Serengeti Heat Read online

  The fur’s about to fly…

  A Sexy Shifter story.

  Ava Minor is done being the good girl.

  As the smallest and weakest in a pride

  of shape-shifting lions where size and

  strength rule, she’s never had any choice

  but to toe the line. Now, with sexy,

  nomadic alpha Landon King winning

  control of the pride, she grabs her one

  chance to let her inner feline out to play.

  Landon would rather focus on reforming

  the antiquated traditions of his new pride

  than taking a mate…until the rebellious

  Ava crosses his path. All his noble

  intentions go up in flames, incinerated by

  the heat she exudes—especially when he

  realizes she’s in heat.

  Ava, knowing she isn’t mate material, is

  determined to revel in one wild night

  before she’s sent back to her place in the

  pride pecking order.

  Except Landon has no intention of letting

  his daring, seductive lioness go…

  Warning: This book contains sizzling

  heat, adult language, no-holds-barred cat

  fights, and hot shifter lovin’ with an

  alpha male who takes inspired

  leadership all the way to the bedroom.

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given

  away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The

  names, characters, places, and incidents

  are products of the writer’s imagination

  or have been used fictitiously and are

  not to be construed as real. Any

  resemblance to persons, living or dead,

  actual events, locale or organizations is

  entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Serengeti Heat

  Copyright © 2009 by Vivi Andrews

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-613-6

  Edited by Angela James

  Cover by Natalie Winters

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this

  book may be used or reproduced in any

  manner whatsoever without written

  permission, except in the case of brief

  quotations embodied in critical articles

  and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: June 2009

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Serengeti Heat

  Vivi Andrews

  Dedication

  For Kristan Andrews, aunt

  extraordinaire, who keeps me in a

  never-ending supply of books during my

  starving artist phase. Thank you for

  sharing your love of romance with me.

  Chapter One

  Ava Minor was looking for trouble and,

  from the look of the Bar Nothing, trouble

  was exactly what she was going to get.

  She stood alone in the dusty parking lot

  of the rundown honky-tonk, listening to the gravel spray as the taxi driver who’d

  dumped her there took his slimy leer and

  his smelly cab off to greener pastures.

  She’d asked to be taken to the most

  notorious pick-up bar in town. Now she

  stood in the parking lot, paralyzed by an

  attack of be-careful-what-you-wish-for

  jitters. Ava Minor, the cowardly lioness.

  Friday night. Even in this rural

  backwater, the bar would be filled with

  human men on a Friday night.

  Men who wouldn’t see the smallest,

  weakest lioness of her pride when they

  looked at her. They’d see a petite, sexy

  woman whose grace was just a little too

  feline, but they’d never suspect she was

  anything more than human.

  More than human. That’s what she

  wanted to be tonight. For once more than

  human, instead of less than all the other shifters in her pride. Less strong. Less

  fast. Less worthy.

  Now or never.

  Ava tossed her head, flipping her long,

  white-blonde hair over her shoulder.

  Her hair brushed her bare shoulder

  blades, teasing at her sensitized skin.

  Anticipation ran through her like

  electricity, charging every more-than-

  human sense.

  She wasn’t in the habit of making

  dramatic entrances, but when the heavy door slammed shut behind her and every

  alcohol-blurred gaze in the place rolled

  over her in blatant assessment, Ava

  struck a pose, planting a hand on one hip

  and arching her back.

  The heat and smell hit her

  simultaneously. Clearly ventilation was

  not a top priority in the establishment

  she’d selected for her first foray into the

  dark side. The stench of stale beer and

  sweat assaulted her nostrils, but beneath

  it all, almost completely masked by the

  eau-du-honky-tonk, was a subtle,

  tantalizingly masculine aroma that had

  her shivering in her high heels in spite of

  the smothering heat. Her inner lioness

  rolled over and purred.

  Ava smoothed her hands over the denim

  hugging her hips. She resisted the urge to

  cross her arms in front of her bare

  stomach or tug at her shirt. She didn’t

  know if she would have tugged it up or

  down; the crimson tube top stretched

  tight over her breasts didn’t have much

  room for maneuvering in either

  direction.

  Serengeti Heat

  Her audience appeared to appreciate her

  costume. Not a single gaze had veered

  away from her since the door slammed

  shut behind her.

  A drink, she thought, eyeing the sparsely populated stools lined up against the

  chipped imitation mahogany bar. A beer

  or twelve would calm her jumpy nerves.

