Hour of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #1) (38 page)

I think you‘re crazy, Ms. Cop. Small pay, big risk, nasty people—what‘s there to like?‖

―Maybe because I get to beat up on the assholes of the world?‖

―There‘s a point.‖

A man‘s voice drifted up from the street, and she saw a middle-aged banker-type guy scowl

at a portly man. A dowdy woman shook her head at both of them and walked away.

Heather glanced over. ―Idiots. Like she‘d look at either of them.‖ She sipped her beer. ―So

how are you doing?‖

Vic studied Heather. Here was someone who had no problem with giving open answers.

―Forget how I‘m doing. I want to know why all these people are in town. And what exactly is a

Gathering?‖

―Whoa, doggie, you‘re going to jump right into the pond?‖ Heather raised her eyebrows.

―No small talk first?‖

―Spill or I‘ll hurt you. Badly.‖

―Oooo, the kitty‘s got claws.‖ Helen grinned and held her hands up defensively. ―Okay,

okay. Actually, that‘s why Alec let you off early—those two males keep leaving me all the tough

explanations…like I bet they never mentioned that women come into heat with every full moon.‖

Vic choked on her beer. ―Excuse me? Heat? Like a...a cat?‖

―‗Fraid so. It has to do with the Wild Hunt that the Fae held under the full moon. The time

for hunting and partying and mating.‖

She sat up, forcing air into her lungs. ―Are you saying I‘m going to go howl in the street and

let myself be raped by man after man?‖

Heather whooped. ―God, what an image!‖

―But—‖

Heather patted Vic‘s hand. ―No rape, girlfriend. Never. If a guy can‘t smell that a woman is

hot for him, his equipment doesn‘t work.‖

―Huh.‖ Vic ran that around in her mind, and her muscles loosened. Like most female

soldiers, she‘d experienced too many close calls. ―They really can‘t?‖

Heather‘s lips curved. ―Really. I was damned shocked when I went to college—human

males can be total jerks, you know?‖

―No shit.‖ Vic rose to pace the length of the balcony. ―So guys come to town to score with

the women who are in heat?‖ In heat. God, that sounded nasty.

―And hopefully make babies. We can only get pregnant under a full moon.‖

―Huh. Gives new meaning to the rhythm method, doesn‘t it?‖ Vic said lightly, trying not to

show how unnerved she felt. She took a sip of beer and watched a flower pixie in the rose bushes

snatch a rose hip to nibble on.

―Unfortunately, shifter women don‘t get knocked up easily. But we almost always have

twins, usually more.‖

―Jesus. I‘m not sure if that‘s good or bad.‖ What would it be like to be pregnant? As a

soldier or agent, she‘d never considered it, but now…the thought wasn‘t all that horrifying. Still,

two or more at a time? A litter.

She shook her head. Then again, going into heat wouldn‘t be that bad with Alec and Calum

around. ―I think I get the drift. A Gathering is a good place to hook up.‖

―Almost.‖ Helen looked…distressed. ―It‘s more than just a fun time, Vicki. It‘s the law. All

men and women attend Gatherings until too old to feel the pull of the moon. Or until they‘re

lifemated.‖

Vic turned to look at her, cold trickling down her spine. ―I‘m not lifemated.‖

―No.‖ Helen sighed. ―You‘re not allowed to be yet. The Law states a Daonain—male or

female—must experience at least one Gather before…we‘ll call it marrying. A new shifter needs

to discover how hormones affect her judgment before jumping into something.‖

Attend an orgy? One where her hormones would be in control? Vic stared at Helen in

horror. ―No way. I‘m not going.‖

Helen gave her a sympathetic look. ―Your body won‘t give you a choice.‖

―My body does what I tell it to do.‖

―Well…the Law says you must attend the Gather, but if you can overrule your instincts

enough to go home, more power to you.‖ Helen reached across the table and patted her hand.

Okay. Then that‘s what would happen.

Helen glanced at the western mountains where the sun was disappearing. ―We need to get

dressed. Calum‘s going to do your introduction to the clan, and you can‘t show up in a uniform.

C‘mon.‖

Well, at least Calum had mentioned that. Just a general, here‟s a new member. Nothing

formal, but yeah, wearing a uniform wouldn‘t be appropriate.

