Hour of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #1) (48 page)

invitation-to-disaster plan. But hey, even Wells might have trouble figuring a way out of this

mess.

She leaped over a fallen log, scented a rabbit and paused, then continued. She was getting

closer, she knew it. Sometime last night, a feeling had arisen in her, a sensation of being home,

as if she‘d been cold and someone wrapped a warm blanket around her. Each touch of her paws

to the earth repeated that. Home, home, home.

This shifter shit is sure weird.

She lifted her muzzle, checked the scent of the early morning air. It even smelled like the

right mountains, and the thought made her lope forward, her pace increasing and—

Snap! Pain. Horrible pain. She snarled, spun, fell. Son-of-a-bitch. A trap.

Her hind leg was caught in a heavy iron trap. She trawsfurred, then grunted as the metal

teeth dug deeper into more tender human flesh. Fucking-A, that hurt. Mouth tight, she examined

the trap. The sucker was huge, made of heavy steel. And those teeth were a real pisser. The

bleeding wasn‘t too good either.

After managing to stand, she pushed down on the jaws with all her strength. Not enough

weight. She tried again and again, and then slid back down to the ground. She couldn‘t open the

damn thing. And nothing lay within reach to use to pry the teeth apart.

Could she yank it loose and carry it with her?

A few minutes later, she gave that one up. The hunter had pounded the anchor stakes so far

into the frozen ground, they didn‘t budge at all.

Shifting back into cat form, she lay down and watched her blood turn the snow red. Dammit,

in her few-and-far-between prayers, she had specifically requested a go-out-in-a-blaze-of-glory

death.

This was so not it.

* * *

Hours later, Vic‘s ears swiveled toward the southwest. Something was approaching. With

the wind blowing the wrong way, she couldn‘t catch its scent. Unfortunately, that meant it could

smell her, blood and all.

Man or beast or shifter? An edge of fear prickled up her spine. It sounded like more than one

animal. A pack of wolves? How delightful.

Dammit, weren‘t predators supposed to hunt only at night? Hadn‘t these animals read the

rule book? The fur on her neck rose as she stood and balanced on three legs, trying not to growl

as the trap pulled on her mangled leg. Fuck, if she tried to fight, she‘d probably fall down.

Well, at least she was saved the embarrassment of walking into Cold Creek in her birthday

suit... But she wouldn‘t ever get to see Alec and Calum again. And Jamie. And Thorson. And—

Just out of sight, a heavy animal moved through the underbrush. No, two animals.

The mountain lions burst into the clearing. The sunlight glinted on dark golden fur. And pale

golden fur. She recognized them and snarled hopelessly. She was dead. She wouldn‘t even have

a chance to explain, dammit—

With a resigned breath, she stood her ground. Going belly-up and begging? Not gonna

happen. Anger at the unfairness of it all—at them—twined with her love and joy at seeing them

one last time, and her cat instincts couldn‘t decide what to do.

Calum sprang first, straight for her. He landed barely out of reach. She raised a forepaw,

showed her claws, and knew she wouldn‘t hurt him.

He stalked forward, ignoring her show of fight, and rubbed his muzzle over hers, purring

loudly enough to make the trees shake. His giant paw landed on her shoulders, flattening her like

a pancake, and he licked her ear, still purring.

Then Alec shouldered Calum to one side to do the same. Their scent engulfed her, mingled

with hers.

They did know who she was, didn‘t they? The lifemate who‘d betrayed them? But oh, she‘d

missed them. The higher rumble in the air was her own purring.

Calum shifted to human form. Kneeling beside her, he examined the trap and her leg. He

glanced at Alec who loped away, returning with a large branch in his big jaws. He dropped it and

shifted.

They had her leg free in minutes. Maybe the iron teeth hurt less coming out than in, but it

still fucking hurt.

Calum frowned down at her. With one hand, he grasped her muzzle, forcing her to meet his

very intent, very black gaze. ―Trawsfur,‖ he murmured. His power blazed through her, and a

second later, she lay naked before him.

Alec wrapped his hands around her leg, putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding.

