Ask For It (11 page)

“Eternal bells, is it possible to be a bigger idiot, Tryon?” Tor rolled off the bed and sauntered across the room to his wardrobe chest. “You attack an enemy you have no knowledge of? What planet are you really from? It can’t be Leonor,” Tor continued in disgust as he located leathers to pull on. “And then you take the time to speak before shooting.” Tor shook his head as he turned to regard the scientist still squirming under heavy white paws.

“Get it off me, get it off me,” Tryon wheezed as he struggled.

“You do realize she hasn’t even extended claws to deal with your stupid ass.” Tor sat on the bed to pull on boots, examining them first and flicking dirt off as if he had all the time in the world. “How could you make such stupid mistakes? I know you’re not a warrior, but you’re still a Leonor Lion.”

No response from Tryon as he continued to jerk under her paw as if he’d eventually get away from her.

Darling, are you going to take the time to groom before calling someone?
Sahara wanted to know, glittering silver eyes flicking to him briefly.
I realize you’re getting some weird kick out of this, but I’m not feeling patient or generous. He was trying to shoot you.

Tor flashed Sahara a grin before looking down at the struggling Tryon. “Frankly, I’m ashamed to call the guards. If this is how Leonor Lions acted last time Mist Lions were on the planet, I can see why they figured we weren’t worth the effort to educate.”

“Get your demon bitch off me,” Tryon screamed hysterically, effectively calling the guards himself. “Can’t you see what she is? You’re the stupid one, Tor.”

The front door of the apartment burst open. Three guards rushed across the sitting room and came to an abrupt halt in the bedroom door. Behind them, Nearrid sprinted in, shouldering through the shocked warriors.

Nearrid didn’t pause as he strode in. Skirting the bed, he went straight for Tryon’s weapon. “Do you mind, Sahara?” he asked briskly as he reached for it.

Sahara reluctantly stepped off Tryon’s back. Nearrid bent for the weapon, collecting it in one hand, the other grasping the back of Tryon’s neck to yank the older Leonor to his feet.

“Gentlemen, get over seeing a Mist Lioness,” Nearrid snarled at the guards. “She’s faster, stronger and bigger than you are. Right now she’s also five hundred pounds of female in a bad mood. Just wanting to fuck her will get you killed. Two of you take this to the palace holding cell.” He shook Tryon. “I don’t want him in the public system. You,” Nearrid nodded at the third guard. “Check the surroundings for other intruders.”

“Look at the demon. We have to kill her,” Tryon was yelling as Nearrid spoke. “What do you think happens when there are hundreds of them?”

The words ended abruptly when one of the guards smashed an elbow in Tryon’s jaw as he took him from Nearrid. “Hopefully we each get one,” the guard snarled at Tryon as he hefted the unconscious director over his shoulder. The second guard took the weapon from Nearrid and followed the other two out the door.

“He was in the bathing room,” Tor said to Nearrid as his brother began searching the room. “I wasn’t paying attention to surroundings.”

Nearrid grunted and continued his search.

There aren’t any more
, Sahara added telepathically.

Nearrid paused to glance at her. She was sitting, but her tail still whipped back and forth behind her. Silky white fur, much longer than the pelt covering a Leonor Lion swept the floor with her agitation.

“You’re sure?” Nearrid questioned sharply.

Not in the apartment. Probably thousands just like him out there
, she clarified caustically.

“Then why haven’t you shifted?” Nearrid wanted to know. “I assume the feline form is battle mode.”

I was naked when I shifted
, Sahara explained.
When I shift back I’ll need to find clothes.

Tor sighed and ran a hand through is mane. “She thinks she should leave to stop an escalation to violence,” he explained. “We were just discussing the panic small-minded idiots will probably resort to in their fear of Mist Lions returning.” While he spoke, he pulled one of his silk shirts out of the clothing chest.

Nearrid turned his back to them. “That’s not a viable option,” he commented as he stood gazing out the window.

Sahara shifted, taking the shirt Tor held for her and slipping into it. Tor took over the task of buttoning the garment that swallowed her small human form.

