Lions and Tigers and Bears (10 page)

Liddy turned her attention on the thick length of Kevin’s cock jutting toward her. Rigid veins stood out against the pink flesh and her tongue throbbed with the desire to lick over his sex.

The laughter around them faded to the myriad sounds of slapping flesh and grunts of satisfaction. Each one of those sounds reached deep down inside her. Her pussy pulsed with the need to have him buried deeply inside her, but the knowing in Kevin’s eyes as she lifted her attention back to his face ruled out her own need.

“Do it, Liddy,” he encouraged in a rough voice. “Suck me. Show everyone here how gifted you are with that delectable mouth.”

“I want that.” The admittance brought power cruising through her veins, making her blood stir to fever pitch. “I want to fuck you in front of everyone.”

With a siren’s smile, she closed the short distance that separated them, brushing her lips against his mouth once, then dragging her heavy breasts down his chest as she went to her knees. Cupping her breasts, she captured his cock between them, and milked the solid length with the twin mounds.

Kevin’s hands fisted in her hair. His growl of approval filled the room, ringing above the sounds of the others.

“Do you like that, Kevin?” Liddy teased, knowing full well that he did. The proof was evident in the cum that leaked from the tip of his penis, and the way his cock twitched between her breasts, jerking in the direction of her lips.

Before he could respond outside of thoughts, she released one of her breasts and fisted his cock in her hand. Tipping her head back to watch his face, she lapped at the tip, savoring the taste of her husband’s cum.

Husband
.

Liddy grinned with the thought. Happiness consumed her as she took his sex fully into her mouth and hummed her elation against his shaft.

“Oh hell, yes Liddy!” Kevin’s grip on her hair tightened and his hips jerked toward her face. His face was a tight mask of quiet control.

She reached for his ass, cupping a taut buttock in each hand
. You have the greatest ass
, she thought, unable to share the thought aloud with her mouth full.

That didn’t stop him from hearing it. Using his hold on her hair, he pulled her mouth from his penis and brought her to her feet and into the circle of his arms. His tongue filled her mouth, coasting over her teeth, tasting his arousal on her palate.
As do you, and that’s where I want to be right now.

Liddy trembled with the nip of fangs against her tongue and the power of his thoughts. They held the command he showed only on occasion, but that she loved to the fullest. He kissed her several more seconds, his large hands sliding down her body to palm her ass, and then he lifted her in his arms and moved to the end of the platform where a small round table sat in wait.

She had never been taken on a table before. As Kevin settled her against it, her palms flat on the hardwood and her ass thrust in his face, she remembered she had never been taken in her human form in front of dozens of prying eyes, either.

All of the shifters were engaging in sex now, fucking their life partners and those they were partnered with for the night. Many of them kept their eyes trained on the center of the room, on her and Kevin as they moved. Liddy locked eyes with a woman in the crowd. She was half transformed, soft yellow hair dusting her body save for her breasts and mound, both of which were bare, her breasts jiggling, her pussy leaking cream down the inside of her thighs. Her partner was in the same state of semi-transformation as he took her from behind, fucking her ass with long, solid strokes, much the same way Kevin was about to do to Liddy.

Kevin’s cock slid along her crack, the damp head nudging her anus, and Liddy trembled with anticipation. The look in the woman’s eyes was a mixture of rapture and love, and it was that same look Liddy knew filled her own eyes as one of Kevin’s hands came around to palm her breast and the other moved to her pussy.

He teased the bare mound with slow strokes, then pushed a finger into her crevice. His mouth came to her neck, brushing damp kisses on her sweaty flesh. “So wet,” he murmured nipping at her ear while he twisted a nipple between thumb and forefinger. “You like being watched this way, don’t you?”

She tipped her head back against his mouth, whimpering as his fangs rubbed over sensitive skin. “Yes. It’s arousing, but only because you’re here with me. I love you, Kevin. Only you. Forever.”

His thoughts conveyed that he felt the same for her, but she wouldn’t have needed them. The possessive way he sank his fangs deeply into her neck and plunged his cock into her ass was more than proof enough.

