behaviour.”

  “Really, dad? I’m a fucking lion. I get into fights. I’ve come close to killing humans. This is a surprise to you?”

  “I don’t want your lip, boy. Now, are you going to stop this foolishness or do I need to kick you off my ranch? You’re putting people’s lives at risk.”

  “I’m saving people’s lives,” said Nash as he stood, thrusting himself from the table. “You don’t see it, but I am. But don’t you worry. I’ll leave. The ranch is safe so you don’t need me here anyhow.”

  That night he moved into the motel where Fargo and Larry were staying. Though he hated to pain his parents, he knew that this was for the best; it would increase his new accomplices’ level of trust in him.

  He went to sleep wondering how much more of this he’d have to endure. Nash could take all the physical brawls in the world, but disappointing the older generation seemed like a cruel and unusual punishment. He hoped that the shifters he’d conspired with had a plan for an endgame in action.

  It was the next day that Zoe found him at the motel. Kyla had figured out where he was, and the tiny mouse who’d snuck into Nash’s room, found a large bath towel and wrapped herself in it when she’d shifted startled Nash, who was still in bed, pondering the day ahead.

  “Sorry to freak you out,” she said as she walked out of the bathroom. “But I need to hear about your progress.”

  “They trust me, mostly,” he replied. “I think maybe something’s in the works; Fargo mentioned a promotion. But I can’t take much more of this, Zoe. It’d be one thing to piss off a pile of strangers but this is my home, and the whole town now thinks I’ve betrayed them.”

  “Well, you haven’t, and they’ll know it soon enough.”

  “If they don’t kill me first.”

  “They won’t. We have eyes on you.”

  “I’m not even so worried about that as…” Nash’s voice trailed off. “I can’t take certain people hating me.”

  “I suspect that you’re referring to a certain white tiger,” Zoe replied, sitting on the edge of Nash’s bed. “And I understand. She won’t hate you; not when she finds out what you’ve done.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyhow. I can’t be with her.”

  “You have to be with her, Nash. That’s your life. It’s your fate. I can see it in you. The criminal bastards won’t kill you, and the townspeople won’t kill you. But if you’re not with Cecile I suspect that that’s what’ll kill you.”

  “I’ve never dealt with this. This…what is it? It’s like someone’s moved into my body and is controlling it.”

  “It’s that you’ve found your mate. Everything in the world is conspiring to separate you two, but she’s yours and you’re hers. Now it’s just a question of logistics.”

  “Fuck logistics. I just want her. Right fucking now.”

  “You’ll have her. Patience. You have a job to do first. Look, there won’t be any you and her if this town becomes a hotbed of criminal activity. No one will feel safe and no one will have
time for frivolous things like love and relationships.”

  “You and Colson seem to be doing okay in the face of it.”

  “Colson and I have our own issues to deal with, but we support each other. Trust me. Cecile will be a hundred percent in your corner when she finds out what you’re sacrificing.”

  “I just wish I could tell her.”

  “If you tell her, you put her at risk. I know you don’t want that, Nash.”

  “No. I don’t. You’re right.”

  “By the way, I heard she’s back.” Zoe seemed hesitant to convey the words. “Maddox saw her downtown.”

  “Oh Jesus. She’s probably heard by now what I’ve been up to.”

  “Probably. Remember, though. You’re protecting her.”

  “I don’t imagine that’s where her mind will go when she finds out I’ve been threatening to rip old men’s arms off.”

  “Well, I got nothin’. You’re right, I suppose. For a time she might not be too crazy about you. But she will still want you whether she likes it or not. That seems to be the fate of us shifters.”

  “Well, I aim to give her reason to like me. To love me, even.”

  “And you will.”

  ***

  Cecile’s return wasn’t so much a result of her success at calming her body and her aches as an attempt to solve another issue: how to deal with her father. The one thing that had hit her while she was away was that she couldn’t be his to control anymore. At some point they’d need to have a talk.

  She spoke to Susannah first.

  “Honey, you just need to tell him how it is,” the voluptuous housekeeper had said. “He’s your daddy, not your leader or boss-man.”

  “Well, he sort of is. He does provide me with a roof over my head and food and that sort of boring stuff.”

  “But you don’t need him. You’re an educated, beautiful woman. You can look after yourself. In the meantime, have that lion man look after you.”

  “I don’t know if I can. I mean, I don’t know if he’s willing. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

  “You still want him, though, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “So go get him. I can see in you that you’ve found your man, and there’s no point in denying it. You’re in love, or what we shifters call love, which is a whole other scale from people-love. They don’t even begin to know the torture we go through.”

  “No,” said Cecile. “I think you’re right. I used to think that movies and books were full of ridiculous stories of love that seemed to spring up overnight. But it does sometimes, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh yes, it does, honey,” Susannah continued, “And remember this above all else, all that character assessing and his honesty and sense of humour and all that crap: what it comes down to is that the only thing that matters is how he is with his tongue.”

  “You think? Not his personality, his intelligence or how he treats others?”

  “Hell no, lady. And while we’re on it, here’s another thing: always keep that mouth of his occupied. Otherwise he’ll waste your time by talkin’.”

  “You are a hell of a cynic, Susannah.”

