The Mountain Lion King

Nilambari ran as if her life depended on it, because it definitely did. Her escorts had released her arms to get the bags out of the car. She’d seen her chance and sprinted for the forest, shedding her jewelry as she ran. The second she hit the trees she’d shifted. Her expensive sari unfurled and fluttered to the ground behind her like a discarded bridal train, like the life she’d rejected with her dash to freedom. This bright new country had better fulfill its promise of plenty, because now she had nothing.

Other than the two tiger shifters currently on her trail.

One she might have fought or eluded. Not two. So she ran, weaving between trees and employing every scrap of woodcraft she knew to throw them off the scent. The crashing through the brush behind her foretold futility. These were Yakuza. They answered to Shere Khan. He would have their heads if they didn’t bring him hers.

To her advantage, she was young and quick. Tigers weren’t built for speed or stamina. Perhaps she could outrun them.

She vaulted a jumble of rocks and landed on top of something furred, firm and squiggly. Her own momentum rolled her off it before it could buck her away. She landed in a crouch, to the sight of a paw and a set of wicked claws aimed at her face.

The claws slammed to a stop a hair from her eyes. The cat had scented her sheness. He lowered his paw and stared at her with his head cocked to one side.

Nilambari had known only a few Indian lions. They were weak creatures, unlike the full-fed kings who ruled the African plains, and no match for the tigers who held sway in India. This tawny male was smaller even than they. And maneless. If not for his decidedly masculine scent, she would have taken him for a lioness.

No lions had been among her escorts. This cat must be a native.

The crash of heavy bodies announced the arrival of the Yakuza. Nilambari slunk into the bushes.

The two Yakuza tigers appeared at the top of the rocks. They lashed their tails and snarled and bristled themselves even larger to intimidate the native cat.

He regarded them with more calm than he had Nilambari’s sudden arrival. He rose up abruptly and shifted. In human form he was tall but less bulky than a tiger, with the same tawny hair now falling over bright golden eyes. Those eyes narrowed to suspicious bars. He flexed his fingers as one would claws.

Nilambari hissed. That fine human body was about to get itself clawed to pieces. Why had he not stayed a cat?

“You’re trespassing,” he informed the tigers. “Get off my mountain and I’ll let you keep your stripes.”

For a moment the tigers gaped at him. No one defied the will of Shere Khan, certainly not this scrawny mangy native lion. Then one of the Yakuza shifted. “Out of our way, house cat,” he spat.

The lion-shifter shrugged. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.” He backed a stride to the small campfire behind him and picked up a rifle. He shot at the tiger’s feet. The man fell over backwards with a yell of surprise. The other, still in tiger form, continued to crouch atop the rock until a bullet pinged beside his paw and convinced him to crouch elsewhere. The lion fired again, creasing the tiger’s spine fur. Both plunged down the mountainside back the way they had come.

“Stinking Yakuza,” he muttered. He relaxed, but kept hold of the rifle. “You going to come out,” he said toward Nalimbari’s hiding place, “or do I have to come in after you?”

# # #

Rick Donnelly watched the slender tigress creep out of the brush. His look of frank appraisal turned to one of shock when she shifted. Human, she was slim as a cat-tail, with dusky skin and raven-wing hair tumbling down to her waist. She had practically no hips or boobs. Or, he judged, many years to her credit.

He inclined his head toward the sound of the fleeing tigers. “Do I even want to know?”

“It’s best if you do,” she said, in a low, husky voice. “They’ll hunt you now, for shielding me. Shere Khan won’t rest until he has me back, and takes your head.”

Rick looked her up and down. “And what did a little thing like you do to piss off Shere Khan?”

She looked at the ground. “My father owes him a debt. He demanded me as payment. I was to become his concubine. I did not wish to be the concubine of Shere Khan, so when I saw my chance, I ran.”

Rick hissed in a breath. “Are you even legal?”

“In my country, girls younger than I are already married and mothers.” She continued to look at the ground. “I’d hoped my advanced age would spare me, but Lord Khan seems not to mind.”

That filthy old perv, Rick thought. He had, what, a dozen wives already? And still thought nothing of tossing yet another one into the cage. “Just how ‘advanced’ are you?”

Her voice dropped to a shamed whisper. “Nearly twenty.”

He just barely stifled his chuckle. “Yep. Over the hill for sure. Well, you’re on my mountain now, and I don’t put up with tigers. Male tigers,” he amended at her stricken look. “I’m sure I can keep an old lady like you safe. What’s your name?”

