Melted By The Lion: A Paranormal Lion Shifter Romance (9 page)

“Well. Dear diary, new friend Bridget blew my mind today.”

She laughed, straightening up from the table. “I can see how that would be. But I didn’t intend to just blow your mind. I also wanted to give you something to consider in regards to Trevor, and not throwing in the towel with him just yet. See, because he and Aaron are so close, I’ve gotten to know him a little, and I know he’s a very stern, businesslike kind of guy, but I do think you should just give things a little while. I think it’s possible that a special type of young woman could eventually get through that wall he’s built around himself.”

“But he’s basically told me that he
likes
that wall, and he wants to keep it up.”

“Well, just don’t bail quite yet.”

“Well, I really can’t, anyway. Not unless you and Aaron want a roommate.”

Bridget immediately shook her head, making her dark curls bounce. “No. No, sorry, but we definitely do not. We newlyweds like to have freedom of the whole house, and I’ll leave it up to your imagination why.”

I laughed, brushing a windswept strand of hair out of my face. “I think I get it.”

We soon left the cafe, and Bridget walked with me to where I’d parked my bike a short distance away, saying that she had to get home soon to start making a special dinner for Aaron.

“As Trevor’s right-hand man, he works long, long hours on patrol, and I know the pride has been especially busy all day tracking a pack of Renards that were spotted to the northeast, but Trevor knows our newlywed Saturday night dinners are sacred, so he’d better let Aaron come home.”

Just then, Bridget’s phone dinged with a text alert, and she looked at the screen. “Oh, perfect. Aaron will be home in an hour. Gotta go, but let’s meet up again tomorrow, if you want. I want to show you something I think you’ll really like.”

With a smile and a wave, she took off down the street, and I hopped on my bike and began peddling back to the mansion.

That evening, Jeannie told me that Trevor wouldn’t be home for dinner. “And he might not be home at all. Sometimes when the Renards are causing trouble, he’ll just sleep out in the forest in lion form while he and the others guard the town, then he’ll come home for a shower and a meal, and he’s off again.”

I honestly hoped that would be the case that evening. After how we’d left things that morning, with Trevor insisting that all future interactions between us be businesslike, and me agreeing to this, I didn’t want to see him again anytime soon. Maybe not ever again. Considering the kiss we’d shared, and how it had made me feel, I knew it would probably just hurt me to see his face.

I
would
give things a bit more time, as Bridget had suggested, but only because I really didn’t have any place else to go. My plan was still the same. I still hoped Veronica got pregnant. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself, over and over and over. Even though all the while my mind kept wandering to what Bridget had told me, and how that might relate to Trevor, and me, if I relented and took him up on his business arrangement. Deep down, I knew I never could, though. Not if things remained how they were. I wanted a relationship with fireworks in the bedroom, yes, but not at the expense of not receiving any more tender kisses on the mouth like Trevor had given me that morning.

I ate dinner in the casual kitchen to avoid another dinner with Veronica. She took her meal in the formal dining room, sending her fish back twice, the first time because she thought it was underdone, and the second time because she “didn’t like the look of it,” according to Jeannie. She ultimately requested a bowl of cereal and a hard-boiled egg, sliced into precisely ten slices.

Jeannie said that the funny thing was that Trevor had come home briefly for a quick late lunch, and Veronica had eaten with him, and during this short period that he’d been home, she’d been “nice as pie” to all staff members. Apparently, she saved her bad behavior for when he was gone.

He didn’t come home that night. I slept lightly, on alert to hear his heavy boots in the room next door, but I never did. I didn’t hear a sound. When dawn finally broke after another night of Trevor and Veronica not working to get her pregnant, the thing I supposedly wanted to happen, I couldn’t understand why I felt so victorious.   
       

CHAPTER SIX

Bridget and I had exchanged phone numbers, and early that afternoon she sent me a text.
Want to meet in an hour? Your backyard. Wear hiking stuff. Boots or sturdy shoes, long pants, etc.

An hour later, I was standing in the mansion’s vast backyard with her, dressed as she’d requested and wondering just what we were going to be doing.

“I hear from Jeannie that Veronica has been sulking around all day, requesting that a pool be dug as soon as possible, but if you think we’re helping with that, you’re crazy.”

Bridget laughed, revealing her pearly white teeth, which sparkled in the bright midday sun. “No. No pool digging. This is actually going to be something you’ll enjoy. Being that you’re an animal lover who used to have pets, I think you’ll love it, actually.”

“Well, what are we doing?”

Bridget smiled. “We’re going to go visit some wild animals. But they’re just wild because they actually live in the wild. Most of them used to be house pets, though, back when there was a settlement called Sunny’s Swamp near here a few years ago, and most of them haven’t forgotten their loving, cuddly, house-pet ways.”

Heartbeat accelerating, I was already looking around, trying to spot any sign of these animals. “Take me to them.”

She led me to the forested area at the back of the yard, and we set out down a trail through woods thick with tall bald cypress trees and the occasional magnolia.

