by Sara Summers
More than a Lion
By Sara Summers
to you
Chapter 1
I wanted to change the world, you know. Sitting in that cafeteria, that’s all I could think about. I was going to keep convincing people to come to Shifty University, I was going to set off an explosion of peace and equality and respect. I never realized that I was the one who needed to change, not the world.
But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Let’s slow down, back to step one in my change-the-world plan.
Step one: Stop being sick
This is the mountain I had to climb, the mountain that was keeping me from my goals. That was the inspiration behind this text-conversation.
I sat in the cafeteria, eating salad and waiting for Jazz. She was late again—I was blaming her newfound lateness on Haiden, her mate, but I didn’t hold it against her. She deserved him.
Me: Snag a hammer from one of the construction guys on your way here
J: Why?
Me: We’re going to whack my stomach until it works again.
J: NO
Me: It has to be done
J: …
Me: My body, my choice. It’s worth the pain.
J: It won’t work and you know it
Me: At least then I’ll be sick for a reason.
I shoveled an angry salad bite into my mouth.
Stupid salad, stupid broken digestive system, stupid food-resistant body.
I was so frustrated that I almost didn’t feel the markings on my back start tingling. But then, how could I ever be that frustrated with a problem I’d been struggling with for the last three years?
The tingling in the markings on my back woke me out of my anger-stration (anger and frustration), and I turned to look behind me. My mouth was still full of salad; I was too shocked to chew or swallow.
Where is he?
I wondered, still looking backward and waiting for him to come through the door.
“Hello.” I shrieked and jumped when a man sat down in front of me. His arms were folded over his chest, the muscles practically jumping out of the hoodie he was wearing. I hadn’t seen him, and I definitely hadn’t expected him. He smirked when I put my hand on my chest, my heart still pounding like that hammer Jazz refused to bring.
“Oh my gosh.” I forced myself to breathe. Holy heck, he had scared me.
And that was when I realized he was my mate.
His hair was golden and tousled, sticking out from the black hood over his head. He looked a little dirty, which led me to believe he had run the whole way there or just didn’t care for showering—I’d be okay with either.
He was my mate, he could be a caveman and I’d cuddle with him in the dirt.
“You scared me.” I breathed, my eyes still racing up and down his body, checking him out. Yeah, he was hot.
Score one for me.
Scratch that, score eternity for me. That guy was mine forever, and dang, he was sexy.
“I can tell.” His smirk turned into the slyest, sexiest smile I’d ever seen. “I’m Ross.” He held out his hand to shake mine.
Good name, Ross.
I hesitated to take his hand. I’d heard it hurt to have your mate marks change, and I, well, I was already in plenty of pain thanks to said broken stomach. Food didn’t like to process inside me, and if I was going to add back pain to that…
Well, that would suck.
“Is something wrong?” Ross’s smile started to slide. I swallowed.
“Nope, nothing.”
Oh, screw it. My sickness isn’t going to stop me from having this.
I stuck my hand into his, saying,
“I’m Brooke.”
Before everything went black.
Score 7,992 for the sickness. Low pain tolerance sucks.
Chapter 2
When I came to, there was salad dressing on my forehead. I’d landed on the packet, apparently. I could feel the dressing even while my face was still pressed against the table, which really wasn’t that pleasant of a feeling.
“Are you okay?” Ross shook my shoulder.
I bit back a groan, a moan, a painful-cry, and tears.
Yep, it had hurt even more than I thought it would.
Thank goodness for that, who knows what I would’ve done if my body would just, oh, I don’t know, not hurt for three seconds.
“Brooke?” Jazz checked.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I muttered, pulling my head off the table. Wow, the salad dressing was surprisingly cold on my forehead. Feeling it start to run down my skin? Yeah, not that pleasant either.
“Here.” Jazz handed me a napkin. She was grimacing, which was suspicious.
“You’re not pregnant, right?” I asked as I cleaned the dressing from my forehead. That would be a definite reason for her to grimace, so I had to check.
Ross choked on something invisible while Jazz raised an eyebrow.
“Nope.” She shook her head.
I nodded once. At least there was that; if Jazz had a baby so quick she would be in panic mode for the next three years of her life.
Ross sat down next to me, and I turned to look at him. Yep, wow, hotter than I remembered. The man was stinking gorgeous.
“Sorry about the whole passing out thing, I don’t have very high pain tolerance.” I apologized to my mate, who looked buff and strong and not that bothered that his very attractive soulmate (yours truly) had just passed out in front of his eyes.
“It’s fine.” Ross gave me a tentative smile.
“Do you feel any better?” Jazz asked. I knew why she asking. When I’d first gotten sick, a crazy old lady told me that when I met my mate, my sickness would go away. Yeah, she was wrong. I still felt plenty sick, only now I had a sticky forehead that smelled suspiciously like salad.
“Nope.” I shook my head.
Between my churning-but-not-working stomach and the painful stinging on my shoulder blades/back, I was getting sweatier by the second. Another unfortunate side effect of my sickness; hot flashes. Not so fun, I wouldn’t really recommend them.
