The Cougar's Pawn (3 page)

Mason didn’t see where he had a choice. His dream had been unmistakable. Three women—one for each Foye—at a campground. Their one shot for perfect mates. Perfect
strangers
they had to convince to accept them within two weeks, or else they’d be stuck in their cougar forms until the days they died.

Not exactly ideal, but what else would they expect of a goddess whose rare edicts were regularly demoralizing and emasculating? After seven hundred years, the lady really needed to get over her ex.

“Chill with the pacing,” he said to Hank and Sean, only to receive a duet of scoffs in return.

“I can’t help but to feel like this is going to go really fucking badly,” Hank said.

“Ever the cynic.”

“Can you really blame him?” Sean asked. At least
he
stopped pacing. He leaned his butt against the bumper and folded his arms over his chest. “I mean,
shit
, man. Why us? And what’s the worst that would have happened if we’d just ignored your dream?”

Mason shrugged. “I don’t really want to find out. We have enough problems already without bringing down
La Bella Dama
’s goddess fury onto us.” Thanks to the legends of her earthly tribulations, he could imagine what the long-absent deity’s punishments might be. The CIA had nothing on her when it came to creative torture.

No, he didn’t really want to find out what she’d do to him, even if he hadn’t been ready for a mate. Hell, he hadn’t even been looking to get laid in over a year, and now he was supposed to sweet talk a stranger into being his forever lady? The goddess’s cruelty obviously had no limits.

Dad’s death had left Foye Woodworks in an upended state that had taken the brothers two years to dig out from, and then it took three more years for them to have enough money tucked away in savings for
just in case
. Financial chaos would never rule their world again if Mason could help it. It wasn’t just his job as big brother, but as Alpha, too. Cougars may have been independent for the most part, but they worked together when needed. Mason tried not to put too much stress on the glaring, and like his father, was slow in asking people to pitch in. Cats weren’t good at trusting.

Mom was the reason Mason and his brothers had gotten involved in the glaring at all during their teen years. They were Cougars, whether they wanted to be or not, and she couldn’t teach them how to be that. Like the women in the truck, she was just human. They needed to be around others like them, and not just their father. They needed to learn how to compensate for their untrusting natures and isolationist tendencies, but by the time they’d started to, Dad had to go and have a fucking heart attack and die.

Mason had stepped up as Alpha because of a sense of obligation. He was qualified, sure, but that meant nothing to him without the goddess’s blessing. The goddess hadn’t given any alpha in a hundred years her blessing, so trying to keep up with all the glaring requests seemed pointless on some days. He didn’t know if he was getting anything right.

“Look. There she is.” Mason nodded toward the main house. Mom padded down the front steps pulling her terrycloth bathrobe together and tying it at the waist.

Situated dead center in the middle of the Double B ranch, Mom’s place was in viewing distance of each son’s own house, but far enough away that she couldn’t meddle. The Foye boys knew fuck-all about ranching. Had never needed to. Mom kept the cattle business running with the help of a few Cougar ranch hands, and the brothers kept the bills paid by woodworking. They unanimously agreed that staying out of Mom’s hair was a good thing. When they got pulled into her orbit, she nagged. Boy, did she nag. The worst part was that she was entirely entitled to—a know-it-all of the worst sort.

Mom hurried out to the driveway. Her gray-streaked red hair trailed on the wind behind her and she grinned, her anticipation clear on her face.

“I wonder what she’s going to think of her future daughters-in-law,” Hank said drily. He stopped pacing long enough to lace his fingers through his loose hair.

Mason sputtered his lips. “She’s either going to get three daughters-in-law or three wild cats for sons by the time all is said and done. I’m not placing any bets.”

The vengeful
Dama
had been pretty clear in his dream. Mate-snatching was a traditional trial for male Cougars of a certain age, but it was rarely done anymore, what with the advent of romantic love and all. Supposedly, only the bravest, truest of hearts snatch a mate and make her say, “Yes, I accept you and I’ll stay,” in two weeks. Most guys nowadays needed a little more time. Like a year. Five, if the guy was a Foye. Apparently, they had reputations for being a little stubborn. Mason was under no illusions that he was going to convince that angry lady in the truck to be his forever love.

