A Lion's Heart (6 page)

“Are you well?” Shakra wondered.

One eye opened again. The werelion made a delicate yawn and then rolled onto his back, furry legs splayed and hands stretched above his head. His ribs stuck out as he elongated his body and then relaxed. Shakra found himself searching quickly between Tamarind's legs for proof that the long haired were was as other male weres. He could smell male musk, but something instinctive made him very curious about that place.

“If you stick your nose there, I will take it off,” Tamarind growled and rolled onto his stomach, claws raking the floor.

Shakra blushed. “I was curious....” was all that he could find to say.

Tamarind looked him over. He frowned and Shakra could see that he had questions as well. “Are you... like a dog?” Tamarind asked hesitantly.

Shakra's ruff rose and he snarled, “No!”

Tamarind wasn't put off by his sharp reply. “You look like one...”

“Are you like a lion, because you look like one?” Shakra demanded in revenge.

Tamarind flushed. “No.”

They stared at each other below the waist. Very slowly, Shakra rolled onto his side and raised his leg. After a moment's hesitation, Tamarind echoed his move. They both looked, and then they both lowered their legs at the same time and were suddenly moving to opposite ends of the room, embarrassed.

“Satisfied that I am NOT a dog?” Shakra demanded in a choked voice.

A pause and then Tamarind replied, “Yes. Do you see that I'm not a lion?”

Shakra thought of the very masculine parts that he had seen beneath the thick fur and nodded shakily, his face burning.

A servant knocked on the door. Shakra scrambled to answer and to get them out of that difficult situation. What had possessed them, he wasn't sure, but decided to curse his instincts and the need it gave him to assess every male around him. It wasn't anything more than that, he told himself, but couldn't stop the heat from traveling from his face down to a very uncomfortable part of his anatomy.

The servant entered with a tray of food. There was one plate heaped with raw meat that looked sickeningly fresh. Tamarind was up at once and taking it from the frightened servant's tray. Tamarind retreated to a corner with it and began eating with more neatness than Shakra believed possible with his very large, clawed hands. Shakra took his own meal and dismissed the servant, who was happy to flee.

Shakra had cooked pheasant, cooked eggs, and a mug of clean well water. He sat on a low divan and ate slowly, watching his companion from under his unruly bangs. Before he was a fourth of the way finished with his breakfast, Tamarind was done with his, burping and curling up by the fire.

“Are you sleeping again?” Shakra wondered incredulously.

Tamarind muttered something incoherent and then did fall asleep. It seemed, in that respect at least, he wasn't any different from a house cat. Eat and sleep. That wasn't fair, he corrected himself, the werelion was exhausted. Shakra was a creature used to constant activity, though, and sleeping the day away wasn't in his nature. In fact, he needed to meet Shang for practice. That left Shakra with a dilemma. Tamarind needed a guard, for his own protection and for his people's protection against Tamarind.

Shakra went to the door and ordered a servant. “Bring me Lormar, the mountain werewolf.”

Chapter Six

“Prince?”

The mountain werewolf always made Shakra nervous. He was quiet, tall, and his black bands were distracting. It was also hard to forget that mountain weres were mercenaries and killed for a living. It was hard to believe that Lormar had turned his back on that lineage and had fallen head over paws for the hyper, sparkling desert werefox, Kyrill.

“Come in,” Shakra said, finding his tongue, and motioned Lormar inside. When the mountain were saw the sleeping lion, his hand went to the short sword at his belt. Ears forward and nose twitching, he said nervously, “I smell blood... chickens.”

“Dinner,” Shakra explained. “Tamarind isn't used to cooked food.”

Lormar didn't take his eyes from the werelion as he warned, “Your Highness, you do realize how dangerous a werelion is... how quick... This one is small, but their speed and claws are deadly.”

“He's a friend,” Shakra assured him, not certain whether that was true or not. “While he sleeps, I need someone to guard him.”

“Your highness, I have skill, but even I am not a match for this kind of creature,” Lormar protested.

Shakra looked over at the sleeping werelion. Tamarind had rolled onto his back and his bulging stomach and splayed paws were almost comical. Shakra couldn't imagine that lazy, sated, were suddenly killing them all. “I want you to keep anyone from entering my rooms,” Shakra told Lormar, “and to inform me if Tamarind leaves them. Don't harm him... unless it's necessary, of course.”

“And who else will be on guard detail with me?” Lormar wondered sharply.

Shakra lowered his ears, realizing that he was asking Lormar far more than he had thought. “No one, “Shakra replied. “I don't think I can trust anyone except you right now. The guards are loyal to Warden Kol.”

“I assume Warden Kol wishes this creature caged or destroyed?” Lormar replied as his green eyes glared at him.

“Yes,” Shakra admitted.

“And you don't see the wisdom of that?” Lormar wondered acidly.

Shakra stiffened and found his temper. “I am your prince and this is an order.”

Lormar dared a lifted lip and a very faint growl. “I will not die for your order.”

“I don't expect you to,” Shakra retorted.

