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

her head, stroked his hand over her breasts, told her that her skin was softer than the cashmere—and somehow she‘d ended up back in bed.

God, she was out-classed and out-numbered, and she still didn‘t know what was going to happen. She cared about them—fuck-yeah, she cared—but they‘d made no big I-love-you declarations. No one even mentioned the future.

Her stomach felt as if she‘d swallowed a rock. Yes, they gave her attention, but was it because she was stuck in their home for the moment? Calum was so protective, he‘d probably give a room to anyone in need, like he had with Thorson. Even worse, they acted so old-fashioned about women, they‘d probably treat any…fuck-buddy…like they did her.

Her breath hitched as she realized that since they were old-fashioned, then if they were serious about her…well, they would have said so. Proposed or something. They hadn‘t. She rubbed her arms, feeling chilled. Didn"t even realize you"d started making wedding plans, now did you, Sergeant? Pretty dumb. The men hadn‘t made promises. They probably considered her just…just a roommate with benefits.

Okay. She straightened her shoulders. They weren‘t the only ones enjoying the benefits. She was too. She simply needed to remember that‘s all there would be.

"Hey, you! Yeah, you—the cop," a woman shouted from the end of the block.

Vic stopped and almost looked around for a real police officer, but she was the only one downtown, so the lady was yelling at her. "Yes?"

"You‘re off-duty." A tall, lanky woman in tight jeans and sweatshirt walked toward Vic.

"Let‘s go have a drink."

Vic recognized the woman‘s scent before her appearance—and wasn‘t that weird.

"Heather!"

Heather put her hands on Vic‘s shoulders and gave her a slow study, then a hard hug. "You don‘t look too bad. Before you left, you looked like a horse that had been rode hard and put away wet.

"Thanks a lot." God, it was good to see her. "I thought you worked down around Rainier."

"I do." Heather linked arms with Vic and steered her the other way down Main. "Daniel and I drove up for the Samhain Gathering."

Gathering. That‘s what Alec had called that orgy-style party in the tavern. Was that why the street was filled with so many people? "Where are you staying?"

"With Rebecca. She takes in boarders when something‘s happening in Cold Creek; makes a few extra bucks."

They turned down Aberdeen Street. Just behind Angie‘s Diner, Heather halted at a Victorian bed and breakfast. "C‘mon, we can use the side door."

"Um. I‘m still on duty. How about I come—"

"Like I said, your shift finished early today. Alec said so when he told me where to find you." Heather shoved the door open, glanced back. "I have a six-pack of Calum‘s fancy beer in the cooler. You in?"

"Definitely." Vic followed her up the steep stairs to the second floor and down a hallway.

With oriental carpeting in rich reddish tones and rose-bud wallpaper, the room had a feeling of lush warmth. "Wow."

"Yeah. It‘s my favorite room here." Heather handed her a beer and pushed open the French doors. "Check this out."

A wrought iron table and chairs barely fit on the spindle-railed balcony. Heather set her beer on the glass-topped table, sat down, and waved at the other chair. "Best place to people-watch in town, especially during Gatherings."

The balcony was high enough to see over Angie‘s low diner to Main Street. Vic sat and put her throbbing feet up on the railing. "I‘m beginning to see why they call cops flat-feet."

I think you‘re crazy, Ms. Cop. Small pay, big risk, nasty people—what‘s there to like?"

"Maybe because I get to beat up on the assholes of the world?"

"There‘s a point."

A man‘s voice drifted up from the street, and she saw a middle-aged banker-type guy scowl at a portly man. A dowdy woman shook her head at both of them and walked away.

Heather glanced over. "Idiots. Like she‘d look at either of them." She sipped her beer. "So how are you doing?"

Vic studied Heather. Here was someone who had no problem with giving open answers.

"Forget how I‘m doing. I want to know why all these people are in town. And what exactly is a Gathering?"

"Whoa, doggie, you‘re going to jump right into the pond?" Heather raised her eyebrows.

"No small talk first?"

"Spill or I‘ll hurt you. Badly."

"Oooo, the kitty‘s got claws." Helen grinned and held her hands up defensively. "Okay, okay. Actually, that‘s why Alec let you off early—those two males keep leaving me all the tough explanations…like I bet they never mentioned that women come into heat with every full moon."

Vic choked on her beer. "Excuse me? Heat? Like a...a cat?"

"‗Fraid so. It has to do with the Wild Hunt that the Fae held under the full moon. The time for hunting and partying and mating."

She sat up, forcing air into her lungs. "Are you saying I‘m going to go howl in the street and let myself be raped by man after man?"

Heather whooped. "God, what an image!"

"But—"

Heather patted Vic‘s hand. "No rape, girlfriend. Never. If a guy can‘t smell that a woman is hot for him, his equipment doesn‘t work."

"Huh." Vic ran that around in her mind, and her muscles loosened. Like most female soldiers, she‘d experienced too many close calls. "They really can‘t?"

Heather‘s lips curved. "Really. I was damned shocked when I went to college—human males can be total jerks, you know?"

"No shit." Vic rose to pace the length of the balcony. "So guys come to town to score with the women who are in heat?" In heat. God, that sounded nasty.

"And hopefully make babies. We can only get pregnant under a full moon."

"Huh. Gives new meaning to the rhythm method, doesn‘t it?" Vic said lightly, trying not to show how unnerved she felt. She took a sip of beer and watched a flower pixie in the rose bushes snatch a rose hip to nibble on.

"Unfortunately, shifter women don‘t get knocked up easily. But we almost always have twins, usually more."

"Jesus. I‘m not sure if that‘s good or bad." What would it be like