―Freeing someone from a trap before executing her is a little inefficient, don‘t you think?‖

she muttered, trying to keep her lips from trembling. She was a soldier, dammit; soldiers didn‘t

burst into tears. She managed to pull in a breath and almost sounded like herself as she asked,

―How did you find me? This isn‘t exactly on a trail, is it?‖

―There‘s a bond between a Cosantir and his territory. I know if a strange shifter sets foot in

my mountains.‖ The sun lines around his eyes deepened. ―Or when a lost one comes home.‖

―Oh.‖

He stroked his knuckles across her cheek, and then his flickering smile appeared. ―Cariad,

did I not warn you and Jamie about these traps?‖

Her breath caught. ―I‘m the enemy. How did I get to be a cariad again?‖

Alec released her leg, waited to make sure it had stopped bleeding, then kissed her lips

lightly. ―Once we got our heads out of our asses, we figured out what had happened and what

you must have been trying to do.‖

Hope made her eyes sting, reality made her look down. Calum lifted her chin. ―Little cat, we

doubted you. I doubted you. Can you find forgiveness for us?‖

When she shook her head, his jaw tightened, his hand dropped away.

She grabbed his fingers. ―No. I mean, I couldn‘t believe you‘d forgive me.‖ She sighed.

―Not without a lot of arguing. It‘s my fault, I know. I—I didn‘t tell you all the truth.‖ The next

admission came slower. Harder. ―I should have stuck around to have it out with you, but I…‖

―Didn‘t think we‘d love you enough to listen?‖ Calum asked gently.

She nodded.

Alec hugged her, his body hot against her cold skin. ―We love you, Vixen, even if you‘re a

tad insecure. Just like you love us, even when we‘re paranoid bastards.‖

―You do?‖

Calum nodded, his eyes gentle. ―We love you, cariad, and we need you. Come home to us.‖

Home.

A month later.

Coffee. Need more coffee. Vic yawned, squinting at the mid-morning sun. She‘d started

work well before dawn. Alec had better take her off this fucking morning shift before she

strangled him and left his body on the mountain for the coyotes. No—too classy. For the

vultures.

As she cracked open the door to the bookstore, she reached up to quiet the bell before it

rang. She liked practicing her stalking skills on Thorson; the old werecat was nearly impossible

to sneak up on.

No one was in sight, but voices came from the sitting area. One was Thorson. The other

was...Wells? When had Wells arrived in town?

Oh hell. She smoothed her hair back, scowled at her dusty boots. Sloppy, she‘d gotten

sloppy. With a frown, she pulled at her khaki uniform, trying to smooth the wrinkles Alec had

created earlier when he‘d locked them both in his jail cell and pretended to interrogate her as a

spy.

She grinned, remembering the clothespins he‘d used to torture her. Nipple torture. The man

was completely warped. Good thing the jail had a shower in the back, or she‘d have smelled like

sex all day. She silently finished straightening her clothes, and then edged around the rear

shelves for some recon.

Wells and Thorson sat in the comfortable chairs by the crackling fire. Each wore a scowl,

but that was normal when the two of them got together.

Wells picked up his coffee, motioned to Thorson with the cup. ―I‘ve been thinking. It would

be appropriate for you to perform that Death Gift ritual, and make me a shifter when you die.

Considering your advanced age, that shouldn‘t be long now.‖

Thorson eyed him over the rim of his mug before taking a loud sip. ―You annoy me, and

you‘ll go tits-up first.‖

―I‘m not planning to die until I see my grandchildren. Hopefully sometime this century.‖

Wells frowned slightly as he stared into the fire. "The Sergeant said you shifters can take a long time, and that she‘s in no hurry.‖

―We leave that in the hands of the Mother.‖ Thorson turned his head and winked at Vic.

Shit, he‘d heard her. Damn werecat.

He turned back to Wells and said casually, ―She‘ll name the first-born after me, of course.‖

Wells stiffened. ―I doubt that. You‘re merely a token grandfather whereas I am her—‖

The bookstore door slammed open, the bell jangling wildly.

―MomVee, are you in here?‖ Jamie ran between the shelves, spotted Vic, and wrapped her

in a signature-Jamie hug.

