A Lion's Heart (17 page)

Kyrill bowed very low, accepting the responsibility.

Everyone murmured their thanks and then they were bowing out of the tent. Kyrill looked troubled, as if a great weight had been placed on his shoulders.

“What is it?” Lormar wondered in concern.

“I have been given orders to entertain you and to make certain that all of your needs are fulfilled,” Kyrill replied.

“And you have been given the responsibility to end our lives if we prove to be enemies?” Shang guessed sourly.

Kyrill nodded.

“No danger of that,” Shakra growled, “so stop worrying.”

Tamarind was frowning though. Shakra eyed him and then gave him a nudge.

Tamarind whipped his tail in agitation and said, “If my people kill enough werefoxes, how long will it be before they wonder why I am allowed to be among them?”

“We are not like that,” Kyrill assured him as he led them to a guest tent. “We will judge you on your deeds, not those of others.”

A female sand colored werelizard, with dark brown stripes, stood in their path as she spoke with a female werefox. The werelizard had long, dark hair and a crest that was white and flicking upwards to catch the sunlight. Her dark eyes turned and caught sight of Shang and his companions. She froze and Shang looked her up and down with an arrogant tilt of his chin.

“Sand lizard,” Shang said.

“Desert werelizard,” she corrected with a snap, and then introduced herself proudly, “Sahri of Li’Lon.”

“Shang of Li’Won,” he retorted as if it were a challenge.

They stood stiffly, staring at each other, and then the female was walking away and Shang was continuing to the guest tent.

“I think they're in love,” Kyrill snickered.

Tamarind laughed and nuzzled Shakra, who smirked and rubbed his face against Tamarind's. Shang pretended not to notice, but the spines along his tail were quivering.

Chapter Seventeen

“How can it be?” a voice whispered.

“It is,” Kyrill replied just as softly.

“Still...”

“Sometimes, love has claws,” Lormar chuckled and was shushed.

Shakra was wrapped in Tamarind's warmth, Tamarind's head resting under his own as they lay curled on cushions in a corner of the guest tent. He couldn't help licking a rounded ear, even though he wasn't really ready to wake up yet. Tamarind emitted a rumbling purr for only a second and then was still again.

“Who is dominant?” the strange voice wondered.

There was a sound of a cuff and Kyrill's angry growl, “Impertinent child! Being my cousin does not give you leave to be rude.”

“I'm only a year younger than you, ancient one,” the stranger growled back.

Shakra lowered his ears, a clear warning that wasn't missed by Kyrill.

“You may leave now,” Kyrill told his cousin. “This is not a traveling circus. They are guests.”

“I'm not the only one who's curious,” his cousin replied. “You won't be able to avoid everyone's questions.”

Cloth rustled as the werefox left and then Kyrill sighed. “He's right.”

“We don't have anything to hide,” Shang's arrogant voice said. “Our intentions are honorable.”

Tamarind's scent under his nose, and his fur tickling his skin, were the only things that Shakra wanted to face just then. He stubbornly refused to join the conversation or to see who occupied the tent with him and his love.

“Don't let your desires make you unprepared, my Prince,” Shang's voice said, not at all fooled by Shakra's faked sleep.

Shakra rolled one eye open and then closed it again stubbornly.

“I don't think that he needs much preparation to answer the ridiculous questions of these desert weres,” Lormar snorted. “Is he part dog that he is colored so? Was the werelion raised by werewolves? Is that why he mates with one, because he imagines that he is one? Does King Katze make war on them because he doesn't want crosses between werewolves and werelions? Would their babies be werewolflions?”

“Babies?” Kyrill was shocked. “They believe that Tamarind is... female?”

“I'm not sure,” Lormar snickered, “Unless they believe that even male werelions can carry young?”

There was a quiet moment and Shakra imagined Kyrill blushing.

Tamarind's tail became an instrument of evil. It flicked around and lightly brushed Shakra under his tail. It did this twice and Shakra warmed with his own blush. He captured the tail and held it lightly. He could almost feel Tamarind smirking.

Kyrill had decided to avoid any more talk of males and babies. “The desert werelizards would welcome you if you allow them to, Shang. They have a very large community here.”

“I don't have time for such things,” Shang hissed back. “We are close to war. I will need all of my energies to prepare the werefoxes to repel King Katze’s assault. That may only be days away.”

“Perhaps,” Kyrill agreed. “All ready my people are moving to safer ground, but we've always been ready for attacks. Some of the deeper tribes of the deserts can be fierce. We are used to fighting. Besides, the desert werelizards will fight beside us.”

