Hour of the Lion

Vic walked slowly down the snow-patched sidewalks. Calum said she needed to stay in Cold Creek for at least six months, to learn shifter rules, how to control the trawsfurs, let her body adapt fully. What the hell was she going to do during that time, and even after that? Being a barmaid was fun, but not for a lifetime. It would be like surviving on cake instead of real food. But she wasn’t exactly trained for much. I’m a soldier, dammit!

Not any more. The gusting breeze tangled her hair, and she brushed it back impatiently. She needed to call Wells and tell him she wanted to muster out. The thought left an aching hollow in her gut. He’d recruited her into his special undercover unit years ago, given her Special Forces training, CIA agent training. They spoke the same language of duty and honor and loyalty, and in typical Wells’ fashion, he’d known just what to say to get her on board. “I need you.”

Now she’d lose him too.

Her throat somehow cut off her wind, and she stopped to breathe and look out at the snow-dusted mountains, soaring tall into the blue sky. Immovable and unchanging, so different from the weak humans below.

She inhaled, let the pain pass through her. She’d survive, of course she would. She started walking again, trying to formulate a plan. Calum didn’t need a full-time barmaid, so somewhere in this place, she’d have to find a nine- to-five job. Selling cars maybe.

The thought made her gag.

Calum looked up as the door opened. Vic dropped her coat on a table and crossed the room to join him behind the bar. “Can I help?”

He studied her for a moment. “Is something amiss?” he asked.

She knelt beside the box of bottles he was unpacking and handed one up for him to put away. “No. Jamie didn’t have any problem with returning. She was drowning in friends when I left.”

“Not with Jamie. With you.”

What, did she have some sign on her forehead saying, I’m unhappy? “Nah. I’m fine.” She held up another bottle, and he placed it on the counter rather than the cupboard.

Mouth in a straight line, he pulled her to her feet. His eyes were dark gray, the stormy color darkening fast.

“What?” she asked. Weak, Vic, weak. Questions were a stupid way to-

“I asked because I care,” he said in a level tone, his gaze not leaving her face. “And I would prefer to have an honest answer.”

God, he was even better than Wells at boxing a person in. She huffed a breath and looked away. The bastard didn’t move, didn’t release her, didn’t talk…just held her in place…waiting. Like a fucking cat outside a gopher hole. She had a feeling he’d stand there until she replied.

“Fine, then.” She stared down at the unpacked boxes. “I can’t go back to my old job, and I don’t know what to do now.”

“Ah, cariad. Your whole life has turned upside-down, hasn’t it?”

The question stabbed like a knife, and she choked on a whimper. Raising her eyes, she met his gaze. Understanding. Sympathy. Dammit, she didn’t need…didn’t want… The sob rising in her throat humiliated her.

He pulled her against his chest, holding her firmly, ignoring her attempt to push away. “Shhh. Let it come. You have lost much.” The low rumble of his voice soothed; his arms enclosed her in warmth. Safety.

Sobs rose up, choking their way out in ugly sounds. She tried to turn, to hide, but he just pressed her face to his shoulder until she gave up and wept.

It seemed like forever that she cried, and past forever before she could stop. Little hiccupping sobs kept breaking free, but he stood, patient as a mountain, holding her as his warm hand made long, comforting strokes up and down her back.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered into his shoulder.

“I’m not. You were overdue.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Indeed no. You are stronger than any woman I know.” His cheek rested on top of her head, the feeling comforting. “Alas, Victoria, no matter how strong, you are still only mortal. You needed to mourn, cariad.”

Her breath shuddered out. “Okay. Well.” When she pulled back this time, he released her. “Ah. Thanks. For… holding me.” God, how embarrassing.

He had a slight smile. “My pleasure.”

“Oh, sure.” All guys liked a bawling woman.

Hand on her cheek, he bent and kissed the tears away, his lips like velvet. His scent washed over her, clean soap with a tantalizing hint of musky male. And then he threaded his fingers through her hair, hummed a little in pleasure, and took her mouth. Possessed and staked his territory.

Unexpected desire exploded within her like a bomb, and she pressed closer. Running her hands up his back, she savored the rock-hard muscles under his thin white shirt. He cupped her bottom, pulling her against him, and the bulge of his hard cock made her shiver. When he stepped away from her, her shirt somehow came right off.

“Hey,” she protested. “I thought-Alec isn’t here. How does-”

“Not all sex has to be a threesome, little cat. And you need something to take your mind off your sadness.” Pulling on her hair to tip her head back, he kissed his way down to the curve in her neck. Holding her in place, he undid her jeans, and then shoved her pants and briefs down to tangle at her feet.

“I have something I’ve wanted to do ever since you walked into my tavern.” With firm hands, he lifted her and sat her on the bar top. The glossy wood felt chill under her bare bottom.

He opened her legs and stepped between her thighs, then hugged her. A second later her bra dropped away. Sneaky cat.

“Now wait a minute.” Naked in a bar? Was the man insane? “No, Calum.” She took his hands, thinking to control him.

His jaw set, and his expression took on a dangerous edge. He moved her hands to her sides. “Your hands will remain there. Am I clear, Victoria?”

God, when his voice took on that lethal note of command, everything inside her quivered. How could he do this to her when no one else could? She swallowed.

His lips curved up. “I see you understand.” He pulled her forward and kissed her breasts, his mouth shockingly hot against her cool skin. His tongue circled until her nipples grew hard and throbbing, then he sucked one, then the other. Shivers ran through her, pooling in her groin like molten lead.

With a small smile, he set a hand on her sternum, pushing her back, forcing her to lie flat with her legs dangling off the end. “Oh, yes, this is exactly where I imagined you,” he murmured.

What? The bar stood much higher than his crotch, how was he… He ran his finger down her moist cleft and followed with his mouth.

“Oh, God. Listen, this isn’t-”

“Oh, this is.” He nipped her inner thigh admonishingly.

“Calum. Please-”

“Be silent, little cat.” With his free hand, he lifted her right leg up, setting her heel on the bar’s edge, pressing her knees to the outside, and opening her farther. Exposing her fully. She felt vulnerable. Hot. Needy. His tongue circled her clit, flicked across it. With one hand, he gripped her knee firmly, keeping her open. With his other, he toyed with her nipples.

Her head spun with the sensations. His mouth nibbling, biting, sucking, licking. His fingers circling, pinching, stroking. Then he moved his hand from her breast to her pussy. One finger slid inside her. She was so very wet, yet she could feel each knuckle as it entered. Her hips rose.

He slowed, his tongue moving away from her center, leaving her tight, wanting, and she made a whimpering noise. His teeth nibbled on her thigh before he returned, and she realized, in this, as in everything, he was totally focused, careful. In control.

His tongue swept back over her, reawakening the nerves with a rush. He circled her core, rousing her until she was so ready, so ready…and then moving. Everything merged; every cell in her skin was sensitized, waiting for the next touch, the next lick. She bowed upward, all her muscles tight.

“Not yet, cariad.” His breath puffed over her engorged clit as his finger moved slowly in and out, until her insides throbbed with need.