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

Outside, the air was crisp and cold. She leaned against the building, ears ringing. God, what a crowd. She hadn‘t realized so many shifters lived in the area.

For a few minutes, she watched the moon inch into the dark sky, sending a pale glow over the snow-covered mountains. Pretty. And it was time to get moving. She glanced at the second floor. A light was on—Jamie‘d gone home. Apparently, she wouldn‘t go into heat until around twenty or so which was a good thing, since Vic would cripple any man who touched the girl.

Maybe the kid would like to play some poker. Vic grinned. Looked like she could leave too since, obviously, the female-in-heat business had passed her by. Thank you, baby Jesus.

The backyard entrance was around the building, so she walked along the side, scuffling her boots in the gravel. At the scent of wood smoke, she looked up. Someone had built a fire inside, and smoke puffed up from the chimney. A translucent air sylph danced in the updraft, its elongated body sinuous and graceful.

As Vic rounded the front corner of the tavern, she lost her balance like the ground had fallen out from under her foot. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself. The grain of the wood felt rough against her fingers, almost too rough. She straightened as her bare arms tingled with the slight breeze. As she took a step, her jeans scraped over her thighs…rubbed over her pussy. A tremor shook her. With her every movement, the slick material of her top sensuously slid over her breasts and hardening nipples.

She could hear the people inside. The men‘s deep voices were tantalizing, their gruff laughter giving her chills. She wanted to hear them, see them, and her feet carried her that way before she‘d even thought about moving.

At the front door of the tavern, she stopped, her hand on the heavy ironwork handle. She couldn‘t move. Everything in her demanded that she go within, to touch and be touched, and...

No, I"m going home. Her fingers tightened on the door. I"m going inside. She shook her head.

Her body wasn‘t doing what she told it to—this wasn‘t her at all.

"Somewhat intense, isn‘t it." Calum‘s deep voice washed over her and brought every nerve to full awareness. She spun around.

He stood so close her breasts crushed into his muscular chest, pulling a moan from her.

A low growl came from him, and he grasped her by the arms, his grip not cruel, just firm enough to send her head spinning. He was strong, so strong, and a leader, and every cell in her body wanted him.

"Now, I‘d say you‘re having trouble because it‘s your first time, but I am experiencing a definite loss of control as well." His hands slid up and down her arms, and the muskiness of a man reached her. She inhaled, filling her senses with his scent.

He bent and nipped her jaw, sending goosebumps up her arms. "Victoria. Cariad, I would be honored to be your first mating of this, your first Gathering."

When she breathed, "Yes," he lifted her into his arms, carried her into the tavern, and up the stairs.

Chapter Twenty-three

In the tiny room, firelight flicked over a sea of velvety brown cushions, and Vic shivered with need. Put me there. Take me.

Calum kicked the door closed and lay her down. His eyes were intense, his gaze a palpable touch, arousing her until she wanted to writhe. She pushed the urge away— have you no pride, woman? —and sat up.

His lips curved. "Strong little female." The rumble of his voice was like a hand running down her spine, and she bit her lip, needing him inside her so badly she almost burst into tears. If he didn‘t do something, she‘d completely humiliate herself and beg.

He straddled her legs and lifted her chin, examining her face, her body. "Ah, cariad, it has you good." His thumb rubbed her trembling lips. "We will play no games this time then, little cat. You will have what you require."

With a sure touch, he stripped her of her clothes, and each movement of his firm hands ignited a new spark. Her pussy throbbed; the need for him was growing painful. A shiver ran through her as his masculine scent washed over her. So very male.

He unzipped his jeans. His cock sprang free, long and thick. Like the trunk of a massive oak on his mountain, it held no curve at all. Her head swam, her needs fighting with her refusal to concede, and she didn‘t know what to do. Her fingernails dug into her skin, creating sharp pains to join the rest.

He knelt in front of her and pried her fingers loose. "I have never known a female as stubborn or as strong." With his palm, he cupped her cheek. "Look at me, Victoria."

When she met his razor-sharp gaze, her skin heated as if she‘d stepped into a sauna. Her hands went limp in his. Smiling slightly, he put them on his shoulders and came down on her, crushing her in the cushions with his solid weight.

Her arms tightened. She smoldered with heat, her nipples so tight that she gasped as his chest flattened them. When his legs pressed hers open, the light dusting of his hair scraped her tender inner thighs. Everywhere he touched burned.

"Calum." The hoarse voice…was hers? She struggled against him for a second, terrified of losing herself completely.

But then his fingers touched her sex, and the feeling was…indescribable, like a band of excitement being drawn taut low in her belly.

His rumble sounded like a purr as he pressed her open. Paused…and then sheathed himself with one thrust.

Everything inside her exploded, the pleasure too intense, engulfing her, battering her. She screamed as the waves of sensation rolled over her mind, drowning her completely.

A second—a minute—a lifetime later—she stared up at his hard face. So strong. Needing to touch, she moved and realized her fingernails had dug