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

turned the color of night and even a sense-blind human could feel the hum radiating from him.

She swallowed. "That‘s why you played judge for that bear guy?"

"Aye," he sighed. He‘d never wanted to be a Cosantir. He‘d been a lawyer—a damn good one—living just inside the territory lines. But one does not refuse the call of a God. With his acceptance, Herne‘s power had fallen upon him like an avalanche, sweeping his past life away.

"What‘s a feral? Is that what got Helen?"

Bloody hell. "Aye," he said reluctantly.

"Feral means wild. So did a real mountain lion attack her...or one of you?"

How badly would this aspect of shifter life terrify her? "One of us."

She glared at him. "Pulling answers out of you is like getting information from a Su—is really difficult. Tell me, do shifters just go around attacking their buddies for fun?"

"Hardly for fun. We are stronger, live longer, are immune to human diseases, but we‘re still half-human, Victoria. If a Daonain becomes unbalanced mentally…" He shrugged, hoping she wouldn‘t continue.

Her brows drew together. "But humans don‘t turn into wild animals when they go nuts. Can it happen to anybody? Are you liable to turn feral?"

"I fear there is no easy answer to your questions," he said carefully. "Daonain do occasionally decide to live in animal form and simply become wild. However, attacking humans is an aberration." One that occurred all too often.

"How many ferals have you seen in the last...oh, five years?"

Stubborn wench. "Maybe ten or so." He felt her stiffen.

"That‘s...that‘s a lot." She shivered, and he didn‘t know whether from cold or from horror.

Why couldn‘t she ask his silver-tongued brother these questions? Alec could make a visit to hell sound like a tropical vacation.

"Well, when you guys go hunt this feral, I want to go along. I‘m a good shot. Someone can loan me a rifle and—"

"No."

"Dammit, Calum, Helen is my friend and—"

"There will be no hunting party with weapons."

She shoved off his lap and stood up, legs braced. "You‘re going to just let that thing go? Let it attack some other old person?"

"Victoria, you do not understand. We do not—"

After giving him a scathing look, she retreated to her bedroom.

Bloody hell.

*

The day was almost over when Vic trudged through the village with a pot of stew. Alec had disappeared. Then Calum had carried Helen to her home and not returned. Vic wasn‘t sure if she was disappointed or not. Arguing with Calum...hurt, and being angry with him made her feel sick. Damn him.

When she‘d finally left her room, Aaron had looked up from his game of Scrabble with Jamie and asked her to carry the stew to Helen‘s house.

Vic took a deep breath of the clean, cold air. She could hear the people in the scattered cabins, chatting, making supper, laughing. A wave of loneliness rolled over her. Would she ever have a place to call home? Somewhere she‘d fit in?

"Vicki!" Heather came from the side of her mother‘s house, arms full of firewood. "Are you coming here?"

Under Heather‘s welcoming smile, the feeling of loneliness lifted like a morning fog. "I am.

Aaron sent you guys some stew."

"Excellent. Mac ‗n‘ cheese is the pinnacle of my cooking abilities." Heather shoved open the front door with one hip. "C‘mon in."

Like Aaron, Helen had a log cabin, but where Aaron‘s home was rustic, hers looked bright and cheerful. A chair and couch were covered in vivid floral upholstery and colorful knitted afghans were tossed here and there. A small forest of African violets crowded next to a southern window.

"Feels like a summer garden," Vic said.

Heather dumped the firewood next to an ornately decorated woodstove. "Makes you forget the snow outside, doesn‘t it? Why don‘t you put that pot on the stove to warm and sit for a bit? I want to talk with you."

Vic did as she asked, then took a seat at the table. "What‘s up?"

"After Calum brought Mama home, he asked me to explain a couple things about Daonain relationships to you. He seemed to think you‘d be more comfortable hearing this from another woman."

Relationships? "Hearing what?"

"Well, you know we don‘t have as many females as males."

Vic nodded, remembering Alec‘s painful explanation of why they couldn‘t get involved.

"Right."

"Our customs altered because of that. Human monogamy is so a guy is certain he fathered the children. But we don‘t care who begat whoever, not when our race might die out entirely. So we rejoice whenever a baby is born, whether its parents bothered to marry or not—and our marriages aren‘t restricted to one male, one female."

Whoa. Orgy time? "Like a bunch of men and women together?"

"Nah. At least not in a lifemating. Females are too territorial, especially if we‘re having kids.

Usually it‘s two or three male littermates and one female."

As Helen turned to dish up the stew, Vic stared blankly, wondering when her brain would catch up. More than one guy per woman. Got it.

Which meant the woman probably loved—and fucked—all the men in that relationship.

Wow.

The men were usually littermates. Brothers. Alec and Calum are brothers. Littermates. Vic felt her jaw drop open.

Heather grinned. "Looks like you‘re catching the drift. There‘s more, but that‘s enough for one gulp. Think about it, and we‘ll talk again. For now, let‘s take this in to mother."

Vic followed Heather into the bedroom. Daniel occupied a rocking chair in one corner, a book open on his lap. "Hey, Vicki."

Sitting up in bed, Helen smiled at Vic. Her eyes were clear, and pink color had returned to her cheeks.

Vic gave a sigh of relief. "You look much better."

"Partly thanks to you, dear." Helen raised her eyebrows. "In fact, I hear you gave me all your clothes and walked back to the village completely naked."

Vic‘s jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

Helen‘s pressed lips didn‘t hide her smile as she glanced reprovingly at her son. "I had a feeling he embellished a bit."

"A guy can dream," he said. His grin was fast, the sparkle in his eyes wicked. "Vicki did give you all the clothes on top