“I was explaining that when Tryon interrupted. Damn, he is stupid for a highly educated lion. Education is apparently no indication of intelligence.” Finished buttoning, Tor rolled up the sleeves on each arm so her hands could at least peek out.

Nearrid turned and watched Tor tend to his little female as if she were exactly as delicate as she appeared in human form. Sahara was visibly trembling. Nearrid was fairly certain the shudders running through her was rage, not fear. He’d not have known that if he hadn’t seen her tail’s agitated movement.

“Look at what nearly happened,” Sahara asserted. She looked up at Tor. “You can only die once a day, Tor. Seriously. I can’t take it.”

Tor chuckled as he finished with his shirt and naturally picked her up to cradle her against his chest. Sahara’s arms went around his neck in a fierce hug.

“Die? You’ve died once today?” Nearrid regarded Tor with a raised brow.

Tor headed for the sitting room. Glancing at his discarded flight suit as he passed, he resisted the urge to check its pockets for the little remote control and was amazed he hadn’t done it before. With her shift, was her device still lodged in place? He couldn’t ask at the moment.

He owed it to Nearrid to discuss what had occurred at the obelisk. Also, it seemed time was up. There had to be firm royal decrees about Mist Lions being welcome. Something Nearrid should participate in as the next in line for the throne, especially since Nearrid might be claiming that chair unexpectedly.

Sahara needed to be involved in the discussion because as the only Mist Lioness, she would have to guide them on what Mist Lions would be comfortable with. It sucked to be high king most of the time, this moment more than most.

His instinct was to take her to the siege tower. There he could control her safety and they could fuck all they wanted. Nasty, hard fucking—the good stuff. High King of Leonor required he be responsible and deal with the people’s issues before sealing his woman to him. That was not working for Tor at the moment.

Chapter Ten

Fifteen minutes later Tor and Sahara lounged on a couch and had just finished relaying a short version of the events at the obelisk. Nearrid appeared relaxed across from them, but the tension in the room was high.

“I am proud of you, little sister,” Nearrid stated softly.

Sahara shifted uncomfortably. In doing so, her bottom rubbed Tor’s crotch, as it had been doing since he’d reclined with her relaxing in front of him. Knowing she only wore the insubstantial shirt wasn’t helping. If she were a Leonor female his hand would have been stroking her intimately this entire conversation, dispelling some of the urgency in his natural response to her.

“I couldn’t do it,” Sahara corrected. “Tor had to. There is nothing to be proud of me over.”

Nearrid chuckled in surprising amusement. “That is exactly the point. You couldn’t kill him. Imagine how uncomfortable I’d be if you’d had no problem with it? For years it appeared you hated Tor. It is difficult to forget that in a short period of time. Now that we are aware of your power and gifts, well, it’s good to know you do not wish to kill him.”

“Perhaps it’s a good time to mention one of the limitations Mist Lionesses have,” Sahara responded as her bottom again shifted against Tor’s erection. His hand on her hip tightened warningly, but she ignored it as she continued. “When we choose a mate, the more we are with him, I mean in contact with him, we become progressively more attached.”

“Yes,” Tor said above her head. “Relationship is this way.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Sahara shifted to her back so she could see his face. As she did so, her hand cupped the back of his, keeping it high on her thigh, only now his fingers curled to the inside of her leg, tantalizingly close to the soft folds he wanted to caress. “It’s the reason I couldn’t remain in any proximity to you while married to Signet or even after.”

Beneath his hand her legs shifted apart slightly as she continued. “We are molded to the male we choose to mate. I chose you before the Corbeth. Thinking you rejected me, I had to get away from you or I would become helpless to you. Any little contact feeds my natural need to please you. If you do not care for my best interests, I cannot fight you. I will do whatever you want, become what pleases you. There is no choice. I will defend you with my life. I cannot harm you, no matter what you do to me or others.”

Tor’s expression became dark as he looked down into her face. “You lose the power of choice? Your personality becomes blank?”

Sahara frowned back at him. “I told you it was bad. I will become blank if that is what you want. If what you want is the person I am, that is who I remain. It’s complicated. I have known three other Mist Lionesses. Two of them killed themselves after their first heat because of the males who were then their mates. They did it while they still had a choice because of what those males would eventually make them do.”

