To Lie With Lions: A BBW Shifter Romance (Wolf Rock Shifters Book 4) (14 page)

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked him as he pulled her other arm backwards. Nash could see now that he’d attached a large metal cuff around her right arm, and was doing the same with her left.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Nash asked, turning to Fargo. “I thought it was her father that you were interested in.”

“We are. But what better way to gain access to daddy than his little girl?”

“I’m not so little, and I’ll rip your fucking face off as soon as I have a chance,” growled Cecile, who was straining against the metal that now attached her hands behind her back. She knew that shifting was an impossibility; the cuffs would tear through her tiger’s flesh and make her front legs useless.

“This wasn’t the deal,” said Nash.

“I didn’t realize we had a deal. You’re not exactly in charge here, or don’t you remember?” said Fargo.

Nash’s lion sprang around
within him, leaping from side to side and trying to find its way out. The man sized up the situation and the other two shifters, for once trying to keep his wits about him and not let anger prevail. All his life he’d fought. He’d gotten himself into ridiculous situations where he attacked and savaged and wrestled. But it was for his own selfish sake; not to look out for a beautiful woman who was his desired mate. He couldn’t risk her safety.

He grabbed a long overcoat that was hanging near the door and followed the other two out of the house, wondering where the housekeeper Susannah was.

“Put her in the back,” Fargo said to Brick, who obliged, grunting.

Nash climbed into the front again, silently assessing the new situation. He needed to take control of things somehow. Yes, he was doing all of this for his family and his town, but in this moment all he wanted was to protect Cecile.

“What are you going to do with her?” he asked Fargo.

“Hold her. Until her father’s back home and then the negotiations begin. Protection for her for a fee. A larger one than usual.”

“In other words you’ve kidnapped her and are holding her for ransom, which makes you even more scummy than you were before.”

“She’s a negotiating tool. Businessmen know all about those.” Fargo looked in the rear view mirror at Cecile. “Your daddy will be paying a pretty penny for you, I imagine,” he said.

“You imagine wrong,” she replied. “My father cares about money more than about me. You’ll be damn lucky to get a cent out of him.”

“That’s a shame. But the boss-man has excellent skills. I’m sure he can find a way to persuade the old tiger.”

“Wait—the boss is dealing with this?” asked Nash.

“Big client, so yeah. He wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Nash had a thought and leaned in close to Fargo.

“Let me look after her,” he said quietly. “Her father’s been a total dick to me. I’d kind of like to make his daughter’s life miserable for a bit. My own vendetta.”

Fargo turned and looked at him, suspicion converting to a grin. “You’re finally beginning to think like one of us,” he said. “I like it. Sure, you can look after her. But don’t be stupid, boy. Remember that we know where your family lives. If you try anything…”

“Oh, I won’t. I’m not putting my family at risk for this bitch.”

Cecile heard him and snarled. “You prick,” she said. “Bitches are canines. I’m a fucking cat.”

“That’s right
,” said Nash, sitting back. He was smiling now, confident that Cecile understood what was going to happen. “A pussy.”

The SUV didn’t return to the motel; instead it veered off the road into a wooded area and drove down a long dirt road between arching trees. It was only after fifteen or so minutes that they arrived at a small cabin which looked long-deserted, nestled in a dense pine forest. The cabin’s wood had darkened with age and its small windows looked as though they’d been painted over from the inside. Nothing about it was remotely inviting.

Fargo got out first and unlocked the building’s door, then signalled the others to follow. Brick pulled Cecile out of the car, and she didn’t offer much resistance, though she scowled.

Nash followed behind, watching her to make sure that Brick wasn’t too rough. Though he knew that she could take it.

Inside, Fargo turned on a single light
bulb which hung from the ceiling. The place was sparsely decorated, like a jail cell; it contained only a cot, a wooden chair and a small bathroom off in one corner. Bars covered the windows from inside. Clearly whoever had built the place hadn’t intended it for romantic getaways, unless he was a little freaky.

“Well, this is nice,” said Cecile.

“Sorry it doesn’t live up to your standards, princess,” said Fargo. “We ordered silk sheets but they haven’t arrived yet.”

“Fuck you.”

Fargo walked up to her and stood inches in front of her face. Cecile scowled again. This little man was so fucking repulsive.

“Settle in, honey,” he said, getting closer to her. “You’ll be here for a while.”

For a moment Nash thought the weasel might kiss her, lick her or worse. He knew that no way in hell could he hold back the lion if that happened. Fortunately, Fargo had just enough sense not to do it. He backed away.

“Okay, big guy,” he said, slapping Nash on the shoulder. “You know your job. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He turned and winked at Ce
cile, who wanted to dry-heave. “There’s some food in the fridge,” he said to Nash, indicating a small beer fridge in the corner. “Call me if anything happens. I’ll be back tonight to check in. By then her father, the high lord white tiger should’ve gotten word that his precious daughter’s being forced to live in a shack.”

“Fine,” said Nash. “I’ll call if anything happens.”

“And remember. Nothing stupid. Your parents seem like nice people. For now they’re nice
living
ones. Let’s keep it that way.”

Inside Nash, a giant lion leapt at a weasel and tore his head off.

“Of course,” he said through a clenched jaw. “But aren’t you going to take off her cuffs?”

“If you think you can take on her cat, then sure, we can take ‘
em off.” Fargo nodded to Brick, who approached with a key.

“I’m quite sure I can handle her cat,” said Nash, looking sideways at Cecile, whose mouth twitched against her will.

When the door closed, Nash heard it lock from the outside. They were both trapped now, though no doubt a tiger and a lion could find a way to take the wooden walls down, had they wanted to do so.