  Ava strutted toward the bar, swiveling

  her hips in what she hoped was a decent

  parody of Marilyn Monroe. She felt the

  weight of a dozen pairs of eyes tracking

  her as she crossed the room, but being

  the timid good girl was too deeply

  ingrained and she couldn’t bring herself

  to look around to bask in the attention.

  She kept her eyes locked on her

  destination, hoping her nerves came

  across as haughty sex appeal.

  The man at the end of the bar leered at

  her as she approached. A regular Romeo

  with three missing teeth. Ava kept walking, ignoring the kissy noise he

  made in the direction of her ass as she

  passed.

  Three empty stools down, Bachelor

  Number Two gave her a thorough once

  over from her tits to her toes and back

  again before making it all the way up to

  her face and giving her a lazy, you-

  know-you-want-it smile. It wasn’t a bad

  smile. Cocky as all hell, but Ava was

  used to cocky men. She could handle this

  asshole. And he had all hi
s teeth. We

  have a winner, ladies and gentlemen.

  Ava hitched herself up onto the barstool

  next to her lucky bachelor—the man

  didn’t know how lucky he was about to get. She resisted the urge to yank on her

  shirt when her Casanova’s eyes locked

  on her braless breasts to enjoy the show

  as she bounced up onto the stool.

  “Buy a girl a drink?”

  Casanova’s eyes dilated until they were

  all pupil and Ava smiled, her confidence

  getting a healthy boost. She may be a

  good girl, but that didn’t mean she didn’t

  have a voice like a phone sex operator.

  Smoky, husky and low, her voice was

  one of the many reasons her overbearing

  brothers insisted she remain silent as

  often as possible around the other men at

  the ranch.

  But she wasn’t on the ranch now…

  Casanova waved the bartender over,

  never taking his eyes off her. “What’s

  your name, darlin’?”

  He had a smooth Texas drawl and Ava’s

  back arched a little at the sound of it.

  The idea of hauling him outside and

  having her way with him was starting to

  gain momentum in her mind. She could

  do this.

  She could really be the bad girl for a

  change.

  “Ava. Yours?”

  She didn’t care what his name was one

  little bit. Her nerves felt electrified, like she was a car someone was trying to

  hotwire. When the bartender plunked a

  beer in front of her, Ava sprang off the

  stool.

  She leaned against the chipped wood of

  the bar like a life raft as she downed half

  the bottle in one long swallow.

  “Chance.”

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  7

  Vivi Andrews

  Chance? Oh, right. His name. Yippee.

  Ava took another drink. Her hips pushed back of their own according, sticking her

  ass out, almost as if her body expected

  the mate it craved to rip off her jeans

  and shove into her from behind at any

  second.

  Ava slammed the beer back onto the bar.

  The alcohol was not helping.

  She tossed her hair again and, again, the

  slide against her sweat-slick skin had

  her shivering.

  Hopefully, Chance wasn’t looking for a

  long heart-to-heart before she climbed

  on top of him and took what she needed.

  She didn’t think she could wait much

  longer.

  “So…” Chance drawled, clearly intent on starting a conversation she didn’t

  want to have.

  Ava wondered how he would react if

  she put her tongue down his throat. He’d

  probably stop talking pretty damn quick.

  She started to turn toward her lucky

  cowboy, when a distinctive scent hit her

  nostrils, dark and hot, like midnight on

  the savannah. Her body reacted to the

  presence behind her with a rush of

  moisture between her legs even before

  her mind registered he was there. A

  heavy hand landed on the back of her

  neck, not shaking her by the scruff like

  the errant child he probably thought she

  was, but pressing warm and steady and

  firm into her flesh like he could brand her with his palm.

  Landon.

  Ava didn’t need to look to know who

  would be standing behind her, no doubt

  glaring at her and her Cowboy Casanova

  equally. She’d never reacted to another

  man the way she did to Landon King,

  simultaneously melting and tensing.

  She pressed her thighs together to hold

  back the flood of heat, praying he

  wouldn’t smell her arousal, but knowing

  he would. Why did it have to be him?

  Anyone else would have been

  preferable. She would have rather been

  caught shaking her ass at strangers by

  one of her over-protective brothers than the man who loomed behind her, the

  Alpha of her damn pride.