Tor stared down at her in growing understanding. The courage it took to choose him was astounding. The absolute trust it required for her was a surrender he could barely grasp.

Nearrid hissed in a low exclamation. His long body rigidly still as he looked at Sahara. Behind him his tail flicked in uncharacteristic tension.

Steel-banded arms closed around his desert flower, sealing her to his chest. Tor’s heart pounded in combat mode. “I will not allow it,” he hissed harshly. “You are mine to protect and you will remain such. Have you considered death? Is that why you insisted on being the sacrifice? Were you trying to escape me? Damn it, Sahara, I need you just as you are. You will never be required to battle for me nor whore for me.”

“No Mist Lioness need fear these things from a Leonor Lion,” Nearrid spat.

“No, I knew what I was doing when I came to you, Tor, but what about the ones like Tryon?” Sahara argued from Tor’s chest. “What would happen if Mist Lionesses returned here and felt safe? A Leonor who knew of this weakness could hide his intentions. We do not go into our first heat until we are fully adult, and then it’s ten to fifteen years until the next one. If she mates at her first heat, all others are directed at her mate, even if he is dead. She cannot be claimed by another. But if someone knew of the vulnerability…”

Tor’s and Nearrid’s muzzles drew up in snarls as Sahara pointed out a real danger.

“Beloved, this is a secret, correct?” Tor asked the woman locked to his body. Arms and legs around her now, he couldn’t bring himself to loosen his hold. Fear as he’d never known held him in its grip. Needing her was something he’d never been able to control. Her complete vulnerability to him was not a relief. It meant she really was defenseless in a very personal way. The pain of that was ripping at him. How could he protect her from himself?

“It must remain information that does not leave this room,” Nearrid stated. “Not even Burke will hear of it. Thank you for sharing this truth, little sister. Know your faith is not misplaced. Protection of Mist Lioness freedom will be guaranteed by me, personally. If any of your kind return, I will make it my business to ensure their safety. Especially in this.”

Tor looked across at his brother and nodded his approval and thanks. Nearrid was taking on a dangerous responsibility. One that would require personal commitment to strangers, a task that would probably be bigger than either of them could know now.

“It is normally the Mist Lion father’s job,” Sahara explained. “I’m not sure how our family structure collapsed. In my case, my father died before I was born. As you see, it was not always necessary for hunters to kill us.”

“Sahara, is there anything else we should know?” Nearrid asked calmly.

“That is the biggest one,” she responded from Tor’s chest. “If a female is pregnant she can’t shift after the third month. Our infants and children are humanoid. We don’t gain our abilities until after adolescence, so as soon as the child is an individual within the mother, shifting would cause an abortion. Children are very vulnerable. They have none of our defenses.

“The only other pressing problem is our humanoid base enabling us to mate other humanoid species can have unexpected results in the child. The mix of our talents can be dangerous and activate much earlier than a full-blood Mist Lion would normally. Especially if children have to defend themselves from an early age, the evolution of their abilities results in predators with a child’s understanding of death. It is very difficult for them to develop into normal adults.”

“There are no abandoned orphans on Leonor,” Tor rumbled. “Even if the entire family is lost, a child would always have a loving home. There are many who desire children and cannot have them. Couples who have chosen to marry even though they know they cannot reproduce.”

“I know. I would not have remained on this planet if I did not know these things.” She arched her head back to look up at Tor. It was difficult in his tight hold. “My husband died before I came to my first heat. Staying here meant I would be yours eventually.”

“And if Signet lived?” Tor asked softly.

“He would claim my imprint, regardless of my history with you. We would then have been able to start a family,” Sahara answered honestly.

Tor closed his eyes, his forehead resting on hers as he breathed deeply. Complicated emotions washed through him. In the end, he was glad he hadn’t known any of this. Sahara had kept all of them from what could easily have turned into a death match between brothers. Knowing he could still have her, completely, or lose her for all time was a choice he didn’t think he’d have handled well.

