With anyone else, she‘d beat the crap out of them if they judged her without giving her a chance to speak. No matter how fucking overwhelming the evidence was. But because it was Alec and Calum, she‘d caved, making herself look all the more guilty.
Why?
Because she didn‘t believe she deserved their love. Or the life they wanted to give her. Her stupid little subconscious had decided that no one could really love her enough to listen and work things out. After all, they must know how unworthy she was, how damaged.
Her subconscious needed to get its ass kicked.
But it had taken a while to see the idiocy of her behavior and then to admit that Alec and Calum really did love her. She hadn‘t put on an act. They knew her well. Maybe not her whole background, but definitely her personality, flaws and all. They loved all of her as she did them.
And she wanted them—everything—back again.
So she‘d headed south. Best case scenario: they‘d let her explain. They‘d understand—and maybe even apologize for jumping to conclusions—and take her home. She‘d love them and Jamie and…her chest went tight…and someday, might perhaps have a baby with them. Or a litter.
Worst case: she‘d die.
She‘d come up with a plan: walk her ass into the center of Cold Creek, create a scene—
considering she‘d lack any clothing, that shouldn‘t be difficult—and demand to talk with Calum and Alec. They couldn‘t kill a naked woman in front of the town, not when a whole bunch of the spectators would be human.
And she‘d stand there and—quietly—tell them everything. What she had and hadn‘t done, how she hadn‘t known what to do, about how Wells had given his word and that she‘d kill him personally if he broke it. Not that he ever would, but they couldn‘t know that. She‘d promise to give them a kazillion babies if that‘s what they wanted. She‘d beg forgiveness.
If they were fair—since they were men, fair wasn‘t a foregone conclusion—they‘d acknowledge making a few mistakes themselves. She growled as she loped through the forest.
Yeah, they could have given her a chance to explain, and worked with her on the Wells problem.
But nooo, just had to jump to conclusions. Sure, she‘d punched their paranoid hide-from-the-government hot button, but still.
So walk right into the firing zone, make herself a target, and hope for the best. One major invitation-to-disaster plan. But hey, even Wells might have trouble figuring a way out of this mess.
She leaped over a fallen log, scented a rabbit and paused, then continued. She was getting closer, she knew it. Sometime last night, a feeling had arisen in her, a sensation of being home, as if she‘d been cold and someone wrapped a warm blanket around her. Each touch of her paws to the earth repeated that. Home, home, home.
This shifter shit is sure weird.
She lifted her muzzle, checked the scent of the early morning air. It even smelled like the right mountains, and the thought made her lope forward, her pace increasing and—
Snap! Pain. Horrible pain. She snarled, spun, fell. Son-of-a-bitch. A trap.
Her hind leg was caught in a heavy iron trap. She trawsfurred, then grunted as the metal teeth dug deeper into more tender human flesh. Fucking-A, that hurt. Mouth tight, she examined the trap. The sucker was huge, made of heavy steel. And those teeth were a real pisser. The bleeding wasn‘t too good either.
After managing to stand, she pushed down on the jaws with all her strength. Not enough weight. She tried again and again, and then slid back down to the ground. She couldn‘t open the damn thing. And nothing lay within reach to use to pry the teeth apart.
Could she yank it loose and carry it with her?
A few minutes later, she gave that one up. The hunter had pounded the anchor stakes so far into the frozen ground, they didn‘t budge at all.
Shifting back into cat form, she lay down and watched her blood turn the snow red. Dammit, in her few-and-far-between prayers, she had specifically requested a go-out-in-a-blaze-of-glory death.
This was so not it.
*
Hours later, Vic‘s ears swiveled toward the southwest. Something was approaching. With the wind blowing the wrong way, she couldn‘t catch its scent. Unfortunately, that meant it could smell her, blood and all.
Man or beast or shifter? An edge of fear prickled up her spine. It sounded like more than one animal. A pack of wolves? How delightful.
