Hunting the She-Cat (2 page)

“Or, like you would say, an endearment
like, what is the word? Yes, like ‘darling’.”

Her flashing eyes told him not so many
lovers and none like he could be to her. But, still, he had to ask,
“Are you saying you have an Alpha male?”

She lifted her pointed and graceful
little chin. “I have a boyfriend. Bronson Winston.
Bronson.”

He laughed. “Hah! You say the other
male’s name as if a talisman against my own power over
you.”

“No.”

“Have it your way. But I see the truth
of my words in your expression, megisha. Tell me. Is this Bronson
Winston committed to you?”

After a small, thoughtful silence, she
continued, “Soon to be fiancé.”

“Soon to be?”

“Yes.”

“Why not now? This does not sound so
definite to me.” Amusement at her need to protect herself from him
with an absent male improved his mood.

His counterpoint seemed to give her
pause. “Oh. It’s not settled yet, but we … er we … we’ve been
together for two years. It’s time to think of the
future.”

“Two years is a long time. Young? By
now you and he should have young.” His heart pounded with dread of
the answer. The calculations showed she neared her first breeding
cycle. What if they’d miscalculated the timing? What if it had
happened last year and she’d already taken a male and bred with
him.

“Hmm? What. Oh, by ‘young’ you mean
children. No, no, not yet.” She waved one of her delicate hands.
“I’m far too busy right now. Career, you know, my legal firm, has
to get going good before I can afford an extended leave of
absence.”

His heart pumped with relief. “I see.
So you are unclaimed and perhaps even unbedded.”

“No. Hey. This is so none of your
business. Who says unbedded anyway?”

The dread eased. There was hope she was
unclaimed then. If she’d been driven to mate for young, there would
be no thought to those practicalities. A female with children was
hard to budge from their territory much less move off to other
realms as he intended for this one. He stepped a bit
closer.

“I am not so good with your
language.”

“Hah. You’re good enough.”

If he could touch her, examine the
pulse points at her wrist or better her neck, he would know much
about her, her health, her needs. He closed a fist around her wrist
but she jumped and jerked her hand away. A thrill shot through him.
The strength of her was like no other female he’d encountered
before. “You’re strong. Even for a cat shaper.”

“I work out. Have to. Too much sitting
time at the desk. For God’s sake, why am I telling you all this?”
She lowered her voice and muttered, “Those wicked green eyes of
yours are hypnotizing me.” But he heard it and laughed. “I need you
to leave my office! Now!” She waved to the door.

“Are you sure that is what you need
from me, female?” He stepped into her space, breathing in her
floral fragrance in a show of defiance in the face of her loud
commands.

“If we were in the wilds --” He
stopped. If they were in the wilds of his home, he would simply
bully her; seduce her into traveling with him. Not realistic here.
The travelers of his race had been nearly decimated last time they
visited this world, over two hundred years ago. Every male had had
a gun and walked the woods with it. At the time, they’d lost more
than this stubborn small female and her parents. He had no desire
to bring down the modern warriors on himself. That little gray flip
thing was likely a communicator.

She was fingering her necklace, looking
less of herself now. “How do you explain to the human inhabitants
of this world that you are over two hundred years of age? That you
show little signs of age?”

Aha. A nerve had been hit with that.
She dropped her eyes for the first time. She began to pace back and
forth behind her large wooden desk now, trapped by his knowledge of
her.

“If you will excuse me, sir, I have
some pressing work to finish. As I said before.”

She looked edgy, more than ready to be
done with him.

“I expect a client any moment,’ she
continued. “I’m not the woman you seek. Not me. I have no interest
in Eliava.”

Chapter Two

Faced with the very long-legged male
intruder to her world, it was all Misha Red Bird could do to stay
calm, to breathe deeply and remain in control of her
senses.

The big bastard had apparently charmed
his way past the motherly Mildred out at the front desk with no
delay whatsoever.

The male wore some sort of casual
attire that she could not place. The colors were muted tones and
the tailored lines of the suit looked elegant and comfortable. She
felt herself drawn helplessly into his deep green eyes. The color
contrast to his golden blonde hair was amazing.

God, he watched her with cat’s eyes.
He’d just said he meant to ‘take her home’ to Eliava. ‘Back to her
true people’.

This office and the practice of law was
her home, her life. Legal matters made sense to her when the rest
of the world was wacky and hard to explain. She’d had many years to
learn the law’s logic and every nuance.

She was going nowhere with him
alive.

At first, when he’d barged in and spoke
of finding her, she thought he meant her Native American
people.

That her adopted uncle, Joseph Red
Bird, was ill and had sent him to her.

Joe’s great grandfather had found her
wandering the mountains of Tennessee and taken her in; fed the
young child she’d been then.

God help her, after a point in each
generation, she kept her distance to hide that she did not age,
then went back to them to visit to live a time. She was always
drawn back to the wild hills of home.

She shared with no one that she could
change into a cat. Never. Not even Uncle. A very large cat. Larger
than any species she knew of. She was something like a cross
between a lion and tiger with muted, tawny spots.

When she felt the primal reckless mood
take her, she stalked off into the woods and walked among her
friends in the native Lynx population. The wild cat was smaller
than she but soon learned she meant them no harm, treasured and
protected them in fact.

Dammit, she did not owe this man that
sacred truth about herself. She didn’t trust him. He was too large,
too slick and confident. She’d like to bring him to his knees,
knock him around some. Oh, dear God, what was she thinking? She was
not an aggressive individual, not even in her freaky feline
form.