He’d barely survived his brother’s marriage. Knowing the results of her heat might have pushed the brothers into a conflict that would have destroyed them. Secretly he’d been happy to see Signet and Sahara leave the family home in the palace. It was unheard of in Leonor society for a family to split up residence, and he’d fought it as an older brother should. However, it had been a relief not to see them together every day.

“You said you were imprinting Tor, that’s why the two of you left the palace. You hadn’t gone into heat yet. Explain this to me,” Nearrid asked.

“I chose Tor with no heat influence. It was stupid,” Sahara confessed. “I hardly knew him but I wanted him. My surrender, though we’d never made love, triggered that process. Later as I looked back I thought his refusal to consummate our relationship had fooled me into trust he didn’t want from me. I wasn’t aware of Leonor law and the Corbeth. A Mist Lioness has one chance to correct a young girl’s foolishness. I expected to imprint Signet at heat and then I would be free of Tor.”

“Did Signet know this?” Nearrid asked.

“No. Perhaps he suspected something like it though. I think he didn’t want to know. He accepted my reasons for leaving the palace easily. As his wife, I hope he never knew I desired another, but how could he not suspect?” Sahara asked sadly. “I had been Tor’s exclusively prior to the Corbeth.”

“Enough of the past,” Tor growled harshly. “You are where you belong, Sahara. The woman in my arms is the one I want. Not some mindless reflection of her. How do we ensure this?”

Sahara’s head was again nestled in his chest. She said nothing for a few seconds. “You have to want me as I am.” Her voice was small as she admitted her complete dependence.

The waver in her voice sent Tor to his feet. She had nothing to fear and it was his intention to show her that.

“You are part of a Leonor family, little sister,” Nearrid said from across the room. “Protected by your family.”

“What he means is he’ll be watching me,” Tor stated as he strode toward the sleeping quarters. “My grim brother just appointed himself guardian of the Mist Lionesses. Goddess help us.”

Tor had to pause in the doorway. “Nearrid, thank you. I know the others wait to hear what happened. Tell them anything you want or make them wait for us. I don’t care. Sahara and I will not be available for a while more. And you might mention, sending someone in to kill us worked once. Next time I’m tossing the body out the door and closing it again.” He kicked the door shut.

At the bed, Tor gently sat Sahara on the edge. Turning away, he strode to the window, stopping with his back to her. He stood with arms crossed, staring out blankly.

“You’re mad,” Sahara said quietly.

“No, I’m furious,” he corrected.

“Why?”

“Three years. You waited three years to come to me.”

“I had to be sure,” she stated calmly.

“You knew. You wouldn’t have stayed if you didn’t know.”

“I knew your people are the males who can handle my kind. Normally, no Leonor warrior would allow his woman to fight for him. They are strong enough handle the dependence and proud enough not to need it.”

“Were you hoping to find another? Someone else to imprint?” Tor turned to glare at her.

“It was difficult. There had to be a proper mourning period for my husband. I did love him. Then I was afraid. Coming to you traps you.”

Tor drew in a deep breath through clenched teeth, golden eyes narrowed as he looked at the one. The one who could wound him this easily. The only one who could make him whole again.

“Are you saying you weren’t sure if I would accept you?”

“Not exactly. I was afraid of how you’d accept me.” Sahara sat in controlled stillness. Silver eyes meeting his, chin up. “I didn’t want to be your brother’s widow who must be taken care of. If I came to you I wanted to be your woman. I couldn’t figure out how to make that happen.”

“So you thought doing your heat with me and then letting me go was the answer? Sending me from your bed while you could? Because that is all you offered, am I right? The possibility of a child was what I heard. No mention of anything else.”

“Yes,” Sahara agreed calmly. “That was my offer.”

“And how did you see that working out?”

“It left you free to choose. I would be tied to you, but at the time you didn’t have to know that. I would become what you wanted anyway, and if it was only mother of your child and widow of your brother, then it had to be enough.” Sahara glanced down and straightened his shirt over her knees. Seated, the shirt covered her almost to her ankles. “But you did what I hoped you’d do,” she finished softly, still looking at her knees.

Tor hissed in frustration as her thinking became clear to him. “The years of avoiding me, refusing to let me touch you, running away, were all because you felt it was your responsibility to preserve my free choice?”