A Lion's Heart (9 page)

Shakra's hands slid lower, massaging, bringing pleasure to Tamarind. Tamarind's breath thrummed in his throat, a low, vibrating growl that was as close to a purr as a werelion could get. And then... Shakra's hands massaged the small, flat plane of Tamarind's hips, right before it disappeared into fur, and was startled when Tamarind's hips suddenly rose up under the pressure. The werelion emitted a sensuous groan.

Shakra licked lips nervously. His hands had jerked away, mindful of Tamarind's deadly claws and teeth, but they hesitantly strayed back as Tamarind settled again. Shakra moved a little further up Tamarind's spine and then, once again, let his hands massage that small flat spot. Tamarind's hips shot up again, upper body still on the ground, but lower body bowed up into the touch of Shakra's hands.

Tamarind's scent grew heavy on the air. It filled Shakra's senses. He panted, tasting it on his tongue. The swollen, hot weight between his legs raged and wanted. Shakra rubbed that flat spot and Tamarind seemed lost in his own need, his own sensations. He groaned and thrummed in his throat and then his tail flicked over his back and out of the way of....

Shakra wasn't sure what happened next. The heat over took him. His hands captured soft fur and warm skin, his arms locked around a wiry waist, and he nuzzled cinnamon hair at the nape of a werelion who was pushing back against him and all too willing to let him go on. He felt Tamarind's hips fit perfectly into the curve of his pelvis and then Shakra couldn't hold back any longer.

The rope closing around Shakra's throat, and then jerking him backwards, shocked Shakra worse than a bucket of cold water. Bodies piled on top of him, pressing him down flat before he could react, and tied him hand and foot. He heard Tamarind roar. He heard screams and shouts, but then Tamarind was silent and there was only voices cursing.

Bodies shifted. Shakra was finally able to see. Mountain werewolves were ranged around them, weapons out and ready, but it was the larger creature that Shakra's gaze was drawn to. It was a huge creature with black stripes. If it wasn't a werelion, then it must be a close cousin. It was easily twice the size of the werewolves and it looked very deadly.

“This is the one,” a werewolf said. “The werelion you were looking for.” He nodded to Shakra. “We'll take that one as part of our payment.”

The striped creature sneered and a feminine voice said, “I'm not a fool, you know. I'm very well aware that the prince of this land was about to mount my target. That should make interesting news to a few people, I think, and well worth the extra money that I will demand. I'll take the werelion and the prince. You'll take your payment and go home.”

The werewolves snarled. The leader demanded, “Why should we? We outnumber you. We can kill you and take everything that is yours.”

The creature laughed and it wasn't a pleasant sound. “Have you seen what a weretiger leaves of its prey, dog?”

“Not today!” Shang's voice rang out and suddenly the clearing was full of slashing blades and attacking Keep guards.

Chapter Nine

Shakra watched Shang leap for the weretigress, blades flashing. The weretigress was ready for him. Her own blades and claws were slashing, lightning fast, and they did a deadly dance on the bank of the pond while the other weres joined battle around them. Tamarind was unconscious and underfoot. Shakra shook himself out of his stunned amazement as one of his soldiers cut him loose and he darted forward to save Tamarind.

A blade glanced across one of Shakra's metal armbands and sliced flesh. He snarled, kicked out, and took that mountain werewolf down. Another took his place and Shakra was suddenly driven back and away from Tamarind. Frantic, he dodged a slashing blade and made the smug, banded face of the werewolf in front of him turn blood red, as he used double fists and brought them down on the were's head. His hands were covered in blood as he dodged another blade and tried to reach Tamarind again. He found the place where he had lain empty.

Tamarind was gone. Shang was down. The mountain werewolves were dead and the Keep weres were just recovering and looking around them at the carnage. The weretigress was gone as well.

Shakra sniffed the breeze and caught her scent, wild jungle and musky incense, and began to run after her as he shouted, “Follow. She has Tamarind!”

“Stop, prince!” Lormar was catching Shakra by one arm and Kyrill was blocking his path. The voice, though, had belonged to Shang. He was sitting up, clutched a row of claw marks across his chest. “You are heir of this land. You will stay behind while your soldiers go in pursuit!”

“No,” Shakra protested, shivering all over and anxious to be gone. His ruff rose and his ears were cocked forward. Tail bristling dangerously, he confronted his mentor. “He is my life! I will save him!”

“He was safe until you sought him out!” Shang accused. “You will endanger him again by going after him. I have no doubt that the weretigress will kill him rather than allow him to be rescued.”

“I did not endanger him!” Shakra snarled.

Kyrill's light voice was very serious as he said, “We could hear- and scent you- far from this place. It was those things that betrayed where you were.”

“My Prince,” Shang hissed as a werewolf kneeled to bind his wound. “I discovered that you were missing and pursued you at once. These,” he indicated Lormar and Kyrill, “insisted that they knew where you were. I suspected that they were trying to mislead me early on.”