“Nilambari.” Finally, she lifted her head. Her green eyes seemed to take up half her thin face. “Are you a lion?”

This time he did chuckle. “Mountain lion. I used to prefer cougar, until the humans got hold of it and changed the meaning. I’m Rick. Welcome to Montana.”

He held out his hand. She stared at it for a long time before she finally took it. His big paw swallowed hers. Funny, he thought. In her tiger form she was probably bigger than he was. Tigers. What the hell had brought a pack of tigers all the way to Montana, and why couldn’t they learn to stay the hell off his mountain?

Though he didn’t mind this one’s presence so much.

She had transferred her stare from his hand to his rifle. “You carry a gun?”

“Not to hunt. This is my range. Some folks, like grizzlies and the Yakuza, haven’t caught on yet.” He grinned down at her. “I know my limits, and I’m not stupid.”

Nilambari withdrew her hand. “I should go. So should you. They’ll be back, in greater numbers.” She looked from him to the gun again. “They will also come armed.”

“Whoa!” He caught her arm when she tried to slip away, and growled mentally when she openly flinched. A cougar she would have clawed his face off. What did those stinking stripies do to their cubs? “You can’t go into town the way you are, not even in Talbot’s Peak. C’mere, have a seat.”

He guided her over to the fire, where a groundhog roasted on a spit. He didn’t miss the covetous way she eyed it. Did tigers drink coffee? Did he have any tea? Whenever Rick went on patrol he tried to prepare for anything his mountains might throw at him, but they’d never thrown a frightened tigress at him before. Rummaging through his pile of clothing, he found a sheepskin jacket and offered it to her. She slid it gratefully over her shoulders.

“Help yourself to dinner,” he offered. She seated herself crosslegged before his fire. Rick sat opposite. “Slow down,” he advised when she ripped, tiger-like, into the meat. “Sounds like we’ve got a ton to talk about. This could take a while.”

...I'm Screwed

“Hello, Ranger, I’m screwed.”

Riker stared at the little bit of a thing in front of him and prayed he could maintain his stalwart expression when all he wanted to do was smile.  Though her voice was cultured and she looked to have been pampered most of her life, she had a sense of humor.  She’d have to have, to be standing in front of him bare naked, trying to cover the bits and pieces all the while cracking funny with her introduction.  He could like this woman…gawd, he hoped she was a woman.

“Well ma’am, you don’t appear to be screwed—yet, but you definitely have some questions to answer.”  Like what the hell she was for starters.  Was she human or alien?  Did alien’s blush?  ‘Cause right this moment she was redder than a currant berry and not just in her cheeks.

“Officer—Ranger?”

“Riker.”  Yeah, he wanted to hear his name roll off her plump pink lips, right before she went to her knees and…oh hell.  Riker slammed closed the visual of this brunette beauty naked and kneeling and tugged at the collar of his uniform.  It was fall, in the mountains, there was no reason for him to be this warm.

“Ah yes, well Ranger Riker, I dare say we are both doomed to disappointment.”

“And why is that, Miss…”  Riker crossed his arms over his chest and tried to strike an imposing stance, one that would assure her he was not going to allow there to be any disappointments between them.

“Doe.”

“As in Jane?”   

“Of course.”  She purred, actually purred, Riker thought.  As if a human could sound anything like a cat.

***

“Well then, Miss Doe. “  Ranger Riker’s tone was clearly disbelieving, but Evelyn had no choice but to fib her way through this faux pas of grandiose proportions.  There was no way she could tell this young man who she was, let alone what she was.  It was the first rule of the pride, when dealing with humans—one should always lead with a lie.  “Two questions…first, where are your clothes? And second, what the hell are you?”

“I beg your pardon!”  Righteous indignation rose up inside her at his rudely asked question, even though it was to be expected.  She had dropped, in her human form, fifteen feet down from the far up branch of the tree behind her.  Humans didn’t do that—ever.  Yet she had, and now she had to somehow explain it without telling him the truth.

“Oh beautiful, you have not yet begun to beg…”

Evelyn stepped back as Riker stepped forward and leaned down into her personal space.  For a human he was much to imposing.  Sun-lightened hair, piercing green eyes with full lips she would love to nibble.  His shoulders were wide; his hips were trim and if his feet were any indication…well any girl would be happy with a man whose feet were that size.  More than that was his aura, his demeanor.   This was a dominant male—a human male who was currently turning her wild cat into a domesticated she-kitten.

 “Now, Jane, one last time…what are you?  And remember, you’ve already lied to me once.  Don’t do it again.”

