To Lie With Lions: A BBW Shifter Romance (Wolf Rock Shifters Book 4) (9 page)

“Oh, hi,” Nash
said, wiping his forehead with the back of a gloved hand. “What are you doing here?”

Zoe smiled. “
I hang out here a lot, remember?” she said.

“Of course. Sorry. I’ve had a bit of a confusing day.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you, Nash. I’m sort of having a crisis of conscience,” she said.

Nash
pulled his gloves off. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I’d ask you to sit down but the ground’s too cold for that,” she said.
“Even shifters can get hemorrhoids.”

“Fair enough. But
do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, feeling agitated. The fact that nothing in his hometown was making sense was irritating him now, rather than just frustrating him.

“The woman you saw today
at Malcolm’s chalet was me,” she said. “Not Cecile.”

“What? How is that even possible?
Are you some master of disguise?”

Zoe didn’t reply. Instead, she
altered before his eyes, her hair going dark and sleek, her features changing rapidly and smoothly into familiar ones. It was like watching a strange hallucinogenic animation. Cecile now stood before Nash, smiling at him.

He
stepped back, convinced that he’d simply lost his mind.

“I’m a shape-changer,” the woman
said, her voice now sounding very much like Cecile’s. “And that includes people as well as animals.”

“Jesus,” said
Nash. “I…I’ve never seen someone who could do this.”

“Most people, or even shifters, haven’t. I’m sorry that I freaked you out.” With that, Zoe became herself again.

“But why did you do that?” asked Nash. “What were you doing at her house?”

“I found out that there was to be a meeting there this morning
, of a bunch of affluent businessmen. It seemed important.”

Nash
remembered the men he’d seen leaving the meeting room.

“Okay,” he said, “but…”

“I thought that if I could get into the house, maybe I could get into the meeting.”

“And did you?”

“No. I only heard a little. They did talk about the protection racket, but I don’t know that any of them are directly involved. It seemed to be a big source of concern for most of them—people threatening their livelihoods. These are all businessmen who rely on tourism to stay on the upswing in the area, Nash. It wouldn’t serve them very well to shoot themselves in the foot.”

“Well, damn. That brings us back to square one, doesn’t it?”

“In a way. It doesn’t necessarily absolve Malcolm. It just means that he’s not necessarily part of the group that’s behind all this. We’re beginning to suspect that it’s a smaller organization, run by just a few shifters. The key is going to be to figure out who and how to stop them.”

“Well, that’s a bit tricky, isn’t it? We can’t just go around asking people
, ‘Hey, listen, are you in the mafia? Because if you are, I’m going to have to eat your face.’”

“No, but that’s not the worst idea in the world,” laughed Zoe. “But listen
: we’re having a small meeting at my place tonight.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to him. On it was a small, hand-drawn map. “You should come. It’s at seven o’clock.”

“Why at your place and not here
at the pack’s cabin?”

“Because I don’t want
Dascha involved. He’s a suspect, remember?”

“Right, of course.
Okay, I’ll be there. In the meantime, there’s somewhere I need to be.” Nash’s mind had settled on the notion that he was in fact sane, which meant that he owed a young woman an apology.

“I’m sorry if I r
uined things for you and Cecile,” said Zoe. “I really didn’t expect to see you at the house. You surprised me.”

“I know. It’s okay. I’ll see if we can work things out.”

“Good. You will. I’m sure of it.”

Nash phoned Cecile that afternoon, relieved when she answered.

“Listen,” he said, “I know you must think I’m a giant ass, but I want to explain to you what happened. I think you and I could help each other.”

“Is that what this is about to you, Nash? Helping each other?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” she replied. She was going to make him work for it, he could see.

“
Cecile,” said Nash, exasperated and wishing she could just read his thoughts, “Can I come and see you? I want to talk.”

There was a momentary silence and then the response: “Fine.”

“Where can we meet?”

“Come over to my father’s place. He’s gone out. I’ll let you in.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a great idea.”

“I am. Come over right now, before I change my mind,
Nash.”

“All right.”

Nash hopped into his car and began the drive, trying to keep his speed down. He wasn’t sure now if it was his mind or his cock that was controlling his body. Something about having this woman command him suited her and him very well. It aroused him thoroughly that she was so determined; so much like him and yet so feminine, so sexy. Though he was unaccustomed to being told what to do by anyone. His whole life he’d been the alpha male of every group, and even now saw the wolves and other shifters turning to him for guidance when their own alpha was gone.

But all
of that went out the window when this gorgeous, sexy woman came into the picture. Part of Nash wanted to just kneel in front of her and worship her, or at the very least kiss every inch of the most intimate parts of her. Inside, his lion paced frenetically, anticipating the moment when he would taste her tiger’s flesh.

***

Cecile waited for Nash, her mind reeling. When she’d first met him, he seemed so calm, collected. The sort of man a woman was drawn to; or at least
she
was. He was sexy and mysterious, revealing his thoughts and desires only through the smallest hints, which she had to learn to read. There was something that drew her towards him, as though he had his own gravitational field which applied only to her. She liked to look for intimate signs in his face. Those eyes. Even the corners of his mouth were subtle indicators of his thoughts.

He was the perfect lion. Smooth, gliding, strong. Fast. And yet she was a tiger. In her was a wildness that she’d fought for years; a rebellious, solitary nature which meant that she liked to conceal her own thoughts. No one got to tell her what to do or what to feel, and yet this man, this cowboy on a ranch in the mountains was dictating her moves and her feelings.

