Southern Shifters: Werelock (Kindle Worlds Novella) (7 page)

Fury hit him hard and fast as Brogan leaned down and slapped her hard across the face to wake her. She murmured, trying to put her hands up to defend herself, but the Lion alpha simply knocked her hands away and carried on slapping her.

 

*

 

“Rise and shine, darlin’. You got a hog roast to attend. And let’s be honest… there’s plenty enough
hog
on you to roast!”

The sharp pain of being slapped and Lance’s voice brought Renae out of sleep. Out of instinct and experience, she curled up. Hands up to protect her stomach and her head, she scuttled backwards to get out of Lance’s reach.

She blinked groggily and tried to clear her head. They were out in the square. Hell, she must have fallen deeply asleep for them to have gotten her here without her being aware of it.

Her gaze swept around her. The sun was just about to set and the whole pride was assembled for what looked like a garden party. Best bib and tucker, long summer dresses for the women. No kids though. That was odd.

Then she spotted the fire pit and the absence of the children made horrible sense. Kindling and firewood were stacked beneath two racks, the sort used to roast pigs. Her eyes widened, bile rising in her throat as she realized what he had planned.

“You’re a sick fucking son of a bitch, Lance.”

His picture-perfect features twisted into a snarl of rage. “Keep a civil tongue in your head when you talk to me, witch’s whore!”

He lifted his fist, stepping in toward her and she ducked, covering her head again. Her lioness snarled, demanding to be free. To punch claws free of her fingers and dig them bone deep into Lance’s crotch, at her eye level…use her cat’s fangs to give him a final blowjob he’d never fucking forget.

Before his fist could descend though, a warning growl filled the air. Deeper and more dangerous than anything Renae had heard in her life, it lifted all the hairs along the back of her neck.

Lance frowned, his head snapping up. “Who is that?”

The growl intensified to a snarl. Lance spun around, his face almost purple with rage as he spat. “Who the fuck is that?”

The two lions holding Hale limp between them stumbled back as the werelock stood, shoulders hunched. Slowly he lifted his head and she gasped. His eyes were molten amber, glittering with  as he looked at Lance. The sheet around him fell away, leaving him naked for a second before the air shimmered around him and clothes formed on his body.

“Your worst fucking nightmare. That’s who.” The werelock’s voice was deep and low, more like a shifter, and as she watched, a golden aura shone around him. It glimmered over his skin, settling into the form of a lion’s head and mane over his human head and shoulders. He reached out, his hands flexing as the magic flowed over them, giving him the claws of a lion. Magical in nature but no less sharp, the edges glittered lethally in the mellow light from the sunset.

Pride filled her, her lips curving up into a soft smile.

He was her man, and he was magnificent.

Lance’s face was a picture of horror and surprise as he stumbled backward. “Wh…what? How? Get away from me!”

Spinning around wildly, he made a grab for her. The snarl burst free before she could stop it and she swiped at him with the claws that burst from the ends of her fingers. He wouldn’t use her again, not ever.

He was too fast, backhanding her across the face, before hauling her up in front of him by the throat.

“Get back!” he ordered, hand hard around her neck.

“What the fuck are you lot waiting for?” he snapped at his bully-boys, who were looking at the werelock with shock and fear. No-one seemed interested in getting within reach of those magical claws. She didn’t blame them. With the snarls tumbling from his curled lips and the danger that radiated from him, she wouldn’t either. “Get him! Kill him!”

They snarled and moved en-masse, looking to use numbers to bring down their prey. Snarls filled the air, the fading sunlight glinting off claws as they sliced through the air. She moaned, fear for her man filling her.

“That’s right, bitch. You’re gonna watch him die, then you’re going to die alone in the fire,” Lance gloated. “I’m going to watch your fat ass sizzle and burn and laugh while it does.”

Shift. Take him down.

A voice, male and full of power, whispered in the back of her mind and coldness leeched through her. It started at her core, where her lioness resided, and spread out through her limbs, racing through her bones until it surfaced to whisper over her skin. It wasn’t the cold of despair, robbing her of energy and will, but something else.

It was cold, hard fury and it galvanized her.

“Over my
dead
body,” she hissed and she twisted in his arms.

Her lioness burst out of her within a heartbeat. One second Lance had an armful of cowed ex-wife, the next he held a snarling, spitting, very pissed-off lioness. Pure animal rage filled her as she wrapped her forepaws around his shoulders, heavy claws digging into his back to hold him in place.