He hadn’t told his brothers the rest of the dream. He knew exactly which woman was supposed to be his. Until the moment they’d lifted that tent, he’d hoped the dream wasn’t a true vision at all, but merely the result of sleep deprivation and drinking too many cans of Tecate.

But there she was—angry as a scorpion and possibly the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. She was stunning with that halo of thick, curly hair and glowing skin. He thought she looked like some sort of wild goddess come to Earth to taunt mankind with her perfection. The captive named Ellery was very likely going to be the end of the two-legged Mason Foye.

Mom lifted her hands upon approach. “Come on. Open it up and let ’em out. Don’t keep ’em waiting. I thought I raised you better than that.”

“You tried.”

She sighed.

“There really isn’t an instruction manual for this sort of thing. They didn’t exactly come gently.”

“If they had, you wouldn’t want them. Trust me on that. I was no easy target, let me tell you.”

He believed it. He just bet she gave Dad hell. She never
stopped
giving him hell, but he usually deserved it. Mason grunted, wrapped his fingers around the top dome’s handle, and pulled the door up.

The women didn’t budge. They sat in the back, huddled against each other in their inadequate-for-camping clothes, slumbering under a shared blanket. They were good friends, probably, and not just acquaintances. That’d make the transition easier for them.

“Aw.” Mom pulled down the tailgate and climbed onto the truck bed. She eased in, cooing, “Wake up, girls. You’re home now. No one’s gonna hurt you.” She peeled the tape off the dark-haired short one’s mouth, and the little lady—Miles—immediately widened her eyes and drew in a breath.

“Please help us!” she said in a high-pitched voice. “We’ve been kidnapped.”

Mom patted Miles’s head and worked on Hannah’s tape next. “I know, honey. It’s their way, sometimes. I was taken, too, when I was just a girl of eighteen.” She rubbed the flowing tears on Miles’s cheeks with her thumb pads. “Everything will make sense soon enough, goddess willing. My boys may look intimidating, but they won’t hurt you on purpose.”

Ellery, with her mouth still taped, grunted and rolled her eyes.

Yeah, his girl had spunk. And he was supposed to figure out how to temper it without putting a stopper in it altogether? Mom was right. Weak Cougar mates were liabilities. He’d need her strong, yet capable of softness. He’d rather go to bed with a desert rose than a cactus, if he had to go to bed with either. He leaned onto the truck bed, watching her watch him. He was so screwed.

She narrowed her eyes at him and her cheeks tightened from the smile beneath the tape. It was positively hostile—as if she knew what he was thinking and reveled in his impending doom.

Mom started on Ellery’s tape.

“Leave hers on,” he said. “I think she has some things to say that may offend your sensibilities.”

“Oh, hush.” Mom peeled the tape.

“Shit!” Ellery said when the tape came off. She opened her mouth, moved her lips left and right, and scrunched her face. “That smarts like a motherfucker.”

“Told you,” he said.

“Give me your knife so I can cut the bindings.” Mom crawled back to the gate and held out her palm.

“Just help them wiggle this way,” Sean said. “We need to work out who’s whose before they’re mobile.”

“That sounds like the precursor to rape to me,” Miles said.

“I raised them better than that, I swear I did.” Mom cut Sean an evil side-eye. “They may drive you nuts, but they won’t do
that
.”

“I need to pee really bad, so I’ll be anyone’s for the five minutes it takes to find me a bathroom.”

Mom helped Miles to the edge, and then Hannah, who—though pretty—looked like she’d murder a man in his sleep. She had the kind of glint in her eye that reminded him of a cat about to pounce, and he’d certainly seen that enough. Idly, he rubbed the long scar on his right forearm. How many fights had he been in just this year? Too many to count, and for what? Over an alpha position he didn’t even want half the time?

Ellery came last, muttering obscene threats under her breath in that sultry voice that made his nuts tighten. Gods, he hated himself for being affected by it, but he couldn’t help what turned him on. She had a filthy vocabulary for a nurse. That’s what one of the little cards in her wallet identified her as. A nurse at a hospital in North Carolina. They were a long way from home. He hoped the folks from there wouldn’t miss her too much, because there was no way she was going back … at least not for a couple of weeks.

