Freakn' Cougar (5 page)

Sigh.

When she began her shift at the prison, she fought not to rush to his cell to check on him. She wouldn’t be that girl.
I am a grown woman. I will act like one!
Stating that to herself and feeling it, though, were two different things. She couldn’t stop the tiny thrill of anticipation as she wandered the hall that would take her past his cell. Couldn’t stop the heat pooling between her thighs, the way her heart beat faster, how she stumbled to a halt when she reached the cell and met a dark-eyed gaze. The fixed stare of a predator. The flare of awareness. A tingle multiplied by two when Stu came to stand beside the man she’d previously only known via reports. A man that her cougar screamed with almost maniacal glee was also her mate.

No way.

Not two.

Two shifters.

Two mates.

Not bloody possible.

Not freakn’ happening.

Pissed, she dragged her baton more harshly than she meant across the bars, rapping their knuckles. Stu grimaced and removed his hands. The other shifter just stood there. Ricky, a nickname for a boy, not the tougher than nails man standing before her. His lip curled and his eyes shone with challenge, daring her to hit him again.

“What you looking at?” she snarled, not even attempting to mask her displeasure at her cat’s insistence that the two men in the cell belonged to them.

Ricky emitted a rumbling sound that sent shivers dancing over her skin. “Look at what the gods gifted me with today. A hot cougar. Me-fucking-ow. Wanna scratch me with your claws,
bebé
?”

A sneer twisted her mouth. “You wish.” She lied. Despite having just met him, she did want to scratch and bite and … do utterly naughty things with him. With his tanned skin, a smooth expanse of temptation on display, given he wore his jumpsuit only to his waist, and exposing his muscled, tattooed chest, she could only too easily imagine raking nails across his back while he thrust into her with hard, savage strokes. It didn’t take a genius to see this was one guy who wouldn’t softly seduce, but take. Fuck her hard. And …

He gripped the bars and pressed his face to them. “Is that a dare?”

She could see his feline lurking beneath his ardent gaze. Watching her. Hungering. It roused her own beast, which she didn’t appreciate. “We’re not here to play games.”

“Who says I’m playing? And just so you know, if I were, I’d win. I always win.”

If Ricky thought he’d throw her off balance with his innuendos and his alpha version of flirting he was in for a surprise. “Don’t screw with my patience. You might not like the result.”

“What you going to do? Beat me with your stick? I’d like to see you try.” Ricky’s cocky smile needed wiping.

“I’ve got better ideas for your ass,” she purred.

“Do tell.”

“First, I tell the warden that another inmate saw you swallow something suspicious, then haul your tanned ass to the infirmary for an old fashioned charcoal cleansing followed by a water enema.”

Well that wiped the smirk from his face, but only for a moment. “I could stand to lose a few pounds. This lack of exercise has made me put on weight.”

Men! Did they ever take anything seriously? Almost growling in annoyance, she tore her gaze away, only to meet the soft brown one belonging to the other bane of her existence. “You got something to say, puppy?”

“The food sucks. Any chance of getting some
pie
?” Stu arched a brow.

On the surface, it sounded so innocent until one noted the heat in his eyes and the bulge below his waist. He might act more subtle and shy, but Stu was just as tempting in his own way. The jerk.

“Cry me a river,” she snapped before rattling her baton across their bars and wandering away, lest anyone get suspicious about the amount of time she spent there.

But no distance could halt the stunning discovery that it wasn’t just Stu setting off her mate spidey sense, but now the reformed thug known as Ricky.

Is this it? Have I hit my midlife crisis? Have I lost my marbles? Or is this some cougar version of menopause a few years earlier than expected?

Whatever it was, she wouldn’t give in. Women her age did not consort with boys. And they most definitely did not mate with them.

Now if someone would only make sure her determined cougar and aroused pussy got the memo.

“Holy fuck,” Ricky muttered as he watched the heart-shaped ass of his mate as she strutted away. No doubt. No mistake. The blonde cougar was his. He’d seen enough of his friends and family succumb to the mysterious mating force to know what all the symptoms in his body meant.

The lady with attitude would belong to him. Fucking awesome.

“Stop staring,” growled the dog who shared the cell with him.