Heather led the way back into the bedroom. ―Alec dropped off stuff for you earlier. Let‘s see

what he brought.‖ She started pulling clothes out and rejected most of them. A pair of jeans

passed inspection. The tight suede boots were approved.

Vic scowled. ―What‘s wrong with my shirts? They cover me—what more is needed?‖

―Well, now, honey. There‘s covering‖—Heather pulled a white top out of her suitcase and

held it up—‖and there‘s covering. Try this on.‖

―My bra straps will show‖

―No bra. It‘s tight enough you don‘t need one.‖

―Uh-huh.‖ After dropping her bra, Vic pulled the shirt over her head and walked over to the

mirror. Silvery-white, low cut, almost a spandex material, the tank top clung to every curve and

was snug enough to push her breasts up, displaying an amazing amount of cleavage. ―Well.

That‘s a little indiscreet.‖

Heather laughed and wiggled into a similar top in a golden color that set off her russet hair.

―Tonight, we flaunt it. No underwear, sexy clothes. Tomorrow it‘s back to being ladies. Now,

let‘s see. My mascara, liner, and shadow will work for you. Use them.‖

―Sir, yes, sir,‖ Vic muttered, obediently seating herself at the dressing table. As she stroked

mascara on her lashes, she asked, ―If the men are so hot for us, why bother with the getup?‖

Heather started on her own makeup. ―It‘s like this: no matter the ratio, there‘s still a lot of

women in that room. And even if a woman wants a man, he can refuse her.‖

Vic shrugged. ―So she finds someone else. BFD.‖

―Stop sulking and use your brain. You don‘t want to mate with just any guy; you want the

best genes for your potential children. It‘s instinct.‖

―Mmmhmm.‖ I‘m not fucking anyone; I‘m not going into heat. Period.

Heather set down the mascara and gave Vic a pointed look. ―As Cosantir, Calum‘s at the top

of the genetic heap. As a cahir, Alec is too.‖

Vic stiffened. Now wait just one little minute—women would be in heat and coming on to

her men? My men?

* * *

With Jamie beside him, Calum leaned against the front of his bar, letting the clan chatter

away. He‘d given them a lot to discuss: Lachlan‘s gift to Victoria, the attacks on her and on

Jamie, what was being done, what they needed to do. He‘d told Heather to come late; Victoria

didn‘t need to suffer through hearing about Lachlan again.

They would arrive any time, so he raised his hand for quiet. When a few people continued

talking, he snarled. The ensuing silence was profound.

Alec, standing in his usual place at the end of the bar, gave him an amused look.

―To conclude on a more enjoyable note, shall we recognize our new clan members?‖ Calum

said, and with impeccable timing, Heather walked into the tavern, followed by...Victoria?

―Herne‘s Holy Antlers,‖ Alec whispered, echoing Calum‘s reaction.

His female—and she would be his female—wore tight jeans, and a...some sort of shirt that

molded to her lush breasts and nipples that had peaked from the cold. Her lovely long hair

rippling across her shoulders and down to her ass, and she‘d done something to make her eyes

darker, deeper, bigger. He could only stare and force his lust under control.

When he saw every man in the tavern gaping, he barely kept from snarling again. After

clearing his throat, his voice still held a growl. ―Just in time. Clan members. The clan welcomes

Victoria, a werecat.‖

The room chorused back. ―We See Victoria.‖

―The clan welcomes Jamie, a werecat.‖ He smiled at his daughter, pride surging within him.

―We See Jamie.‖

―The clan welcomes Tanner, a werewolf,‖ Calum said, and a blond teenager, standing beside

his mother, grinned widely.

―We See Tanner.‖

―Rejoice, Daonain, the clan increases,‖ Calum finished.

The meeting broke up with cheering. Some Daonain slipped out to run and hunt together on

the mountain before the Gathering. Others greeted the youngsters and Victoria. Victoria seemed

to have an inordinate number of men around her, Calum noticed, trying not to react.

―Timed it well,‖ Alec said, joining him. He nodded toward the window where the gleam of

the sun barely topped the western mountains. ―You‘re improving.‖

Calum sighed. His first meeting had started late, and he‘d foolishly tried to continue after

moonrise when the females came into heat. The clan still laughed about it.

