She was right on board with the new rules for the Pack and had no problem with reporting anyone breaking the “no walking home” decree.
As they were about to leave Myla stopped them. “Alpha.” She looked down at Sheba. “With this rogue problem would it be possible, just for a little while, to have a couple extra guys on the weekends for back-up? I’m a little concerned that the renegades might decide to pay us a visit and with there being humans here they’ll be more at risk.”
Sheba had to agree, hell, they were all at risk. Humans were doubly so. “I think that’s a good idea. Ray, will you speak to Dion and get him to organize that?”
“Sure,” Ray replied quickly. “We can set up a schedule to cover Friday and Saturday nights, is that okay?”
Myla nodded. “That should do it. Sunday’s are quiet so we don’t need anything for then.”
“Fine, that’s covered then.” Sheba opened the door, turning back to Myla. “Just like to say thanks again for how well you’re doing here. You’ve done a great job with the place, Myla, I’m impressed.”
“Thanks,” Myla said, blushing. “I’ve a few new ideas I’d like to run by you when you’ve got the time but I know you’ve got your hands full with the rogue problem right now.”
“Yeah, gimme time to sort it and we’ll talk.” Sheba nodded on her way outside, her skin itching, her belly aching . . . again.
Ray’s hand landed on her shoulder as he ushered her toward their vehicle. “Think we need to get to Tilly.”
“Yeah, we do,” she responded, breathlessly, desperately trying not to show the pain she was hiding inside.
Fox crawled into the cave he’d found several days before after leaving the mountains he’d spent the last few months on. He’d managed to lose the small group of Wolves that had attacked him earlier, his wounds minor, and it was more his pride that was hurt than anything.
Anger coursed through him at his momentary lack of concentration as he’d fed near the small waterfall. The fact that the sound of the cascading water was loud as it crashed against the rocks wasn’t an excuse, no, he was a full grown Lion! He should’ve heard those mangy dogs sneaking up on him. Instead he’d been too intent on his first good meal in weeks and was head deep inside a deer’s belly when they’d struck. At least there was only four of them and he’d managed to send them packing fairly quickly, getting away with minor injuries that would heal after a good night’s rest. Pity he’d lost his meal though.
He’d have to go hunting again tomorrow but he’d make damn sure to keep his guard up this time. After scoping out the land, he’d known he was on the far end of a Pack’s land so he didn’t expect to come across any rogue Wolves but those fuckers were definitely not Pack. They were renegades, definitely, and bad assholes through and through. He could scent it on them . . . pure evil ran through them. Chuffing as he lay down, he was pleased he’d left at least one mortally wounded. One less for him to worry about in the morning and he just hoped they didn’t have any friends nearby.
Settling his head on his front paws he wondered if the Pack knew they were here and if not . . . should he warn them? No. Wasn’t his business. He was a typical cat. A loner. It was why he’d left his Pride years ago after run-ins with their King. Fox wasn’t one for taking orders and he cursed his mother, again, for naming him with the name that caused him so much trouble within his Pride. She’d told him, time and again, that when he’d been born he was “so dang cute,” that the name just suited him. Yeah, right. Whenever their King had said, “Fox,” it was in a drawl like a damn insult, and he’d reacted every single time. Especially after his mother died and she’d not been there to run interference on his temper. He’d been left with no option but to leave and ended up moving around so much he was never quite sure where the hell he was.
If he needed money he’d do some work, building sometimes, or when he could get it he’d get some work in IT . . . he was a whiz with computers. A misspent youth according to his mom. Damn, he missed her. Funny how he never thought about his dad. Mostly he lived off the grid, a backpack with clothes and a few essentials, and hunting for food. The simple life suited him and being alone meant he didn’t get into trouble with other Shifters. Humans rarely gave him problems, not when he was well over six feet tall and built like a line-backer with muscles to match and a scowl that could scare most away. If that didn’t work, a rumble from his beast usually did it.
One escaped him as he remembered a large dude last winter when he’d left the mountain for a few weeks and the guy had fancied his chances trying to impress his girl. Granted the guy was big, not quite as big as Fox, but he was fit and obviously worked out . . . in a gym. Not in the wild, not in a fight with another Lion, or a bear in the wild, hell no. The guy probably “sparred” with his fitness coach to get the well-defined body he had and had a drink or two too many. He’d tried not to embarrass the guy, tried