“Don’t you talk to me like that,” Ricky snarled, whipping around. “I’ll stare if I like, considering it’s only a matter of time before that ass is mine.”

“Like hell. She’s my mate, and you are not laying one stinking freakn’ paw on her.”

“Your mate?” Ricky laughed. “You must be mistaken, puppy. The cougar is mine.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.” Stu shook his head. “Can’t be. Not again.”

“What do you mean not again? Not the first time your pathetic nose led you astray?” Ricky sneered.

“No. My nose knows what it smells, and Patricia is mine. But my family seems to be under a bit of a curse in that my sister and a few of my brothers have multiple mates.”

“Say what?”

“Ever heard the term threesome?”

“Of course. Who hasn’t? Two girls, one guy, lots of fun.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not always two girls. My family of late seems to have an issue of the mating bond extending to two guys one girl.”

Ricky practically recoiled. “Like hell. I ain’t sharing my woman with another guy.”

“Welcome to the club. So you won’t mind stepping aside.”

Ricky shook his head. “No way, puppy. That cougar is mine. You’ll just have to go wagging your tail in some other bitch’s face. This one is taken.”

“I saw her first.”

“But never claimed her. Something I’ll be taking care of as soon as possible.”

“Like hell you will.”

“And who will stop me?”

Stu, usually easygoing, stood up to his full six foot plus height and took on a hulking appearance. Hot damn, the wolf had balls after all. But Ricky had claws and years of street experience.

“Don’t push me,” he warned quietly. “You won’t like what happens.”

“Ditto.”

“How’s about I get you a stuffed kitty instead when we get out? Something you can cuddle with at night. Or use as a chew toy.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ooh big words from a little dog.”

“Little?” Stu laughed. “That’s not what they say in the shower room.”

Things might have escalated at that point if the bell signalling lunch hadn’t gone off.

“We’ll be talking about this later,” Ricky promised.

“Nothing to discuss. Patricia is my mate whether you like it or not.”

We’ll see about that.

Ricky had often wondered if his years thumbing his nose at the law and behaving in general like a Class A asshat might have forced fate to look the other way when it came to a mate. The cougar was proof, in his mind at least, that fate had forgiven him. He’d finally earned the right to enjoy a bit of happiness. Hell, he could even think of having a family, something he’d thought would be denied him until now.

Did he plan to share that future with some smelly dog? Over his dead fucking body. The pup was probably mistaken. Letting his dick do the thinking.

And if he wasn’t? What if they were both supposed to mate the cougar? Not totally unheard of in shifter circles given their numbers, but rare enough to give pause. Could he handle it? Handle seeing another man touch and kiss the woman he claimed as his own?

The growl of his cat went unheard in the stomp and shuffle of feet as they marched to the cafeteria. But, he couldn’t quite bottle the covetous rage.

If the jealousy proved too much and he killed the pup, at least he already knew he could handle life in prison.
I wonder if Patricia would be open to conjugal visits?

During the course of her shift, Patricia wandered by her charges’ cell a few times, and each time, she got the same electric thrill. Heck, she found herself holding her breath in anticipation, releasing it only when she glimpsed them, each time looking yummier than the last.

She welcomed the respite in midafternoon that saw her patrolling the prison yard as a group of inmates were given their daily dose of exercise and fresh air. The change of scenery, though, didn’t help, not when she realized her two guys—
my
mates—were in the group currently wandering the cement courtyard.

She did her best not to stare. It wouldn’t do to draw unneeded attention to them. Yet, she couldn’t help it, especially when Stu drew the scrutiny of a big, tattooed thug who stood over her young wolf, blocking the rays of sunlight Stu was trying to soak up.

With her enhanced hearing, she had no problem hearing the conversation.

“You’re in my spot,” growled the bald inmate.

Stu cracked open an eye and drawled, “Find another.”

Patricia bit her tongue lest she mutter aloud, “Idiot.” Even she knew better than to antagonize a brute flanked by a pair of bullyboys.

“Someone has a death wish,” the big one said with a smirk.