There was a heavy silence and then Shang asked. “Will they?”

Kyrill sighed. “Your fight with them is generation’s old, lizard. They are no longer the people that abandoned your clans to the enemy so long ago. They've become brave and honorable.”

Shakra's ears flicked, surprised, and he felt Tamarind tense beneath him. A mystery solved. Shang's prejudice was understandable now. Especially when he hissed, “Half my people died because of their cowardice. Our eggs were laid waste. It isn't a thing to forget.”

“Would their presence have mattered?” Kyrill wondered. “Or would they have died too?”

“That isn't the point,” Shang snapped back. “We were pushed back from our ancestral lands. It took us a long while to recover them again.”

“And why were you sent away, Shang?” Kyrill wanted to know.

“Not sent,” Shang corrected disdainfully. “I chose exile.”

“Why?”

“My people made treaties with our murderers for their safety.” Shang's passion was intense, his hatred for that act. “I couldn't face that.”

“Then it isn't just the desert werelizards that are despised by you,” Kyrill guessed.

“No,” Shang snapped back and then cloth rustled and the clash of crest spines was clearly audible as Shang left.

“You could have said something Shakra,” Kyrill said disapprovingly.

Shakra eyes were mere slits. “Do you really believe that any words of mine will make any difference?”

Kyrill sighed and leaned against Lormar. Lormar was sitting and drawing a comb through his banded fur as if nothing more important were going on. His eyes were thoughtful, though. He snaked an arm out and briefly hugged Kyrill as he said, “You can't make it better, mate. His is an old wound and it's deep.”

Werefoxes came in with food then and Tamarind frightened them when he suddenly sprang from underneath Shakra and descended on them excitedly, the desire to rest and be with his mate forgotten. One server dropped his platter and backpedaled with flailing arms. The food that fell was a very large haunch of raw meat. Tamarind latched onto it as if he were making a kill and then carried it eagerly to where Shakra was just sitting up.

“K-Kyrill?” the frightened server spluttered.

“It's all right,” Kyrill soothed. “Just leave the food and go. It's not good to come between a werelion and his meal.”

Lormar snickered as the servers hurried to go. Kyrill had neatly avoided another round of questioning.

“It's fresh,” Tamarind purred and then began to messily eat.

Shakra stepped back and away, watching Tamarind's sharp teeth and razor claws making short work of the haunch. Bone crunched loudly as Tamarind separated the haunch without any effort at all.

Cooked meat and other delicacies were on the other platters. Shakra joined the others in eating his own meal, his eyes watching his mate. How easily Tamarind could hurt him, he thought, and yet didn't. It made his love that much stronger.

Belly distended and a grin on his lips, Tamarind finished, burped, and then slowly moved towards the tent flap as if he were already half asleep. “Warm rock,” he murmured.

“Tamarind, I don't think....” Shakra began.

“Let him go... and go with him,” Kyrill urged. “Let my people see the fierce werelion looking like an over-stuffed lap kitten,” he chuckled. “It will help them learn not to fear him.”

Tamarind growled irritably, but didn't have the energy to retort. Shakra followed him out of the tent, into the warm sun, and onto a flat rock. Tamarind flopped onto his side, burped again, and then fell instantly asleep. Shakra settled next to him with an indulgent sigh and spent the next few hours watching a parade of werefoxes flit cautiously by to get a closer look at the sated werelion. Kyrill had said that they weren't a circus, but at that moment, Shakra felt like one.

“What are you doing?” Shakra had taken his own nap and found Tamarind mysteriously gone when he had awakened. It unnerved him that an overfed werelion could move so quietly when he chose, but finding the scent of meat and Tamarind wasn't a problem. The werelion needed a bath, he thought, and then amended, as he caught his own scent, so did he. It was a wonder that Shang didn't smell either of them, but then again, he was busy being uncomfortable.

Shakra crouched by his mate at the base of a rock. Tamarind had ears cocked, his long tail twitching. He was looking upward, a small smile on his face.

Shakra cocked his own ears, curious, and caught Shang's voice saying, “I need to know how competent your fighters are, female, not hear you bemoaning your exile here.”

“I was not
bemoaning
,” Sahri said. “I was explaining to you the harshness of this land and how well we have protected our fields from invaders. We enjoy our homes here and our alliance with the werefoxes. We don't have any wish to return to our clans.”

“Neither do I!” Shang retorted, “You talk a great deal, and yet tell me nothing that I wish to hear.”