“As long as we understand one another,” Lormar grunted and moved to leave the apartment. “I will stand outside the door. That will lessen my danger.”

“Acceptable,” Shakra agreed.

“Lormar!” Kyrill came in like sunlight, his bracelets and anklets of gold chiming together and his earrings tinkling. He pressed unashamedly against the tall mountain were, smiling happily as Lormar bent briefly to touch noses. Kyrill gave Lormar's nose a brief lick. Kyrill's tail twitched straight up and bristled and the gold band at the base seemed even more outrageous.

“Kyrill,” Shakra warned and pointed to the werelion. Shakra had a strong feeling that Tamarind was well aware of their presence, but that he was ignoring them. He couldn't imagine that a creature with the senses of a cat, could still be sleeping through their noise.

“He's sleeping?” Kyrill asked. His tail drooped contritely, but his sparkling eyes didn't lose an ounce of excitement. He stepped a little away from Lormar, though he kept a small hand on his chest as he peered at Tamarind. That intimate touch made Shakra blush. Shakra had only a sketchy knowledge of sex, and none of it dealing with two males, but he had enough imagination to have a sudden mental picture of the much larger Lormar... and the bright, excited Kyrill... mating...

Shakra turned suddenly for the door, pushing past Lormar. “Now you have someone to keep you company,” he managed to say. “I'll be at practice with Li’Won Shang.”

The heat that was coursing through Shakra's body was almost unbearable. He began to walk away, embarrassed and confused, but his sharp ears could hear Kyrill asking, “What's wrong with Shakra?”

Lormar's reply was amused, “Where is your nose? Your little prince is not a cub any longer.”

Kyrill sounded confused,” What?” and then exclaimed as realization hit, “Oh! With you? I don't share,” he growled fiercely. “Not even with my friend.”

“Not with me, I think,” was Lormar's knowing reply before Shakra was out of hearing range.

Shakra blushed, which made the heat in his body that much worse. Lormar's words were making his mind reel. Shakra was finally feeling adulthood, he realized, but... not with females... and not with... wolves. With...

Shakra made his hands into fists and drove his claws into flesh. He was attracted to Tamarind, to a werelion? As soon as he thought it, he knew that it was true. What else explained his reaction to Tamarind; his unreasoning fascination? Shakra thought of Tamarind sleeping beside him, his warmth, his soft fur, his gentle rumble, and his pleasing scent. The heat within Shakra grew and it centered in those places luckily covered in thick fur.

Shakra found a quiet, shadowed corner behind a roof support and crouched tightly around his discomfort. What was the cure for this? Lormar and Kyrill were barely tolerated, but at least they could claim to be cousins of the same species. If the people found out that a werewolf and a werelion were... lovers? Two males? Two males from two clans who were on the verge of war? Outrage at the perversion would hardly cover their reaction. Shakra wasn't sure how he felt about it himself.

A combination of the fear for his situation, and the cold floor, took away the heat at last and Shakra was left feeling hollow and strange. He needed to talk to someone, someone he could trust with his secret, someone who might scoff and insult, but listen, too, and give him some sort of advice. Shakra sprang up from his hiding place and went in search of Li’Won Shang.

Li’Won Shang was stretched out in a sunlit bay window, eyes closed. A myriad of window panes made the spot very warm. Shakra stopped a respectful distance and waited, knowing that the werelizard was well aware of his presence. The werelizard's crest spines went up, twitched, and then Shang opened his dark eyes.

“You've finally decided to leave your new toy?” Shang's voice was curt. He wasn't expecting an answer as he slowly rose.

“Tamarind isn't a toy,” Shakra replied, keeping his voice calm and not showing his anger. “He's...”

Shakra sat down and sighed, ears drooping. Shang stared, never having seen that dejected look on his prince before. “I need to talk to you,” Shakra told him darkly.

“You do,” Shang agreed as he stretched out again and closed his eyes. “So, my Prince... speak.”

Shakra watched the light sparkle over Shang's dark scales, wondering how a creature near his own age could seem so much older... and wiser. He had always wanted Shang's respect and had worked hard to become his equal. Lessons with the werelizard had been his only real pleasure in his strict and lonely life. To jeopardize that now by admitting perversion, weakness, and a tremendous failing of his teachings...but who else could advise him? Who else could he trust?

Shang's tongue flicked out and tasted the air. His face grimaced and he sighed deep in his chest. “So, it's come to that? Am I supposed to teach you how to court a female now?”

Shakra ducked his head, ears going lopsided as he struggled to explain. “Not... females...”

“No?” Shang said. “That Tikena has come of age too. I smelled her when she went by with her pack of fawning attendants. Shameless.” The last he hissed disapprovingly. “It’s someone else?”

“Not females,” Shakra repeated. “I know about females...I...”

Shang sighed again. “I am attempting to avoid what I know you are about to reveal. If you are wise, you will agree with me, allow me to advise you to ask a werewolf instead of a werelizard, and begin your exercises.”

“I... can't do that,” Shakra admitted. “I'm sorry... It's Tamarind.”