Lormar looked unrepentant, but Kyrill looked guilty.

“We heard and scented your
tryst
with the werelion quite far off,” Shang continued. “I'm certain the weretigress used it to find you as well.”

Shakra looked around him and saw the open disgust in the faces of the weres around him. A prince of the forest weres with a werelion of the Savannah; it was a perversion they couldn't comprehend. His succession to the throne was in danger and he could see it in both Kyrill and Shang's faces. He needed to say something that would erase their doubts.

Shakra swallowed hard. He knew what he had to do, but he in no way wished to do it. It was a decision that would damn Tikena's reputation, but also give them both what they wished.

“Tikena is my consort, witnessed by Warden Tal. The marriage is consummated and she carries my child.” Shakra didn't think the weres around him could look more stunned, but jaws were dropping and eyes were going wide. Shang was frowning sharply though, understanding what he was doing and not liking it. “I will pursue Tamarind, leaving Tikena, who has her majority in three days, as ruler in my stead until my return. If anything should befall me, while I save the life of my... of my new ... concubine...” He winced and stammered, “M-My rule shall pass to-to Tikena's child.”

He had married himself, declared a child he didn't have, and cemented his reputation as a pervert by taking a werelion male as a consort. Shakra hoped the subterfuge would last until he was well away or until he returned with Tamarind. The marriage was irrevocable, but Shakra had known before he'd spoken, that marriage to Tikena had been inevitable anyway. A few hours was all he needed to rescue Tamarind, he thought, not long enough for Warden Tal or Tikena to get notions of becoming permanent rulers, or for Warden Kol to implement any plan to unseat them. The Keep, and his land, could hold together without him that long.

“You are a fool!” Shang suddenly exploded.

Shakra looked down at him, pained, but then agreed, “Yes, I am. I'm sorry, Shang. In this, I have to follow my heart, or I will never be whole. I will return quickly.”

“And then we will see what you have done to yourself and your people,” Shang retorted angrily.

“Yes, we will,” Shakra sighed, but then he was leaping away and following the scent of the weretigress and Tamarind on the breeze, Lormar, Kyrill, and his uninjured werewolf soldiers on his heels.

Tamarind's scent was faint and the breeze kept carrying it away, but the weretigress was struggling under Tamarind's weight and running flat out. Her sweaty musk was a homing beacon. It said something for her strength that, even carrying Tamarind's weight, she was still keeping far ahead of them.

One by one, Shakra's soldiers faltered and fell behind. Lormar had lungs like iron and he loped easily beside Shakra. Kyrill had to run double time to keep up with their longer strides, but he seemed to have the stamina to keep up as well.

Through the tangled maze of the darkened forest, they made their way across Shakra's lands. When they finally reached the border, the weretigress was still ahead of them and Shakra's soldiers were gone. Panting and exhausted, ears and tail drooping, he tried to hear them or catch their scent. He sensed nothing of their presence. The weretigress’s scent, though, was as strong as ever, an arrow pointing out of the forest and across a rolling landscape of scrub and tree islands.

“Shakra,” Kyrill panted, stretching out on the ground and groaning. “She may be leading you out of your lands on purpose. She wanted
you
, I'm sure, along with Tamarind.”

“You should go back,” Lormar panted, but he was still on his feet and looking into the darkness at the glowing moon. “A weretigress assassin is something I can't defend you against.”

“She wanted Tamarind,” Shakra growled. “I was just an opportunity, one I made myself. We will go carefully, stalk her, and come at her when she is off her guard. She will have to sleep at some point. Until then, I will go on. If you can't follow, then catch up as best you can.”

Lormar's ruff rose. “Prince, doesn't it concern you that your soldiers have not chosen to follow you?”

“They've shown their loyalty and it's to Warden Kol,” Shakra replied. “They've probably doubled back to ask him for orders.”

“And Warden Kol will decide whether a consort is more easily ruled than a hard headed prince,” Kyrill panted. “You should go back, Shakra. You may lose your throne.”

Shakra shook his head. “All of my life, sitting that throne has been my goal, but that was because I never had anything else in my life, Kyrill. Now that I do I realize that I never truly wanted it.” He grinned viciously. “I think Warden Tal is as determined to rule as Warden Kol. I think they can keep each other busy until I return. Who knows, perhaps Tikena can convince them to practice her peaceful ways?”

Lormar laughed derisively. “Werewolves not fighting? It's in our blood.”

“That's ridiculous,” Kyrill scoffed.

Shakra shook his head sharply and said, “Enough. Things won't happen in a day and we will return before anyone makes their move. Come or stay. I'm going after Tamarind.”

Shakra loped out of the forest and into the hilly countryside, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but determined. Lormar followed without hesitation. Kyrill was slower and he looked exhausted. Shakra didn't think that he would be able to keep up for much longer. He almost hoped that he would fall back. The smaller, lighter werefox wouldn't have a chance against a weretigress. Not that he had much of one himself, he thought sourly.

