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

their naps. With a frown, he looked down. Their eyes caught…and held. Humor danced in her eyes and curved her lips, and he couldn‘t suppress a laugh.

It was a rare female who could tease him out of a...cranky...mood. Even rarer to find one who made him harden and laugh at the same time. Why did a human have to be so attractive?

"Here." Jamie crowded between Calum and Victoria and pushed her selection across the counter.

"Two?" Calum asked dryly.

"I don‘t want anyone to call you a cheap—uh, something, so I thought I‘d better get two books like Vicki said." Jamie gave him such an innocent smile that no one could possibly doubt her sincerity. No one but a very experienced father.

"Hmmm. An extra book. That would mean an additional night of washing dishes, I believe?"

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Oh, okay."

"I need to get going," Victoria said, and although she smiled, her brown eyes looked so sad that Calum‘s heart wrenched.

"Aren‘t you getting any books today?" Thorson actually frowned at the little human.

"No. I just wanted to bring those back."

"Wait." Jamie grabbed her sleeve. "You want to come to dinner? We‘re making lasagna."

Calum stiffened. Was the God testing him, setting this female in his path at every turn? The time they spent working together and cleaning up after closing had been hard enough on his control. Even worse was when they‘d share a beer afterwards, watching the fire die down while discussing politics and cultures and books. She shouldn‘t attract him at all, and he certainly should not ever have kissed her. Yet, as Alec had said, Gatherings and danger brought out the animal in a shifter.

But to continue this foolishness?

He‘d hesitated too long, and Victoria shook her head. "I… No, Jamie, I need to—" she paused, obviously at a loss for a good excuse.

He should have let it go, but the hurt in her eyes was like a knife in his chest. "We are experts at lasagna-making, and it would be a pity not to share our superb culinary skills with others. We‘ll expect you at seven."

She frowned at him. So unsure—something he rarely saw in this woman. But after looking at Jamie‘s pleading eyes, she sighed. "Well, all right. I love lasagna."

*

Fuck. Sitting at his office desk, Vidal crumpled up the paper he‘d just signed and flung it at the wall. His signature had always been a fat scrawl. Now it was small, a pencil‘s width, the letters all crammed together because his fingers wouldn‘t loosen any more. And he‘d lost his balance again this morning.

Fear crawled around inside him like a cockroach in his guts. His time was running out—the fucking Parkinson‘s was winning. Diseased. Furiously, he swiped his arm over his desk, sending everything crashing to the floor.

He glared at the sound of a knock. "Yeah. What?"

Swane opened the door and walked in. His cold brown eyes flickered over the mess. "Got something." He set some papers down on the desk.

Forcing his anger down, Vidal looked them over. "Medical reports?"

"Uh-huh. Military. For a Victoria Morgan who‘s recovering from a knee injury."

"Alive? Son of a fucking bitch, she survived!" His hopes leaped. Had she transformed? Was she a werecreature now? He looked through the pages and scowled. "The report don‘t say nothing about bite marks."

"The doc called‘em: various healed scars. But see here"—Swane flipped to the back page—

"The bitch wanted a copy, so she gave them her address."

Vidal squinted to decipher the small type. "She‘s living in Cold Creek?"

"Now doesn‘t that put your shorts in a wad?"

Vidal shoved the papers away. "Get her. And find out if she‘s changed into one of them."

"Just like that, huh." Swane snorted. "Go ask her, "Hey, Miss Morgan. Eating more red meat lately?"

"Cut the crap." Vidal leaned back in his chair, trying to keep his excitement from exploding.

"Just get her. But be careful. She‘s seen your ugly face."

"No problem. I got some merc buddies who need a few extra bucks. They can take point; I‘ll do backup."

Vidal frowned. More people in on the information. "I don‘t —"

"They‘ll never know what‘s going on. They‘ll just tranq her and toss her into the van—they won‘t see her turn into a cougar. If she even can."

Swane‘s last remark hit Vidal hard. She must have been transformed. She had to have.

"Good plan." Vidal listened to the rain against the window. "When you spot her, grab her right then. No matter what. With her fucking background, she could disappear completely if anything sets her off."

"Got it. You know, if she‘s hanging out in Cold Creek, it‘s cuz the kid clued her in. She knows something." Swane‘s smile didn‘t reach his dead eyes. "Give me a day with her, and she‘ll be happy to tell you every fucking detail."

*

That night, Vic veered across the parking lot to the right of the Wild Hunt where a tall wooden fence enclosed the tavern‘s side and back yards. As she opened the gate, a chill shook her like a cold hand stroking up her spine. The last time she‘d gone through a wooden fence to a back yard, she‘d been knocked out, tied up. And then had a mountain lion munch on her.

Hopefully this evening would end better.

Or not. It‘s not like she had an appetite. I hate goodbyes. Leaving a message would be far, far easier. But the kid wouldn‘t understand. Vic remembered the times her father left for overseas stations without telling her. As she‘d cried, whatever housekeeper he‘d hired would give her his note. It had never helped.

So tonight, she‘d tell Jamie goodbye in person. And hopefully, Calum wouldn‘t get upset about losing a part-time barmaid.

A few steps past the gate, she stopped and stared. Wowsa. After the barren parking lot in front, she hadn‘t been anticipating...this. The brick path down the side was overhung with lilacs.

Roses climbed over the wooden archway at the entrance, and the late blooms lent sweetness to the air. In the backyard, a knee-high rocky waterfall