As soon as Ellery dangled her legs over the edge, he took a bracing breath—guessing she was probably going to scratch him to smithereens—scooped her up, and tossed her over his shoulder.

She kicked. “Dammit, don’t make this a habit.”

He took off for his house, already patting his pockets for his keys.

“Mason, wait,” Hank called. “We need to pick.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Mom muttered.

Mason looked back to see Mom slam the tailgate shut.

“He’s already picked. Are you going to challenge him?”

“Just trust me,” he called back. “You wouldn’t want this one anyway.”

“Asshole.” Ellery tried to wriggle off his shoulder to no avail.

“Be still. I’m trying to find my keys.”

“Screw your keys.”

“Take them both to my house,” Mom said to Hank and Sean. “They’ll stay with me until you work it out.”

“Hey, take me back. I’d rather stay with your mother,” Ellery said.

“You’ll stay with me. In my bed.”

“Nope. Hell nope. I will stab you at the first opportunity.”

“Not if I stab you first. I’ve got just the weapon, and it’ll only hurt a little in the beginning.” He pounded up his porch steps and grabbed the screen door.

“You audacious jackass, when you get me out of these ropes, I’m going to—”

“You’re going to go pee, right? And then I’ll make you some dinner and put you to bed.” He pushed the key into the lock. “Cuddling will make us both feel calmer. You’ll see. It’s the Cougar way.” He rolled his eyes. He could probably come up with a few more cornball lines without even trying. No one could ever accuse him of being suave, and usually, he didn’t care. He’d never tried to come on to a woman who needed him to be so debonair, and he wasn’t going to start now.

“Cougar!” She let out a frustrated growl. “I’d just gotten used to the Wolves, and now this. That’s just fucking great. I should start earning merit badges for having to deal with all the shit that happens in my life.”

Wolves? Interesting
. He filed that information away to question her about later.

“Gods, your language.” He turned the knob and pushed the door in. “I thought Southern girls were supposed to be soft and demure.”

“If you dislike my language so much, toss me back into the truck and return me to Arches.”

“No, ma’am. I’m going to deal with your mouth. Apparently my goddess thought I deserved your verbal flagellation.”

“So why bother complaining about it?”

He set her down in his foyer and turned on the light to see her pretty face screwed into a ball-withering glower. Well, she had a backbone, his maybe-mate. For his brothers’ sakes, he hoped they all did, but knowing his Ellery had some fight in her meant she wouldn’t cower when she saw what he was—the reason he’d had to steal her in the first place.

Hundreds of years ago, being taken as a Cougar bride was considered to be an honor in their culture, but Cougars weren’t tribal warriors anymore. There was nothing illustrious about being abducted to be a woodworker’s mate. In fact, it sounded like the basis of a very twisted Lifetime movie. Unluckily for him, he got to play the villain.

“Seems odd to me a man who would snatch ladies would be so concerned about the gentility of her language.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t give a shit about your language. I just figured this would be a lot easier for both of us if you were a little sweeter. You might be my wife one day. Congratulations.”

She made a most indelicate snorting sound and shook her head. “You are
insane
, bud.”

“My name is Mason. Mason Foye.” He extended a hand to shake, and she locked a malevolent leer onto it.

Oh. The ropes
. He looped his hand through her arm and pulled her gently toward the kitchen. She tottered, taking the tiny steps afforded by her bound ankles. “I’ve got some shears in here to cut that off.”

“What do you want from me? Why did you bring me here?”

He let out a long breath. Apparently, she didn’t believe the wife story. “I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re asking. Hold still.” He picked her up easily and plopped her onto the counter next to the sink. He could feel her glare on the side of his neck as he rooted through his junk drawer.

“Why couldn’t I stay with my friends?”

“Don’t worry about them. They’re safe.” It was his brothers he was more worried about. He angled her feet up and clamped them between his thighs while he examined his tight rope work. He didn’t want to ruin perfectly good rope, and was looking to cut it off as close to the knots as possible.

“That’s good for them, but what about
me
?”

“You’re safe with me.”

“You’ll have to excuse me for not taking your word for it.”