Dammit, weren‘t predators supposed to hunt only at night? Hadn‘t these animals read the rule book? The fur on her neck rose as she stood and balanced on three legs, trying not to growl as the trap pulled on her mangled leg. Fuck, if she tried to fight, she‘d probably fall down.
Well, at least she was saved the embarrassment of walking into Cold Creek in her birthday suit... But she wouldn‘t ever get to see Alec and Calum again. And Jamie. And Thorson. And—
Just out of sight, a heavy animal moved through the underbrush. No, two animals.
The mountain lions burst into the clearing. The sunlight glinted on dark golden fur. And pale golden fur. She recognized them and snarled hopelessly. She was dead. She wouldn‘t even have a chance to explain, dammit—
With a resigned breath, she stood her ground. Going belly-up and begging? Not gonna happen. Anger at the unfairness of it all—at them—twined with her love and joy at seeing them one last time, and her cat instincts couldn‘t decide what to do.
Calum sprang first, straight for her. He landed barely out of reach. She raised a forepaw, showed her claws, and knew she wouldn‘t hurt him.
He stalked forward, ignoring her show of fight, and rubbed his muzzle over hers, purring loudly enough to make the trees shake. His giant paw landed on her shoulders, flattening her like a pancake, and he licked her ear, still purring.
Then Alec shouldered Calum to one side to do the same. Their scent engulfed her, mingled with hers.
They did know who she was, didn‘t they? The lifemate who‘d betrayed them? But oh, she‘d missed them. The higher rumble in the air was her own purring.
Calum shifted to human form. Kneeling beside her, he examined the trap and her leg. He glanced at Alec who loped away, returning with a large branch in his big jaws. He dropped it and shifted.
They had her leg free in minutes. Maybe the iron teeth hurt less coming out than in, but it still fucking hurt.
Calum frowned down at her. With one hand, he grasped her muzzle, forcing her to meet his very intent, very black gaze. "Trawsfur," he murmured. His power blazed through her, and a second later, she lay naked before him.
Alec wrapped his hands around her leg, putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding.
"Freeing someone from a trap before executing her is a little inefficient, don‘t you think?"
she muttered, trying to keep her lips from trembling. She was a soldier, dammit; soldiers didn‘t burst into tears. She managed to pull in a breath and almost sounded like herself as she asked,
"How did you find me? This isn‘t exactly on a trail, is it?"
"There‘s a bond between a Cosantir and his territory. I know if a strange shifter sets foot in my mountains." The sun lines around his eyes deepened. "Or when a lost one comes home."
"Oh."
He stroked his knuckles across her cheek, and then his flickering smile appeared. "Cariad, did I not warn you and Jamie about these traps?"
Her breath caught. "I‘m the enemy. How did I get to be a cariad again?"
Alec released her leg, waited to make sure it had stopped bleeding, then kissed her lips lightly. "Once we got our heads out of our asses, we figured out what had happened and what you must have been trying to do."
Hope made her eyes sting, reality made her look down. Calum lifted her chin. "Little cat, we doubted you. I doubted you. Can you find forgiveness for us?"
When she shook her head, his jaw tightened, his hand dropped away.
She grabbed his fingers. "No. I mean, I couldn‘t believe you‘d forgive me." She sighed.
"N
ot without a lot of arguing. It‘s my fault, I know. I—I didn‘t tell you all the truth." The next admission came slower. Harder. "I should have stuck around to have it out with you, but I…"
"Didn‘t think we‘d love you enough to listen?" Calum asked gently.
She nodded.
Alec hugged her, his body hot against her cold skin. "We love you, Vixen, even if you‘re a tad insecure. Just like you love us, even when we‘re paranoid bastards."
"You do?"
Calum nodded, his eyes gentle. "We love you, cariad, and we need you. Come home to us."
Home.
Epilogue
A month later.
Coffee. Need more coffee. Vic yawned, squinting at the mid-morning sun. She‘d started work well before dawn. Alec had better take her off this fucking morning shift before she strangled him and left his body on the mountain for the coyotes. No—too classy. For the vultures.
As she cracked open the door to the bookstore, she reached up to quiet the bell before it rang. She liked practicing her stalking skills on Thorson; the old werecat was nearly impossible to sneak up on.