It seemed impossible, but they never caught up to the weretigress. Her scent remained tantalizingly on the air, but it never smelled close enough to make them confident about catching her. At last, even Shakra had to admit that he couldn't go any further. He fell into the tall grass, flat on his side, and felt the world going dark as he tried to catch his breath. For a long while all he could hear was the rapid beating of his over worked heart.

Kyrill caught up, almost crawling in his exhaustion. He whimpered. Lormar whispered something in his large ears and curled up around him.

He had not saved Tamarind, Shakra thought, and felt his failure keenly. He was glad for the cover of the tall grass. He rolled onto his back and felt like crying, staring up at the moon and the stars. In his mind, though, he could hear Shang's furious voice asking him if he was weak, if he was a cub to give up so easily. He had left his duty behind and defied the werelizard who had been his friend and his mentor. Sacrificing so much, he couldn't fail, not with Tamarind's life at stake. As soon as he was rested, he promised himself, he would go on, with or without Lormar and Kyrill.

When Shakra dreamed, he was running again, only he could see the weretigress ahead of him, easily keeping ahead and laughing. She was carrying Tamarind in her jaws, like a cat carries a kitten, and Shakra dimly wondered how she could laugh and carry him like that at the same time.

“Prince?” Lormar shook at Shakra and he woke with a start. The sun was just touching the tops of the hills with a golden glow.

Shakra was stiff all over. He rose and limped, trying to loosen his muscles. Kyrill was nosing through the tall grass, his tail a waving banner as he wove this way and that. There were some alarmed squeaks and then he was coming back with some neatly killed rabbits, their necks twisted.

They didn't have time to cook. Lormar pulled the rabbits apart and handed each of them a share. He bit into his own without comment, but Shakra and Kyrill looked at their share with sick expressions.

“I could make a quick fire,” Kyrill began, but Lormar snorted.

“We can’t spare the time to cook. We have to go.” Lormar finished his share with a crunch and swallow and then looked at them expectantly.

Shakra was the first to attempt to eat his. He made a face and began tearing off and swallowing chunks, trying not to taste it. The fresh blood was in his nose, though, metallic and strange, and his stomach clenched. Kyrill was more delicate, taking small bites and going paler and paler with each swallow. When it was done, he wiped his bloody fingers on the grass and shuddered.

“Now,” Shakra growled and tried to scent the weretigress over the scent of their kill. It came, as strong as ever, and he felt great relief. She must have finally stopped as well. If they hurried, they might still catch her sleeping.

“Quietly,” Shakra warned, “She could be anywhere in this tall grass.”

They loped, bodies kept low, and hoped that her scent would strengthen and give them some clue as to where she might be. Instead, it grew fainter. Shakra stopped at last, beginning to panic.

“She's turned somewhere,” he guessed.

“If she's going to the Savannah...” Kyrill thought for a moment and then he looked worried. “She has to skirt a mountain range. There's a narrow pass to the East of us. She must have taken another route there.”

Lormar snapped suddenly, “I know a way, used by bandits mostly. It's dangerous.”

“Lead the way,” Shakra ordered.

Lormar glared. “We are following an assassin weretigress onto a bandit's road.”

“Lead the way or show me where it is,” Shakra snarled. “I am not stopping.”

Lormar measured him slowly up and down and then he nodded as he turned and began loping quickly towards the East. “It is my home. I'm not the one who has to be afraid.”

**************

Tamarind came back to consciousness being dumped onto the hard ground. He whimpered and tried to save himself the fall, but his arms and legs were bound tightly. His breathing was hampered by a gag that kept his deadly jaws apart. It had cut the side of his mouth and he could taste blood. His head pounded pain at a point near his temple and his entire body felt bruised.

“Lay still, cub,” a female voice told him. “If you give me too much trouble I will take your pelt and deliver that to King Katze.”

Tamarind focused with an effort. It was dark, but the moon was high overhead and he could make out the outline and glittering eyes of a weretigress. She was very large, dwarfing him, and her dark stripes helped her to slip in and out of shadow as she approached and looked him over.

“A shame that I didn't get your lover prince as well, but his time will come,” she continued as she removed his gag.

Tamarind's cheeks burned. He remembered a heady scent, Shakra's strong body wrapping around his own and an overpowering urge to... His tail lashed in embarrassment and agitation. If they had not been interrupted would Shakra have gone on? Would he have kept his tail lifted and allowed Shakra to... to... mate him like a female? Tamarind's gut tightened. At the time, he had wanted that... wanted it more than anything, but had it been his true choice or the choice of confused hormones and that wild scent of the Prince? How could he want to cross the line of species and allow a werewolf to be his dominant?

“Do as I say and you will live,” the weretigress was telling him. Her clawed fingers checked his leather bonds, scratching across his skin. “You are so small, but not young, I think, to have given off a scent like the one I smelled in the forest. Foolish cub, it led me directly to you. It was easy to find a Savannah werelion's scent in the home of forest weres.”