A Lion's Heart (15 page)

Katze clamped jaws onto the back of Tamarind's throat and his claws grabbed Tamarind's middle. Tamarind was helpless in that strong grip, helpless against the great body positioning itself above him. Tamarind's skin and thick fur repelled bites and the slash of claws, and bent with supple ease to reveal his entrance. Shakra would have died, cut to bloody ribbons, or broken in those arms, but Tamarind felt submissive, hating himself, but needing what his instinct demanded. His tail lifted against his will as Katze’s pelvis thumped and a hard, dripping erection grazed his entrance. Shakra, it was Shakra Tamarind wanted with all his heart, but Katze knew all the triggers and used them ruthlessly.

Katze came all along Tamarind's backside without entering, a low moan reverberating throughout the cave. He sounded it several more times, a triumphant call that let everyone know that the king had mated.

Katze let Tamarind go then, a satisfied smile on his face. He had made his point, proven to Tamarind that he was dominant and King, without going so far as to brutalize him. It was a warning, Tamarind knew, a threat that had him curling up and shaking, eyes wide.

Katze told him, “You will stand before the other clans as proof that I can father healthy sons. In return, I will let you live as I allow Kiva to live, in my shadow and sharing in the spoils and kills that are mine by right. Together we will take the tribes to war and crush the forest cities and make them ours. We will have what is theirs. We will have cool forests and walled homes. We will have the traders come to us and we will finally have the respect of the other weres that has been denied us.”

“If you kill, Shakra,” Tamarind said, his voice trembling, but his fear for the werewolf forcing him to try and protect him, “I won't care if I die. I'll welcome it.”

Katze had bent to clean himself, tongue rasping. He looked at Tamarind with a frown. “I believe you would. I should have known that a runt from the plains was cast out for good reason. Your foster mother took you in out of some misplaced maternal feelings, and I didn't slay you when I took the clan to keep her good will and to lie when I required it. Well, she sees now, I suppose, the error of her ways, a werelion who prefers werewolves to mount him as if he were a female. Can you imagine her disgrace?”

Tamarind ducked his head, his heart hurting, but then he repeated his threat. “I will die if Shakra dies.”

“Perhaps I will allow you your plaything,” Katze conceded, “But he may wish death rather than be the convenience of a werelion prince. His position here will be less that my haunch of wildebeest.” He caught it in his claws and crunched bone with his strong jaws.

Tamarind turned and fled, but Katze’s voice followed him. “Don't attempt to leave. My weres will be watching you.”

Chapter Fifteen

Shakra sniffed the air. The hairs between his shoulders twitched. It was his job to find water. They'd made a sizable kill, an odd animal with twisted horns, and Kyrill was attempting to cook it under cover of the den and darkness, while Lormar tended the four inch slash he'd taken along one hip. The beast had not gone down without a fight. Shang was their guard and Shakra didn't doubt his ability to keep them safe. It was his own skin that he was worried about.

Shakra could hear the calls of killers in the darkness, the deep call of werelions and the snarls and roars of fierce creatures he didn't recognize. Death could come out of the darkness in any direction, especially as he neared the scent of water.

Shakra twitched again and looked around him carefully, ears straining for the slightest sound over the swish of the grass in the breeze. Aside from the twinkle of stars, darkness reigned. Instinct told him that there was something there, though, something watching him and making the air scent with anticipation.

Shakra bolted, but it was a second too late. A very large body landed on top of him and a deep voice chuckled in his ear as he was easily pinned to the earth. “You are a handsome thing,” the voice said and a familiar rumbling purr made the air vibrate as a large tongue licked along Shakra's flattened ear. A werelion, Shakra realized, and felt himself tremble as he saw the two plate sized hands, armed with razor sharp claws, on each side of him. He turned his head and looked into the shadowy, fanged grin of a stranger.

“My little brother lifts his tail for you,” the werelion said as a hand felt crudely underneath Shakra and found the sensitive flesh between his legs. “Ah, so you are like us after all, at least in this respect.” Again the tongue licked his ear and Shakra couldn't help a growl, his hackles rising. “Tamarind isn't so perverted after all.”

Shakra snarled. “If you've hurt him-”

“Hurt my own brother?” Kiva chuckled nastily. “You should shut your mouth, dog, before I take off your head to stop your stupid tongue. He's King Katze’s now. He'll already have lifted his tail for him and joined his Clan again. Katze can be very... persuasive.” He said the last in a nasty, suggestive tone.

“Tamarind is my mate!” Shakra snarled and tried a desperate buck to get free of the werelion. It was a useless move.

The fanged mouth grinned. “Really? I suppose he would have to be. Do you know what would happen if Tamarind mated you?”