“We’ll have to walk maybe a half-mile before we get to them. I think Trevor has shifted too many times near your house, and they can probably smell his lion scent. That’s why they stay in this particular thick spot of woods, by the way. All the lion activity in and around town and the outskirts terrifies them. Of course, they have no way of knowing that our lions wouldn’t hurt them.”

The day was humid and hot, and soon we were both sweating, breathing in the magnolia-scented air rapidly, but we didn’t slow our pace. As we walked along, Bridget told me how she’d stumbled across all the “wild” animals while out on a hike through the woods parallel to town with another friend one day.

“Based on the ratty collars and tags some of the animals still have on, we figured that all the animals came from Sunny’s Swamp when all the residents were killed by the Renards a few years ago, right before Beaumont City was established. Who knows how they all got here, but I guess when they’re scared, animals can travel many miles to get to somewhere they feel safer. And obviously, many of the animals weren’t sterilized.”

“So, how many do you think there are, and does everyone in town know about them?”

“As to how many there are, no clue, because I’ve never seen them all at once. They do seem to tend to kind of stay in one main area, though, and if I had to take a really wild guess, I’d say a hundred? Two hundred? Maybe more. And I have no idea what they eat to keep them alive, but I guess they’re able to catch
something
, because some of them are at least healthy enough to reproduce. I saw lots of kittens and a few puppies the last time I came back here. Poor things looked half-starved to death, though. But, anyway, as to your second question, some people in town know about the animals, and Aaron and I even adopted one of the tagged cats, a sweet gray cuddler we named Stormy, but no one else in town that I told about the animals seemed very interested in adopting. A lot of people already have pets, and I think everyone thinks these animals are feral after being out here so long, but really, they’re not. Even the descendants of the tagged cats seem pretty docile, like they used to be house pets themselves, even though they weren’t.”

My wheels were already turning, and once we reached the part of the forest where Bridget said the animals seemed to congregate, I already had a loose plan of action. I wanted to take these animals home and help them. I felt absolutely compelled to. I didn’t see any animals, though.

Bridget, who was wearing a large shoulder-strap bag that I had assumed just contained water bottles, now fished around in it, pulled out a large, clear plastic bag filled with dry cat food, and handed it to me. “We’ll just wait for a second. They’ll come. I’ve been feeding them right out of my hand whenever I come back here. Not that there’s ever enough for everyone.” She took another large plastic bag out of her shoulder bag. “This one’s the dog kibble.”

No sooner had she spoken those words, a series of barks pierced the heavy, humid quiet of the forest, and a golden retriever puppy, maybe three or four months old, bounded out of a dense copse of shrubbery just ahead of us. It was love at first sight. For both of us, apparently, because the puppy made a beeline for me, racing full speed. Instinctively, as if he’d been my puppy his whole life, I knelt, arms wide to catch him, and he bounded right in, slobbering all over my face and making happy little yips, as if I was his owner just home from work.

Bridget snorted. “Well, how do you like that? I’ve been feeding this little guy for weeks, and he runs right up to
you
!”

I rubbed the puppy’s back, head, and ears, as he continued to love all over me, wagging his little golden tail. He was beautiful to me, even though he was really a complete mess, scrawny and malnourished, filthy, spots of fur missing, and burrs and brambles tangled in his fur.

I fed him dog kibble from my hand, and he gobbled it up as if he hadn’t eaten all day, which he probably hadn’t. While he was eating, a scrawny mama cat and three tiny butterscotch-colored kittens joined the scene, and Bridget began feeding them alongside me and the puppy.

Once everyone was full, the puppy wanted to play, jumping on me with such exuberance that I lost my balance while in a crouch and fell back on my rear. Laughing, and not caring in the least if I got dirty, I cradled the puppy to my chest and rolled to my back, making him yip with delight, licking my face. Within seconds, I felt something warm on my thigh, and Bridget informed me that one of the kittens thought the top of my leg might be a good place to curl up and take a nap.

“Oh, and here comes one of the others to climb up on your other leg.”

I laughed again, and the puppy nuzzled the spot between my neck and shoulder, making me laugh even harder because it tickled. And it was right then, right at that moment, when what had happened to me the day before happened again. A thousand images at once flooding my brain in the span of a second.

Not laughing anymore, I gazed up at the patches of blue sky visible between the treetops above me while the puppy continued to lick my shoulder and face. “Bridget. This is what I did. This was my job. Back before the nuclear blast.”

“Your job was to let animals crawl all over you?”

“No. I ran an animal shelter. It was my life. It was my passion. How on
earth
could I have had amnesia about this? I actually
lived
in the shelter, in an apartment converted from a conference room. After a year of college, not really figuring out what I wanted to do, I started volunteering at the animal shelter in town, and within two years, I’d become the director. I organized tons of fundraisers, we eventually raised enough funds to make it a no-kill shelter. My proudest, happiest day. The proudest, happiest day of my life.” I felt sudden tears prickling my eyelids, and I sniffed, rubbing the puppy’s burr-covered back. “That’s what I was put on earth to do—save animals, and care for them until they could find their forever homes.”