Hello Ranger....

“Excuse me…”

Evelyn Louisa Lewis knew she was dreaming since the chase she was on was one she took several nights a week…she was a crazy eyed, needy cougar with a credit card between her teeth and all the best shops in San Francisco at her claw tips.  It was a good dream.  The humans she passed were all in awe of her.  They gazed longingly at her, whispered words such as ‘sleek’ and ‘gorgeous’ behind their hands at one another and were generally jealous of her fabulousness…

“Ah, Ma’am…”

They did not, however, call her ma’am.  That would imply that she was o-o-old.  A shudder was her first clue that the dream was about to end.  The painful scratching between her breasts and the flaming itch on the inside of her thighs suggested that reality was going to suck worse than losing her lovely dream world.

“It’s time to rise and shine, ma’am.”

Slowly, last night was coming back to her.  Jefferson Elmore Huntsmore, first son of the SF clan’s alpha, playboy extraordinaire and the giver of fabulous trinkets had enticed her into a game of chase.  Normally she’d have turned her nose up at such a loathsome waste of her time, but the prize for winning was a trinket worth several carats—and she wasn’t talking veggies here.

Evelyn moved her legs, trying to get the circulation back to them, but the itch grew worse.  What the hell had she allowed that freaky cat to do to her last night?  She didn’t feel as though she’d had sex.  Except for the itchy thighs, but they were unmated cat’s after all so maybe they traded some oral favors to take the edge off…yeah, that had to be it.

“Jefferson, if I’m ever crazy enough to let you between my legs again—make, damn, sure you’ve shaved.”

“Well ma’am, I’m not sure who this Jefferson guy is, but at the chance of being that up close and personal with your lovely legs I’d be sure to shave and moisturize.”

