28. Isobel
“There’s something wrong with that lion, Iz. He’s obsessed with you, and I think he’s also smarter than the average lion. I swear, at times it looks like he understands what we’re saying, and if he could talk, he’d respond in kind. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s a shifter.”
Dane’s voice is laden with suspicion, but it’s the last part that has me jerking.
“What do you mean, shifter? There are plenty of so-called zoos and private collectors out there. They can’t control or contain the animals in their care, so the poor things tend to escape and either starve to death, or end up as trophies for hunters. If he was a shifter, he would’ve changed back by now, wouldn’t he? I didn’t think shifters could survive for extended periods of time as their animal?”
Dane pulls me under his arm, hugging me to his torso. The familiar weight and warmth of his arm and body settles me, and I relax as we crunch our way over the gravel walkways between the barn and the house.
“No, shifters can’t survive as their animals for a sustained period of time, not without doing drastic and permanent damage to themselves,” he answers, his voice quiet in the late afternoon gloom.
“He also doesn’t smell like a shifter. His scent is a little off, but I don’t really think it’s anything to be concerned about. I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever come across a wild lion before…”
Dane’s musings taper off as he stares into the middle distance, and he doesn’t come back to me until I nudge him with my shoulder.
“What is it, Dane? What are you thinking?”
He blinks down at me, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“The thing is, there’s also something familiar about his scent. It’s one I’m sure I’ve smelled before. I can’t place it right now, but it lingers on him. It’s wrong somehow.”
Ice slides its way down my spine, and I shiver at the sudden dread that seizes me. Dane had thought something similar about Quin when we’d first come across him. Wrongness had apparently clung to him like a dark miasma, tainting his natural petrichor and loam scent, the harsh burn of it slowly fading as the days trundled on.
“Wrong, like… like Quin?” I question, petrified of his response.
“Yes… and no,” comes the unsatisfactory reply, answering everything and nothing all at the same time.
I continue walking in silence, waiting my brother out as he mulls over his words. Dane might tend to insert his clod-hoppers into his mouth more often than not, but he’s not stupid. In times like these when he’s pondering a question, the answer is guaranteed to be well thought out and logical, not glib or silly.
“I don’t know what was done to that lion, but he’s been experimented on for sure. He has a similar chemical taint in his blood that clung to Quin, and it’s getting easier to discern now that he’s no longer rife with infection. However, whatever was pumped into him is working its way out of his system, as his scent is returning to the more natural musk of his kind. I’m sorry I don’t have any more answers for you, Iz.”
I sigh. My life right now is filled with more questions than answers, but I should know better than to ask. The one person who’d be able to truly satisfy my curiosity has disappeared from my life, and there’s no sign that he’ll ever return.
I just have to get used to life without him.
***
“Mmmm, Isobel, my sweet, beautiful mate. How I have missed you.”
Quin’s voice purrs beside me as he crawls into our bed, his bare skin glowing softly in the moonlight. The shadows of the trees outside my window fall in dark stripes across his back, just like the ones on his tiger.
My heart twinges achingly at his presence, the months we’ve spent apart a dark stain of loneliness and sorrow on my soul. Tears fill my eyes and spill over my cheeks as I sob in relief at his return, and I grab his hand to press it to the swell of my naked belly.
“Quin—” I gasp as our baby kicks into their father’s splayed hand. “You’ve missed so much! Why did you leave me to bear our cub alone? Why didn’t you return? Where have you been, my love?”
Salty droplets splash over my lips as Quin weeps over me, pressing hot, urgent kisses to my skin as his hands roam over my body.
“I didn’t mean to stay away. I always planned on returning. I’m so sorry, my sweet Bel. I should never have left.”
Words turn into moans and soft cries, and my mate smothers me with love, his touch reverential in its exploration, his tongue and lips passionate in their devouring devotion. I’m wet and dripping, needy and wanting. Quin is hard, hot, and heavy against my stomach, his pre-cum painting scalding trails across my swollen flesh.