No one was in sight, but voices came from the sitting area. One was Thorson. The other was...Wells? When had Wells arrived in town?
Oh hell. She smoothed her hair back, scowled at her dusty boots. Sloppy, she‘d gotten sloppy. With a frown, she pulled at her khaki uniform, trying to smooth the wrinkles Alec had created earlier when he‘d locked them both in his jail cell and pretended to interrogate her as a spy.
She grinned, remembering the clothespins he‘d used to torture her. Nipple torture. The man was completely warped. Good thing the jail had a shower in the back, or she‘d have smelled like sex all day. She silently finished straightening her clothes, and then edged around the rear shelves for some recon.
Wells and Thorson sat in the comfortable chairs by the crackling fire. Each wore a scowl, but that was normal when the two of them got together.
Wells picked up his coffee, motioned to Thorson with the cup. "I‘ve been thinking. It would be appropriate for you to perform that Death Gift ritual, and make me a shifter when you die.
Considering your advanced age, that shouldn‘t be long now."
Thorson eyed him over the rim of his mug before taking a loud sip. "You annoy me, and you‘ll go tits-up first."
"I‘m not planning to die until I see my grandchildren. Hopefully sometime this century."
Wells frowned slightly as he stared into the fire. "The Sergeant said you shifters can take a long time, and that she‘s in no hurry."
"We leave that in the hands of the Mother." Thorson turned his head and winked at Vic.
Shit, he‘d heard her. Damn werecat.
He turned back to Wells and said casually, "She‘ll name the first-born after me, of course."
Wells stiffened. "I doubt that. You‘re merely a token grandfather whereas I am her—"
The bookstore door slammed open, the bell jangling wildly.
"MomVee, are you in here?" Jamie ran between the shelves, spotted Vic, and wrapped her in a signature-Jamie hug.
"Is something wrong?" Vic lay her cheek against the soft hair. My cub.
"Yes. No. Not really." Jamie giggled.
Vic relaxed. "What then?"
"Daddy says there‘s probably going to be a fight, and since you‘re on duty, can you come and keep the bast—um, the bad guys from misbehaving." She whispered to Vic, "Daddy called them bastards, but I‘m not supposed to say that."
"Do you need our help, Sergeant?" Wells asked, starting to rise.
"Nah, I can get it." Vic grinned at Thorson and tossed Wells a mock salute. It was good to be needed. Even better to be loved.
As she reached the door, she heard Jamie whisper to the men, "Daddy said Uncle Alec got more kisses than him this morning, and he needed MomVee at the bar so he could get his share."
Vic was laughing as she stepped out into the bright morning sunshine.
The End.
About the author
I met my dearheart when vacationing in the Caribbean. Now I won‘t say it was love at first sight. Actually since he was standing over me, enjoying the view down my swimsuit top, I might even have been a tad peeved—as well as attracted. But although our time together there was less than two days, and although we lived in opposite sides of the country, love can‘t be corralled by time or space.
We‘ve now been married for many, many years. (And he still looks down my swimsuit tops.)
Nowadays, I live in the west with this obnoxious, beloved husband, two children, and various animals, including three cats who rule the household. I‘m a gardener, and I love nurturing small plants until they‘re big and healthy and productive…and ripping defenseless weeds out by the roots when I‘m angry. I enjoy thunderstorms, playing Scrabble and Risk and being a soccer mom. My favorite way to spend an evening is curled up on a couch next to the master of my heart, watching the fire, reading, and…well…if you‘re reading my books, you obviously know what else happens in front of fires.
~ Cherise
*
Please come and visit me online:
Website: http://www.CheriseSinclair.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/CheriseSinclair
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/AuthorCheriseSinclair
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CheriseSinclair
Here‘s a blurb and excerpt for
Master of the Mountain
by Cherise Sinclair.
A BDSM Full-figured Heroine, Contemporary Erotic
Published by Loose Id.