Shakra was dominant. It wasn't something that he had really considered, but he was certain that Tamarind wouldn't hurt him, no matter what they did together. He was ready to close his ears to this werelion, knowing that he was only being taunted, but he wasn't prepared for the large jaws closing on his neck and the clawed hands jerking him into a mating position. The werelion was impossibly large and powerful, fangs and claws meant for ripping and tearing flesh. His muscles were meant for bringing down large prey and Shakra remembered Tamarind's easy grace, his impossible leaps, and his ability to bring down even a large prey with ease.

“Should I continue, or are you smart enough to see?” the werelion growled.

Shakra panted. “Why...”

“To show you that you are too different,” Kiva told him. “To show you that you are a puppy in the jaws of a beast that can crush you without realizing it. Werelions mate with claw and tooth and instinct, not the cultured niceties of ritual and civilization. Tamarind will kill you, eventually, when he forgets that a werewolf is fragile and no match for one of our kind. He has a future with Katze, a place in the new empire. He will be a prince among the clans. His concern for you will only get him killed.”

The large body flipped Shakra easily and pinned him while Kiva tied him with rope. He found himself looking up at a young, but almost full sized werelion. Shakra's tail tucked between his legs without his conscious thought and Shakra's ears went back in fear. Mordara had been an impressive creature, but this beast, with its full mane, seemed even larger and more capable of killing.

“I have been ordered to bring you alive,” Kiva told him, jaws inches from Shakra's face, “but I warn you to reject Tamarind when you see him next. Give him nothing to turn him from the path he must walk. What's between you will never work. A werelion and a dog can't mate.”

Shakra snarled, “I am a werewolf!”

“There's a difference?” Kiva chuckled.

Shakra showed his teeth and met Kiva's eyes defiantly. “You will find out that there is.”

“You will not bring Tamarind to his death,” Kiva warned him, “but you will bring about your own if you don't do as you are told.”

There was a roar of anger and another werelion came from the darkness. Tamarind was a whirlwind as he savaged Kiva, short mane bristled and silver eyes wild with desperation. He didn't stay within Kiva's reach but missed a powerful swipe of claws and sprang back with teeth barred and ready to protect Shakra.

“You're being stupid,” Kiva warned him. “I don't know how you escaped Katze and his males, but I'm sure they are hot on your trail. You're going to die for this dog. Come to your senses!”

“I have,” Tamarind told him as he planted himself firmly in front of Shakra. “I've decided to be where I am loved and where I am free.”

“You're the mad!” Kiva hissed. “I know where your friends den. I will bring the others and they will separate you from your dog prince.”

Kiva was gone between one flicker of shadow and the next. Breathing hard, Tamarind crouched and spat, “He was always the coward.”

Tamarind untied Shakra and licked his face, nuzzling him and lying very close. “I am a creature of the Savannah, not the forests, but this can't be my home, not while Katze rules.”

Shakra kissed him deeply and then rose, ignoring cuts and bruises and a leg that had folded awkwardly when Kiva had pounced onto him. “Your home is with me, Tamarind, as mine is with you.” And then the wind shifted and he caught the musky scent of a male’s release on Tamarind.

Shakra wasn't sure what happened, except that he was suddenly on Tamarind, eyes blazing, hands and nose searching, trying to memorize and identify that trespassing odor that marked his mate as he prepared to erase it in the only way that he knew how. The clawed hand slamming into his face brought him back to his senses.

Shakra had been thrown down and Tamarind was following, face in his and seething. “Yes, he marked me, but that was all!” Tamarind snarled. “Shall I remark you because Kiva's scent is on your back?”

Shakra's head was reeling. He touched his cheek, came away with blood and the sting of scratches, and then took a steadying breath as he regained control. His nose was still filled with enemy, but he backed away and hung his head, blood throbbing in his veins with anger. “I'm going to kill him,” he promised, “for touching you.”

Tamarind showed his fangs, half humor, half despair, “We'd die together, because I want to kill him too and I know that neither of us are strong enough. I was lucky that some of the females were eager to try and please a prince, and did as I told them, or I wouldn't have gotten away. Katze is... very strong and he is undeniably their king.”

“We have to get back,” Shakra said as he shook his head to clear it. “We have to leave here.”

“Too late for that,” Mordara's voice purred as her stripes suddenly separated from the shadows. “This was so much easier than I expected.” Her tail lashed as she approached.

“Not so easy,” Shang said. “I came to see why it was taking my Prince so long when water was such a short distance away.”

Mordara laughed. “Will you fight me, lizard?”

Shang's crest rose and rattled. He drew his blades. Without looking at Shakra, he told him, “Go, my Prince. I will hold her here until I defeat her or at least cause her difficulty before I die.”

“No,” Tamarind replied.

“No,” Shakra agreed. “We will fight her together, my werelizard.”

Shang looked annoyed, but then he snorted, amused. “Now you choose to act like a prince.”

