When a Liger Mates (A Lion's Pride Book 10) Page 12
“I can understand that, but I’m not a threat.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not entirely true. You became a possible threat the moment you found out about my kind.”
“Then why did you tell me?” she asked.
“I didn’t have a choice given my aunts showed you at the cabin.”
“Why did they show me?” she asked. “I mean, if you can smell I’m human, then why would they reveal their secret?”
He frowned. “You know what? That’s a good question. Because, at the time, they didn’t know we were mated. They should have been more discreet.”
“Are there any other people like me?” She couldn’t say human, because that would imply he wasn’t. “People who know.”
“Only a few non-shifters are granted that privilege. The most common reason being because of a mating.”
Her hand went to her neck. “The bite is an automatic admission to the club.”
“Yes and no. Usually a mating only occurs when both parties are aware and willing.”
“But in my case, you bit me by accident.” Her nose wrinkled. “That’s kind of a dumb thing to base a marriage on. What if you chomp the wrong person?”
“I don’t think it’s possible to mate the wrong person.”
“That would imply you don’t have any divorces.”
“Not when it’s a true mating.”
“So everyone who gets bitten gets to live happily ever after? No way. I don’t believe you.” She shook her head. It didn’t make sense. Love. Respect. All the things that went into making a good relationship couldn’t be determined with saliva in an open wound. That was just nuts.
“You can choose not to believe all you want. It doesn’t change the facts. We are mated. For life. Together forever.”
She scowled. “This isn’t funny.”
“Do I look amused?”
“I don’t want to be mated to you or anyone. I want to go home. Alone. I promise not to tell anyone about you or your aunts. As if anyone would believe me.”
“Are you really sure you want to go?”
She opened her mouth to say yes, only he looked awfully cute and rumpled. “I am not ready to just start living with you on account of some weird cult rules you have.”
His lips twitched. “Hardly a cult.”
“I’m the type of person who needs her space. I can’t be with you twenty-four seven. And I’m sure you can’t either. We’d probably end up trying to kill each other.”
“I agree. Which is why I’m going to ignore my aunts. You can return to your brother’s apartment.”
“I can?”
“But only if you’ll promise to have dinner with me.”
“Only dinner?” She was the one to tease for once.
“Dinner, dessert, snack, breakfast the next morning. I want it all, Peanut, but I can wait. If it’s meant to be…” He didn’t finish it. Didn’t have to.
“Que sera, sera.” A foreign expression that fit the moment.
“Give me a second to get dressed and I’ll drive you home.”
Put a shirt over that delectable chest? A crime. Maybe she should take one for the road. She straddled him with intent, and his smile was almost enough to make her come.
“Another ten minutes won’t hurt.”
“Only ten?” He arched a brow. “Challenge accepted.”
That quickly she was on her back with his face between her legs, his mouth blowing hotly. She writhed and grabbed at him, hungry for more.
And he gave it to her. Brought her to the edge and held her as she came. Just as good as the last time. So good each time, and even better there was no awkwardness after. He didn’t try and avoid her. He smiled her way, patted her butt, touched her casually, drawing her in for quick kisses as they located the clothing that had gone flying and dressed.
He made it hard to remember why she wanted to leave in the first place. Why couldn’t she believe in the fairytale? Could it be finally her turn for a happily ever after?
Her burgeoning hope died the moment they stepped into Peter’s trashed apartment and saw the message written on the wall.
GIVE OR HE DEYE.
Chapter Fifteen
The sight of the destruction triggered Lawrence. Danger. It screamed at him to do something. He almost tossed Charlotte over his shoulder and bolted.
Deep breaths controlled him.
Barely.
The peril couldn’t have been more obvious. The knowledge did things to the man that were amplified in the beast.
His mate was being threatened. Or so it seemed. The message on the wall wasn’t exactly clear.
GIVE OR HE DEYE.
“It’s about Peter.” She stated the obvious, giving Lawrence a choice in how that conversation would go.
If he let the protective part of him take control, he’d revert to his first instinct and remove her from danger no matter her thoughts on the matter. He didn’t imagine that would go well. He could already hear his aunts telling him a woman didn’t need a man to save her.
He stuck to, “Yup.”
“I wonder what it means.” She leaned forward, head cocked, as if that would help decipher the intent of the words painted in what appeared to be mustard.
“When they say give… Any idea what that could be?”
She wrinkled her nose. “It’s pretty vague.”
“Yes, but we do have some clues. It’s obviously a tangible item or they wouldn’t have tossed the place.” He swept a hand, encompassing the destruction. Ripped open cushions. Drawers torn out and dumped. Cupboards pilfered, too.
“And whatever it was, they didn’t find it, or why leave a message?” She tapped her lower lip. “This has to be related to the kidnapping.”
“Maybe. Or could be more than one party looking for something. Does your brother have any place he might have stashed stuff other than this apartment? Bank box? Storage unit?”
She shook her head. “None that I know of.”
