A Lion's Heart (18 page)

“I hurt you,” Shakra whispered, full of guilt.

“We mated,” Tamarind breathed into his ear and then nuzzled him as he held Shakra tight. “Before was just play. It felt wonderful... and rough... but I understand, Shakra. Werelions... They are not gentle when it comes to mating. It is need and pain and quickly over. I was afraid... I didn't want it to hurt... and it didn't, not really.”

Shakra was suddenly on Tamarind and holding him gently. He caressed and nuzzled his mate, whispering apologies even though he was forgiven and it would happen again. His body knew his mate now and it would be eager to claim him again and again. “I didn't give you a choice, I bit you.”

Tamarind frowned as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn't like that, I won't lie, but I trusted you, love, and you didn't betray that trust.”

They lay together and whispered reassurances for a long while and then Tamarind stretched and chuckled. “Now I'm full and sore, love. Can we go sun again? It's too cool here in the shadows of the rocks.”

“Of course,” Shakra agreed. As he watched Tamarind move stiffly up the rocks, he realized that he loved every inch of his mate, and no matter how they changed as they grew older, that fact would not change.

Chapter Eighteen

The ones who did not fight, left carrying their things in a practiced manner that had Shakra appreciating their skill and organization. In three days, they went from a sprawling, heavily populated city, to a collection of a few huts and empty fields. Those that were left behind spent their time fortifying defenses and readying their weapons.

Shakra's tension rose with every day. Tamarind seemed unconcerned and relaxed, hunting with some of the younger werefoxes and enjoying their awe. Lormar wandered, and was gone more often than not. Kyrill seemed determined not to see his father, though that kept him mostly in the guest tent. Shang partnered with Shakra in practice sparring matches, that seemed more and more like actual battle as both of them wrestled with their inner doubts and anxieties.

When Shang didn't show for their usual midmorning practice, and his mate was proving that cat was definitely in his bloodline by still being asleep in their tent, Shakra found himself angry for no other reason than that he now had nothing to relax his nerves. When he found his werelizard teacher unaccountably asleep on a warm rock, Shakra found that intolerable. It seemed to him to be a sign that he was the only one still taking their danger seriously. Werefoxes and Sandwerelizards trained and prepared, but they all seemed as unconcerned as his sleeping friend, as if they didn't doubt that they would win. Shakra had doubts, great doubts. He didn't want to call it fear.

Kiva and his crushing weight were still fresh in Shakra's mind. The humiliating show of just how ineffectual he was against the full strength of a werelion, marked him more than he ever wanted to admit. He couldn't see how tiny werefoxes were going to overcome that strength and his fear that he would see mounds of Kyrill's beautiful people dead before too long, was an anxiety he had to exorcize. Making himself a perimeter guard, he wore himself out scouting far and wide until the sun became too hot.

Returning at last, exhausted, but feeling better, Shakra was surprised to see an elder werefox sitting far from the huts as if the sun didn't bother him at all. Shakra sniffed the air, found nothing out of the ordinary, and made his path cross the werefox's.

The creature's face was wrinkled and his ruff was gray. Weighed down by intricate gold jewelry, he had tattoos running from both shoulders to the backs of his hands, and scars along his back that looked wide enough to have been made by a werelion.

“Not wise to run about in the heat,” the old werefox told him.

“Then are you a fool for doing the same?” Shakra shot back, annoyed.

The werefox laughed and it sounded so much like Kyrill, that Shakra guessed who he must be before he was told. He was an important werefox and not to be insulted.

“Forgive me,” Shakra apologized and made a small bow. “I didn't realize that you were the father of my friend.

“He has told me about your temper,” the old were replied. “He was not exaggerating. You may call me Adera. It's a familiar term... like grandfather. I don't stand on formalities and I've been told that you saved my son's life.”

Shakra was taken aback by the blue eyed werefox and wasn't sure how to respond, but then he became suspicious and accused, “You came here, to speak to me?”

