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

His jaw set. She wasn‘t the only one. In the evenings, he‘d missed the pleasure of hearing about her day and sharing some of his. Most people, human or shifter, saw only the burden and pain of being a cop. But somehow, this little female understood the satisfaction—the fulfillment—that came from protecting others. She might be female, but she had a cahir‘s heart.

He‘d known he wanted her as a mate—he hadn‘t realized how much joy she‘d brought into his life.

When she‘d said she‘d left the trail to avoid seeing him or Calum, she might as well have cut his heart out. He leaned his elbows on his knees, trying to solve the puzzle. He was experienced enough to know she cared for him, even without seeing how she watched him with that soft expression and how she stood within his personal space, letting him into hers.

Why the worries about going feral? He studied her even breathing, the complete relaxation that spoke of trust. Did his Vixen really think she had no connections to anyone, loved no one? If anything, she cared too much. She was like an overcooked marshmallow, crusty on the outside, all sweet and soft inside.

But she tried to hide how much she cared; didn‘t even believe she did. Something had made her think she was safer alone. So she didn‘t share her past or her emotions. He smiled, remembering how she‘d wanted to keep their lovemaking shallow as well. How she‘d failed.

It was time the little ex-human let the rest of her barriers down. Obviously it was up to him and Calum to teach her.

Reaching out, he drew a finger across her stubborn jaw, determination settling inside him.

The gods had provided him and Calum another chance to win her—and they weren‘t going to fail this time.

*

Vic heard the crackle of rifle fire, and a bullet hit the man beside her with a gut-wrenching splat. He grunted, falling back, his blood spurting across the rubble. Dead. Her face was sticky with sweat and blood, her mouth dry from the sand. The sun beat down in the cloudless sky, the heat like a weapon. She veered to avoid a pile of trash in the road; IEDs were everywhere. A bomb exploded behind her, another in front of her, and she turned, confused. Where am I? She looked down, expecting her ragged Baghdad clothing—but Jesus fuck, she was naked! And standing in the street.

A snarl cut through the gunfire, and a panther sprang out from between the buildings. An M-16 chattered, and the small lion slammed into the pavement, blood making a red river down the golden fur.

"Jamie!" She tried to run, but her legs wouldn‘t move. She jerked up. Sitting? She stared into the darkness, her hands clutching at blankets. A bed. Where am I?

"Hey, hey, hey." A man in the bed beside her.

Jesus, no. She struck out.

He caught her fist in a big hand. "A nightmare, baby. You‘re having a nightmare." His voice was low and smooth. Oddly comforting. "Shhh, Vixen, you‘re safe."

"Alec?"

"None other." Sitting beside her, he finger-combed her hair from her damp face. "C‘mere, cariad . I‘ll hold you till the boogie-men go away." He lay back, pulling her down.

"Oh, God, that felt too real." Her heart still pounded, but her muscles slowly relaxed as he stroked her back. With a sigh, she laid her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

"There we go," he murmured, his voice resonant under her ear. "You want to talk it over or let it fade?"

"It‘ll fade," she whispered. Her lips curved slightly as she recalled one part. "You know, I‘ve heard about it, but I‘ve never been naked in a dream before."

"Ah." He grinned. "I didn‘t realize humans had that one. It‘s a common shifter nightmare."

"Yeah?" With a start, she remembered how on the mountain, she‘d shifted from cat to human and found herself bare-assed. "Oh. I bet." She snuggled closer, laid one knee over his thigh, his warmth wonderful against her chilled skin. Skin? "You stripped me! No wonder I thought I was naked."

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "You didn‘t even wake up."

"But—"

"I stripped me too," he pointed out virtuously. As if that would make a difference. His voice lowered, took on heat. "And, as it happens, I like you without clothes on." His hand stroked her shoulder, down to her waist, and warmth followed in its wake.

Well. Her heart rate had slowed, but now sped up for a much better reason than fear. What nicer way to celebrate life than—

"Is everything all right?" Calum walked into the room, his gait as silent as always. He studied her for a moment, and then glanced at Alec.

"Nightmare," Alec said. "Jamie?"

"Brownies are on watch."

"Good deal." Alec slid backward, pulling Vic with him until she‘d replaced him in the center of the bed. "You know, we were just discussing the fact that we‘re both naked. You‘re overdressed, brawd."

What? Vic stared at Alec. "But —"

"I am indeed." Calum‘s rare smile flashed, and then he shed his clothes. Tanned skin. Sleek, hard muscles. He lifted the covers and slid into bed on her other side, sandwiching her between him and Alec. She started to sit up.

Alec held her down. "Vixen," he said quietly. "You‘ve made love with both of us separately."

Shame silenced her for a moment. "I-I‘m sorry. I shouldn‘t —"

Calum snorted. He gripped her shoulder and rolled her onto her back between the two men.

Each was propped up on an elbow, looming over her helpless position. Dammit. Calum‘s hand held her down, and she shoved at it.

His eyes narrowed; his voice deepened. "Do not move."

Her fingers released involuntarily at the short command—and even more appalling, her insides seemed to turn to liquid.

He smiled faintly. "Very nice, cariad." He gave Alec a disparaging glance. "Clumsy bugger.

You made her feel guilty."

"Hell." Alec took her hand and kissed her fingers. "I didn‘t mean to do that, Vixen. We wanted