Her gaze was still locked on the woman in the crowd and that woman smiled now, sharing a moment of blissful understanding with Liddy. Then the feel of Kevin’s large shaft, her body milking him and the heady tang of her blood on the air took over, and the room before her became a haze of thrusting bodies and satisfied roars.

The finger at her pussy moved to her clit, stroking the swollen nub. The push of his cock grew faster, harder into her ass until tension coiled hot and heavy in Liddy’s belly. Sweat glided between the valley of her breasts and her heart beat out of control.

Release crashed over her hard, making her grip the edge of the table for support as her limbs shook, threatening to give out. Wary of the roomful of shifters, she cried out her fulfillment, wanting for one and all to hear her love for Kevin and appreciation for the way his skilled hands played her body so beautifully.

Kevin’s climax came fast on the heels of her own, his cock pulsating within her before exploding with a burst of silky warm fluid. He pulled his fangs from her neck and, as he had done months before while fucking her among the pride, he growled her name as he came. Only this time when he said it, it was the knowledge it was truly Liddy in his arms.

His mate. His queen. His wife.

About the Author

Jodi Lynn Copeland discovered her love for writing at an early age and soon after that came an even greater love for the hot, steamy romance—some riddled with humor and fun, others shock full of enough dark and emotional baggage to sink a ship. Jodi is married to her real life hero and has more than a dozen children, though only one of them is human and two-legged.

Jodi is an all-around tomboy at heart, which you can often see shades of in her writing. When she isn't writing or spending time at the day job she likes to pretend she really doesn't have, Jodi can be found in the great outdoors, scrapbooking, watching the discovery channel, CSI or 24, or on any given Sunday sacked out on the couch with her husband and stepson, taking in the latest NASCAR race.

Jodi Lynn Copeland welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1337 Commerce Drive, #13, Stow, Ohio 44224.

Also by Jodi Lynn Copeland

Gold, Frankincense and Myrhh

Naughty Mistress Nita

Sons of Solaris: Aries

Sons of Solaris: Taurus

Uncharted Waters

Wild Hearts: One Wild Weekend

Wild Hearts: Wild By Night

Tiger Eye

Kit Tunstall

Author’s Note

There are no tigers in Africa, except in zoos. They are indigenous to Asia, but the story wouldn’t have worked as well in an Asian setting. Please forgive the artistic license I used to place tigers in Africa.

Prologue

Mekimba, Africa

Thirty years ago

Grant knew his mother wouldn’t approve of him investigating, but he pushed on anyway, ignoring the blades of stinging grass that slapped against his bare legs. Absently, he lifted a leg to scratch a mosquito bite irritated by the dying vegetation, his eyes never wavering from the two frolicking tiger cubs in the grass ahead of him. The contrast of black stripes against their pure white fur enthralled him, making his fingers itch to touch them.

He briefly wondered where their mother was, taking time to scan the area surrounding them. When he didn’t see her, he moved forward until he was within a few feet of the babies. The larger of the two cubs pounced on its sibling, issuing a growl that was probably meant to be ferocious. A giggle escaped Grant as they rolled together, yowling at each other in playful outrage.

He stepped closer, pushing aside vegetation reaching his waist, to get to the cubs. Fingers extended, he clicked his tongue at them. The cubs broke apart, watching him warily. He dropped to his knees, inching forward. The smaller cub backed away, hissing at him, but the larger cub stood its ground, growling. When he scooted closer still, the cub’s bravery fled, and its eyes widened while it backed way.

They were about to flee. In his eagerness to pet them, Grant abandoned caution and lunged forward, catching the hind leg of the larger cub as it turned to flee. A piteous cry escaped it as he dragged it toward him, escalating in pitch as he wrestled with the cub, trying to pull it into his arms. Although only a baby, it put up a good fight, raking his arms with its razor-like claws.

Muttering words he knew his parents wouldn’t approve of, Grant finally succeeded in pinning the cub to the ground. He stroked it with a gentle hand, trying to reassure it. He just wanted to pet it, but the wild racing of its heart made him realize he was frightening the cub. With a sigh of regret, he released the cub and watched it bound away.