Quin’s skin is hot against mine, all velvet-wrapped warmth over steely muscles, the silken slide and glide intoxicating as we feast on each other. I can feel his urgency down our bond, the desperation to glut his touch-starved self on my love, and I can’t deny him a thing.
My legs part eagerly, and I groan with relief as his engorged cock sinks into my body in homecoming, each raised bump of his spines elevating my desire to a rapturous degree. We lie there, entwined in the most intimate embrace, panting at the feel of each other, at the pure rightness of being skin-to-skin once more.
And then he moves.
Sinuous twists of his hips have his spines brushing over every hidden nerve cluster deep inside me, and I cry out at the sudden onslaught of my climax. My pussy clamps down on his length, but he continues to thrust, sending me spiraling even further into the stratosphere.
“Fuck, Bel, you feel so gods-damned good. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed your smell, your taste, your touch. I’ve missed waking up beside you with your hair all mussed up, your eyes all sleepy, and that soft smile you always give me.” Quin’s voice is pained and lost, but he never stops moving inside me as he recites his love for me.
“I’ve missed the sound of your voice as you tell me you love me, as you bawl out your brothers, and as you sass your Paw Paw. I’ve missed having my best friend beside me as we watch a movie, as we do the chores, and curled up in my arms as we sleep. I’ve missed how you make me laugh, make me cry, and make me into the best man I can be. You’re a part of me, just like I’m a part of you. I may not have been with you in person, but believe me when I say, I. Never. Left. You!”
His last words are each punctuated by a hard thrust, and then he groans as he stills, the warmth of his cum flooding inside me, filling me, spilling from me, just as his tears spill over his sharp cheekbones and splash down to land on my bare chest. The bond that links us, our bond, flares and flames, and all of the emotions I’ve suppressed, all the loss, anger, grief, and love I have for Quin breaks free, a torrent of feelings breaking down the final wall holding me strong.
I break.
I shatter.
I fall.
But he doesn’t catch me.
***
I jerk awake, my legs pinned by a heavy weight pressing them to the mattress. I panic a little, flailing about until my hand smacks my nightstand. I tap my fingers across the surface until I reach the lamp set there and slap the switch. Soft light illuminates the room, and my heart stutters as I discover the cause of my confinement.
It’s the lion.
How the ever-loving heck did he get in here?
He’s sprawled over my legs like an overgrown house cat, and despite my very best wiggling, I can’t pull my legs out from beneath him.
I flop back onto the mattress and ponder my options. Thanks to my dream, I’m wet and horny, which is not a comfortable position to be in. Thanks to my baby, I need to pee. And thanks to the monster who’s somehow escaped his enclosure, my legs are starting to go numb.
I once more reach for my nightstand, but this time my target is my phone. It’s the work of a moment to have that sucker ringing, and a dark little corner of my heart chortles in glee as I wake my brother.
As I said, I have to find my joy somewhere.
“Iz? What’s the matter? Is it the baby? It’s the baby, ain’t it? I’ll be right over!”
Dane doesn’t even give me the chance to answer before he ends the call, and I can’t help but laugh. I give it ten minutes, max, before I have both my brothers kicking down my door. Gods willing, they won’t have called in my parents and Paw Paw, but if I’m wrong at least we’ll all be able to laugh about it later.
A deep sigh from my feet alerts me to the fact that the lion is no longer asleep. My gaze moves to the enormous head resting on my feet, the blazing amber-gold of his eyes watching my every breath and movement.
“Hey, do you think you might let me up so I can go pee? The baby is using my bladder to bounce on, and I really don’t want to wet the bed.”
I have no real expectation that the lion will do as I ask, even if Dane believes he can understand my words. So it comes as a surprise when he shifts his body, freeing my legs and feet. I take full advantage of my sudden freedom and leap from the bed and beeline to the bathroom.