―Is something wrong?‖ Vic lay her cheek against the soft hair. My cub.

―Yes. No. Not really.‖ Jamie giggled.

Vic relaxed. ―What then?‖

―Daddy says there‘s probably going to be a fight, and since you‘re on duty, can you come

and keep the bast—um, the bad guys from misbehaving.‖ She whispered to Vic, ―Daddy called

them bastards, but I‘m not supposed to say that.‖

―Do you need our help, Sergeant?‖ Wells asked, starting to rise.

―Nah, I can get it.‖ Vic grinned at Thorson and tossed Wells a mock salute. It was good to

be needed. Even better to be loved.

As she reached the door, she heard Jamie whisper to the men, ―Daddy said Uncle Alec got

more kisses than him this morning, and he needed MomVee at the bar so he could get his share.‖

Vic was laughing as she stepped out into the bright morning sunshine.

The End.

I met my dearheart when vacationing in the Caribbean. Now I won‘t say it was love at first

sight. Actually since he was standing over me, enjoying the view down my swimsuit top, I might

even have been a tad peeved—as well as attracted. But although our time together there was less

than two days, and although we lived in opposite sides of the country, love can‘t be corralled by

time or space.

We‘ve now been married for many, many years. (And he still looks down my swimsuit

tops.)

Nowadays, I live in the west with this obnoxious, beloved husband, two children, and

various animals, including three cats who rule the household. I‘m a gardener, and I love

nurturing small plants until they‘re big and healthy and productive…and ripping defenseless

weeds out by the roots when I‘m angry. I enjoy thunderstorms, playing Scrabble and Risk and

being a soccer mom. My favorite way to spend an evening is curled up on a couch next to the

master of my heart, watching the fire, reading, and…well…if you‘re reading my books, you

obviously know what else happens in front of fires.

~ Cherise

* * *

Please come and visit me online:

Website: http://www.CheriseSinclair.com

Twitter: http://twitter.com/CheriseSinclair

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/AuthorCheriseSinclair

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CheriseSinclair

Here‘s a blurb and excerpt for

Master of the Mountain

by Cherise Sinclair.

A BDSM Full-figured Heroine, Contemporary Erotic

Published by Loose Id.

Brande at Book Junkie says: ― I loved it! Every word, every page, every moment until the

end! So that is my review in a nutshell........ OK I can do better than that, but seriously a melt your panties right off, intriguing love story that forces you to turn the pages until the wee hours of the night just to get to the end! How about that!”

* * *Blurb for Master of the Mountain * * *

When Rebecca's boyfriend talks her into vacationing at a mountain lodge with his swing

club, she quickly learns she's not cut out for playing musical beds. Now she has nowhere to

sleep. Logan, the lodge owner, finds her freezing on the porch. After hauling her inside, he

warms her in his own bed, and there the experienced Dom discovers that Rebecca might not be a

swinger…but she is definitely a submissive.

Rebecca knows that no one can love her plump, scarred body. To her shock, lodge owner

Logan not only disagrees, but ties her up and shows her just how much he enjoys her curves.

Under his skilled hands, Rebecca not only loses her inhibitions, but also her heart.

Damaged from the war, Logan considers himself too dangerous to be around the enticing

little sub. He sends her away for her own safety, not realizing she believes she has once again

been rejected because of her size. As Logan's mountains echo with her voice long after she's

gone, he realizes she's taken his heart with her. But when he arrives in the city to reclaim her,

Rebecca's phone has been disconnected and her apartment is empty…

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and

situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme and

content, exhibitionism.

* * * Excerpt * * *

Why the hell hadn‘t Jake returned from San Francisco? Logan wondered, grinding his teeth

at the constant magpielike chattering of the people on the trail. Two more miles to Rainbow

Lake. A shame he couldn‘t get them to jog, but maybe if he sped up some, they wouldn‘t have

the breath to talk.

Usually Jake handled the social crap, while Logan did repairs and maintenance. People in

individual packages could be enjoyable, but crowds? He‘d rather get shot in the head. He ran a