As he started to rise to his feet, a sound behind him made him freeze. It was now his heart racing wildly as the roar of the tiger repeated. Mouth dry, Grant turned his head to see the angry mother emerging from the dry grass of the veld. His knees trembled when she rushed him, and although he was only six, he suddenly confronted his own mortality as the white tiger leapt at him.

Angie Hayden called her son’s name again, ignoring her scratchy throat, worn raw. She walked a few steps farther, paused to scan the veld in the twilight, and screamed, “Grant, answer me.” He didn’t reply, just as he hadn’t for the last hour she and the rest of the village had been searching for him. She prayed Roman would have better luck with his group, which had gone in the opposite direction. Thank goodness the men of the village, and several of the women, had immediately volunteered to help them search for Grant when Angie grew worried he hadn’t returned.

To her left, she saw Dobi pushing through the high grass. His body language conveyed a sense of urgency, and she broke into a run to cover the three hundred yards separating them. Her feet crunched through the grass with moderate resistance, and she didn’t allow the higher vegetation to slow her down, pushing it aside impatiently.

Even before reaching Dobi, who knelt on the ground, she knew she would find her son injured. Deep down, she had known that from the moment he didn’t come back when expected, hours earlier. At first, she had dismissed it as overreacting, but when the village children began returning, and he wasn’t in any of those groups, she had listened to the voice in her head telling her to be proactive.

It wasn’t a surprise to know something had happened to him, but Angie was unprepared for the shock of seeing him torn and mangled. So much blood had splattered the ground that she didn’t think he could be alive. She was kneeling and reaching for him at the same time, even as Dobi lifted the boy. Her heart stuttered, igniting a spark of hope, when Grant moaned.

“He’s alive?” she asked in English. At his puzzled look, she repeated the question in Kimbu. In her state of panic, she had slipped into her native tongue, forgetting the language she had spoken almost exclusively for the past two years.

“Yes.” His dark eyes reflected his sadness. “Barely.”

On autopilot, Angie rose to her feet, extending her arms for her son. Dobi looked like he wanted to protest, but her firm stance must have convinced him she could bear the weight of the boy. In the back of her mind, she knew it would be better to let Dobi carry him. With his muscular build, he could ferry Grant to the village at a run, while she would have to walk. She ignored the voice of reason and took her son, needing to hold him, fearing it wouldn’t matter how quickly he reached the village. With no doctor in attendance, and him so injured, what difference did it make? It was better to hold her son while she still could.

As quickly as she could, flanked by Dobi and the other villagers in their search party, all maintaining silence, Angie returned to the village. Tears coursed down her cheeks, but she pressed on, knowing she couldn’t fall apart just yet.

To her relief, Roman and his group were returning as they entered the small clearing with its round huts, thatched with grass from the veld. Her husband’s posture of frustration changed to horror when she drew nearer and his eyes fell on their son. He rushed toward her, and she was finally able to relinquish Grant, knowing Roman deserved to hold him too in these last precious minutes.

“My God.” He cradled the boy against his broad chest, his face pale even in the fading light. “What happened to him, Angie?”

Dobi was the one to answer. “I think a tiger mauled him.”

Roman’s face contorted with grief. “He is so still.” His blue eyes were haunted when he met Angie’s. “There’s a Red Cross unit two days away, in the Natunde Valley, dispensing vaccinations to the surrounding villages. They have nurses and probably a doctor or two.”

She shook her head. “Grant can’t ride in the Jeep for two days over that terrain. He’d never survive.”

“Then I’ll bring a doctor back here,” he said stridently.

“Four days…the boy will not survive that long.” Dobi touched Grant’s cheek, his dark skin a marked contrast to the boy’s pallid complexion.

“What the hell are we supposed to do? Just let him die?”

Angie stepped forward, hugging her husband and child. The tears poured from her, and she barely stifled the escaping sobs.

“Come, friend. Bring him to your hut, and we will sit with him.”