The worst part of it all was that she liked it. But she would not have him speak to her and fling accusations around. That was a deal-breaker. So with all the resolve she could muster, Cecile sat silently in her father’s drawing room, waiting for the beautiful man to show up, preparing herself to tell him to fuck off if it came down to it.

Finally, she heard the buzz that indicated that a guest was at the gate. When she saw his car she let him in, bracing herself for whatever he might have to say.

This, she thought, had better be good.

Nash walked into the house, looking Cecile in the eye as he did so. He wanted to be sure this time that it was her he was addressing.

“It is you,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. He could smell her now, her scent overwhelming him. He hadn’t noticed earlier that Zoe wasn’t quite capable of replicating the delicious aroma that this woman emitted.

“Of course it is. Now you have about five minutes to explain to me what the fuck is going on, Nash Richardson, before I turn into an angry tiger and kick you out of my house.”

“Your house, is it? I was under the strong impression that this is your daddy’s place.”

“You know what I mean,” said Cecile. She felt like an irritated child, speaking to an
irritating
one. “Just get on with it.”

“There’s a woman I met,” he began.

“Of course. Another woman. Great,” she said, growling. She stepped forwards, moving in the direction of the door and preparing to open it.

“No, not what you’re thinking. At the wolves’ cabin I met a shifter. Called Zoe. She’s…”

“What? Hot? Special? Has big tits? What?”

“I don’t know how much to say.”

Cecile stared at Nash now, sensing his reticence and seeing that he was earnest.

“You can tell me,” she said. “It’s okay.”

“She was suspicious of your father. She came here to have a look around.”

“That doesn’t explain how you thought you saw me,
Nash.”

“She’s a shape-changer. She looked like you this morning, Cecile. Exactly like you, in fact.”

“Did you…did you and she…?”

“No, no. She ran off, avoided me like the plague. That’s why I couldn’t understand. You’d been so friendly to me and suddenly it was like all my skin had melted off. I thought you’d become, well, a cold bitch.”

“Don’t use that word.”

“Sorry.”

“Tigers can’t be bitches. Catty, yes. But bitches are canines.”

“Fair enough.
I’ll remember from now on that you’re a pussy.”

“Good,” she laughed, against her will.
“Nash,” she added.

“Yes?” He was looking at the floor now. Somehow he felt ashamed for his lack of trust in this woman he hardly knew
, and yet felt that he’d known all his life.

“Come here.” Cecile reached a hand out and pulled him to her by the front of his coat. She kissed him full on the mouth and he found himself
moving into her, pushing his pelvis into her body. He could feel her heat emanate through her clothing, her soft breasts pressed to him as he engulfed her within his arms.

Nash
’s pants were in the process of getting tighter when the door opened behind them.

“What is the meaning of this?”
Nash pulled back as he heard Conrad Malcolm’s voice. If ever there was a mood killer, that man’s voice was it.

“We were having a chat,” said Cecile, turning to face her father.

“Is that how the young folks do it these days?”

“Dad, you sound like you’re ninety years old. You know perfectly well what was going on. And it’s not like we were naked on the floor.”

Nash found himself sliding his index finger over his lips to hide any lipstick that may have transferred. He did his best to stand up straight, though something in Cecile’s father instilled in him a conflict between a desire to cower in submission, to protect Cecile, or to have an all-out brawl. The billionaire was a nasty, spiteful piece of work and clearly couldn’t abide anyone else being content. Nash fought the more antagonistic aspect of his personality for the moment and stepped forward, saying, “I apologize, sir. I meant no disrespect.”

“Really? You come into my house and shove your tongue down my daughter’s…”

“I invited him, dad, and
I
kissed
him
,” interrupted his daughter. “And one of these days you’re going to have to accept that I’m an adult who’s capable of making her own decisions.”

“Until you can make decisions that denote some modicum of common sense, young lady, I will happily keep you under lock and key.”

“And tell me, father: what exactly is so objectionable to you in all of this?”

Her father clammed up then.

“No,” said Nash. “I’d like to know too. Is it that I’m from a family who’s not as wealthy as yours? Is it that we work at manual labour? Is it that I’m not a Harvard law student?”

“It’
s that you’re trash,” said Malcolm, staring with his cold eyes into Nash’s soul.

“Well, thanks for your honesty,” said
the lion shifter, storming by the man and out the open door.

He’d already made it halfway to his car when he heard Cecile calling his name.

“I’m so sorry,” she said when she’d caught up with him. “He can be such an asshole.”

“Yeah, well, I should’ve known better. He’s right, you know. You’re out of my league.”

“You’re talking like we live in nineteenth-century England, Nash. There’s no class system here. Just a snobby old man with too much green in the bank.”

“There is a class system everywhere, Cecile. And I’ll never be part of yours. Even with all the money in the world I wouldn’t be acceptable to your father.”

With that he opened his car door and turned to her.

“I’ll see you around,” he said.
“But clearly this…thing…between us isn’t very likely to happen. I was stupid to think it could.”

She watched him go, anger building in her. Was it wrong for a tiger to want to attack her own father? No; what was wrong was how far away her father had come from the animal within him. A shifter shouldn’t walk around with a superiority complex. He had been corrupted by human values and ridiculous priorities. This stupid house with all of its tacky décor. He didn’t understand anymore what it was to be of their kind. Ever since his wife had died he’d immersed himself in the world of humans, almost as though he were looking for an escape, to deny his own existence.