Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
We’re lion shifters. It’s no secret. We do our best to blend in with regular human society, and that means not flipping out and losing our shit in front of the inferior beings.
The truth is, we need humans, or at least their women. The pride I live and work with up in these mountains is composed of twelve of us. We broke off from a larger pride several years ago to search for a new home closer to a human population.
Now that we’re operating a successful logging company, it’s time to start finding human mates. We’ve been wondering how the universe would line up for us. Pryce and I discovered Navin’s mate, Brea, in the woods, dying from a knife wound. She was unconscious when Navin saved her life by biting her and making her his.
How will the rest of us find our mates? Well apparently, Fate dropped mine right in front of me this morning. Any doubt I may have had has vanished.
Now I just need to control my lion while I make pleasantries with this foul excuse for a human male. I paste on a smile and extend a hand toward the fucker. “Orion.”
He scowls as he reluctantly offers me his own hand. “Vincent.”
My gaze may be on this asshole, but all of my attention is on Cora behind him. What the absolute fuck is going on here? I don’t like it. What I know for certain is that she’s not leaving here with this dickwad. My canines will be sinking into her pretty neck the first chance I get.
She’s mine.
I take a small step to the left, putting me closer to my mate. I hate that she’s hiding behind this motherfucker. His aura is disgusting. There’s no way Navin isn’t aware of that fact, though it might be more obvious to me than him since I’m more in tune with Cora than he is.
She’s trembling, and something is definitely wrong with her right arm. She’s holding her wrist with her left hand. When she moves, she winces.
Unless her arm is badly dislocated and needs resetting, I can fix whatever ails her quickly. As soon as my essence is running through her veins, she will have fast-healing properties. A hairline fracture or a sprain will be fixed from my bite.
Granted, if her arm is badly broken, I’ll need to take her to a doctor and have it set. Luckily, one of the first people we got cozy with when we moved to this mountain was the town doctor. He’s aware of our kind and has more knowledge than the average human about treating our ailments on the rare occasion we can’t manage ourselves.
Suddenly, Cora leans in closer to Jones and whispers, “I need to use the restroom.”
Excellent. This is the sort of diversion I need.
Jones turns toward her and barks, “Told you to go before we left the house. You can hold it.”
My hackles raise. What a piece of fucking work this shit for brains is. I want to reach out and strangle him.
Brea threads her arm through Navin’s. “I can take her. There’s a bathroom in the trailer,” she chirps merrily as if the air isn’t filled with awkward tension.
Even though Navin and I are the only shifters standing in this circle, I’m confident that it doesn’t take a lion’s heightened senses to recognize that shit isn’t right in Cora’s world. Brea can sense it, too. And I suspect Cora doesn’t even need a bathroom. She might be sharp enough to be using the idea as a ruse to get away from her fucking father.
“She’s fine,” Jones growls.
Brea is pushy, though. “It’s no trouble at all. I know Orion needs to get back to the logging site, but you and Navin can continue your boring negotiations while I take Cora to the bathroom.”
Bless her. She even rolls her eyes as she speaks of the business end of things as if she’s some ignorant girl who knows nothing about our company. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
Brea has been with us for three months. She hates being idle. She also hates being parted from Navin. So, she started working in our small office, helping with paperwork and damn near everything the rest of us loathe doing. She’s a godsend, and she’s fucking sharp.
But Vincent Jones doesn’t know this. It’s easier for him to believe the ruse that Brea is some dumb girl whose only useful attribute at the moment is guiding Cora to a toilet.
Navin clears his throat. “It’s really no problem, Vincent. Brea needs something to do anyway. I don’t like her sitting around idle. Women tend to get unnecessary ideas in their heads if we don’t keep them occupied, don’t they?” He chuckles as if he’s sharing a hilarious inside joke. If he were serious, his words would be both degrading and insulting to his mate.