Hour of the Lion

her throat, and she closed her eyes at the marvelous taste of it. “That’s wonderful,” she murmured.

Opening her eyes, she met his intent gaze, his blue gaze hot as molten steel. He leaned forward and licked a few drops off her lip, the touch of his tongue velvety. His musky scent enveloped her, touched her skin as if he’d stroked over her with his hands.

“Um.” She shook her head. Get a grip. It’s only lust. Horny, she’d felt horny before, for God’s sake.

Another man came over, nudged Daniel to one side, and earned himself a slight snarl. “My name is Harvey,” he said, pressing a kiss to her wrist.

She snatched her hand back, all her tingles abruptly cooling. She scowled before conquering her irritation. “Yeah. Um. Nice to meet you,” she managed, and glancing over at Daniel, her gaze locked onto his again. His lips curved slowly. He should put those lips on hers. On her.

Unable to resist, she ran her finger over his mouth, silky soft, then down over his square jaw. The slight rasp made her shiver.

“Upstairs?” he whispered, “or do you want to talk for a while first.” His fingers toyed with her hair, the little touches like sparks against her skin.

“Tal-” Hell with it. “Upstairs.”

How many tiny rooms did this place contain? This one had red pillows in every size and shape and texture. Taking her beer from her, Daniel set it on a table in the corner of the room. Just watching his movements with the slight swagger of a cowboy weakened her knees. She sank down to the floor. This was total insanity.

“Hey, hey,” Daniel murmured, kneeling before her. “I know it’s overwhelming the first time, especially for you, being new to shifter customs.” He pulled her against his chest, stroking her hair. “We can go as easy as you like.”

“How long does this last?”

“From moonrise to moonset. With dawn, everything returns to normal.”

She could hear his heart, slow and steady, the feel of his hard muscles against her cheek. His scent. She frowned. His scent was wrong; his hands were wrong. Not Alec; not Calum. Suddenly she pushed away, unable to find enough air.

He released her and didn’t move, only tilted his head. His nostrils flared, and then he frowned. “One minute you want me, the next you don’t.”

“I…” God, she’d wanted to come up here. She’d led him on. “I like you. I do.” Yet the thought of having sex with him totally turned her off. “I’m sorry, Daniel.”

“Me, too.” He gave her a wry smile. “But scent doesn’t lie.”

The lust faded from his face as he helped her to her feet, putting little kisses on her fingers. Who knew a cowboy could be so romantic and gentle? He led her back downstairs. Men crowded around her again, pushing him to the side. She saw Calum talking with one man in the corner and keeping an eye on the proceedings. To her horror, her need was growing stronger. She caught his gaze and glanced upstairs. Heat flashed in his eyes before he shook his head with a regretful smile.

Bastard.

She looked at the guys in front of her. Two older and a younger one with the look of a gaunt wolf. Then a man stalked across the room. Hard and rough-looking, like a younger Thorson with scars white against his deeply tanned neck and arms. At least six foot five, he wore black jeans and a black leather vest with nothing underneath. His dark brown eyes were watchful, prepared for anything, and every move he made shouted danger. Strength. He halted before he reached her, and she saw him glance at Calum, lift his eyebrows.

Calum tilted his head in approval or permission-she wasn’t sure.

The man’s shadowed eyes settled on her, and she couldn’t move. Two of the other men melted away, leaving an older, harder man still standing his ground.

“I am Zeb of the Rainier Territory, and I would be pleased to fight you for this female, to show my strength and win her favors,” the scarred one said, moving close enough that she could inhale his dark scent. His eyes never left his opponent although his fingers traced a slow path down her cheek.

She leaned into his hand.

The other hesitated, shook his head. “Cahir from Rainier, I regret. I’ve heard of you.” And he withdrew.

“May I take you somewhere, share time with you?” Zeb lifted her wrist, pressed a kiss over her pulse, and inhaled. Smiled.

The wave of lust burst over her, and she closed her eyes, trying to find her footing. When she opened them, his gaze met hers, intent, watchful. “I-I seem to have trouble talking,” she managed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He hadn’t released her hand, and the way his thumb stroked over her palm made her melt inside.

He stiffened. “I hadn’t realized-you are the new shifter.”

She managed a nod, feeling like she would drown in his eyes, in his scent. “I can’t-”

“Tell me your name.” He moved closer and wrapped an arm around her.

She purred at his touch. “Vicki.”

His fingers ran through her hair, a gentle caress. His voice was still deep, yet gentled. “I have heard a woman’s first Gather is a downpour of heat and sensation.” He smiled slowly, “You’ll gain control with experience. But since you only get one first Gather, let us both enjoy.” And he lifted her into his arms with a roar that stilled the room.

Upstairs, as he laid her on the silky green cushions, she cooled, filling with horror. Dear God, I don’t even know this man. She rolled to a sitting position and pulled her legs to her chest. She didn’t have to do this-she could stay in control. Really.

He touched her lightly on the hair, and then, after tossing his vest to one side, built up the fire. Once it blazed up, he sat back on his haunches and watched her, his eyes intent, reminding her of a wolf waiting for a rabbit to move. To run.

He had a scar like Alec’s, a blue knife mark across his right cheekbone. Her gaze dropped, seeing the heavy scarring on his arms and shoulders. She frowned. The guy was a walking war zone. What had caused all that?

His eyes narrowed. “Do the scars bother you, little female? Do I scare you?” Before she could speak, he snagged her ankle and pulled her over the cushions to him like a captured puppy.

She was no puppy. With her free foot, she snap-kicked his hand off her leg.

The bastard not only didn’t wince, he actually grinned.

“I’m not little.” She rolled onto her knees. “I just wondered what caused scarring like that.” With fingertips, she traced one thin white line down his shoulder. Thanks to Lachlan, she recognized the marks of teeth on his arms and other shoulder.

Lots of white scars, a few were tiny and thin, parallel like Alec and Thorson’s cat marks, three very thick ones extended all the way across his heavily muscled upper chest. When she ran her finger over them, he hummed in pleasure, and his six-pack of abdominal muscles tightened.

“Many of the scars-like those-are from hellhound claws.” His voice was low, a little rough. “Rainier Territory has hellhounds. So far few have invaded the Cascade Territory.” He lifted her fingers to his lips and nipped from the tips up the outside of her hand.

“Mmmmh.” Her senses started to burn, then cooled again, leaving her feeling as if she had hormonal whiplash. “What are hellhounds?”

“New little shifter, you are not only fearless, but are trying to fight your need. I’m impressed.” His smile gleamed white in his tanned face before he wrapped a hand behind her neck and held her still, kissing her so thoroughly, her mind whirled. Before she could recover, he rolled her onto her back with relentless hands and straddled her.

“Hellhounds?” she managed.

“I enjoy teaching, so I will instruct you”-he clasped the bottom of her shirt-“as we progress. Hellhounds are magical, like the Daonain, only their ancestors bred with demons.” His smile went savage. “They chose the dark path.”

He set his hand on her breast and everything in her went still. Cold. This is wrong. He was wrong. He smelled wrong.

He froze and frowned down at her. Inhaled slowly. And suddenly he’d moved off to squat beside her, dark eyes studying her. “You no longer want me.”