“So.” Nash looked at Cecile, who was standing in the centre of the room.

“So,” she said. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to claw it out of you?”

“Sit,” he said. “I’ll tell you.”

She perched on the edge of the cot, her body taut in the anticipation of hearing things she didn’t want to. She wanted more than anything to think that Nash was everything her instincts had told her he was. But she had to prepare herself for the worst.

“I didn’t tell you, Cecile, because it would have put you in danger. But fuck
it, you’re in danger now. And I will do everything in my power to protect you and your father. Know that first of all.”

“So what the hell, Nash? Why are you going around threatening people? Shifters? How could you do it?”

“I’m trying to find out who the mastermind is. The only way to him is from the inside. These guys, these idiots. They’re just lackeys. We need to stop this business and brute force isn’t the way, for once.”

“But you’re putting yourself in danger. And everyone in town is beginning to hate you, let alone fear you.”

Nash stood in the middle of the room, looking down at Cecile. Her icy eyes were fixed on him and for the first time that day he saw sadness in them, rather than anger.

“I don’t care what they think, as long as I’m helping to keep them safe. There’s only one person whose feelings I care about.”

Cecile looked away them and Nash saw her flush. He liked the flash of pink on her ivory skin. He also liked that he’d made her blood change its route through her body.

“I don’t hate you, Nash. I could never hate you. I’ll admit that I was upset when my father told me…”

“Of course he did. He would like nothing more than for you to think that I’m the devil incarnate.”

“He’s misguided. He just wants what’s best for me.”

“What’s best for you?” Nash turned his back and stormed to the other end of the room. “What’s best for you is to be with someone who wants you. Who craves you. Someone who can’t live without you. Someone who would lay his life down just to protect you,” he said as his right hand clenched into a fist. He wanted to punch it through the wall. “Your father doesn’t see it because he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t see that you’re for me.” He turned to face her again. “And I’m for you. I was built for you. I was born for you.”

Now the blood in Cecile’s body began to flow in every direction, uncertain of whether to gather in her fingertips, her nipples, her lips. She wanted to walk over to him and to touch him at last.

“Do you really feel that way?” she asked, standing.

“Yes. You know it, too. I know you don’t need to ask. You’ve known it since you met me.”

“I’ve known how I felt. I’ve known I wanted you. At first it just confused me; I thought it was a crush or an infatuation. It wasn’t until I went away that I knew that you were mine. I’m new to this.”

“This?”

“Love. No, not love. Finding my mate. Finding the one I’m meant to be with. I’d heard how shifters do this but I’m cynical. My mother died when I was young. I never got to see how this all works.”

“I did. My parents have it. They found each other and they held on. They know. I suppose I just never felt like I’d find the one for me.”

Cecile stood. “You have now,” she said.

Nash stared at her. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to walk over and to bury his face in her, to take in her scent. To taste her.

Cecile crossed her arms over her front and pulled her sweater up and over her head, revealing a white torso which she’d always thought of as too thick, too soft, and a black bra whose delicate material did little to conceal hard, pink nipples.

Rath
er than seem imperfect, her stomach had the fertile roundness that Nash loved in a woman; a softness that he wanted to envelop in his arms. He found himself imagining kneeling before her and immersing his face in her warmth.

His cock grew with each second, and he found his fingers pulling at his own jacket, stripping it off before pulling his own shirt over his head.

Cecile inhaled deeply as his form was revealed. So many times she’d envisioned this moment; seeing his shape again. The memory of his muscles, of each shallow curve, was carved into her mind but over the days it had faded into a mist of images. She wanted the tangibility of his flesh; to see it. To stroke it lightly with fingertips and to feel the carved outline of his perfection.

Still she held back, though, and as she stood opposite him she unbuttoned her jeans and slowly pulled the fly downward, teasing Nash’s body with her own. She could hear him breathe now and felt that over it, she heard the beating of her own heart. Finally, in this place, as his prisoner she would be coupled with him. She would take him inside her body.

Her fingers pulled at the front closure of her bra, unfastening it to peel it back, revealing her white skin to him as he let out a perceptible groan.

She moved towards him now, as her full breasts drew him towards her and forced the blood to rush ever-faster to his cock. He stayed still, though, allowing her to control the situation.

Cecile put her hands on his chest, feeling his racing heart. She lifted her chin and kissed his mouth, which greeted hers with gentleness; almost shyness as though awaiting the go-ahead for his tongue. He received hers gratefully, and brought his to meet it. She tasted as good as he remembered; better, even. Her lips softer, her body warmer. Her breasts were against him and he felt his growing length press against his jeans, unrelenting in its insistence that contact be made, and soon.

The tiger shifter
inhaled deeply when the kiss ended. “I can’t tell you how good it feels to know you’re the man I thought you were. So many times I’ve doubted myself. I’ve doubted you, but something in me insisted that you were good deep down.”

“Of course I am,” said Nash. “All I’ve wanted since I met you is to be with you, to protect you, to free you from feeling imprisoned.

“I want to free you,” she said, her hands moving towards the front of his jeans. Slowly she unbuttoned them, working his fly down as his firm cock pressed forward, eager to escape its own cotton prison.

“Are you ready for this?” asked Nash. “I don’t want to rush you.”

Cecile laughed. “I’ve been ready for this since I walked into your stable. You’re like the carrot that’s been dangled in front of me for weeks. Only,” she added, squeezing him through his boxers, “This is a hell of a carrot.”

Nash smiled. “It gets overgrown when my mind goes to you.”

“Overgrown?” Cecile’s fingers could barely circle the thick shaft. “It’s a whole other species.”