“Well, I’m Brooke. Ross, right?” I checked, pulling my hair over my shoulder. Ross nodded. “Nice to finally meet you. What have you been up to?”
I rolled my shoulder blades to try to stop the stinging, then turned to crack my back.
Yeah, that was when I realized my mistake.
“Brooke, maybe—“
Ross cut Jazz off.
“What are you wearing?” my soulmate demanded.
My eyes met Jazz’s, and she looked scared. Yeah, not good. See, I’d gone on strike against lion traditions a few years ago and bought a bunch of low-back shirts that would show off my cotie. I liked it, why not let the world see it, right?
But our culture said that a female shifter’s mate was the only one allowed to see her mate marks. I hadn’t bothered to get rid of the shirts after the strike ended (no money to replace them, I was a poor college student), and I liked to be comfortable. Low-backed shirts=comfort.
Hence the reason I was wearing one of those strike-shirts that day. I’d been feeling extra sick, which meant I needed extra comfort.
But Ross didn’t give a crap about comfort, apparently.
He stood up and clenched his fists. I would’ve stood up to face off with him but I was pretty sure I’d pass out if I tried that.
Instead, I pushed my hair back over my shoulder, covering the open-back and the markings on my skin.
“Look, it’s fine. My hair covers the cotie.” I plastered a smile on my face.
When I saw his outraged expression, I realized that may not have been the best approach. I wore my hair in an ombre—dark on the top and light on the b
ottom. Shifter culture tended to look down on any unnatural change to hair too, so Ross was probably disgusted by my hair as well as my shirt.
“Your cotie is supposed to be for my eyes only, and you’ve been walking around dressed like it doesn’t matter? Showing everyone the sacred markings? Acting like some… whore?” he demanded.
Wow, yeah, not a great beginning to our relationship. Despite the possibility of passing out, I stood up. Yep, the world spun, but I blinked until it stopped.
“I am not a whore.” I held up a finger. “I think that’s a stupid rule. No other types of shifters hide their coties, why should I have to? They’re just my mate marks, it’s not like they’re some horrible thing I need to keep covered.” I folded my arms.
I’m pretty sure Jazz smacked her forehead with her hand, but I didn’t look. I had to stay strong so the guy in front of me would realize that I was an independent woman who did her own thing.
“Those are my markings, you have no right to show them off.” Ross snarled. My jaw dropped.
“Excuse me? I’m the one walking around in this body, I’m the one who who’s been sick for years while I waited for you to supposedly come fix me. You do not own me. I decide how I dress and what I wear, not you.” I glared at him.
Okay, I felt a little bad, but really. Ross had called me a whore and then said he owned me. That went against everything I believed in and had been fighting against, so forgive me for being a bit rude.
“They are sacred.” He growled, then started pacing the room. I had a feeling that, had he not started pacing, he would’ve lost control and shifted. “Just because you and your friends don’t respect our culture doesn’t give you the right to defile my markings.”
“Defile?” I gawked at him. “You think I don’t respect shifter culture? I risked my life at a peace summit so that people would accept our culture. I gave tours at the shifter museum, I helped with this university that’s meant to teach people about our culture. And you have the audacity to tell me that I don’t respect it? You’re the one who is disrespecting me.” I glared at my soulmate.
That’s when I witnessed something I hadn’t seen since I was very, very young. My mate yanked his jeans off just before he lost control, shifting into a massive, snarling lion.
“Whoa, whoa!” Jazz stepped between us, holding out her hands. “Easy, Ross. We live differently than you.” She protested.
“What do you mean?” I frowned at my best friend, glancing over at my furious soulmate.
“He’s from the south, he’s an Alpha. He doesn’t agree with the things we’re doing.”
“What?” I raised my eyebrows. I’d gotten paired with a guy who hated everything I’d been working for? How the heck did that happen?
Ross-the-lion growled at me, leaning forward like he was going to pounce. If he was going to kill someone, it dang well better be me. I was way closer to death than Jazz, what with my sickness and all.
I stepped forward and shoved Jazz out of the way, pushing her into the table and stopping him from doing something incredibly stupid.
“If you hurt my friend, I will never forgive you. You step back and shift into your human form so we can talk. I’m tired of being lectured.” I snapped at him.
Ross shook his head and roared, but then he started backing away. He was a smart man, apparently.
As I turned to make sure Jazz was okay, my foot hit a glob of salad dressing that must’ve squirted from the packet when I landed on it. I lost control and slipped, banging my head on the ground hard enough that everything went black.
What a great first few minutes together, right? Go ahead, tell me I’m lucky.
Chapter 3
“Brooke?” Jazz urged. She shook my shoulders, which made my head hurt even more. I groaned.
“Tell me it was a nightmare.” I begged.
The growl to my right told me it wasn’t. Great; just great.
“Sorry, I can’t. Your salad attacked you.” Jazz shrugged as I opened my eyes.
“I hope it apologizes.” I muttered, then looked over at the big lion next to me. I could tell he was worried. His big beard was tickling my arm, but he smelled good.