Look into his eyes.

The voice—Hale’s voice—whispered and she did as ordered, bringing herself nose to nose with Lance. He squeaked and went pale, his eyes wide as she locked her gaze with his. Power whispered between them and she understood. Somehow Hale was using the link between them to lock Lance in his human form. That wasn’t the only thing she realized, feeling power in her back limbs for the first time in her life.

You’re whole. The link between us, the power you gave me to bring me back from death, healed you too. Now get ‘em, sweetheart. He’s your kill.

“Nononono, please baby,” Lance moaned. “It’s me. I would never really hurt you, you know that right?”

She chuffed in feline amusement and launched herself off the floor.

Her back paws hit him in the stomach and she rode him to the ground. Claws sliced deeply into his stomach and he howled in agony. She didn’t stop, scrabbling at his abdomen with her back feet. Blood flowed as his skin gave and her claws sank into softer tissue. He thrashed. She shredded. His face contorted in agony, blood splattering over his features.

He arched and then slumped, eyes fluttering closed as life ebbed from his body. With a soft snarl she rolled away and stood, padding around his body. In a final insult, she kicked grass over it and turned to Hale.

He stood in a circle of dead bodies, his arms covered in blood almost to his shoulders. As she watched, gold shimmered and the blood was gone with his claws. He looked at her and his voice sounded in her head.

Come here, beautiful. I need to touch you.

Wuffling and shaking her head, she stalked toward him, butting the hand he held out for her. A deep purr rattled from her throat as she wrapped herself around his legs, twining her tail around his wrist.

“Anyone else?” He looked around the rest of the pride, the cowed werelions pale with shock. “No? Didn’t think so. Sort your shit out, you bunch of losers, and pick a better fucking alpha next time.”

“But…” She blinked as one man started forward. Doug Fletcher, an old friend of her fathers. “You killed the alpha. Which makes you—”

I don’t want to stay here,
she sent through their mental link.
In fact, I never want to be here again.

“Not. Happening.” Hale all but growled the words. “I’ve got enough shit to deal with so, sorry kiddies, you have to grow up and deal with this on your own. Right now, my
mate
and I are leaving. So unless you want to end like your alpha, I suggest you get the fuck out of my way.”

He turned and walked away, down the drive and off Brogan pride land. Renae paused for a moment, her feline gaze haughty as she looked down her nose at her former pride. With a flick of her tail she expressed her disgust and turned to pad after her man.

Her man. Her mate. Her world.

And from now on, she was taking life on her own terms…

Epilogue

 

“So… when did you realize you could call your lion?”

Renae traced gentle circles over Hale’s bare chest as they lay in bed. The morning sun poked gentle fingers through the gap in the curtains. They were back in Deal’s Gap, in her rental which Hale had somehow managed to restore with only a few burn marks. She didn’t know how he’d done it, and didn’t care, just that it had taken a shit-ton of power. She purred. Her mate was scarily powerful. She liked it… and licked it (but that was another story).

He rumbled, a reply to her purr, and settled one arm more comfortably behind his head. “When yours pulled me back from the brink of death. She came to find us and my lion wouldn’t let us go into the light.”

She looked up to find him watching her. His eyes had changed since they’d nearly died at Lance’s hand. The thought of her ex, now dead, husband stirred nothing within her. No emotion, not even hatred. He was gone and she didn’t have to think about him at all.

Hale’s hand swept her cheek tenderly, his eyes warm. “You know what?”

Her breathing caught a little as his hand moved down, sweeping across her throat. They lingered on the small mating scar he’d given her. “What?”

“Your cat is a bossy bitch.”

The laugh burst out of her before she could stop it and she hit him in the shoulder. “Asshole!”

Her blow started a wrestling match, the bed becoming a flurry of limbs and pillows. Less than a minute later she found herself pinned with him on top of her, settled within the cradle of her hips with his thick cock sliding between the folds of her pussy.

Pausing, he caught her gaze and smiled. Just one simple curve of his lips and it filled her heart with love.

“I love you, Renae Roark, and don’t you ever forget that.”

She smiled, loving to hear the words she already knew the truth of in her heart.

“I love you too, Hale Roark. And if you try to forget it, I’ll send my cat after you again.”

“Deal.”

His lips brushed hers, and with one slow thrust forward, he made them one again.

 

The end

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