Not Jefferson.  Evelyn threw open her eyes and realized three things at once.  He really wasn’t Jefferson Elmore Huntsmore, this was not her bed and that she was falling; and falling; and falling!

 ~~~

In all of his twenty-six years of life, Riker could honestly say he’d never seen a naked woman fall from those heights and land on her feet the way this one just had—and she didn’t even appear to be hurt.  But she had to be, right?  Broken ankles?  Destroyed knees?  Ruined back?  Something?

Instead of calling for emergency transport out of this part of Yosemite National Park, or offering her a hand, all he could do was stare.  She was gorgeous. Thick brown hair, hazel but almost yellow eyes and curves just where he liked them had his mouth watering and made him wish he was Jefferson.  And she was still standing after that amazing drop from the tree limb, way up there.  His head bent back and look to the limb in question, then back to the beauty who’d come down from it, still processing the how of it, never mind the why…

“Hey listen, sorry about…” she started, waving her hands both to the tree and herself though explaining nothing.

“What are you, ma’am?”

“Shit,” she whispered, crossing her arms across her breasts and taking away at least half of his confusion.  “Hello, Ranger, I’m screwed.”

The Crazy Cougar and the Mad Bear... Yosemite Week Continues

End of summer howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Well, here it is, my flash scene for the pic hanging to the right of this post. Likely, it’s rough around the edges since I’m a bit under the weather. But, I hope you enjoy.

The Crazy Cougar and the Mad Bear

Half bombed out of her mind, Sirakusa squeezed the glass between her hands. Blocking out the good-times voices of those around her in the Yosemite’s late night bar and lodge, she stared into the depths of her alcoholic beverage. Made with vodka and coffee liqueur, the drink known as a Black Russian reflected her mood.

“Men are just dogs, doncha know,” she snarly greeted the son of a bitch -- likely a shapeshifter predator of some kind like her ex-fiancé -- and like herself.

Since her third drink -- this was her fourth after eating dinner several hours ago -- he’d been stalking her with his gaze from his solitary position at the bar. Now he towered above her. His burly frame had to be well over six feet, the complete opposite of the young stud who had professed to love her... then left her the minute his pack leader showed teeth.

Yeah, she could pick ‘em, couldn’t she? Balless bastards, every single one of the so-called men of her un-colorful, but long-in-the-fang past.

Why the ‘leave-her-alone’ hell hadn’t the towering, too young cub gone away... as in shoo, I’m not interested? Although, before she glanced back down, Sirakusa had caught a glimpse of bulging biceps beneath his black leather jacket. His muscled chest wouldn’t quit. Oh, and there was his unshaven square jaw, his dark unruly hair... his fathomless midnight eyes... though, she doubted his eyes were merely black in color. She damn certain wasn’t looking up to find out.

“Oh, I get it,” she snipped nastily, “you’re one of dad’s enforcers. Yeah, forgot. I didn’t make my scheduled --”

His weight hit the chair next to her, rattling the table, and her already shaky nerves. Sirakusa figured she didn’t jump out of her skin because she’d thoroughly anesthetized herself, and was nearing drunken collapse.

“Go away. I’ll call tomorrow,” she sneered, or as near as she could get to that tone when three sheets to the effing wind. Speaking of wind, a run through Yellowstone sounded good. If she quit drinking now, she could manage a shift, and work off some of this alcohol -- yeah, lessen her hangover. She had a yen to feel the wind ripple her fur. Her coat had already thickened for winter.

After shoving her drink to the far side of the small table designed for a couple, Sirakusa started to rise. Her head whirled as if she’d thrown it inside a dryer. Yeah, how scat-stupid she’d been to wash the beta coward’s clothes, and act like his wife. They’d even planned a modest human-like wedding.

Holy moly crap! Could she ever catch a break?

No, she thought as her eyes crossed and her body lurched forward. About to catch herself, or, at least, try, Sirakusa felt herself grabbed and hauled sideways. Her butt thumped on top of a pair of iron-hard, humongous thighs.

“Hey! Let go.” Twisting, she took a swing at his unshaven jaw.

When her fist sloppily grazed his neck, she spat, “I told you I’d call. Give dad a report.”

“My handle is Mad Bear. What’s yours?” All too easily his gravelly voice penetrated, and coiled through the center of her numb body, all while he eased her against his unyielding frame.

Bear! With her brain slow on the uptake, Sirakusa didn’t struggle as he wrapped his huge arms around her in a sort of a friendly bear hug. Okay, so he wasn’t one of her dad’s enforcers... who could keep track of them all?

“Crazy Cougar... that’s my handle,” she snapped, although her words lacked any significant bite, even to her ear.

“Cougar,” he growled, vibrating her ear, and vibrating her nether regions enough to wake them up from their liquor-induced stupor. “I thought so. I’d offer to buy you a drink, mountain pussycat --”

“Pussycat,” she shrieked, her tongue not cooperating with her outrage. “Fall’s almost here. Aren’t you about to eat berries by the ton, and hibernate? Or something...”

His thumbs caught her nipples -- the briefest caress. “I do like eating berries. Sucking on them too.” His nose nuzzled the rim of her ear. “For a very long time. Before I even think about hibernating.”

Despite the boozed, liquidy state of her body, Sirakusa shot upright. From their half-mast droop, her eyelids flew wide.

“What if I suck your berries to bright red?” he growly seduced.

Stunned, but suddenly burning with what could only be labeled needy desire, Sirakusa tried in vain to think quickly.

“No hibernating,” she ended up muttering.

“No. No hibernating,” he rumbled in a base note that strummed her to mating heat. “Mmm-mmm, don’t you smell ripe and juicy?” His large, very large fingers gently shoved between the apex of her thighs. “What if I lick that berry later?” Applying just the right pressure to her pussy mound, he stroked upward.

Sirakusa stifled a yowling moan. Still, she arched, the back of her head pressing hard against his chest. Rawrrrr... oh yeah, her hedonistic side was about to take control.

“I scented you the first moment I entered... my little crazy cougar.”

His enormous hand settled on her belly, and he rubbed lightly. Again, his strokes were just the right pressure. Wondering if he had an internal touch o’sex-meter, Sirakusa simmered on the ‘I want it’ heat setting. She was about to boil wild and hot for it.

If he didn’t stop doing... but, she couldn’t do this. Not again. Unless...

“Tell me you’re over thirty... at least. Maybe...”

He stilled, and she had her answer. Okay yowls, she gave him credit for not wanting to lie.

“What does it matter?” His lips nibbled her ear, and he possessively vised his arms around her. “We’re shapeshifters. We have a longer than long lifespan.”

So, Sirakusa concluded as she wantonly trembled inside, not only was he not looking for a one night stand... maybe, he was planning on ‘not’ hibernating with her during the winter months.

In that instant, Sirakusa realized her nose hadn’t been wrong. Even through her alcoholic haze, she scented his need to mate with her. Beneath her butt, his cock rose to the occasion. Then kept on rising with impressive strength, lifting her butt.