Standing beside me, Bridget looked down at me with her brown eyes twinkling. “We’re taking some of these animals back with us today, aren’t we?”

“Of course. All of them. I’m going to feed them, and clean them, and find them good homes.”

“Well, let’s get going then. Because I have a feeling more animals will be moseying on out for a meal soon, and we can only carry so many cats back to the mansion.”

With the three kittens in Bridget’s big shoulder bag, the mama cat in my arms, and the puppy trotting alongside me, I ended up heading back first so that Bridget could finish feeding more animals that were now emerging into the little clearing where we’d been.

The kittens and the mama cat proved to be very well behaved, all falling asleep almost immediately. The puppy, however, was an entirely different story. Wanting me to chase him I guessed, he kept nipping at my pant leg and then taking off down the trail, whining when I didn’t follow at a run. Then, seemingly frustrated by my slow pace, he took to gnawing at tree stumps and even large rocks while he waited for me to catch up. Several times, I told him he was a rascal, and by the time we reached the mansion, the kittens and cat still asleep, the puppy still biting at anything and everything, and me sweating buckets, that had become his name.
Rascal
.

Not really knowing yet where else to put them, I took all the animals into the formal living room, since it was the nearest distance from the front door.

Exhausted, I set the mama cat on a tan leather sofa with her just-waking kittens beside her, then sat down next to the whole bunch, eyeing Rascal. “Now, you be good. Just let me rest and enjoy the air conditioning for a second.”

Not a chance. After a few loud, happy yips, he sank his teeth into a small throw pillow that had fallen off the couch and began shaking his head back and forth wildly.

“Rascal! Put that down! No biting things!”

A gasp alerted me to Jeannie’s presence. She stood in the doorway, eyes wide. Sighing, I found I was suddenly too tired to even get up to do my explaining. From a slump on the couch would have to do.

“They’re homeless, Jeannie, and I had to rescue them.”

“Well, couldn’t you have left them outside?”

“No. The rule of thumb is that if humans are hot outside, animals are, too. Besides, they’ll need baths. Oh, and before I forget, could someone please go down to the store and get some cat and dog food, litter boxes and litter, a dog brush, and some flea collars and shampoo? And not to be a complete Veronica with all my requests, but could you please bring me some water when you can? Oh, and some for all these guys, too. Oh, and also, could you please not tell Trevor about this? I’ll tell him myself, but first, I just want to get everyone all cleaned up and figure out where to put everyone.”

Jeannie went to get my water, and Rascal finally dropped the pillow, which now had holes in it, and began happily gnawing on the toe of my tennis shoe.

I looked down at him, exasperated. “Oh, Rascal, what is
wrong
with you?”

Taking a break from his chewing, he looked up at me with his big brown eyes, panting, melting my heart. At that moment, I didn’t even care what was wrong with him. He could gnaw my shoes to shreds, and as if reading my mind, he soon went back to that task.

When Jeannie brought me two tall glasses of ice water, I drained them both in only a minute or two. Rascal finally left my shoes alone to drink from a bowl. Jeannie had just left to make a store run in Gerald’s car when Bridget came into the formal living room, saying Jeannie had let her in.

She was cradling an all-white, though exceptionally dirty, cat, and when she reached the couch, she held it out to me. “Got one more, and this one is a total lover. I’ve been noticing her a lot when I go out there to feed them. She’ll wind around your legs and purr like nobody’s business.”

Right on cue, the cat meowed and then began purring so loudly I could hear her from a few feet away.

Bridget smiled. “See? And I hope you don’t mind, but I kind of already named this one. I was calling her Snowball all the way home, because I think she
could
be white as a snowball once she has a bath.”

I smiled back. “Perfect.”

Just as overheated and sweaty as I was, Bridget soon left to go home and take a cool shower. Snowball curled up next to me and the other cats on the couch. And after leaping up onto a side table and overturning a large crystal bowl of potpourri onto the floor, barking, then immediately hopping back down again, as if overturning the bowl had been his premeditated, sole goal in leaping up on the table, Rascal took a seat by my feet and finally settled down. I closed my eyes, happy and content, though drained. It was then that I heard heavy footsteps in the hallway, heavy footsteps that could only be made by boots, sounding as if the person making them was heading right for the formal living room.

*

Hearing Trevor’s boots getting closer and closer to the formal living room, my first thought was that I’d apologize for bringing the animals inside and beg to keep them. I’d cry and plead, telling him how important helping animals was to me. Clutching his shirt, I’d tell him that it meant the world to me.

But then I remembered his request of the previous day. He’d wanted all of our future interactions to be businesslike. He’d wanted me to be cool as a cucumber around him. And so, I decided I would be. No tearful apologies and telling him what was important to me. I’d try to be as robotic as possible, just how he wanted me to be.

When he entered the formal living room, I looked up, petting Snowball. “Hello.”

Getting up from the floor, Rascal barked his own greeting.

Expression unreadable, Trevor just surveyed the scene for a few moments, gaze going from Rascal, to me, to Snowball, to the three kittens and mama cat, and then back to me. “So, you’re-you’re—”