“In my experience, most people keep their precious treasures close in case they need to flee. Hidden compartment in furniture, loose baseboard.”
“Not that I’ve found.”
“We need to look and be sure.”
“Are you suggesting we go over every inch of the floor, walls, and furniture? That will take forever.”
“I’ve got a knack for finding hidden things.” He closed and locked the door behind them.
“Kind of late for that, isn’t it?” she observed sourly as she kicked at a pile of clothes then recoiled as she caught the reek of piss.
An unpleasant aroma when he wore his human shape. As his feline, smells of all kinds were fascinating.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he tugged at his shirt.
“Going to change into my liger.”
“Half lion, half tiger,” she muttered. “I didn’t even know that was a thing.”
“It’s not super common. Most species are just more comfortable sticking to their own kind. But every now and then, someone who shouldn’t falls in love.”
“Like your parents.”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t hold her gaze as he kept undressing and gave her the abbreviated story. “They died when I was little. Car crash. A drunk driver who’d already had his license suspended twice before.”
“That’s so sad.” Her words emerged soft, and tears glistened.
“I don’t remember much. If it weren’t for pictures, I’d have no clue what they looked like.” He shrugged, feeling his throat tighten in a way it hadn’t in a long time. He didn’t usually talk about losing his parents. “My aunts took me in when my mom’s family refused. The whole intermarriage thing. They’d disowned her.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Best thing they could have done. My aunts took real good care of me.” And they’d also taken care of the drunk driver.
“They love you.”
“Can you blame them? I’m adorable.” He winked, trying to find a bit of his cockiness to
lighten the mood. Something about Charlotte had him revealing himself in a way that left him vulnerable.
“The only person I have is Peter. And I’m pretty sure it’s the same for him. Now that’s he’s gone, guess it’s just me.” Her shoulders rounded.
“We’re going to find your brother.”
“I hope so. Mostly so I can throttle him for worrying me.” She scrubbed at her eyes. “Then once I’m done shaking him, I will bubble wrap him and lock him up somewhere, so he stops stressing me.”
“At least you want to protect him. My aunts like to drop me into danger just so they can ride to my rescue.” He grimaced.
She cracked a small smile. “And then lord it over you.”
“All the freaking time,” he huffed. “I mean they chipped me just so they could find me whenever they wanted.”
“It came in handy at the cabin.”
“I’d have preferred to be left alone. With you.” He winked. “I don’t know about you, but this place is nasty. What do you say we find what we’re looking for and get out?”
“I don’t see how we’re going to find it.”
“Easy. My more refined sense of smell will let me sniff out any hidden spots.”
“You’re going to turn into a giant cat inside the apartment?”
“Think of me as a slightly larger Maine coon.”
“You’re bigger than me.”
“I am but don’t try and ride me. I’m not a horse.”
“You could probably bite my head off.”
“But I won’t. If you want to make extra sure, rub me behind the ears. It’s my sweet spot.”
“Um. Okay?”
He dragged her close and kissed her. Again, and again, until she was laughing. “Stop it. Fine. I’ll rub your ears.”
“And my belly?”
“I am not having animal sex with you.”
“Peanut! That is just wrong.” He winked, and to the sound of her giggling, he morphed. The euphoria of the shift bordered on pain, but the result made him welcome it. As his liger, he was big, strong, fast. And handsome.
He hit the floor on four paws, and head-butted his mate’s hand. It took her a moment before tentative fingers stroked the fur on top of his head. Best she got used to this side of him now.
On the plus side, she didn’t scream, but trepidation hummed through her. A step at a time. This was all very new for her and not something he could push. She needed to accept him on her terms at her own pace.
“You’re soft.”
He bobbed his head.
“And not smelly.”
He chuffed.
“Huge, too. Are you sure I can’t ride you?” said with humor.
The only kind of riding he wanted involved her naked. That wouldn’t happen in this broken place. He needed to find out if anything remained hidden and get her out of here.
Moving away from Charlotte, he took a breath. In and out through his nose, his nostrils flexing as he sifted the scents, the most pungent being the urine.
The piss split into two distinct flavors. Two people had been inside the apartment, putting their hands on everything. They’d done a thorough job. Left nothing untouched.
Lawrence did a circuit of the living area and kitchen, with a tiny window in the former. No easy escape except the door to the hall. He wandered into the bedroom, also savagely ripped apart.
Springs poked from the tears in the mattress. The pillows and their foam stuffing littered the floor. Everything from the closet was tossed to the floor, and everything on the wall had been yanked. Even a shelf had been torn from its brackets. The entire room had been ransacked, and the smells were varied, with that of his Peanut strongest. She’d been living here for months, meaning she’d imprinted the most on the space. The next strongest smell belonged to the intruders.
There was a faint fourth scent. Only here. Only one spot.
His gaze strayed upwards to the ceiling with its lazily rotating fan. He pawed a switch, and the blades slowed.
“You think he hid it in the ceiling?” she asked, craning to look upward.