“The lion,” Shang clarified as he stood up again and paced the room.

“Werelion,” Shakra corrected in a small voice.

“As far as Warden Kol is concerned, he's a spotted skunk that needs killing, and the truth is of little importance!” Shang fumed. He stopped in front of Shakra and glared. “Of all creatures... If your urges are for males, there are many forest werewolves that would be eager to lift their tails for you and keep it behind their teeth.”

Shakra went white and then red. “It's Tamarind... just Tamarind,” he said in a choked voice.

“A werelion... Can you even mate with it?” Shang demanded incredulously.

That was too blunt. Shakra wasn't about to retort that he had seen that he could, or that Tamarind had purposefully shown him that. “It's more than that,” he said instead. “I feel... something for him. I don't know how it happened, but it's there.”

“Your warden will not stand for this,” Shang warned. “You have signed the werelion's death warrant for certain.”

“We haven't done anything!” Shakra couldn't help exclaiming, and then more quietly, “I doubt Tamarind even feels the same way. He just wants his freedom.”

“Best you keep that in mind,” Shang warned. His dark eyes were hard. “You know the darkness in a person's soul. You see it every day here. Don't let your wayward heart make you drop your guard with that one. He may use it to his advantage.”

“I'm not a child!” Shakra retorted fiercely.

“I can smell that you aren't,” Shang replied. “You can't let anyone know about this. You can't pursue it unless you plan to leave this place and your title behind.” He leaned close for emphasis. “And if you do choose that road, make sure you leave quickly and under cover of night, because Warden Kol will not lose his power through you so easily.”

Shakra knew that he was right, but he also knew that one thing was true. “I will not give up my title to Warden Kol, no matter how I feel.”

Shang straightened and he looked down his full height at Shakra. “Make sure that you have the stomach for the consequences of that decision then.” He stepped back, hands held wide. “Now, shall we leave hearts behind and practice your fighting skills? I think that you are going to need them very shortly.”

Shang trained Shakra hard and he was exhausted and aching by the time he was allowed to go. Loping quickly back to his rooms, he found the door closed and Lormar nowhere to be found. In a state of near panic and red fury, Shakra opened the door and hurried inside, only to run right into Lormar's back. Lormar grunted and half turned, but his attention was on a laughing Kyrill, who was being bowled over by a leaping Tamarind. Shakra felt his blood chill as he watched Tamarind use his large hands to grab Kyrill in close and then almost envelope him as his back legs cushioned their impact with graceful ease. The werelion's head dipped and fangs gleamed as he latched them onto Kyrill's throat. Kyrill, still laughing, went limp, supple, sand colored werefox looking defeated and fragile in Tamarind's strong grip.

Shakra felt a rush of heat all through his body as he watched Tamarind's tightly knit muscles ripple and the primal ease of his
kill
. The werelion's tail balanced him, swinging up and wide, and his knees were springs in cinnamon colored fur with razor sharp claws digging through thick carpet. One snap of jaws, Shakra knew, and Tamarind would taste Kyrill's blood.

“Deadly, isn't he?” Lormar murmured appreciatively. “We're made for the long chase and for group kills. This creature... he is death, all by himself, every part of him meant for one thing.”

Shakra blushed hotly as some voice inside of him replied, “Not every part.”

Lormar didn't miss his agitated state. The mountain were's nose wrinkled. “My Prince, you are reeking.”

And that was the problem. Shakra couldn't help the scent of sexual interest. How long would it be before Tal, Tikena’s warden, or other enemies, noticed that it was strongest with Tamarind?

Tamarind released Kyrill and settled back on his haunches, looking pleased. Kyrill sat up as well, rubbing at his throat. He was grinning and his blue eyes were sparkling, large ears pricked excitedly. “That was incredible! Thank you, Tamarind, for showing me how a werelion hunts. I was often told about it, but I've never been graced with the sight myself.” He almost went nose to nose with Tamarind, his banded tail waving. “You really must come home with me to the desert. My people aren't so close minded to strangers, or provincial. You would be an honored guest.”

Tamarind looked nervous and overwhelmed and then he backed a few steps away and settled again. “I don't have any manners or civilization, I'm told. I would be lost there, I think, just as I am here. I want to go back to the Savannah. It's all I know.”

Tamarind spotted Shakra and his playfulness disappeared completely. He approached eagerly and Shakra noticed that his full belly was gone and that he was sleek and slim again. “Prince,” he said seriously. Shakra felt the burn of jealousy. Kyrill had been shown a side Tamarind that Shakra hadn't. It seemed that he wasn't going to be granted it now. Tamarind went to the door and looked back at Shakra. “I wish to go now, into the forest. I've fed and I've rested.” He added, unsure and with a hint of wariness, “You did promise that I could go.”

“It's dangerous,” Shakra replied, unable to keep his disappointment out of his voice.

“Very dangerous,” Lormar agreed, “especially for a young cub who barely knows how to hunt.”

Shakra and Kyrill looked at Lormar in confusion, but Tamarind hunched in on himself and lowered his ears.