Brande at Book Junkie says: " I loved it! Every word, every page, every moment until the end! So that is my review in a nutshell........ OK I can do better than that, but seriously a melt your panties right off, intriguing love story that forces you to turn the pages until the wee hours of the night just to get to the end! How about that!”
*Blurb for Master of the Mountain *
When Rebecca's boyfriend talks her into vacationing at a mountain lodge with his swing club, she quickly learns she's not cut out for playing musical beds. Now she has nowhere to sleep. Logan, the lodge owner, finds her freezing on the porch. After hauling her inside, he warms her in his own bed, and there the experienced Dom discovers that Rebecca might not be a swinger…but she is definitely a submissive.
Rebecca knows that no one can love her plump, scarred body. To her shock, lodge owner Logan not only disagrees, but ties her up and shows her just how much he enjoys her curves.
Under his skilled hands, Rebecca not only loses her inhibitions, but also her heart.
Damaged from the war, Logan considers himself too dangerous to be around the enticing little sub. He sends her away for her own safety, not realizing she believes she has once again been rejected because of her size. As Logan's mountains echo with her voice long after she's gone, he realizes she's taken his heart with her. But when he arrives in the city to reclaim her, Rebecca's phone has been disconnected and her apartment is empty…
Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme and content, exhibitionism.
* Excerpt *
Why the hell hadn‘t Jake returned from San Francisco? Logan wondered, grinding his teeth at the constant magpielike chattering of the people on the trail. Two more miles to Rainbow Lake. A shame he couldn‘t get them to jog, but maybe if he sped up some, they wouldn‘t have the breath to talk.
Usually Jake handled the social crap, while Logan did repairs and maintenance. People in individual packages could be enjoyable, but crowds? He‘d rather get shot in the head. He ran a finger down the scar on his face and snorted. Again.
Stepping up on an outcropping of granite, he eyed the line of people trudging up the switchbacks. No stragglers. The group appeared in pretty good shape. Even fancy Rebecca in her designer jeans and shapeless top had kept up.
In fact, she did more th
an keep up. As she walked beside her boyfriend, her green eyes sparkled with pleasure, alert to everything the forest offered. Logan had seen her spot a mule deer frozen in place, a hawk in a dive, and a tiny deer mouse. Each time her face lit with wonder.
Her open enjoyment added to his, and he found himself checking the line more often than normal just to catch her reactions.
The sun was high overhead and unseasonably hot by the time the trail descended, leaving the pines behind. He led the group across a grass-and wildflower-filled meadow to the tiny mountain lake, clear and blue and damned cold. Granite slabs poked up through the wildflowers, glimmering in the sun. With yells of delight, people dropped their backpacks and stripped.
Logan enjoyed the show of bare asses and breasts as the swingers splashed into the water like a herd of lemmings, screaming at the cold. As he leaned on a boulder, he noticed one person still completely dressed with wide eyes and open mouth. The city girl. Considering she and Matt bunked together, Rebecca couldn‘t be a virgin, but from her reaction, she was pretty innocent when it came to kink.
"C‘mon, babe," her boyfriend yelled, already buck naked in the lake. "The water‘s great."
Not waiting for her response, he waded out deeper, heading for a blonde who looked as if she had substituted bouncy breasts for cheerleading pom-poms.
Rebecca glanced from the water to the trail, back to the water, where Matt wrestled with Ashley, and back to the trail again.
Logan could see the exact moment she decided to leave. He walked over to block her way.
"Excuse me," she said politely.
"No."
Red surged into her cheeks, and her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. Red-gold hair.
Freckles. Big bones. Looked like she had Irish ancestry and the temper to go with it. Stepping sideways to block her again, Logan tucked his thumbs into his front pockets and waited for the explosion.
"Listen, Mr. Hunt—"
"It‘s Logan," he interrupted and tried not to grin as her mouth compressed.
"Whatever. I‘m going back to my cabin. Please move your… Please move."
"Sorry, sugar, but no one hikes alone. That‘s one safety rule I take seriously." He glanced at the swingers. "I can‘t leave them, and you can‘t walk alone, so you‘re stuck here."