“This can’t happen.” She shivered violently, her emotions gathering like stormclouds.

“I carry my tribe’s ancient potion. A longevity cure-all --”

Sirakusa’s strangled scream interrupted Mad Bear’s startling revelation. The tattoo below the nape of her neck sparked pain through her. That meant only one thing.

“Raid,” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Run! Shifters, run!” Sirakusa threw back her head and loosed her kind’s warning scream.

Bolting to his feet, the chair crashing behind him, Mad Bear cinched her middle with one arm. He slung her against his side and sprinted for the bar’s side entrance.

With her head pounding like Metallica performed inside it, and her tattoo still spraying fire through her, Sirakusa hung on for the ride. Around them, at least half of those inside the lodge’s large bar dashed for the nearest exit. Heedless of who was in their path, they pushed outside. Anything to escape.

Sirakusa didn’t blame them. It was why her family had held the magical ceremony when she was a mere toddler-cub. Her aunt, a medicine woman, had drawn the tattoo on her, then with the sacred smoke she’d burned it into her human skin.

Since that moment, Sirakusa always knew when the military’s elite, secret Shapeshifter Hunters were about to strike. She rarely knew who they targeted, or if they were casting a wide capture net. Because she ran far and fast, and never looked back.

It was only later that she heard the horrific, break-your-heart stories by those shifters who escaped their capture.

Mad Bear kept her tight against his side as he stealthily ran between the parked cars, SUVs and pickup trucks. Knowing they owned the advantage, most of the shifters had taken to the surrounding terrain. And, if they were smart, they would have scouted out the best escape routes, as she already had.

Halting beside what looked like a heavy duty Jeep to her, Mad Bear uttered a low growl as he quietly unlocked the passenger door. “They’ve got the place surrounded.”

Efficiently, swiftly, he placed her inside, and shut the door without a sound. Sirakusa had to wonder why they weren’t racing through the densest part of the forest. Not that she was in best shape to run for her life. Pain stabbed her head repeatedly, and her metabolism remained sluggish, even with adrenalin surging through her veins.

Noiselessly slipping inside despite his bulk, Mad Bear turned the ignition key. She heard a bare hum of sound, and the Jeep seemed to start. At least, they crept forward.

“Why...?” she began.

“Electric motor,” he whispered, interrupting her.

A sudden blaze of light caused Sirakusa to clap her hands over her eyes, and hope they weren’t being targeted.

“Hang on,” he growled. “Sorry in advance for your head.”

Seconds later, they whipped back and forth between the parked vehicles, and from lane to lane. Sirakusa grabbed whatever she could hold onto, and wished she’d never thought about drowning her sorrows.

With a keening moan, she clenched her eyelids. It didn’t do her any good. The tires squealed torturing her eardrums. They spun a hundred-and-eighty degrees, and he sped over rocky ground jouncing her back and forth.

After long minutes of this torment, he slammed to a stop. She felt them make a turn, and the Jeep crawled somewhere. “Get ready to shift,” he boomed. “They’re on our trail.”

Without thought, Sirakusa kicked off her platform shoes. At the same time, she slid out of her velvet stretch top. Within seconds, she’d stripped off her matching leggings. Always prepared to shift at a moment’s notice, she rarely wore anything she couldn’t easily remove. For the same reason she didn’t carry a purse, only using her pockets.

Hearing his door open, she glanced in Mad Bear’s direction, and not only noticed he’d shed most of his clothes... enough of an eyeful in every way... but, also, there was an outcropping of rock around them.

“Jeep should be secure,” he growled fast. “But we aren’t. They got sniffers on our trail.”

Sniffers! “How do you know?”

“Listen.”

The telltale whine of the sonic locator devices entered her ears. Worse, they were being detected. With fear chasing away the nasty fuzzies in her head, Sirakusa initiated her shift, and launched out the door.

“Follow me,” he shouted after her. “I know how to elude them.”

For some reason she didn’t doubt him. Besides, she wasn’t familiar with this territory. The onslaught of smells told her that much. Once Sirakusa landed on all four of her cougar paws, she swept her gaze around.

Goddess do tell, he was a giant of a bear, and she swore she’d never laid eyes on his kind before. He loped in front of her, and soon they were racing up the side of forested cliff, along a narrow path.

All Sirakusa knew was that the creatures of the night had made themselves scarce, and that they traveled for over an hour, running ever upward. With the elevation, the scent of the plants and trees changed.

Feeling the last dregs of her energy drain away, Sirakusa wasn’t aware when she finally collapsed, or when the blessed darkness claimed her.

***

Her head rested on something hard and chilled. Seeking the comfort of her pillow, Sirakusa tried moving her cheek. That’s when she awoke with a start, and felt the sharp chafing of her skin between her breasts, on the length of her belly, and on the inside of her thighs. What in the effing hell...? Where was she?

Feeling a dew-laden breeze on her dangling arms and legs, she cautiously peered downward. In the silvery light of early morning, she saw a huge, apparently naked man. He seemed to be on guard, his back pressed against the substantial tree trunk.

Attempting to ignore the aching throb of her temples, Sirakusa struggled to remember anything. Anything at all. Had they...? Who was he?

Oh, Goddess, she moaned to herself, and briefly shut her eyes. Obviously, she’d tied one on. Yeah, not her usual behavior. But she’d been so despondent, then beyond that, to the point darkness owned her spirit. Everything had seemed endlessly bleak as looked back on her life.

And now... scat!

Did she dare ask him who he was? Why...? What if he’d abducted her?

Uh-oh! Did she morph and make a run for it. He’d risen, and was turning...

“Morning, Crazy Cougar. How’s that head of yours?”

The sound of his baritone voice -- even at this distance she could see the commanding glitter of his dark eyes, his square unshaven jaw. “Mad Bear,” she burst out. With her ire rising fast, she demanded, “Why am I up here?”

“Had to put you up there while I led them away from you.” He paused, tilting his head so he had a better view of her face. “The Hunters don’t aim the sniffers that high.”

Mad Bear gave her a triumphant half grin. Moving so he stood directly beneath her, he spread his magnificently muscled arms wide. “I’ll catch you, sweet little mountain cat.”

Oh, what the... with her head still reeling and rocking, why not?

Sirakusa maneuvered herself with care, then rolled to the side, and let herself drop. True to his word he caught her as if she weighed little of nothing. Definitely points in his favor.

“This wasn’t how I intended our first night together,” he rumbled in a teasing manner.

Lost in his coffee-colored eyes, filled with amber beautiful glints, she murmured, “It’s a long trek back to your Jeep.”

“Yep. But, I’ll hold your hand, my crazy cougar, and maybe you’ll decide to tell me your name.”

“Just... maybe I will.”

His sudden kiss caught her off guard. Sirakusa moaned as his lips took possession of hers and didn’t let go. Not for a long while.
~~~~~~