  She’d been so careful to stay clear of

  him. So careful to ensure he would never

  know of her stupid infatuation, the

  mindless lust he inspired in her. Landon

  would never want her, that much was a

  given, so she preserved her dignity by

  making sure he would never know how

  badly she wanted him. Now all of that

  effort was about to go up in smoke. He

  stood less than three feet behind her. He

  was just as much of an animal as she

  was. He would be able to smell it on

  her. He would know.

  Unless she could convince him that the

  thick heat of her desire wasn’t for him.

  Ava’s eyes locked desperately on her

  Cowboy Casanova as he frowned up at

  the big blond god who had come to fetch

  her home.

  “Can I help you with something,

  mister?”

  “Sure you can,” Landon growled. “You

  can get lost.”

  His growl hit her in the base of her

  spine, streaking upward, arching her

  back. She nearly came at just the sound

  of his voice. Yeah, way to be calm, Ava.

  8

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  Serengeti Heat

  The Cowboy Casanova glanced at Ava,

  but she was too busy trying to get a hold

  of her lust to send him covert signals

  with her eyes. She wasn’t even sure

  what signal she would have sent. If he

  ran off and left her alone with Landon,

  well, then she was alone with Landon.

  But if Casanova didn’t vamoose, Landon

  sounded like he would happily remove

  the cowboy’s arms from his body, and

  Ava was afraid he just might do it.

  The Alpha of her pride ripping the arms

  off a cowboy in a local watering hole

  had lynch mob written all over it. She

  needed to get Landon out of here before his temper exploded.

  “I don’t think I can do that, friend,” the

  cowboy said, making “friend” sound a

  lot like “asshole”. He straightened,

  rising off his stool. He was a tall man,

  but Landon still had a few inches on him.

  And probably fifty pounds of solid

  muscle. The cowboy was lean. Landon

  was a tank. In any form.

  “You don’t look like her daddy and she

  ain’t wearing a wedding ring, so until

  this little lady asks me to go, I’m staying

  right where I am.”

  Landon growled. Her Alpha still hadn’t

  moved into her line of sight, but she

  could feel his unnatural body heat radiating against her back. She didn’t

  have to look at him to know he was

  spoiling for a fight. In her experience

  alphas of both genders tended to be

  stupidly aggressive and the Alpha was

  worse than most.

  Of course, as one of the smallest betas in

  the pride, aggression of any sort was

  stupidity itself for Ava.

  It was past time to diffuse the situation.

  “I t
hink you should go, Chance,” she

  said.

  Landon’s hand tightened fractionally on

  the back of her neck before easing and

  stroking downward.

  Was he actually petting her? A tremor rippled down Ava’s spine. She knew it

  was too much to ask that he not suspect

  what had caused it.

  Chance eyed her. And the hand gripping

  the back of her neck. “Now, see,” the

  cowboy drawled, “I’m not sure I can just

  walk away without some sort of

  assurance that the little lady is okay. You

  aren’t scared of this bully, are you,

  Ava?”

  Ava blinked in surprise. Either Chance

  still thought he had a shot of getting laid

  tonight, or he was a better man than she

  had given him credit for after his tits-to-

  toes inspection.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Landon

  would never hurt me.” He was sworn to

  protect her and the rest of his pride, but

  Chance didn’t need to know that. Nor

  did she think it was wise to point out that

  if Landon decided to hurt her, there was

  nothing Chance could do about it. In a

  knock-down-drag-out, Chance wouldn’t

  last five minutes against five-foot-

  nothing Ava, let alone the hulking Alpha.

  “You sure, darlin’?”

  Landon made a noise that had never

  come out of a human throat, snarling

  wordlessly. He dropped his hand from

  her neck and took a threatening step

  toward Chance. His chest brushed against her shoulder and the contact

  jolted her. Ava looked down, fighting

  for control of her body, and saw his

  hand crooked into a

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  9

  Vivi Andrews

  claw, his fingernails extending and

  retracting, sharpening into claws and

  then flattening into healthy human nubs.

  Landon was way too close to losing

  control completely.

  “She’s sure,” he growled.

  Ava turned toward Landon, putting her

  back against the bar, and raised her face

  to him. As always, the sight of him hit

  her low in her stomach, a blow to her

  equilibrium.

  Tall and broad, every inch tanned and

  muscled, he could have stepped right off

  the set of a gladiator movie, thrown on a

  black knit shirt and jeans and wandered

  into the bar. A man so large should

  never seem graceful, but there was a

  sense of the feline in Landon, even in his

  human form. He kept his hair short

  enough that it just fell over his brow, but

  the mix of dark golds and browns still