It remained unspoken, but Angie knew Dobi was talking about the traditional
seteki
, the vigil maintained for the dying. Chants and prayers would be on the lips of every villager who passed through their dwelling, but they wouldn’t be for his recovery. No, the prayers would be for him to find his way in the afterlife, for a safe journey there, and admonishments not to be drawn into the darkness, where he would lose his soul forever.

In a daze, the same state Roman seemed to be in, she allowed Dobi to usher them to the small hut the villagers had built for them when they’d come to stay as Roman helped them build an irrigation system, while Angie taught the children. The place had sheltered them for two years, but now looked threatening due to the shadows shrouding the corners of the room. In that darkness lurked demons trying to steal her son.

The thought was irrational, but she found herself hurriedly lighting the kerosene lamps as Roman laid Grant on the grass mat in the corner, where the boy usually slept. He moved like an old man, his actions stiff and jerky. He seemed to have trouble letting go of his son for a long moment, and when his arms finally released, his legs gave out. As he collapsed to the floor, sobs shook his body, and he buried his face in his hands.

Angie’s heart broke at the sounds of Roman’s suffering, but she couldn’t join him. Right then, she could spare no comfort for him, focused as she was on her son’s needs.

As quickly as possible, Angie gathered up the basic medical supplies she had on hand and knelt beside Grant. Dobi filled a basin with water, inferring her intent by her activity. She dabbed a square of linen inside the cool liquid, rung it out, and began cleansing her son’s wounds. The cloth turned red in seconds, and she accomplished little more than wetting the blood and smearing it around his skin. Still, she kept at the task, working her way through Roman’s entire collection of handkerchiefs. It was clearly a losing battle she waged, but what else could she do? Stand by without trying to help her son at all?

Time passed, although Angie didn’t know how much. Contrary to the usual custom of the villagers to visit the dying person, most of the members had maintained a respectful distance. The only constant presence besides Roman had been Dobi, who’d hovered behind them, his eyes wavering between Grant’s still form and the open door of the hut. He had seemed to be waiting for something.

The air of anticipation fled from the hut when the medicine man entered, arriving so quickly he appeared to have materialized inside the small room. As always, his presence made Angie uncomfortable. There was an aloof manner about the man that made him unapproachable. Although she didn’t believe in his practices, he carried himself with an air of mystery and intensity that suggested he dwelt in two worlds—this one, and a spiritual plane others couldn’t even imagine.

Without speaking a word, Kafiri walked over to the grass mat and knelt beside Roman and Angie. She watched with pensive eyes as he examined her son, chanting quietly as he did so. When his dark gaze suddenly turned fully on her, she gasped with shock at the confrontation. It took every ounce of strength not to look away from his compelling gaze.

“There is not much time,” he said in Kimbu.

Roman nodded. “Anytime now, he’ll…” He trailed off, sobs shaking his shoulders, although not a sound emerged from him to betray his outburst.

“You can save him, Kafiri?” Dobi asked as he took up a kneeling position on the other side of Angie.

“Perhaps.”

His words stirred hope in Angie and she brushed aside the voice of doubt, the one that had always privately dismissed the services the medicine man provided for the villagers. “How?”

“By drawing the strength of the tiger.” A frown rearranged the deep grooves on Kafiri’s face, making him look years older than he was. Even his shock of white hair didn’t age him as much as that expression. “It is dangerous, and there will be…side effects.”

“I don’t care. Do what you can.” Angie ignored Roman’s shocked expression, just as she ignored her own reservations. He was as logical as she was. No doubt he found the concept crazy. Her rational side shared the view, but her maternal side was ready to try anything to save her son. She found the small hope the shaman offered ridiculously easy to cling to.

“But you must understand—”

“Do it,” she said in a hard voice. There was nothing to lose by allowing the old man to practice his superstitions on Grant. With no doctor available, and her son dying faster with each passing second, she was willing to try anything.

After a second’s hesitation, Kafiri nodded. “I will do what I can, regardless of the consequences.”

“Just save my son.” Angie gripped Roman’s hand as she uttered the request, needing his strength to get through what was coming. The slight optimism she felt was bound to abandon her, leaving her completely despondent when the medicine man’s treatment failed. She would need her husband more than she ever had before to get through the trial of burying her only child in a foreign land.