Falke’s Peak

his family. He knew one day they’d share a mate. It had to be if they wanted their line to continue.

But neither of them was ready to look for one, yet.

Until that day, there was an underlying competition between them—there had been since they were thirteen years old—where women were concerned.

Gunnar chuckled. We’ll see who can get under her skin first. You or the pretty kitty that saved her life.

“Goddamn it, Gun, I swear if you—”

“Who are you talking to?” Dakota asked, stepping out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of flannel pajamas that made her look as cute and innocent as a bug, her hair wrapped turban-style in a towel.

Don’t think I didn’t hear you calling her honey earlier…or see that little, let me put that curl behind your ear for you , touch.

“The damn cat’s being a pain in the ass. I should kick him outside for the night.”

“Outside? In the cold?” Dakota walked right up to Gunnar and knelt down in front of him, obviously not afraid any longer. “That’s no place for a good kitty, now is it?” she said as if speaking to a baby while she scratched his ears and rubbed his head. “You’ll be good, won’t you?”

Gunnar purred. Loudly.

“Fuck,” Axel muttered as he turned away and went to the sofa, where he collapsed into the corner. Gunnar would probably win this round. His only consolation was that neither of them would be having sex with Dakota. Gunnar was a damn cat, after all, and he was there in a business capacity.

“Yes, you are, aren’t you?” she crooned.

Oh, yes, I’m a good cat. And she obviously loves sweet little kitties.

You aren’t a little kitten, and you damn sure aren’t sweet.

She thinks I am. Gunnar licked Dakota’s chin, and her laugh did something to Axel’s chest that made it damn hard to breathe.

Axel sighed and closed his eyes. “Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll make your hot chocolate.”

“Thanks.” Dakota chuckled as Gunnar nuzzled her hand, then her belly, before he rolled onto his back and continued to purr.

You are so going to pay, Axel told Gunnar. Next group of he-men wannabes we get, you’re going to be up here as guide trying to keep them alive.

Gunnar laughed and purred as Dakota rubbed his chest and belly, really getting into it. It’s definitely worth it.

* * *

Gunnar lay on the floor near the fire, watching his brother at the stove putting together a hot breakfast for Dakota. Earlier, Axel brought fuel up from the storm shelter, while he’d moved the gas-powered generator outdoors. The small engine was now rumbling just outside the door on the front porch. The sun was up, and the two of them had opened the shutters so sunbeams streamed in through the windows and brightened up the old place.

It had felt good to shift, if only for a brief time, and stretch his human muscles after being in his cat body for so long.

He’d tried to convince Axel to switch with him for the day, but that hadn’t gotten him anywhere. Axel was sure Gunnar would try to get into Dakota’s pants if he were human. Gunnar figured Axel was probably right.

That belly rub she’d given him last night had left him in quite a state.

It was nearly 10:00 a.m., but they hadn’t heard a peep from her all morning. Of course, he could hear her breathing, but he’d been awake since before dawn and she hadn’t so much as moved a muscle. Axel thought starting breakfast, the scent of hot pancakes, would wake her up, but no such luck. Breakfast was nearly ready to be served, and she was still deep asleep.

Maybe they’d pushed her too hard the day before.

She’d been a real trooper, though, and Gunnar couldn’t quite get over the fact she’d done so well right up until the last half hour or so of the hike. It wasn’t like Axel to press a client to the breaking point like that, not unless said client was some asshole—almost always a guy—who thought he could outdo the guide.

Impossible really. Their catamount physiques, even in human form, could out perform any human any day of the week. It was rare that they got physically tired, or even winded. He, himself, as guide once had to rescue one of those bastards from the bottom of a ravine by himself, dragging the guy up a nearly sheer cliff face to get him to an area where a rescue team could land the chopper and haul him off the mountain.

It was just part of who they were. Long life spans-provided they didn’t run into a stray bullet. Contrary to popular belief about shape-shifting creatures, such as werewolves, they weren’t immortal. A plain ol’ bullet from any decent hunting rifle could take them down the same as any other mountain lion, or human for that matter. But they did tend to live to a ripe old age of around a hundred under the right circumstances. They were strong, fit, and—he stood up and headed for the ladder to the loft where Dakota slept—they had a tendency to enjoy the ladies.

Axel wanted Dakota. That was no secret, especially to Gunnar, who in his puma form could easily scent the pheromones both Axel and Dakota released whenever they so much as looked at each other. Hell, Gunnar wanted her too, but he didn’t have a chance while he was here as a cat. The thing he didn’t think Axel realized was that there was something more to Dakota than a quick fuck. There was a deeper attraction than Axel would admit. Gunnar knew, because he felt it too.

They weren’t old, but their fathers had been urging them, and their litter mates, to start searching for the one. The odds of finding a female that carried the right gene, like their sister, was slim to impossible.

Yes, they needed to procure offspring, and without a match of their own kind, only a vital, healthy human woman could keep their line alive—but she’d have to be willing to mate with two of them. And if the shapeshifting didn’t scare her off, the idea of polygamy surely would.

Though their fathers warned this might take time, as caution was a must, at only thirty, he and his brothers all felt they had a few more years before the search for a prospective mate needed to happen.

Gunnar leaped up to the loft and landed on silent paws. Dakota lay sprawled near the edge of the king-sized bed, one arm dangling off the side. Her breathing was deep and even. The poor woman was exhausted.

He silently padded to the bed and peered over the edge at her. No dark smudges beneath her eyes, which was a good sign. She smelled good too. Very good.

Gunnar had the urge to bury his nose against her side and breathe her in, but he refrained. She’d probably freak out, since only twenty-four hours ago she was sure he was going to eat her.

Not that he wouldn’t mind a taste or two…

He sat on his haunches and stared at her. Come on, sweetheart. Time to wake up. He could send his thoughts to a human, but he couldn’t read humans’ minds, which was a real bitch at times.

She didn’t budge, and he sighed. The good thing, he supposed, was that if a woman slept that soundly, she felt safe. He’d sensed her unease last night when they entered the cabin. That wolf had scared her half to death, and when it got dark last night, the fear she’d tried so valiantly to suppress came back.

He turned his head and nuzzled her palm, giving it a little lick. She tasted as good as honey, and he wouldn’t mind a few more licks, but he stopped himself when she groaned.

Her lashes fluttered open, and blurry eyes stared at him. He pushed his head against her palm and purred.

“Hey, pretty kitty,” Dakota murmured. But then she tried to roll onto her side, gasped, groaned, and flopped back on her belly with a curse muffled by the pillow.

Damn, damn, damn. They’d pushed her way too hard. She could barely move. He was about to tell Axel to get up here, when the front door opened and his brother went out, probably to gather more firewood.

She turned her head to face him again, and a frown marred her pretty brow. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” She laid her hand on his head again, though not scratching or petting. “Oh, God,” she mumbled when she tried again to turn over. “My legs…my back. Shit, where’s a masseuse…or chiropractor when a girl needs one?”