My groan of relief and release as my bladder lets loose bounces off the tiles along with the liquid stream splashing in the bowl. I wipe myself and flush, pulling my oversize pajama pants up over my hips, the front of them bunching underneath my belly. I wash my hands and head to the kitchen for a glass of water, then pull up a chair and wait for the cavalry to arrive.
Headlights flash through the windows and gravel crunches and pings as at least two vehicles skid to a halt outside. At least three doors slam shut, and the frantic voices of both my brothers and our father split the pre-dawn air as their footsteps all pound across the deck and to the back door of the house.
The Three Stooges have nothing on the clumsy and frenetic movements as they literally trip and shove each other through the door, only to freeze in astonishment as they spot me sitting calmly and quietly at the battered, scarred table.
We all stare at each other in silence until a rhythmic tack tack tack swells through the air. It’s the sound of claws walking across a hardwood floor, and I’m the only one who knows what it heralds.
“Uh, thanks for getting here so quickly. Turns out I didn’t need any help, I managed all by myself,” I croak out, my throat suddenly dry despite the glass of water I’ve just consumed.
“The cub—” my father blurts out, only to fall silent as the furry, maned behemoth responsible for the whole circus appears in the doorway.
“The cub is fine. I woke up to find our latest resident had escaped his enclosure and decided that he’d rather sleep on my feet. I couldn’t move and needed to pee. I also wanted to figure out how he got out of his enclosure and inside the house. So, I called Dane. After all, he’s the one hell bent on treating me with kid gloves. He can go out in the dark and figure stuff out.”
My family pick themselves up from where they’re tangled on the floor, my brothers darting glances to each other that even I can read from across the room.
One of them fucked up, and they don’t want Da or Paw Paw finding out who.
“Uh, Dil and me, we’ll go out and check the big guy’s enclosure. Maybe there was a weak spot we didn’t notice when we moved him. Uh—” Dane glances over at our father’s stony expression and winces. “Da, do you want a hand corralling Iz”s visitor?”
My father just stares at my brother, completely deadpan. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to.
It’s obvious that if the lion had wanted to harm me, I’d already be dead.
Embarrassed mumbling follows my brothers out of the door as they excuse themselves, and Da turns to stare at the lion who is now lounging in the doorway like the world’s biggest, scariest draft-stopper.
“I’m gonna sit here at the table with my daughter and grand-cub. I’d really appreciate it if you don’t gut me for doing so. I also hope you can actually understand me, and I’m not just talking to you like an idiot.”
The lion chuffs at my father’s words, and Da turns to look at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he can understand us. I asked him to move so I could get up to pee, and he did without any issue. He has to have been hand-reared, what with the way he is around me and the guys. They don’t see it, but I do.”
Da kicks back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him as he watches the lion with a calculating expression across his face.
“Well, if he’s gonna be your constant shadow and companion, and pretty much living in the house, we can’t just keep calling him ‘the lion,’ ‘monster,’ or ‘beast.’ What name do you think suits him, my little Bizzy Bee?”
I turn to look at the lion myself, and really take him in.
He’s enormous, I’d say close to six feet in height from his paws to the top of his head, his body long and packed with muscles. His fur a pale and gleaming silvery-gray and littered with scars that only make him appear to be even more lethal. His mane is dark and thick, extending down his throat and chest before tapering off at his belly. Tufts of dark fur sprout from his elbows and at the end of his tail, and his amber-gold eyes are brimming with intelligence.
He’s a perfect storm of violent threat and calm control, one armed with razor-sharp claws and teeth. You’d think he’d be a brawler and a bruiser, but for me he’s been as tame as a newborn kitten.
“Storm,” I whisper, and the lion’s ears flick toward me.
“Storm,” I decree, my voice firm and resolute. “He’s as wild, dangerous, and powerful as a storm. He’s turned our world upside down with his behavior, has devastated our peace, but at the same time, he’s brought a freshness and new life with him. He stormed into our lives, so that’s what we’ll call him.”
Da nods thoughtfully, his gaze pinned to Storm’s.
“Storm it is, then.”