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

grabbed it by the scruff of its neck. "Trawsfur," Calum ordered, sending power into the animal. The tingle of shift and the touch of Herne mingled and then he threw the naked stranger, now in human form, sprawling on the ground.

The man was big, well-muscled, with dark hair and dark eyes. He pushed to his feet, wobbling slightly.

"Karen, the Healer‘s inside. Get him, please," Calum said, then stared at the stranger. Rage tightened his voice. "Your name?"

"I‘m hurt," the male whined, holding out an arm with bite marks across it. Shallow punctures, Calum noted. Chad had obeyed the Law of the Fight and done no permanent damage.

"Name," Calum repeated, and his anger finally registered, for the stranger dropped to his knees.

"I… Andy. Andy Schoenberg. From Rainier Territory."

"Do the Elders in your Territory not instruct their clan in the Laws?"

When Schoenberg cringed guiltily, repugnance roiled in Calum‘s gut. Had the shifter no pride?

"I see you know the Law. Look at your opponent." Calum pointed across the clearing. The wolf‘s savaged leg was black with blood, and exposed bone glinted in the moonlight. "Do you have aught to say in your defense?

"She was ignoring me. I-I just wanted… I thought she‘d choose me if I won." His shoulders sagged. "No."

"Then this doom I pronounce upon you. Marked as outcast, you will be shunned by shifters and OtherFolk until the marks of banishment are gone."

Chapter Nine

Someone ran past the door. Vic roused. Beside her, Alec slept, sprawled over the green cushions. The reddish glow of the dying fire highlighted the long line of muscle down his back, the tight curve of his buttocks. He was absolutely beautiful.

And she was absolutely terrified. What the hell have I done?

A quick fuck wouldn‘t have been a problem. No strings, no regrets, no future. This...this hadn‘t been a simple fuck. He hadn‘t permitted her to keep it that—and he‘d not only satisfied her as no man had before, he‘d touched a part of her she kept well-hidden. He‘d created a tie between them, a connection where she‘d had none. He‘d become more than just—

In the hall, a woman spoke, and Vic tilted her head, trying to hear. "…need you. Chad‘s been hurt. His wolf was no match for a werebear. Calum‘s out there now."

Vic‘s breath hitched. Wolf? Werebear? Lachlan hadn‘t mentioned other animals. God, what were these people? A chill ran through her body, driving the sweet lethargy away. She glanced at Alec. They‘d had a...fun interlude, but it was over.

Dammit, she should have told Wells. But she hadn‘t, so it was up to her to investigate. Her duty stood before her.

Duty sucks. With a silent sigh, she rose and soundlessly pulled on her jeans and shirt. She froze as Alec‘s breathing paused and resumed.

The hall was empty. Shoes in hand, she tiptoed down the stairs and followed the footsteps that seemed to have headed toward the back exit. But before the end of the hall, the door with industrial-strength locks stood open, and candles lit the tiny room. She stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind her. A gun safe occupied one corner of a small sitting room. Over the couch, a moose‘s antlered head held two weapons. Vic walked closer and stopped, stunned. One was an antique Enfield that probably dated back to the Civil War, and the other a black-powder Shenandoah from even earlier. Lovely, lovely rifles.

No wonder Calum kept the room locked. Not only to keep his customers from stealing, but also for Jamie‘s safety. Nothing ... otherworldly… was in here. The relief was like a wave of warmth in the Arctic, and with it came the urge to climb back up the stairs and join Alec for a—

No, this didn‘t explain that conversation upstairs. As she frowned, a cold draft whispered against her face...in a windowless room with the door closed? She moved toward the closet, breathed in the frigid, dank air, and saw an opening in the back behind the hanging clothing. A secret door.

Oh hell, Calum must be part of this shifter stuff. Would have to be. Disappointment sliced through her heart like a dull knife.

No. An agent doesn‘t have a heart; Wells had told her that again and again. A spy has only duty, and that duty now compelled her feet down the stone steps and into a cave as cold as the hollow left in her chest.

Pale moonlight spilled over the forest outside the cave. After a quick glance, Vic stepped out cautiously. No one was around, although anyone could lurk unseen under the dark trees. So where was the action?

As the chill wind tugged at her hair and clothing, she listened . There. Voices, not far away.

After smearing dirt on her too-white face, she headed in that direction, grateful the carpet of pine needles silenced her footsteps. The moonlight brightened, washing over the people inside a clearing. Vic crouched behind a tree, edged out far enough to watch, and saw Calum. From the look on his hard face, he was royally pissed-off. Now why do I think I"m not going to like the end of this party?

He stood over a naked man with a bleeding arm. Under the trees, a man and two women bent over a— oh, fuck, damn, shit—over a wolf. The animal lay on its side, panting. Dark blood covered one gray-furred leg. Some orgy you throw, Calum.

But this party had gone seriously bad. Calum‘s face had set in dangerous lines, and when he spoke—damned if he wasn‘t acting like some judge. Not only did the others let him, but the shivering wussy actually knelt. Calum grabbed the man‘s hair and said, "Trawsfur" in an icy voice that sent shivers through Vic.

The man blurred—Vic‘s teeth clenched. She remembered that weird shimmer. Oh God. A bear. The man had turned into a fucking grizzly bear. Vic stuffed her fist against her mouth to keep from whimpering like a terrified puppy. She‘d seen men beaten, knifed, blown up, but this turning into animals was