Taming the Lion Read online

  “Do you know when he might be well enough to go find this backpack?”

  “It’s hard to tell. His body isn’t injured, just malnourished and all of his natural shifter chemistry completed fucked by whatever cocktail they were giving him. I wish I could tell you more, but this isn’t a normal case, even by shifter standards.” Dr. Brandt shook his head. “For now, all I can tell you is that he needs to stay put.”

  “Great,” Xander muttered at his side. The other members of the sec team had been staying mostly quiet while they were in the sickroom, but now they muttered along with Xander. “By then any trail will be totally fucked.”

  “Which will make it harder for the humans to track any trail he left too,” Roman reminded them. “Grace, stay and listen to the madman’s ravings, will you? See if he says anything we can use. Xander, you’re with me. There might be someone else who can help us find his trail. And maybe even this backpack.”

  Someone else with a sleek, compact body and a way of flicking her tongue inside his mouth that made him hard just thinking about it.

  He shouldn’t have left her half-naked in his office.

  He wasn’t entirely sure what he should have done in that situation, but leaving her that way burned like acid in his chest. He hadn’t been able to speak to her, knew that if he even heard the sound of her voice he’d be crossing the room, jerking her to him and kissing her until the rest of the world didn’t matter anymore, until the pride didn’t matter. So he’d walked out without a word.

  Not his most romantic moment.

  Not that Patch expected romance from him. That was Lila. Patch was… Patch was something else entirely.

  Xander opened the door to the infirmary and stepped out into the night that had fallen while they were trying to talk to the hawk. Roman followed—and his cock jumped eagerly against his zipper, his body reacting before his brain caught up enough to identify the scent teasing the breeze.

  Patch was right there. Ten feet away, talking to Kye and Dominec. Standing too close to them. They must be drowning in her scent at that range.

  It looked casual. Innocent. But the two men kept rubbing against her—subtly, he’d doubt they even knew what they were doing. And he’d bet if he got closer, their faces would be flushed and their pupils the size of dinner plates. Pheromone high. Fuck.

  Something primal and ugly rose up in Roman, and he had to dig his claws into his thighs inside his pockets to stop himself from crossing that ten feet and hauling her away from them. He’d never been the jealous type—but this wasn’t jealousy. This was insanity.

  He forced himself to keep pace calmly at Xander’s side as they approached the trio. “Patch. I was hoping I’d see you.”

  Her eyes widened and her lips parted. “You were?”

  “You said you scented the hawk shifter up in the mountains? That you could take us back there?”

  She blinked. “Right. Yeah. Of course. I can definitely do that.”

  “Let’s go,” Dominec clapped Patch on the shoulder.

  Roman barely bit back a growl. He’d never liked the Siberian tiger, but Patch believed in the surly loner so Roman would try not to rip his hand off just because he’d put it where it didn’t belong. “It could be a trap. We’ll go at first light.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Dominec looked around the circle, as if expecting the others to join him in his disbelief. “The trail is only getting colder and if it is a trap, we have a bigger advantage in the dark. We can see better than humans.”

  “Unless they have night-vision goggles and are prepared for shifters. Which they would be. Tomorrow. First light.”

  Dominec growled and spun away. Then paused and looked back. “Patch?”

  “See you tomorrow, Dom.”

  He stalked off without another word.

  “Better things to do tonight, eh, boss?” Xander said, with a cheerfully lecherous grin. “Lila must be getting impatient.”

  Kye frowned. “Lila—”

  “Kye—” Patch began, a panicked edge to her voice.

  “Is none of your business,” Roman said, ending the conversation.

  Xander snapped his mouth shut on whatever asinine bullshit he was about to say. “Sorry. Sir.”

  Roman nodded tersely, accepting the apology. “See you tomorrow.”

  So much for any headway he’d made toward being one of the guys. He wasn’t someone who socialized easily. Led, yes. Made friends with? Not so much. He’d had to make a concerted effort toward being accessible and friendly—and he’d just blown that straight to hell. Not that he minded much. He didn’t like Xander thinking he had carte blanche to make comments about Lila.

  Xander inclined his head once and walked away, Kye also fading into the night until he was alone with Patch.

  “Roman…”

  “Not here.” He caught her wrist. “Come on.”

  He tugged her after him, away from the main compound, into the area where the oldest bungalows on the pride lands were scattered. His was the smallest, with the least desirable location and amenities, but it had been his since the day he arrived at Lone Pine, back when he was used to having to fight to keep everything he claimed as his own and he wanted something that no one would try to take from him. No one ever had, that wasn’t how things were done at Lone Pine, and he was strong enough now he could have his pick of places even if it was, but he’d never moved. The office was where he was the Alpha’s heir. This was where he was home.

  Greg may have told him to run off to Vegas to sow his wild oats, but this was where he wanted to have this memory. And he needed to have this memory. No more good intentions. Tonight good intentions could go to hell.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Patch didn’t even look around when he turned on the light, wrenching her wrist out of Roman’s grip and turning on him as soon as the door closed behind them. “You can’t just drag me around the pride. Someone will notice.”

  “And if they notice, they’ll think I’m in a hurry to get you to Lila. They have no reason to be suspicious of us.”

