Hour of the Lion

Vic scowled. “What’s wrong with my shirts? They cover me-what more is needed?”

“Well, now, honey. There’s covering”-Heather pulled a white top out of her suitcase and held it up-”and there’s covering. Try this on.”

“My bra straps will show”

“No bra. It’s tight enough you don’t need one.”

“Uh-huh.” After dropping her bra, Vic pulled the shirt over her head and walked over to the mirror. Silvery- white, low cut, almost a spandex material, the tank top clung to every curve and was snug enough to push her breasts up, displaying an amazing amount of cleavage. “Well. That’s a little indiscreet.”

Heather laughed and wiggled into a similar top in a golden color that set off her russet hair. “Tonight, we flaunt it. No underwear, sexy clothes. Tomorrow it’s back to being ladies. Now, let’s see. My mascara, liner, and shadow will work for you. Use them.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Vic muttered, obediently seating herself at the dressing table. As she stroked mascara on her lashes, she asked, “If the men are so hot for us, why bother with the getup?”

Heather started on her own makeup. “It’s like this: no matter the ratio, there’s still a lot of women in that room. And even if a woman wants a man, he can refuse her.”

Vic shrugged. “So she finds someone else. BFD.”

“Stop sulking and use your brain. You don’t want to mate with just any guy; you want the best genes for your potential children. It’s instinct.”

“Mmmhmm.” I’m not fucking anyone; I’m not going into heat. Period.

Heather set down the mascara and gave Vic a pointed look. “As Cosantir, Calum’s at the top of the genetic heap. As a cahir, Alec is too.”

Vic stiffened. Now wait just one little minute-women would be in heat and coming on to her men? My men?

* * *

With Jamie beside him, Calum leaned against the front of his bar, letting the clan chatter away. He’d given them a lot to discuss: Lachlan’s gift to Victoria, the attacks on her and on Jamie, what was being done, what they needed to do. He’d told Heather to come late; Victoria didn’t need to suffer through hearing about Lachlan again.

They would arrive any time, so he raised his hand for quiet. When a few people continued talking, he snarled. The ensuing silence was profound.

Alec, standing in his usual place at the end of the bar, gave him an amused look.

“To conclude on a more enjoyable note, shall we recognize our new clan members?” Calum said, and with impeccable timing, Heather walked into the tavern, followed by…Victoria?

“Herne’s Holy Antlers,” Alec whispered, echoing Calum’s reaction.

His female-and she would be his female-wore tight jeans, and a…some sort of shirt that molded to her lush breasts and nipples that had peaked from the cold. Her lovely long hair rippling across her shoulders and down to her ass, and she’d done something to make her eyes darker, deeper, bigger. He could only stare and force his lust under control.

When he saw every man in the tavern gaping, he barely kept from snarling again. After clearing his throat, his voice still held a growl. “Just in time. Clan members. The clan welcomes Victoria, a werecat.”

The room chorused back. “We See Victoria.”

“The clan welcomes Jamie, a werecat.” He smiled at his daughter, pride surging within him.

“We See Jamie.”

“The clan welcomes Tanner, a werewolf,” Calum said, and a blond teenager, standing beside his mother, grinned widely.

“We See Tanner.”

“Rejoice, Daonain, the clan increases,” Calum finished.

The meeting broke up with cheering. Some Daonain slipped out to run and hunt together on the mountain before the Gathering. Others greeted the youngsters and Victoria. Victoria seemed to have an inordinate number of men around her, Calum noticed, trying not to react.

“Timed it well,” Alec said, joining him. He nodded toward the window where the gleam of the sun barely topped the western mountains. “You’re improving.”

Calum sighed. His first meeting had started late, and he’d foolishly tried to continue after moonrise when the females came into heat. The clan still laughed about it.

* * *

There were far too many people in the bar, dammit. The attention. The noise. The smells. Vic wormed her way to the back exit.

Outside, the air was crisp and cold. She leaned against the building, ears ringing. God, what a crowd. She hadn’t realized so many shifters lived in the area.

For a few minutes, she watched the moon inch into the dark sky, sending a pale glow over the snow-covered mountains. Pretty. And it was time to get moving. She glanced at the second floor. A light was on-Jamie’d gone home. Apparently, she wouldn’t go into heat until around twenty or so which was a good thing, since Vic would cripple any man who touched the girl.

Maybe the kid would like to play some poker. Vic grinned. Looked like she could leave too since, obviously, the female-in-heat business had passed her by. Thank you, baby Jesus.

The backyard entrance was around the building, so she walked along the side, scuffling her boots in the gravel. At the scent of wood smoke, she looked up. Someone had built a fire inside, and smoke puffed up from the chimney. A translucent air sylph danced in the updraft, its elongated body sinuous and graceful.

As Vic rounded the front corner of the tavern, she lost her balance like the ground had fallen out from under her foot. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself. The grain of the wood felt rough against her fingers, almost too rough. She straightened as her bare arms tingled with the slight breeze. As she took a step, her jeans scraped over her thighs…rubbed over her pussy. A tremor shook her. With her every movement, the slick material of her top sensuously slid over her breasts and hardening nipples.

She could hear the people inside. The men’s deep voices were tantalizing, their gruff laughter giving her chills. She wanted to hear them, see them, and her feet carried her that way before she’d even thought about moving.

At the front door of the tavern, she stopped, her hand on the heavy ironwork handle. She couldn’t move. Everything in her demanded that she go within, to touch and be touched, and… No, I’m going home. Her fingers tightened on the door. I’m going inside. She shook her head. Her body wasn’t doing what she told it to-this wasn’t her at all.

“Somewhat intense, isn’t it.” Calum’s deep voice washed over her and brought every nerve to full awareness. She spun around.

He stood so close her breasts crushed into his muscular chest, pulling a moan from her.

A low growl came from him, and he grasped her by the arms, his grip not cruel, just firm enough to send her head spinning. He was strong, so strong, and a leader, and every cell in her body wanted him.

“Now, I’d say you’re having trouble because it’s your first time, but I am experiencing a definite loss of control as well.” His hands slid up and down her arms, and the muskiness of a man reached her. She inhaled, filling her senses with his scent.

He bent and nipped her jaw, sending goosebumps up her arms. “Victoria. Cariad, I would be honored to be your first mating of this, your first Gathering.”

When she breathed, “Yes,” he lifted her into his arms, carried her into the tavern, and up the stairs.

Chapter Twenty-three