He stood on the bed, the captain kind that sat upon a pair of drawers that had been yanked and turned upside down. The mattress sat at an angle, but the plywood in the frame remained, giving him a steady platform. He’d need it given the ceiling in this room sat at least nine feet. Since he’d need hands for the next bit, he shifted just as Charlotte stepped closer, putting her eyes almost level with his junk.
He stiffened. Quite literally.
She gasped. Hotly. A sloe-eyed glance peeked at him through partially lowered lashes. The corner of her mouth lifted. “Not exactly the right time, wouldn’t you say?”
“I can’t help myself around you.” The honest truth.
“Ditto,” was her reply. Not the most sexy or romantic word and yet he hardened quite a bit more.
“Still not the right time or place,” she chided.
“If you’d move away, it would be easier to control.” Not something he’d ever had an issue with before. Just one more difference when it came to Charlotte.
“But not half as much fun.” She blew hotly on him, and his head angled back as he resisted the temptation to ravish her.
“Killing me here, Peanut.”
“Pull yourself together, Roarie.”
He groaned. The nickname reminding him of his aunts. It acted like a cold shower. “Way to ruin it.” He reached for the fan blades and halted their slow progression. There was a pair of tiny screws holding the casing in place. The scent belonged to someone he’d never met, and yet there was a hint of familiarity to it, making it almost certainly Peanut’s brother.
He looked around for something to remove the screws. Even a butter knife would work. Then it occurred to him he didn’t have time to be gentle.
Grabbing the blades, he snapped them off first, and then he managed a good grip on the metal shell that went around the ceiling fan. He gave a few wrenches and popped the screws free as the metal holes twisted.
The moment it came off down dropped a little pouch.
Charlotte reached for it and poured the contents into her hand. She frowned. “It’s a key.”
Problem was, they didn’t have a lock.
Chapter Sixteen
What did the key open? The question that plagued her as Lawrence dressed. She rolled it over and over in her head as they left the apartment. She certainly didn’t have the slightest clue; however, she’d wager the person who’d left the message might. Did she have what they were looking for?
If she did, only one thing to do.
As they entered the stairwell, she said, “I am going to give them the key in exchange for Peter.” Why not? It wasn’t as if she cared what it unlocked.
She expected Lawrence to argue with her. To tell her it was too dangerous. She’d say she didn’t have a choice, whereupon he’d offer to take her place. She’d give a token protest and then accept.
Only he didn’t behave as expected. Rather than pull a sexy overprotective male bit, he wanted her to actually go through with the exchange. “Excellent plan.”
“Is it, though?” She began to argue against as they headed down the three flights of stairs to the main level. “How can I make an exchange when I don’t know where to meet them?”
“We have to wait for their next move,” was Lawrence’s observation.
“What if I don’t want to wait?” she grumbled.
“Don’t worry, Peanut. I doubt it will be long.” He held open the door to the sidewalk.
It wasn’t until the two men wearing leather jackets and shades stepped out of the alley by the apartment that she understood.
“We’re being ambushed.” She glared at him. “You knew.”
“Not exactly. I just recognized the scent in the alley as being the same one upstairs. Follow my lead,” Lawrence ordered, “and stick close.”
She might have argued but for the guns.
“Halt!” one of the armed thugs commanded.
Lawrence crossed his arms. “Before we begin this negotiation, where’s her brother?”
“Give.” The hand shoved in Lawrence’s direction flexed impatiently.
As if they’d hand over their only leverage.
She peeked around his bulk. “You want it, then you bring Peter.”
The man had a gap between his teeth, wide enough to shove food through, when he smiled. “Take.” His gun waggled in demand.
“I don’t think so.” Lawrence moved quickly. His hands flinging in opposite directions, but with one purpose, grabbing the thugs and slamming them together. They groaned and clutched at their heads. Lawrence frisked the smallest one and tossed a set of keys at her. “Find their car.”
“Why? Are you going to steal it?” she asked as she clutched the keys and caused some lights to flash.
“Borrow.”
“Should I start it?”
“Yes, but first see if you can pop the trunk.”
She peered at the fob and jabbed the tiny image. A moment later the assailants were tucked away, thumping and banging.
“Can’t they pop a lever to get out?” she asked, having seen a safety video on it in college.
“I bent it.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the trunk. “Now what? Didn’t we need them to lead us to Peter?”
“Doubtful. This vehicle has GPS.”
“And you think they have their lair as their home button?” She snorted. “They can’t be that dumb.” She slid into the passenger seat.
He fiddled at the navigation system until it switched from Russian to English. It changed the menu buttons to something they could read. “Let’s find out.” Scrolling the recent addresses, he tapped them and, using a reverse search on his phone, ruled a few out right off the top. “Restaurant. Business. Another business. Apartment building. Which makes it doubtful as a place they’d be holding someone hostage. This though”—he tapped an address—“is a house just outside of the city. Let’s check it out.”
As they drove, she got nervous. “Maybe we should call the police now.”
“That’s a bad idea. If they show up and bungle things, your brother could get hurt in the crossfire.”