Hour of the Lion by Cherise Sinclair (reading a book txt) 📕

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.

"Not 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