Hour of the Lion

iced her skin, dried her mouth. She’d kissed him-he’d been inside her.

Get the hell out of here. She rose to her feet, her legs shaky. If she returned through the tunnel, she’d risk being spotted by the fuzzy creatures-or worse, running into Alec. She’d better circle around, go into town by a different route.

She eased one foot back, then another, glanced at the clearing and saw Calum lift his head and sniff. He turned…and looked straight at her.

Oh, fuck.

Before she could run, someone grabbed her from behind, tangling his fingers in her hair and yanking her head back. No words, but the sharp cold metal laid gently against her throat froze her better than any spoken threat.

Why the hell had she even gotten out of bed this morning?

Alec held the knife against Vicki’s throat, unable to find any words to say. Heat rose from her skin, twining with the scent of her. Part of him wanted to throw the knife away and take her in his arms. The other part wanted to slice deep and spill her life’s blood onto the forest floor.

Had she only mated with him to get information? If she’d ripped his heart out with her bare hands, it wouldn’t have hurt this much.

“Cosantir,” he called, not bothering to raise his voice. Even in human form, a shifter’s ears were almost as keen as a cat’s. “You have a spectator.”

“I scented her a minute ago. Bring her here.”

With one hand fisted in the human’s hair, knife at her throat, Alec guided her into the open area.

Having pulled on his clothing, his brother waited in the center of the clearing. His nostrils flared. The slight wind undoubtedly carried the scent of Alec on Vic and vice versa-the distinctive smell of sex. Anger darkened Calum’s eyes.

Alec’s jaw clenched. What had he done? Self-loathing rose like vomit in his throat, and his hand tightened in her hair so hard she made a tiny sound of pain. He stopped her in front of Calum, his body a wall behind her to keep her in place.

Near the trees, a huddle of people hovered near a small gray wolf. Chad? The healer knelt beside him, and Alec winced at the sight of the wolf’s injuries.

Following his gaze, Calum frowned. “Farrah, prepare one of the mating rooms. Patrick, carry Chad for the healer.”

Farrah murmured her obedience. Patrick dipped his head. “Yes, Cosantir.”

As the others headed for the cave, Calum’s attention turned to Vicki. Alec felt her muscles tighten under the impact of the Cosantir’s black gaze.

“Kneel, Victoria,” Calum said softly.

She stiffened, her chin rising. Alec pressed the knife harder against her throat until a thin line of blood appeared. He had to suppress a shudder. Stubborn female had enough courage that she’d die before complying. And he couldn’t…couldn’t.

Well then. Fisting his hand tighter in her hair, he slammed his boot into the back of her knees, yanked her off-balance, and shoved her down.

Vic landed painfully on her knees. She snarled, fighting the urge to struggle. Bastard. She’d have rather died than kneel. Her anger burned away some of the panic icing her guts.

Her scalp hurt from his controlling fist. Asshole. This wasn’t the Alec she knew. Dammit, this was why she never let herself be sucked into relationships. If she survived this, she’d cut her losses and get the hell gone.

She raised her gaze to the man in front of her. His pupils were as black as the night sky behind him. Fear slid into her again, sharp as the knife against her throat as she realized that she might not leave this place alive.

Not a good thought. As dread compressed her chest, she struggled to breathe normally, fighting the rigidity of her body. “Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains An’ go to your Gawd like a soldier.” She was a soldier; death happened. Her muscles loosened slightly, her breath slowed.

“We accepted the small amount of information you offered when you arrived,” Calum said. “Questioning people isn’t our way. But now perhaps we should ask a few. What really brought you to Cold Creek?” Shirt still unbuttoned, he crossed his arms over his chest.

The damned knife hadn’t moved from her throat; Alec waited immovable behind her.

Probably her best bet would be to play stupid. Pretend to be an inquisitive woman, innocent of anything more threatening. She opened her mouth and…the words wouldn’t come. Somehow the thought of lying to Alec, and even Calum, hurt deep inside for no reason. But why? She’d spent the last years living untruths-why should she find it so hard this time?

Calum could probably tell anyway, she thought, meeting his penetrating gaze. A second later, she realized she didn’t have to lie at all. The lump in her stomach disappeared. “I was looking for shifters.”

Behind her, Alec stopped breathing.

“Were you now?” The icy menace in Calum’s voice made her shiver. Dammit. He continued as if he hadn’t noticed, “How exactly did we catch your attention?”

“A boy named Lachlan died in my arms.” Just saying the words tightened her throat. Failure. Grief. She blinked furiously and took in a long, controlled breath.

Alec said incredulously, “You were the female with him?”

“Yes. I-I was there.” Her voice cracked.

Calum paced away from her then back. Having seen him shift, she recognized where that graceful prowl had originated, but the overwhelming confidence?-oh, that was all his own. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Tell someone?” The knife no longer pressed against her neck. She rubbed the burning slice, letting the pain anchor her. “Oh, sure, like I’m going to walk up to you and ask, ‘Hey, are you one of those people who turn into cats?’ Get real.”

A glint of humor touched his eyes. “Ah, no, that wasn’t what I meant. Why haven’t you told anyone about Lachlan?”

She scrubbed her face with her hands, stalling for time. It would be better to escape this emotion-ridden location, achieve a stand-down. Knowing how the kid died wasn’t going to make a shifter feel very kindly toward a human, even a woman. “Listen, can we discuss this somewhere else? My knee can’t take kneeling for long. And I’m bleeding.”

Alec grunted as if she’d hit him.

Calum hesitated, then nodded. “Lachlan’s grandfather needs to hear this.” He gave her an assessing look. “Unless there is a reason he should not be present?”

Oh, great. “It’s not a pretty story, but he’s the reason I’m here.” She had two men who now hated her guts, one of whom she’d slept with, and next would talk with an old man who’d tried to kill her. The night just kept getting better and better.

* * *

A lonely beer sat on the small patio table beside him, only half-empty. Thorson had lost his taste for drowning his sorrows after trying to kill the little brown-headed human. A female.

He shook his head, still shocked-appalled-at how uncontrolled he’d acted that night. Neither grief nor anger could excuse such behavior. She wasn’t even that bad of a human, he’d realized. She’d choose her books and leave quietly. No silly blather, all business. And she was a good waitress according to his friends. He admired competence, no matter the species.

He glanced up the hill at the dimmed light of the Wild Hunt. There’d been a time he’d never missed a Gathering, but he’d grown old and needed his sleep.

Not that he slept very long these days. He tended to get up and prowl around the house, avoiding the rooms where grief lay like dust in the corners. Sometimes the boy would join him out here in the back. They’d lean back, put their feet up on the deck railing, and watch the clouds attempt to dominate the sky.