* * *

There were far too many people in the bar, dammit. The attention. The noise. The smells.

Vic wormed her way to the back exit.

Outside, the air was crisp and cold. She leaned against the building, ears ringing. God, what

a crowd. She hadn‘t realized so many shifters lived in the area.

For a few minutes, she watched the moon inch into the dark sky, sending a pale glow over

the snow-covered mountains. Pretty. And it was time to get moving. She glanced at the second

floor. A light was on—Jamie‘d gone home. Apparently, she wouldn‘t go into heat until around

twenty or so which was a good thing, since Vic would cripple any man who touched the girl.

Maybe the kid would like to play some poker. Vic grinned. Looked like she could leave too

since, obviously, the female-in-heat business had passed her by. Thank you, baby Jesus.

The backyard entrance was around the building, so she walked along the side, scuffling her

boots in the gravel. At the scent of wood smoke, she looked up. Someone had built a fire inside,

and smoke puffed up from the chimney. A translucent air sylph danced in the updraft, its

elongated body sinuous and graceful.

As Vic rounded the front corner of the tavern, she lost her balance like the ground had fallen

out from under her foot. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself. The grain of the wood felt

rough against her fingers, almost too rough. She straightened as her bare arms tingled with the

slight breeze. As she took a step, her jeans scraped over her thighs…rubbed over her pussy. A

tremor shook her. With her every movement, the slick material of her top sensuously slid over

her breasts and hardening nipples.

She could hear the people inside. The men‘s deep voices were tantalizing, their gruff

laughter giving her chills. She wanted to hear them, see them, and her feet carried her that way

before she‘d even thought about moving.

At the front door of the tavern, she stopped, her hand on the heavy ironwork handle. She

couldn‘t move. Everything in her demanded that she go within, to touch and be touched, and...

No, I‟m going home. Her fingers tightened on the door. I‟m going inside. She shook her head.

Her body wasn‘t doing what she told it to—this wasn‘t her at all.

―Somewhat intense, isn‘t it.‖ Calum‘s deep voice washed over her and brought every nerve

to full awareness. She spun around.

He stood so close her breasts crushed into his muscular chest, pulling a moan from her.

A low growl came from him, and he grasped her by the arms, his grip not cruel, just firm

enough to send her head spinning. He was strong, so strong, and a leader, and every cell in her

body wanted him.

―Now, I‘d say you‘re having trouble because it‘s your first time, but I am experiencing a

definite loss of control as well.‖ His hands slid up and down her arms, and the muskiness of a

man reached her. She inhaled, filling her senses with his scent.

He bent and nipped her jaw, sending goosebumps up her arms. ―Victoria. Cariad, I would be

honored to be your first mating of this, your first Gathering.‖

When she breathed, ―Yes,‖ he lifted her into his arms, carried her into the tavern, and up the

stairs.

In the tiny room, firelight flicked over a sea of velvety brown cushions, and Vic shivered

with need. Put me there. Take me.

Calum kicked the door closed and lay her down. His eyes were intense, his gaze a palpable

touch, arousing her until she wanted to writhe. She pushed the urge away— have you no pride,

woman? —and sat up.

His lips curved. ―Strong little female.‖ The rumble of his voice was like a hand running

down her spine, and she bit her lip, needing him inside her so badly she almost burst into tears. If

he didn‘t do something, she‘d completely humiliate herself and beg.

He straddled her legs and lifted her chin, examining her face, her body. ―Ah, cariad, it has

you good.‖ His thumb rubbed her trembling lips. ―We will play no games this time then, little

cat. You will have what you require.‖

With a sure touch, he stripped her of her clothes, and each movement of his firm hands

ignited a new spark. Her pussy throbbed; the need for him was growing painful. A shiver ran

through her as his masculine scent washed over her. So very male.

He unzipped his jeans. His cock sprang free, long and thick. Like the trunk of a massive oak

on his mountain, it held no curve at all. Her head swam, her needs fighting with her refusal to

concede, and she didn‘t know what to do. Her fingernails dug into her skin, creating sharp pains

to join the rest.

He knelt in front of her and pried her fingers loose. ―I have never known a female as

stubborn or as strong.‖ With his palm, he cupped her cheek. ―Look at me, Victoria.‖