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

to be pregnant? As a soldier or agent, she‘d never considered it, but now…the thought wasn‘t all that horrifying. Still, two or more at a time? A litter.

She shook her head. Then again, going into heat wouldn‘t be that bad with Alec and Calum around. "I think I get the drift. A Gathering is a good place to hook up."

"Almost." Helen looked…distressed. "It‘s more than just a fun time, Vicki. It‘s the law. All men and women attend Gatherings until too old to feel the pull of the moon. Or until they‘re lifemated."

Vic turned to look at her, cold trickling down her spine. "I‘m not lifemated."

"No." Helen sighed. "You‘re not allowed to be yet. The Law states a Daonain—male or female—must experience at least one Gather before…we‘ll call it marrying. A new shifter needs to discover how hormones affect her judgment before jumping into something."

Attend an orgy? One where her hormones would be in control? Vic stared at Helen in horror. "No way. I‘m not going."

Helen gave her a sympathetic look. "Your body won‘t give you a choice."

"My body does what I tell it to do."

"Well…the Law says you must attend the Gather, but if you can overrule your instincts enough to go home, more power to you." Helen reached across the table and patted her hand.

Okay. Then that‘s what would happen.

Helen glanced at the western mountains where the sun was disappearing. "We need to get dressed. Calum‘s going to do your introduction to the clan, and you can‘t show up in a uniform.

C‘mon."

Well, at least Calum had mentioned that. Just a general, here"s a new member. Nothing formal, but yeah, wearing a uniform wouldn‘t be appropriate.

Heather led the way back into the bedroom. "Alec dropped off stuff for you earlier. Let‘s see what he brought." She started pulling clothes out and rejected most of them. A pair of jeans passed inspection. The tight suede boots were approved.

Vic scowled. "What‘s wrong with my shirts? They cover me—what more is needed?"

"Well, now, honey. There‘s covering"—Heather pulled a white top out of her suitcase and held it up—"and there‘s covering. Try this on."

"My bra straps will show"

"No bra. It‘s tight enough you don‘t need one."

"Uh-huh." After dropping her bra, Vic pulled the shirt over her head and walked over to the mirror. Silvery-white, low cut, almost a spandex material, the tank top clung to every curve and was snug enough to push her breasts up, displaying an amazing amount of cleavage. "Well.

That‘s a little indiscreet."

Heather laughed and wiggled into a similar top in a golden color that set off her russet hair.

"Tonight, we flaunt it. No underwear, sexy clothes. Tomorrow it‘s back to being ladies. Now, let‘s see. My mascara, liner, and shadow will work for you. Use them."

"Sir, yes, sir," Vic muttered, obediently seating herself at the dressing table. As she stroked mascara on her lashes, she asked, "If the men are so hot for us, why bother with the getup?"

Heather started on her own makeup. "It‘s like this: no matter the ratio, there‘s still a lot of women in that room. And even if a woman wants a man, he can refuse her."

Vic shrugged. "So she finds someone else. BFD."

"Stop sulking and use your brain. You don‘t want to mate with just any guy; you want the best genes for your potential children. It‘s instinct."

"Mmmhmm." I‘m not fucking anyone; I‘m not going into heat. Period.

Heather set down the mascara and gave Vic a pointed look. "As Cosantir, Calum‘s at the top of the genetic heap. As a cahir, Alec is too."

Vic stiffened. Now wait just one little minute—women would be in heat and coming on to her men? My men?

*

With Jamie beside him, Calum leaned against the front of his bar, letting the clan chatter away. He‘d given them a lot to discuss: Lachlan‘s gift to Victoria, the attacks on her and on Jamie, what was being done, what they needed to do. He‘d told Heather to come late; Victoria didn‘t need to suffer through hearing about Lachlan again.

They would arrive any time, so he raised his hand for quiet. When a few people continued talking, he snarled. The ensuing silence was profound.

Alec, standing in his usual place at the end of the bar, gave him an amused look.

"To conclude on a more enjoyable note, shall we recognize our new clan members?" Calum said, and with impeccable timing, Heather walked into the tavern, followed by...Victoria?

"Herne‘s Holy Antlers," Alec whispered, echoing Calum‘s reaction.

His female—and she would be his female—wore tight jeans, and a...some sort of shirt that molded to her lush breasts and nipples that had peaked from the cold. Her lovely long hair rippling across her shoulders and down to her ass, and she‘d done something to make her eyes darker, deeper, bigger. He could only stare and force his lust under control.

When he saw every man in the tavern gaping, he barely kept from snarling again. After clearing his throat, his voice still held a growl. "Just in time. Clan members. The clan welcomes Victoria, a werecat."

The room chorused back. "We See Victoria."

"The clan welcomes Jamie, a werecat." He smiled at his daughter, pride surging within him.

"We See Jamie."

"The clan welcomes Tanner, a werewolf," Calum said, and a blond teenager, standing beside his mother, grinned widely.

"We See Tanner."

"Rejoice, Daonain, the clan increases," Calum finished.

The meeting broke up with cheering. Some Daonain slipped out to run and hunt together on the mountain before the Gathering. Others greeted the youngsters and Victoria. Victoria seemed to have an inordinate number of men around her, Calum noticed, trying not to react.

"Timed it well," Alec said, joining him. He nodded toward the window where the gleam of the sun barely topped the western mountains. "You‘re improving."

Calum sighed. His first meeting had started late, and he‘d foolishly tried to continue after moonrise when the females came into heat. The clan still laughed about it.

*

There were far too many people in the bar, dammit. The attention. The noise. The smells.

Vic