The werefox cocked his head to one side, his ears flicking as if in annoyance. “You see what I am reduced to, begging my son's friends for word of him? He fears censure from me and he refuses to come to any of my summons.”

“Is he right?” Shakra wondered. He bristled a little as he re-evaluated the old werefox as a possible threat to his friend.

“I think that he may have learned strange ideas in a strange land,” Adera replied, “and I only wish him to explain why he chose this path.” He looked very uncomfortable. “This werewolf that he has made friends with-”

“Mated with,” Shakra corrected.

“Which is not irreversible!” The old werefox snapped back, and then worried his lip for a moment until he contained his anger. “He respects you,” he continued again. “He sees you with.... strange ways.”

“With a werelion as a mate,” Shakra clarified. “He was mated to Lormar before that.”

“Yet you are an example of where he has learned-,” the werefox began, but Shakra lost patience.

“It isn't learned!” Shakra barked and the werefox flinched. He didn't run or back up, despite his smaller size, and Shakra had to respect him for his courage. “Love comes as it will,” he continued, “Sometimes, it doesn't make sense or follow convention, but it isn't any less than a love that does. Kyrill didn't learn to love Lormar. It just is, and you will gain nothing by trying to change that except your son's hate and his absence from your life. He will not give up Lormar, not even for your sake.”

Adera looked as if he could barely get a breath around his pain and fury and then he turned and stalked away.

“The inlaws are always so difficult,” Lormar said behind Shakra unexpectedly.

“You're amused?” Shakra snapped back as he turned to face the banded werewolf.

Lormar smiled, but the expression was tight and lacking in true amusement. “When you have a field of yellow flowers, and a red one suddenly grows, people notice. Some people even try to pull it up rather than endure it.”

Lormar moved past him, adding firmly, “His dislike changes nothing... and never will.”

“Where did you go?” Shang wondered irritably when Shakra returned to their tent.

Shakra glared. “I know where you went,” he replied as he checked Tamarind and found him curled up in a corner. A silver eye opened and then Tamarind yawned, showing his large canines briefly.

Shang said nothing for a moment and then, “It was a personal thing. Forgive me for not attending you earlier, my Prince.”

Shakra felt at a loss as Shang gave a small bow. The werelizard had been sleeping. It occurred to Shakra that Shang might have finally reached the end of his seemingly endless supply of strength. Even he needed time to rest and recover. Shakra felt contrite. “No, I'm sorry. I forget that I am not your Prince any longer. You have been constant in your diligence. It was time that you... attended to personal things.”

Shang looked embarrassed. “If you would like to exercise now I am ready.”

“No,” Shakra told him. “Tomorrow is soon enough.”

Tamarind left his corner, flexed his claws, and then eyed Shakra and Shang. “Well, if you're not going to, I would like to.”

Shakra was startled. Shang raised an eyebrow in interest. “What would he have to teach a creature that's so deadly to begin with?” Shakra wanted to know.

“Strength and claws aren't everything,” Tamarind replied, “especially when there are larger and stronger enemies facing you.”

Shang crossed arms over his chest and appraised Tamarind critically. “I won't show any quarter.”

“He won't,” Shakra agreed, wincing at the memory of his own, painful training sessions.

“I wouldn't want you to,” Tamarind replied, twitched his tail, and then headed for the tent flap. “Coming?”

Shang looked at Shakra as if seeking permission. Shakra shrugged. “My only fear is that the lazy cat will fall asleep on you.”

“Ha, ha,” Tamarind growled irritably. “I am not a cat.”

Shakra smiled softly. “No, you're not.”

Tamarind smiled back and then said impatiently to Shang, “Well?”

Shang made a hissing noise and Shakra decided that it was a laugh. “Let us go then.”

Tamarind nodded and preceded Shang outside. He bumped into Kyrill.

Kyrill jumped back nervously, eyes wide and tail bristled. “Forgive me,” he apologized and then, when he saw them walking towards the training ring, “Are you going to train, Shakra? The scouts have seen nothing yet. You will wear yourself thin before we are ever confronted by an enemy.”