  “I’m just bein’ straight with ya. I know men. They get boring. It’s important that we keep ‘em screwing and licking. Otherwise what good are they, other than to wire light fixtures and attack stray bears?”

  “I’ll admit this: you raise a good point.” Cecile laughed. She knew that she would happily endure years of getting to know Nash before she could ever grow bored of him. He was too delicious; too mysterious. Too appealing.

  “Great,” said Susannah. “I’m glad we’ve had this chat. Now go talk to that jackass of a tiger daddy of yours.”

  When she’d left Susannah to her endless chores, Cecile sat down to a breakfast of bacon and eggs with her father. She’d made the meal herself, knowing that it was his favourite and that the smell of bacon always managed to put him into a good mood. On this particular day, she knew that the best that she could hope for was a temporary one.

  “Dad,” she said when he’d had enough mouthfuls that the frown lines on his face had slightly faded.

  “Yes, honey?” This was a good start. He never called her “honey” unless something within him had reverted to the days of her youth, when his wife was alive and all was well.

  “I need to say a few things.”

  Malcolm looked at her, his jaw slowing in its chewing motion as he swallowed the last of his crisp bacon.

  “I’m all ears,” he said, though Cecile knew perfectly well that at his best he was all claws and teeth. Why the fuck couldn’t he have been a jackrabbit shifter?

  “I’m an adult. I think you’re well aware of that by now. I’m also self-sufficient.”

  “I won’t deny either statement.”

  “You and mom…” she looked at him now with hesitancy. It was rare that she brought up her mother. “You and mom met when you were young. You were fated for each other. You know how that feels.”

  “Fate does not mean infallibility,” said her father quietly. Cecile felt as though she were witnessing the calm before a typhoon.

  “No, I suppose nothing does. But I have met my mate. I know it in my bones. My tiger knows it. I’ve never felt so restless and out of control. And what’s in me is not willing to submit to your iron-fisted rule.” The last sentence had not been intended to come out with such a directly accusatory tone, and yet it was too late by the time the words had passed her lips.

  “I see,” said her father. “Well, you do what you need to do.”

  Cecile had both palms flat on the table in front of her in preparation for the altercation that never came. But these words from her father led her to utter simply, “What?”

  “I’ve thought about it a good deal. You’re a grown woman. It’s your life. I’ve been too controlling, too possessive. I’ve forgotten myself and my place as a father.”

  “Well…thank you,” Cecile said. “I’m really glad we had this talk.”

  With that, she rose to leave the room, still a little shocked.

  “Oh,” said her father as she approached the door. “It might interest you to know that your ‘friend’ Nash has joined the group of extortionists, and in fact has been threatening the locals alongside them. He’s even attacked a couple.”

  Cecile turned on her heel, fur attempting to push itself through the flesh on her back as she bristled.

  “That isn’t possible,” she said.

  “Isn’t it? Ah, well. I suppose you would know. He is your mate, after all. Isn’t that what you said?”

  In that moment she hated her father. Without guilt or remorse, she felt nothing but pure hatred.

  Nine

  It was after several days of threatening strangers and friends that Nash was “promoted” to the next phase of his tenure. This wasn’t so much a reward for his good behaviour as a result of an injury that Larry had sustained while coming through on one of his threats. While attempting to ransack a local sporting goods store, the owner, who’d sat in wait in the storage room, came at him.

  The owner was a grizzly.

  Larry hadn’t shifted in time and was now the proud owner of several fresh and not-very-attractive wounds that had required stitches, a few of which were on his face. He bore a resemblance to something out of a poorly-made Frankenstein film, which Nash thought was an improvement.

  It was Fargo who had called him in the morning when things had changed.

  “We have a new assignment. Boss has been in touch.”

  “Oh?” Nash’s mind reeled a little. He wondered if he could simply swipe Fargo’s phone and learn the boss’s identity via the texts, but the cell that the guy used probably wasn’t linked to an official residence. More excruciating patience would be necessary.

  “We’re going after one of the big dogs. So to speak.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? The wolf pack?”

  “No. Conrad Malcolm.”

  Nash
stood erect, his mind racing. He would have to confront and lie to Cecile’s father; possibly even Cecile. Though he had no doubt by now that she knew what he was up to.

  “I…” he began.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No. No problem. I’m just wondering what we’re expected to do. The guy’s got the place locked up like Buckingham fucking Palace. We can’t just waltz in.”

  “You’ll find us a way, won’t you? You’re a resourceful kid.”

  “I see. So I’m graduating from thug to cunning villain.”

  “Something like that. Find us a way in or you’ll find yourself out of a job, and your ranch won’t be much of a ranch anymore. Oh, and do it while Malcolm is out of town. He’s gone for a few days.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I want to surprise the old tiger bastard. Get into his fortress while it’s vulnerable.”

  Nash spent the next day working out a plan. He knew, of course, that he was perfectly capable of scaling the wall around what essentially was the compound surrounding the chalet. But getting inside the house itself was another matter.

  There was only one thing to be done, he thought.

  But he didn’t like it.

  The following morning, with the “boss” issuing the command that they move, Nash and Fargo were to drive out to the chalet. It hadn’t taken much effort to discover that Malcolm was to be in New York at a conference, delivering a speech that day. So at the very least that aspect of the plan was on solid footing. The issue now was whether Cecile would be present. Nash was relying on her.