“He’s not stable enough to shift back. The big guy’s a mess.” Jazz shrugged. “He’s got more animal in him than any of our friends. His pack probably lives the way all of us used to, staying in the forest and not leaving unless they have to.”
“Great.” I muttered, closing my eyes. Ross nudged my arm with his big nose, and I didn’t fight him away. “What am I going to do?” I asked. I was tired and weary, my stomach hurting along with pretty much all the rest of me. “He was supposed to fix me, but I feel even more broken than usual.”
Jazz gave me a small, tentative smile.
“Everything will work out, Brookie. The Creator put you together for a reason, and what the wise woman said will come true.” She assured me.
“I’m glad you believe that, I’m just not so sure.” I shook my head. “I really don’t have the energy to get up, how am I going to convince this mess to fall in love with me?” I sighed, gesturing to Ross without looking.
He growled.
“Yeah, do you remember anything about old shifter culture?” My best friend checked.
“Not really.” I yawned. “I’ve had plenty of other stuff on my mind.”
“I know.” Jazz hurried to say. “But shifters didn’t use to believe in falling in love. They’d say that you already know your soulmate, and that after you meet, you’re just resuming a relationship that already existed.” She explained.
“That’s ridiculous.” I muttered.
Ross growled again, louder.
“Oh, shut up. You just lost control because we didn’t agree about something. If insta-love was real, you would’ve already known what I believe.” I snapped.
“Brooke.” Jazz protested. I heard Ross get up and move; good riddance, I thought, though I didn’t really want him to go. I’d been waiting for him for ages. “Love is a choice.” She reminded me.
Duh, I knew that. Gwen could’ve left when she found out Peter Parker was Spiderman, Rose could’ve given up on the Doctor…. But they chose not to, and their lives were different because of that choice.
“I want to go home, Jay. I’m tired of being sick.” I yawned, my arms automatically going to my stomach. Holy heck, it was hurting more and more by the second. Sickness sucks.
“I know, that’s why Ross is here. He’s going to fix you somehow.” She promised. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at my sexy mate again and see the way his stupidly attractive features were very much not doing away with my sickness the way they were supposed to.
I didn’t open my eyes even as I felt the ground replaced by a man’s arms. It was obvious that Ross had picked me up, but I didn’t comment. After all that had happened, I wasn’t sure how I felt about him.
I had been waiting for my mate for so long, but now that I found him… he wasn’t like I hoped. He was attractive, yeah, but he and I didn’t share the same opinions. He thought I was disrespectful while I thought he was the disrespectful one. It had only been a few minutes, but I was already ready to get home as quick as possible.
What was I going to do? Don’t ask me, I had no idea.
Chapter 4
Ross set me down in the passenger seat of my car. My head was throbbing and there was a hurricane of nausea in my stomach, so I didn’t argue. He could drive, so at least he saved me from that.
Jazz pulled out of the parking lot and Ross drove my car right behind her, following her to my house.
“We’ll go back to Georgia tonight.” He spoke up. I turned to look at him, though my brain was lagging behind.
“We? I am not going to Georgia.” I folded my arms.
“Of course you are. You’re my soulmate.”
Good gracious, was Ross a caveman? Shifter tradition used to say that the female ditched her life as soon as her man made an appearance, but that had been changing drastically in th
e last few years. I know I said I’d happily cuddle with a caveman, but I’d have to change my mind on that if he was a caveman who thought I was his slave rather than his equal.
“Why don’t you just grab your stuff and move here with me?” I narrowed my eyes at the sexy caveman in the seat next to me.
“I’m the Alpha, I can’t just leave our pack.”
“Our pack?” I raised my eyebrows. “Um, what? I’m not your Omega. I’m in charge of admissions and a million other things at Shifty University, and I am not an Omega.” I don’t know why, but I repeated that line. Me, an Omega?
I could barely make it through a day at work without puking for no reason. There was no way I could be anyone’s Omega.
“You’re my mate, that makes you the Omega of the pack.” Ross shrugged.
“Yes, soulmate. Whatever you say. You are my master.” I rolled my eyes, making fun of him in the driest voice I could muster.”
“Joke around all you want, but we have a pack to lead. We’ll shift at four.” Apparently, he already had it all planned out.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.” I looked out the window, turning away from him. Ross growled, and I bit back a smirk. There was something insanely hot about a guy who could hardly control the animal inside him.
“Are you always like this?” he barely managed to ground out the words. His muscles were tense—I could see that despite the hoodie he was wearing, and dang. Those muscles bulged. He was fricking sexy.
And frustrated. I had to lay it all out for him clearly, I figured, so I turned to face him.
“Look,” I put my hand on his arm to calm him down. Instead, it only made him even more tense. “Even if I wanted to go with you, I can’t. I’ve been sick for the last three years, and I haven’t been able to shift forms for more than two minutes since it started. It would be impossible for me to run with you to Georgia.” I explained.
The horror in Ross’s eyes said more than enough, and I pulled my hand away from him. My head throbbed harder than before, and I looked out the window.
“You haven’t shifted in three years?” He demanded, after searching for words for a solid minute.