  Of course he would say that. She was androgynous Patch. No one would suspect he wanted her. That he was dragging her back to his place to rip her clothes off and pin her hard against a wall—

  She slammed the brakes on that thought. Not going there. Especially when they were already far too close to discovery. “Are you so sure? Kye knows Lila wasn’t on the pride lands this afternoon. If he talks to Xander—”

  “They won’t talk. They barely tolerate each other.” He came toward her, crowding into her space until she was forced to retreat from his heat.

  He was stalking her. And damned if the feline side of her wasn’t getting off on it, making her want to arch and preen and flick her tail in his face. Only ruthless control kept the frown on her face.

  “Is that the only reason you came with me?” he asked as he advanced. “To tell me Kye and Xander could find us out?”

  “I’m sorry for kissing you. Again. I know you’re marrying Lila—”

  “You’re right.” His growl cut her off. “I am marrying Lila. But I’m not going to apologize for kissing you again.”

  He said the words without an ounce of remorse and Patch’s heart began to race. This was the Roman who had always fired her engines—the self-assured future Alpha who knew exactly what he wanted and didn’t hesitate to go after it. That he seemed to want her was both intoxicating and appalling.

  “I’ll be loyal to Lila,” he vowed darkly, still advancing. “I’ll be the perfect husband and I won’t even look at another woman. I will do my duty with a smile of my face and always do what’s best rather than what I want. In three months, I’ll do all of that.” His gleaming silver eyes consumed her. “But not tonight.”

  Oh have mercy. Wood paneling smacked against her shoulder blades, halting her retreat in the corner, but he didn’t stop coming. And God help her, she didn’t want him to stop. Especially if he kept talking in that low, determined way.

  “Lila
doesn’t love me and I don’t love her. This isn’t a betrayal. It’s a last fling.”

  “Who are you trying to convince?”

  “I don’t need to convince you. We both know it’s true.” He braced his arms on either side of her head on the wall. His scent curled around her and Patch thought she just might incinerate from the heat pouring from his body…and burning her from the inside out, starting with the aching passage between her thighs and radiating out.

  “Lila told me to have at you,” she admitted at a whisper.

  “See? And the Alpha almost commanded me to sow my wild oats.”

  “The Alpha?” she choked.

  “Not with you specifically, but the gist was the same. I need to get this out of my system and you know what they say…” He leaned down until his warm breath brushed against her cheekbones and teased the shell of her ear. “The only way to get rid of temptation is to give in to it.”

  Oh Holy Hades. “Is that what they say?” she asked breathlessly.

  He drew back, just enough for his silver eyes to lock onto hers. She couldn’t have looked away if her life depended on it. “If you don’t want this, tell me no. Tell me now.”

  I want this. Oh God help her, she wanted this so damn badly it was a miracle she was still standing and not a puddle of desperate lust at his feet. “Just a fling…” she whispered.

  “Just this once.” A rushed promise.

  “Once?” That would never be enough.

  “Just the length of your heat,” he amended, bending in to scent the column of her throat, so close she could feel the graze of his five o’clock shadow. “A week. A last hurrah. I’ll be good, I’ll be so damn good.”

  I’ll just bet you will…

  “But first there’s just one thing I need for myself.”

  “What’s that?” Anything. She would give him anything.

  “You.”

  He breathed the word against her lips, then he was kissing her, enticing and possessive and even though he only claimed her mouth she felt him everywhere. Tingling pulses shot from her lips down her arms and legs and tightened into a needy knot at her core. She arched up into him, her arms folding so naturally around his neck as his hands slid down the wall on either side of her to grip her hips.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” he whispered against her skin as his lips left hers and skated over her jaw and down her neck.

  “Shut up, Roman,” she gasped as he sucked at the base of her throat.

  A low, rumbling growl was his only response. She felt his teeth and jumped. Perfect. The moment was so damn perfect her chest ached at the decadent seduction of it. It felt so. Fucking. Good.

  This was a terrible idea.

  As if sensing her sudden misgivings, Roman went still above her, breathing hard, his fingers still sinking into the flesh of her ass as his thumbs pressed against her hip bones.

  “Roman?”

  “I’m not—” He coughed, clearing his throat when the words were barely human, and gave his head a sharp shake. “I can’t be gentle right now, kitten.”

  Understanding dawned. He’d stopped because he was afraid of hurting her. Of being too rough. But she wasn’t a delicate flower. She never had been. And now, with her heat driving spikes of burning need into her spine and shuddering through her nervous system, she didn’t want gentle and easy. She wanted everything he could give her.

  Patch unlaced her hands from the back of his neck and ran them down to the unyielding muscle of his pecs. He was so like his cat form—every inch hard-packed strength. Taking her move as an attempt to push him away, Roman began to lever his body away from her, so she snicked out her claws and dug them into his flesh until he froze. She knew her eyes had been swallowed by her pupils as she looked up at him, showing him a little flash of fang.

  “Fuck gentle.”

  Roman jerked and she had a feeling if she’d been looking down, she would have seen his cock jump—but she didn’t take her eyes off his. Those fierce glittering eyes, burning in a face chiseled by shock.