“I see the truth in you eyes, little
one. You cannot hide from me.”

In a blur of preternatural motion, he
was on her.

He grasped her shoulders tight. Shook
her slightly, ever so gentle for a move of abject male
aggression.

Her heart sailed so fast it labored.
She struggled against his hold, her muscles burned. Her hands
clawed at his arms.

No use. She’d seen predators have their
way with smaller, weaker ones in the wild. She knew the
rules.

She should have called for help while
she could. Her only thought now was if she screamed for help, he
would slaughter poor Mildred too. She loved Milly. She was bossy
and grumpy sometimes but she was her friend as well as
employee.

With a snarl now, he went for her neck,
licking, stroking with his tongue. Relief rushed through her like a
tidal wave. He was kissing her, for God’s sake.

Not ripping her throat out.

That was good. Oh, but the damn kiss
was a mind-muddler.

“What are you doing?” she
asked.

He moved behind her, his arms looser
now, holding her waist. Nuzzling the back of her neck in prelude,
he growled and then sank his teeth in her tender skin, nipping,
stinging.

She sank down in helpless reaction, her
knees threatened not to hold her up. His arms came around from
behind, catching her balance and pulling her to him
roughly.

“Ahhh.” She cried out at the feel of
his contours and hardness against her back, along her
butt.

“Lugar. My name is Lugar. Say
it.”

“Arrogant bastard is all I’ll say to
you.”

He snarled and bit her ear before
putting her lobe in his mouth and sucking it hard. “I have not made
love as a human before, sh’iabla. I will enjoy it I’m
sure.”

“In your best dreams, beast.” She
should kick the hell out of him. Now. She would. Any moment.
Maybe.

With his firm lips, he traced a path
down her spine, through the rich Pima cotton of her comfy blouse.
She bit her tongue to stop another cry.

His hands snaked around and flexed on
her breasts, squeezing. Too rough, as if he spoke the truth about
not having hands for this kind of thing before. Her nipples
responded anyway, loving the feel of his rough hands.

He groaned. “Nice, softer than I could
have guessed in a million moon cycles.” He caressed them again in a
sweeping stroke of each hand. “Fires of Magnon.”

She had no idea where Magnon was but
his tone told her he swore.

To her shock, before her eyes, her own
hands changed to tawny paws then flashed back.

Oh, merciful God, she could not let
this happen. “Leave me … alone,” she hissed. In all the life-like,
delusional, sensual dream episodes she’d experiences all her life,
where she’d prowled the woods of night as a cat and found a mate
who matched her in every way, nothing like this had happened to
her.

Never in the stark light of day had her
shape changed as it had just now.

“Your body does not agree with your
command. The feminine power in you does not mean for me to leave
you.” He swept a hand between her legs from behind and up the front
of her soft rayon slacks. The quickly withdrawn brush of it was too
sensual to bear.

“Mmmmm. Go away. I. Said. Go.” He was
not the only one who could snarl. She fisted her hands and held
fast to her human form, fighting the change with all her
heart.

“I do not believe this male of yours is
satisfying your needs or I would not have this strong affect so
fast, hmmm? Deny it.”

She stepped on his instep. He didn’t
even wince but he did bite her ear again.

“Oww,” she complained, but her arousal
spiraled higher.

He relented, soothing the ache with his
tongue.

He placed a hand to her shoulder and
gently bent her over the desk edge. With awkward movements he
sought the closings of her pants and pulled them down, taking her
panties too. Air brushed her nakedness, making her feel
vulnerable.

His mouth and tongue trailed fire
downward over her naked ass. Then with a stroke of his tongue, he
licked at her exposed crotch. Then again.

She struggled, but he held her firmly.
Definitely should kick the hell out of him now.

“Misha. Sweet. You are so
sweet.”

God help her, now he began to whisper
urgent words in some strangely familiar language against her
sensitive private areas. She did not recognize the meaning, but the
words, the feel of it, went to her heart and caused it to
pang.

“That’s it little female, accept me. I
will see to your needs. Always.”

“No. No! Stop this at once.” This was
her office, her refuge. She could be fired for this. Work was all
that was steady in her life; she could not allow it threatened.
“Please. Stop.”

The intercom buzzed at that
moment.

“Answer it,” he ordered. His hands
settled her, calmed her as if by some magic. “We will continue
later. No problem.”

Hah! Easy for him to say. Her body
throbbed with need. How would she face her work now?

“Your appointment is here.”

“I need a moment to finish this,
Mildred ….” Oh, hell, bad choice of words.

“Dammit,” she whispered.

Meanwhile Lugar took his sweet time
returning her slacks to their former place and straightening them
with his wicked hands. He did not hide that he explored her curves,
drawing out the ache rather than soothing it away. On purpose.
“Devious male.”

“Do not fret, female. We will finish
this later. I will find you.”

Not if I run like the wind, she
thought. “Go.”

He laughed and sauntered with too much
damn languid grace to the door and out.

* * * *

As Lugar walked away, he nodded to the
flustered Milly at the outer reception area.

As he rode the elevator to the ground,
he thought over their encounter. It surprised him how well the
female had adapted to her alien surroundings. She was a Rules
Enforcer here -- not unlike her father’s lineage at home. Tryth’s
kin were known as excellent pride leaders. Good at telling others
what to do anyway. Over the years of Eliavan history most had been
good and wise, but some, like Tryth, had had vicious blood-thirsty
streaks as well.