Mordara flicked her tail and her ears went back. “There is only one were that I am required to bring back. Leave him to me and you may live.”

Shang sneered and asked tauntingly, “Are you afraid of us Mordara?”

“I think that she is shy of getting her face scratched,” Tamarind growled.

“What do you hope to gain?” Mordara wondered angrily. “You will die before you ever leave the plains.”

“I won't serve someone like Katze,” Tamarind shot back. “I won't help destroy our way of life. I won't help attack and conquer the weres around us. The clans belong on the Savannah.”

“Are we invited to this party?” Lormar asked as he padded out of the darkness with Kyrill at his side. “We wondered what was keeping you.”

Kyrill's ruff was bristled, his long ears erect and forward. “You are outnumbered. I suggest that you leave.”

Mordara's tail lashed again. “It's true that I don't relish getting marked, but are you seriously suggesting that even your number is a match for me?”

Shang began to advance. “We will see.”

Mordara leapt without warning. Shang ducked under claws and brought his weapons up, slashing at her underbelly. She twisted aside just in time, but Tamarind was leaping as well. He latched onto her head with all of his claws and sank jaws into her neck. Her skin was loose, though, and her fur thick. She tossed Tamarind aside as if he was a kitten and he landed hard. Shakra was there to protect him before she could press her advantage, and Lormar attacked her from the side, while Shang regrouped and came at her from behind.

“Die mountain dog!” Mordara shrieked as her razor sharp claws raked Lormar and sent him flying in a splatter of blood.

“Love!” Kyrill shouted in horror and then he was furious. He leapt onto Mordara's back and clamped jaws on her spine. His surprise move was more than enough to throw Mordara off balance and send her to the ground. She began to twist around to reach him, though, and he was seconds from meeting a very messy end.

Shakra was on her instantly, ignoring fangs and claws to save his friend. He felt his skin raked, and felt her hot breath as she opened her mouth to snap him in two, but Shakra found her soft juggler and clamped down on it with his jaws. Holding her, Shang was able to finish her with his knives, stabbing down into her heart between werewolf and werefox.

They all lay still, then, panting, as Mordara died, terrified to let go and too terrified to believe in that death. A tongue licked Shakra's face and a cheek rubbed against his own. “Let go, Shakra,” Tamarind urged. “It's over.”

Shakra's vision cleared and he rolled his eyes to see his mate. Slowly, his jaws aching from the pressure he had exerted, he let Mordara go, her blood hot on his tongue. He spat it out and felt ill. Tamarind tugged at him and made him step away. Kyrill was already leaping off and seeing to Lormar, who was sitting up and hissing at the claw wounds marring his skin.

“We won, but now we have wounded,” Shang said in trepidation. “We need to leave the Savannah before others come.”

Tamarind looked pained, but he was nodding. “They will come quickly.”

“I can travel,” Lormar grumbled as he slowly rose to his feet.

Shakra grimaced as he rose too, feeling the stabbing pain of wounds. He wasn't so certain about his own ability to travel. Wounded and facing a climb over mountain heights yet again, he wondered if he would live to see the other side. He said, making a sudden decision, “We're not going home. Kyrill, will we be welcome in your land?”

“As friends of mine? Of course!” Kyrill exclaimed, dancing in place with nervous excitement and his tail bristling. “It will be so much easier and a much shorter journey.”

“It may be what they least expect as well,” Shang said thoughtfully.

“They wouldn't dare attack my people,” Kyrill said with confidence. “The desert tribes are strong and cunning.”

Tamarind made a face. “My people have a dislike for endless sand and rock.”

Kyrill looked reproving. “It's so much more than that, Tamarind. My tribe lives near a broad river. There is green, fish, deer, goats, and palms aplenty for shade. Perhaps we don't have grasslands, but it has comforts all the same.”

Lormar was frowning. “There is a desert between us and that river,” he pointed out.

Kyrill grinned and nuzzled him. “I know the way through it. Don't be frightened.”

Tamarind sighed, but then looked resigned. “I will go to your home, Kyrill. If everyone else is in agreement, we should leave now.”

Shang looked pleased, but Shakra supposed sun baked rocks and sand would appeal to the werelizard. As he and Tamarind wrapped his wounds with what scraps they had, he said, “I don't require that anyone follow Tamarind and I. You can return home.”

Shang's crest rattled in anger. “You insult me and our friendship by suggesting such a thing.”

“Maybe I'm tired of cold and mountains,” Lormar said. “I think I would like to warm myself in new lands. Besides, I have an interest in sleek, tan werefoxes with big ears.”

Kyrill laughed and his earrings tinkled together. He let Lormar lean on him as he took the lead.

Shang and Tamarind helped Shakra, even though he tried to shrug them off and walk on his own. Tamarind's strength was more than enough for the task, though, and speed was important. He subsided and allowed the help, calming his male pride in favor of survival.