“Yeah, you do since you’re obviously bothering me, even though my handsome hunk of a boyfriend is standing right behind you.” Stu adopted a fake, simpering smile that almost made Patricia laugh. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that Ricky did stand there, a glowering expression darkening his features.

“Do you need another lesson, Bruno?” Ricky asked in a quiet, yet, she’d wager, deadly tone.

Bruno stiffened before turning around. “Someone needs to learn how to keep their bitch in line.”

“Is that so?” Ricky smiled, a cold grin that never reached his dark eyes. “Funny, because, from where I’m standing, it looks more like someone needs to be reminded not to touch what’s mine.”

“Kick his ass …
baby.
” Stu batted his lashes, and Patricia had to cover her mouth and pretend to cough, especially when Stu caught her eye and winked.

The little devil. He knew she watched, and he did it on purpose. Did he truly not grasp he’d just lit the fuse to a powder keg?

Events exploded.

The bald inmate swung at Ricky as his buddies rushed in from the sides to hold him. But they’d not counted on Stu. While Ricky blocked the shot and began pummelling the aggressor, her wolf, with an agility she would have doubted given his joking demeanor, took out the backup with a trip of one that sent him sprawling and a well-placed uppercut to the other that sent him reeling.

Hopping around like a bunny on speed, Stu then proceeded to kick their asses while making ribald jests as Ricky took down the almost seven-foot behemoth. As for the rest of the inmates? They cheered. Entertainment, especially of the violent sort, was always welcome.

It was practically a choreographed fight club comedy the way the two men handled the prison bullies with ease.

The guards did nothing to stop the fight. On the contrary, she saw money exchange hands as they wagered on the outcome.

Typical.

All too soon, the fight was over. Baldie and his friends lay bleeding and bruised on the ground while a grinning Stu jogged in a circle, hands up, humming “We Are the Champions”. Ricky shook his head, wiped a bead of blood from his lip and, without warning, shot out a fist. It connected with Stu’s jaw and sent the wolf to the ground.

TKO.

Now Patricia acted.

“Break it up!” she hollered, brandishing her baton, not that anyone dared touch her or even come close, not with the guns trained on them from the ramparts. While inmates could smack each other around, guards were off limits.

“Hey,
bebé
. Come to reward the winner?” Ricky angled his hips and made come-hither gestures with his fingers. He leered as well while his smoldering eyes raked her body, the heat in them intense enough to evoke an answer.

Treacherous body, it responded with her nipples tightening into aching buds. “I’ve got a reward for you all right,” she growled. “Pick up your cellmate. You’re coming with me.”

“Oooh. Alone time. I like it,” Ricky purred as he knelt on one knee and tugged the unconscious Stu onto his broad shoulder.

“We’re going to the infirmary, dumbass,” she snapped. “Then the warden’s office. You can explain to him why he shouldn’t place you both in solitary.”

“If solitary means alone time with you, then I’ll go happily,” Ricky said loud enough for the watching crowd to hear. And hear they did, tittering and shouting ribald suggestions.

The man played his part of inmate all too well. Patricia stalked behind them as she prodded them on a circuitous route to the infirmary, not because they needed it but to get a few moments alone with them to talk.

“What the hell was that about?” she hissed, trying to keep her eyes off Ricky’s tight ass.

Stu, who it seemed played possum, lifted his head and gave her a lopsided grin. “Just playing our part of star-crossed lovers. What do you think? Did they buy it?”

She snorted. “What happened to keeping your head down and playing it cool?”

This time Ricky made a rude noise. “This puppy wouldn’t know subtle if it hit him upside the head with a two-by-four.”

“Hey. I resent that. Although, you have to admit, being subtle so far hasn’t been getting us anywhere.”

“Exactly how did my kicking Bruno’s ass advance our cause?” Ricky asked.

“Just doing as I was told.”

“By picking a fight?” Patricia couldn’t stem her incredulous tone.

“I was told during my debriefing to find a way to visit the warden’s office.”

“So they told you to antagonize a guy who could eat you for breakfast?”

“Not exactly. But you have to admit it worked. I’m going to see the big guy.”

True. But, still, he’d neglected one key point. “So you found a way to visit the warden’s office, smartass. How are you going to search it since the warden is likely to be there?”