Have a Magickal Shapeshifting Week!

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
~~~

Well, Hello there!

Caid closed his eyes and let the warmth from the campfire wash over him. It was probably too late to be restarting the fire, with dawn no more than three hours away, but there also was no point in him trying to get to sleep after that late night romp through the woods, either. He heard the kettle whistle and smiled. Two sleeping hell hounds, one pleasantly cool evening, a campfire, and a mug of Earl Grey. Now that was what he called a relaxing evening!

His mind drifted back to the lioness. Or cougaress. Or whatever the females of her philo-type were called. He like lioness. It was majestic, just like her cat form. He wondered if her human form was a lithe and silky. He smiled and took a sip of his tea.

**********

He was so beautiful, Jen thought as she watching him from the cover of darkness. She had no idea if owls had a good sense of smell but knew they had good hearing, so she kept down wind and at a distance so she could watch him as he settled his charges in for the night. He hadn’t put on another shirt, so she was treated to the sight of firelight dancing over velvety smooth, milk-white skin as he restarted the fire and heated water. She wasn’t normally a fan of men who didn’t have any sort of a tan this far into summer, but his physique showed he was no wilting flower. Maybe they just didn’t get much sun where ever he was from.

She watched a sultry smile dance over his well-formed mouth as he sipped his drink, tea by the smell of it. She wasn’t all that big on tea drinkers, either. But like his milky complexion, she found it workable. They didn’t drink only coffee in Great Britton, and his accent had sounded vaguely British. The urge to join him became too much to resist. She closed her eyes and shimmered as she changed shapes.

**********

Caid went from drowsy to high alert and an energy spike sizzled across his skin. It wasn’t a strong spike, just barely enough to stir the night but it was enough for him to feel. Only shifters could make that particular type of power surge and only a very-well trained, experienced one could make a surge so subtle that most would never notice it.

She stepped out to the woods wearing a t-shirt and nothing else. His t-shirt, he realized with a jolt. His eyes roamed over the expanse of golden skin exposed and the long, light dark brown tresses spilling wildly over her shoulders. He smiled when it dawned on him this was the cougar he and the boys had run into earlier. She was as stunning in this form as she had been in that one. His cock twitch hopefully. No, he admonished his member. She can’t possibly know that she is claiming me by coming to me clad in nothing but my scent.