“They will wait until you grow complacent,” Shang told him. “They will wait until you believe that they are not coming and drop your guard.”

“I'm not a warrior,” Kyrill admitted as he watched Shang and Tamarind take up positions on the training ground. “I bow to your wisdom... yet I suspect your wisdom when I see you ready to fight Tamarind.”

Shang's spines rattled. “He is young and he has many weaknesses,” Shang replied.

Tamarind frowned at that, but he didn't counter that assumption as he faced the slim werelizard.

“First, I need to discover your level of skill,” Shang told him. “Once I find all of your weaknesses, I will proceed with eliminating them.”

Shakra rubbed an old scar nervously. Shang had never given him any quarter.

They sparred hand to hand. Tamarind was quick and supple, and he refrained from using his claws. Shang had him down, with a knee jammed into his back, before they had drawn four breaths. Tamarind looked surprised, and then wary, as Shang released him and they began again.

They fought long and hard. Shakra settled, wincing every time that Shang landed a blow. Tamarind only grunted and went back for more. Kyrill settled beside Shakra, wide eyed, and Shakra was suddenly distracted by a thought. Outside of huddling for warmth, it was the closest that he could remember being to the werefox.

“Shakra,” Kyrill whispered without taking his eyes from the fight “Why are you smelling me?”

He was. His nose was near the end of Kyrill's back. Shakra felt the heat of embarrassment. “I was seeing...,” he trailed off, finding it hard to explain.

“Ah,” Kyrill said as he put his head on his arms, still watching the fight. “You were wondering if you were attracted to someone closer to your own kind? That's natural, I suppose. You simply want to know yourself better.”

Shakra blushed harder. “Yes.”

“So?” Kyrill did look back then, blue eyes amused.

Shakra shook his head and managed a nervous smile. “A little, but not like Tamarind.”

Kyrill's tail tucked and it was his turn to look embarrassed. It was a clear sign that Kyrill was not interested in him. “Lormar will kill you if he thinks...”

Shakra turned his attention back to the fighting. “Mountain werewolves are very territorial,” Shakra agreed, “but I'm not going to challenge him.”

Kyrill laid back his ears and then seemed to force them up again. “You could just say that Tamarind is the only mate for you.”

Shakra found a grin. He was dominant and that meant that challenges were natural for him. Still, he didn't want another mate, or to come between Lormar and Kyrill. His instincts in that regard were well in hand. Besides, he could imagine the damage a jealous werelion could make to anyone Shakra dared notice beside him. “Tamarind is the only mate for me,” Shakra agreed and Kyrill looked relieved.

“Enough,” Shang finally said. They were both breathing hard. Tamarind was bleeding from his mouth, his silver eyes aglow with temper. “You need more sense,” Shang declared. “You need discipline. When time permits, I will give you exercises that will strengthen your left side and make your blows more concentrated.”

Tamarind surprised Shakra by giving Shang a small bow. Shang returned it and Tamarind came over to Shakra. He flopped down in the dirt and Shakra asked anxiously, “Are you all right?”

“My pride is wounded and my body is sore,” Tamarind groaned. He pulled Shakra close. “I need personal attention. Now.”

Shakra smiled and kissed him. “I think I can give you that, love.”

Tamarind looked past Shakra to Kyrill, who still had his tail tucked. “You're so pink, Kyrill. You should get out of the sun.”

Kyrill mumbled something and slunk away. Tamarind gave Shakra a quizzical look and Shakra admitted, “We were talking about attractions. “

Shang was walking towards a rock, intent on sunning himself. Tamarind rose gingerly and gave Shakra a serious look. “You're not wanting to...?”

Shakra growled and bit Tamarind's ear lightly. “No, you fool. It seems that I am completely besotted by you and you alone.”

“Good.” Tamarind scratched the earth with his sharp claws, raking deeply. “I don't share.”

“You will never have to, I promise you,” Shakra told him and wrapped arms around Tamarind. “Should I prove it to you?”

“I do think I need some proof,” Tamarind told him, but then winced, “After I recover from my beating by your werelizard.”