  “Fuck sweet and soft and respectful and considerate. I want you to own me. I want hard and fast and raw. I want—”

  The rest of her demands were lost as his mouth slammed down on hers and all thoughts of gentle evaporated. His hands fisted in the fabric of her shirt and ripped it cleanly from hem to collar. Patch would have gasped, but he didn’t give her room to breathe, let alone react before his hands were on her ass, lifting her, dragging her legs around his waist and pinning her between the hard wall and his harder body as he ate into her mouth, claiming every corner of it.

  She tried yanking at his shirt, then decided his method was much more effective, and sliced it away from his body with well-placed slashes of her claws. He growled his approval against her lips. He slipped one hand between them and pressed it flat over the subtle curve of her breast, rolling her nipple against his palm.

  “Why don’t you ever wear a bra?” he demanded. “Are you trying to torture me?”

  “Too sensitive.” During her heat, she couldn’t bear the extra stimulation of the lace pressed against her nipples.

  “Oh?” He rubbed his thumb across the stiff peak of her breast and she whimpered. “So I see.”

  He bent and she admired the pull of muscles across his shoulders as he bowed his spine—and flicked a cat-rough tongue across her nipple. Patch cried out. Her hands flew out to brace against the wall, claws digging in, scrabbling for purchase as Roman set his mouth to her breast and sucked.

  Her skin was on fire—and she couldn’t decide if his mouth was the water to quench it or kerosene fanning the flames. Both. He was torture and relief. Pain and pleasure. Need and satisfaction.

  His free hand reached between her legs and rubbed the denim seam against her clit and she came with a jerk and a hoarse cry. A quick, rough tumble into shuddering bliss.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  That first little ripple of release only seemed to make the tide of need worse. His hand retreated and his attention returned to her breasts, purring against them, which was nice and all—okay, better than nice, with the vibrations shooting from her taut nipples out to her extremities and echoing back to her pussy—but Patch was ready for the main event.

  He’d hitched her up too high. The rigid length of his erection was beneath her, too low to give her the friction against her clit she needed. She squirmed in his arms, trying to work lower, trying to get that pressure, that sweet grind, but he held her easily—all that strength foiling her attempts to slide down to the good stuff.

  Patch reached between their bodies until she found the button straining to keep his cock in check. With one careful claw, she doubled the size of the button hole, popped it free, and began easing his zipper down. Roman released her breast with a soft moan and reached down to help her free him. She left the denim to him, slipping her small hand inside to curve her fingers around the heavy shaft. She teased the bulbous head of his cock with her thumb and Roman staggered, nearly taking them both to the ground.

  “Fuck, kitten. Take it easy.”

  “Easy’s overrated,” she said, giving him a slow, dragging squeeze. “The hard parts are the most fun.”

  “The hard part isn’t going to last very long if you don’t knock it off.”

  “I guess we better make it fast.”

  He growled.

  Her jeans didn’t rip as easily as her shirt had, but somehow Roman shredded them in five seconds flat—all without leaving a single scratch on her skin. You had to admire that in a cat. She unwound her legs from his waist, intent on kicking off the remains of her jeans, but as soon as her feet touched the ground, Roman spun her so her back was to his front. He yanked the fragments of her jeans to the floor and she heard the sounds of him shucking his own clothes, but when she started to twist her head to look, a low warning growl turned her back around.

  Would he take her from behind? Have her brace her hands against the wall and bend over as he thrust into her to the hilt? Patch
clenched her thighs together against a rush of wet heat and arched her back, thrusting out her hips in instinctive invitation.

  “Roman?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “You can think?” She could barely breathe.

  “Oh I can think.” His hands appeared on the wall above her head and she could feel his warmth along the line of her spine, but he didn’t touch her. “I can think about you on all fours…or up against this wall…riding me…beneath me…your feet over my shoulders or tied to the bedposts so you’re completely at my mercy—”

  Patch squirmed. The wet heat in her pussy was slicking her inner thighs now.

  “I can’t seem to decide how I want you first.”

  She turned, ignoring his warning growl this time. “How about lady’s choice?”

  He smiled, all predator. “And what does the lady want?”

  The lady didn’t have a clue, but the cat knew exactly what she wanted. “Catch me if you can,” she purred.

  She ducked beneath his raised arms and bolted across the room.

  Her legs were shorter and Patch, for all her athleticism, had never been particularly fast. She knew he’d catch her before she made it three steps—which was the only reason she ran. Her flight surprised him—but it still only lasted four running steps.

  Then he was on her, strong arms sweeping her feet from the ground, flinging her onto the bed and following her down before she could so much as bounce. She twisted, shoving against him, angling for the dominant position because it felt so damn good when he took it back and made her submit to him. He caged her beneath him, parted her thighs, drawing her knees wide and growled as he drove into her to the hilt.

  Patch released a purring gasp no human had ever uttered and arched beneath him, fighting the sudden, powerful urge to shift. She wanted this sensation to last and if he followed her into the shift it would be over too fast.

  “That’s it,” Roman praised, as he withdrew and stroked back into her clenching pussy. “Just like that, kitten.”