Hour of the Lion, Cherise Sinclair [good story books to read TXT] 📗

Alec‘s muscular shoulder thudded into his, and Calum heard a harshly suppressed snarl as his brother spotted the tracks.

Calum padded silently into the forest, moving parallel to the road. The ruts continued for another mile. Near a small clearing, he caught the scent of humans and the cacophony of odors that accompanied them: deodorant, shaving lotion, leather, laundry soap, bath soap. He paused, letting his nose filter the information.

Two men. From the faint stench of dung and urine, they‘d only arrived a few hours ago. No fire. A cold camp implied they didn‘t want to be found. He flicked an ear at Alec, and his littermate turned, slinking silently to the right of the camp. Calum moved left.

Sitting with his back against a pine tree, the human on watch held a shotgun across his knees. The other man snored in his sleeping bag, black hair poking out through the top. Metal gleamed in the moonlight showing a pile of animal traps for large animals. Rage welled up inside Calum like molten lava. This was his mountain; they were hunting his people.

Why? What did they know?

He pulled power and drew on a Cosantir‘s awareness of his territory. Dev, Rosie, Angie, Ben...seven Daonain total roamed the mountains right now. He needed to drive the intruders away and destroy their traps. But carefully...very carefully.

Having Alec arrest them for trespass and illegal trapping could backfire if the hunters questioned how the sheriff found them in miles of wilderness. The Daonain survived by not drawing any attention.

Alec appeared from the underbrush, anger obvious in his tight muscles and glowing yellow eyes. A tingle, a blur, and he was in human form, hidden from the camp behind brush and trees.

Calum followed suit.

'S‘pose you‘re not gonna let me rip their guts out,' Alec growled.

'Regretfully no.' Calum fought his own need to shred the hunters into little pieces. 'They might have been hired to set traps without knowing why. Any other ideas?'

'Actually, yes.' Alec leaned against a cedar and scratched his back on the trunk. 'I saw Ben‘s spoor. Fresh.'

Ben? Recently laid off from his construction job, the shifter was enjoying his vacation in animal form. 'Spook them out of their camp?'

Alec‘s face had the innocent expression that his friends knew to distrust. 'Every hunter knows how troublesome bears are, especially ones that have learned to scavenge. Why, I‘ve heard bears think any container is filled with goodies.'

Calum‘s gaze rested on the big cooler...undoubtedly full of food, and the packs and boxes scattered across the clearing. He rubbed his cheek, feeling the harsh scratch of stubble. The night was getting old.

He moved his mind to a Cosantir‘s awareness. Ben was very close. 'You have a wicked soul, brawd.'

*

A cougar snarled nearby.

From the shadows, Alec watched the man with the shotgun startle, his head thumping into the tree he‘d been leaning on.

When the underbrush rustled, Alec grinned. Calum must be rubbing against every bush in the area. A loud snarl, even closer.

The guard jumped to his feet. The other man frantically struggled out of his sleeping bag and snatched up a tranquilizer gun. The two moved out of the clearing quickly and quietly.

Ten minutes later, Ben rampaged through the empty camp. The big bear enjoyed itself, clawing open boxes and backpacks and leaving litter strewn everywhere. Behaving exactly like a normal hungry bear.

Ben had saved the best for last—the three-foot-long ice chest. The bear clawed the cooler open, gouging the hard plastic. After a few slurping noises, Ben straightened. Half of a massive salami jutted from his jaws like a cigar.

Voices approached, and Alec stiffened. The hunters were returning, grumbling all the way.

Calum had managed to lead them quite a ways before losing them.

'Hey! Hey, dammit!' The first man stepped into the clearing, holding the thirty-aught-six like he knew how to use it. 'Somebody trashed our camp!'

Get the hell out of there, Ben.

Ben rose to his full height and let out a roar that halted the hunters in their tracks barely long enough for him to put a rockfall between him and the men. A shotgun blasted, echoing through the mountains. Sparks shot off the granite.

Without speaking, one man moved to check Ben‘s trail while the other hung back, rifle poised at his shoulder.

Alec‘s gut tightened as he watched the way the pair functioned. The quickness of their response, even the hand signals they used, pointed to military experience. And Lachlan had been tortured. The threat to the Daonain might be deadlier than anyone had realized.

Chapter Six

The run from the parking lot through the rain and into the Wild Hunt left Vic drenched. As icy water trickled down her neck, she turned to scowl at the downpour. In the last two weeks, the season had definitely settled into a cold wet autumn. The desert was looking better and better.

After all, what were a few grenades and IEDs between buddies?

'Raining out there?'

She glanced around as Alec left his friends and moved close enough that his appealing scent tantalized her: clean clothes, a hint of aftershave, and musky male.

Mmmmh If she swayed any nearer, her breasts would rub his chest. No, Vic. She retreated a step and leaned against the doorframe. If she didn‘t keep her distance, her clothes would start to steam from the heat growing between them. Jesus, maybe she should go back outside, have a cold rain shower. 'Uh, yeah, it‘s pouring like a son-of-a-bitch.'

'Must be. You‘re soaked, darlin‘.' His smile could brighten the gloomiest day. Dammit.

'You‘re pretty early. You didn‘t walk here, did you?'

'Hardly.' She watched a wave of rain advance across the parking lot like strafing fire. In the west, the setting sun had turned the dark clouds a sullen red. 'And it‘s Friday—I start early on Friday and Saturdays.'

'Gonna be a long shift.' He lifted a strand of her hair, frowned as water dripped onto the floor. 'Calum has some towels in the kitchen. Dry off before you catch your death.'

'Yes, Daddy.'

' Daddy?' His gaze moved down