There was a dueling sound of clashing spines, attesting to their mutual anger. “I am a warrior!” Sahri said. “I am very skilled, as are all my kin. The werelion clans will pay dearly if they attempt to take our lands.”

“You will pay dearly if you are over confident,” Shang warned.

“Who is over confident here?” she retorted. “You are here, without any of your kin, and in the company of misfits.”

“My Prince is not a misfit; he is the heir of his people!” Shang hissed and Shakra felt warmth at the werelizard's obvious pride in him. “You would do well to respect that fact and the fact that I am his guard.”

“He is fortunate in that, if nothing else,” Sahri replied, but then added, “Even the least of our people is formidable.”

It was a backhanded slight that wasn't well received. “You will gather your people so that we may plan. I need to speak with your best warriors.”

“If you don't know a great warrior when you speak to her, then perhaps you are not so great yourself?” she hissed and then her claws were scrambling on stone as she descended to leave. She paused, her tongue flicking out to taste the air, and then she hissed again and was gone.

“Female,” Shang muttered and then they heard a sigh as he, perhaps, stretched out to sun himself

Shakra plucked at Tamarind's short mane and they both crept away.

“Why were you listening to them?” Shakra wanted to know.

Tamarind looked embarrassed. “I went to... you know... after eating that much... anyway, they slithered by and I had to know what they were saying to each other.”

“I’m sure they will tell us all we need to know later,” Shakra admonished.

“My mate is so proper,” Tamarind snickered. He licked Shakra's face with a meaty smelling tongue.

“Bath,” Shakra said with a grimace. “We both need one.”

Tamarind shivered. “You know I don't like water and I'm still too full.”

“Pig,” Shakra teased. “If you want me by you, you need to get the stink off of you.”

“Didn't matter the other night,” Tamarind purred and Shakra was suddenly pinned with Tamarind stretching out on top of him. His ears were thoroughly cleaned while Tamarind's belly threatened to bow his spine.

“Get off!” Shakra snarled.

Tamarind grunted in annoyance as Shakra pushed at him, but he moved and Shakra shook himself as he stood again. It made him think of Kiva, having felt Tamarind's strength and weight, and he wondered what they would do when Tamarind became that large and powerful. He tried to imagine Tamarind with a full, cinnamon and brown mane, but it was hard. He tried to imagine taking possession of such a creature... and couldn't do that either.

“You're thinking,” Tamarind accused as he nuzzled Shakra. He turned suddenly and his tail lifted up and over his back. His slim hips, and what lay between, were a tempting sight. When Tamarind looked back at Shakra with a sensuous grin, it was suddenly very easy to imagine himself wanting Tamarind however he could manage it, no matter what size his lover was.

“I'm a pervert,” Shakra sighed. He grabbed hold of Tamarind's hips and steadied him as his tongue licked out and teased his mate into opening for him.

“Because of that?” Tamarind groaned in pleasure, “Or because you love a werelion... or a male werelion... or...?”

Shakra nuzzled Tamarind's sack and then reached past to lick at his erect member. The taste was wild and intoxicating; salty and all Tamarind. Tamarind's front half bowed down and that's when Shakra took him, with a grasping of strong arms around Tamarind's middle and a long, languid entrance that left them both whimpering and needing each other badly. Tamarind was his mate, Shakra thought, and all his.

That's when it hit Shakra, an all-encompassing instinct that had pumping rapidly, hips slapping against Tamarind as Tamarind protested and groaned in pleasure at the same time. It was gathering strength within Shakra, a tidal wave of ... he wasn't sure what, but it was imperative and not to be denied. It had him panting, whining, and almost crying with a pressure that he had never felt before. He was going to explode, he felt, and he feared that the power of it would kill him. He could feel his heart hammering.

The scent on the air thickened. Tamarind was gathering beneath him, wanting it to end, unsure of Shakra's sudden intensity and the almost pain/pleasure that it was becoming. His balance shifted. He was going to lash out, try to push Shakra off, but Shakra couldn't let that happen. He was almost there.

Shakra grabbed the back of Tamarind's neck with his teeth and clamped down just as he thrust forward one last time and buried himself as deeply as he could manage. He exploded then and went blind, a cry bursting from between the grip of his teeth on Tamarind. It seemed endless as he filled Tamarind with his heat, with his seed, and with every ounce of his strength. In his mind he had called Tamarind his mate, but his body, newly matured, had taken that physical step that he was only supposed to take with females.

He awoke sometime later with Tamarind curled up around him and a gentle, rasping tongue cleaning his face and ears. It was methodical and forgiving and Shakra wondered how it could be after what he had done.