Bending Steele (11 page)

But she wanted Hexe alive more.

“Fine,” she said, her eyes on Hexe’s as she
dropped her weapon.

Her cat half came easy, like a blanket under
the skin she pulled it out, wrapping the animal around her. An
image of her father fleeing through the snow flashed through her
mind, the stink of his fear. She smelled like that now. But as her
gaze slammed into Hexe’s, she calmed. She trusted him. And unlike
her father…he wouldn’t leave her to die.

Just like she was saving him, he’d save
her.

The words were lost under the roar of her
beast as she slashed out. The killer jerked his gun up to take aim
and Hexe spun, slashing out with one leg he knocked the man off
balance. The gun bobbed, swerving wide and Hexe rammed his knife
into the man’s stomach. He staggered, a gasp spilling from him as
his gun slipped from his hands, just as Hexe rammed his second
knife into the side of his neck.

Steele stood there as her mother’s killer
crumpled to the ground. His gun clattered over the wood, as the
killer gave one last gurgling breath and went still. He stared at
her, unblinking eyes locked on hers, but Steele felt nothing for
the man who’d haunted her for years. No triumph, no sudden feeling
of closure.

Then her gaze shifted to Hexe’s, his
green-gold eyes watching her as he stared over the dead body, blood
on his hands. Relief stirred in her gut, but it was more than that.
She took a soft step towards him, one large paw splayed out over
the wood as she stopped just shy of the growing puddle of blood
that spilled out over Hexe’s floor. A soft rumbling sound roused
from her as she pulled the cat back in and shifted. Standing over
him, Steele stepped around the dead body and reached for Hexe, just
as he reached for her.

“You okay?” his voice was soft, gentle.
Filled with an emotion she hadn’t dared believe in. Not for
her.

Instead she swallowed as she blinked back
tears. “Fine.”

“Steele…” His hands caught her face, blood
smeared over her cheeks, but she leaned into him and found his
lips, covering his mouth with hers. She kissed away the worry, the
fear.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled
away. She covered his blood stained hands with hers and held them
to her face, unwilling to look away from him.

Her partner.

She leaned in and kissed him again, the
faintest brush of lips on lips, like a fallen snowflake before she
pulled away. Hexe leaned in and snagged her lips, his teeth
skimming over her mouth before she opened to him, letting him
inside. Only to realize, he already was. He’d dug a place in her
heart in a week that no one else had ever come close to. He’d made
himself a part of her life.

Even before he’d staked his claim, he’d been
trying to push his way in. She should have known a man like
Hexe—someone who hadn’t even been born in these mountains, who had
not only made a life for himself, but had made himself King—would
know exactly what he wanted. What he needed.

And in a way, he’d known exactly what she
needed too.

“Thank you,” she said again.

“Any time,” he whispered, a soft smile on his
face.

Pulling free, Hexe knelt over the man on the
floor and grabbed his pack. She watched as he unzipped it, pulled
out a small leather bag. She could smell the fur in it, the fresh
scent of death still clinging to it. Liam. At least this time, the
bastard wasn’t getting his payday.

Hexe held up a wallet next. “Jackson
Woodrow.”

Heart pounding, Steele took it. The leather
was bloody from Hexe’s fingerprints, but she flipped it open. The
man stared up at her from his driver’s license. Thirty-four, lived
in Ohio. He had a wedding picture of his wife, but Steele didn’t
feel a pang of sympathy. Maybe she hadn’t known, but it didn’t
matter. The man on the floor in front of her had deserved to die.
Not just because of what he’d done to her mother and Liam, but for
what he’d tried to do to Hexe, to her. For the simple fact that
he’d either had to die or one of them…and Steele wouldn’t have had
it end any other way. She tossed the wallet to the ground and
reached for Hexe, dragging him up. “It doesn’t matter. Not who he
was, or whatever else is in that bag.”

“Your mother…”

“Died a long time ago.” She leaned into him
and for the first time, she really accepted the truth. Her
mother…wasn’t the only person she had room in her heart to love.
Nor was she the only person in Steele’s life worth trusting.

She placed her hands on either side of his
face and drew him down for a kiss. She didn’t know if this was for
forever, but right now, she didn’t want to leave him. He’d warmed a
part of her she’d wanted frozen, but now that love had touched her
heart again, she didn’t want to go back.

The man in front of her deserved a chance,
and looking up at him now, Steele decided to give it to him.

“I think I’ll stay awhile,” she whispered and
watched the surprise play along his face. Damn, but that would
never get old.

He drew her closer. “Stay as long as you
like.”

Smiling, Steele pulled him down for another
kiss. “I will.”

###

About the
author:
During the day, Sadie Hart works as a secretary
in a library. At night, she writes steamy, paranormal romances
revolving around the things that go bump in the night - both the
spooky and the naughty kind. She lives in Michigan with two large
dogs and a flying pig, who’s possibly a superhero and possibly a
figment of her imagination. You can find her website here:
http://sadiehart.com/

Available Titles by Sadie Hart

Hounded - Shifter Town Enforcement #1

Cry Sanctuary - Shifter Town Enforcement #2

Bending Steele

Moonlit Lovers - Short Story Anthology

What the Heart Haunts

Silver Bells

***

Now Available

Hounded by Sadie Hart

Shifter
Town Enforcement #1

Chapter One

Lennox Donnelly crouched behind a sparse
yellow bush in the middle of the desert. She’d crawled the quarter
mile from the billboard where she’d hidden her car to the wooden
fence she eased under now. A soft grunt slipped out as her belly
scraped the rough grass, and then she was under, safely in the
Bayrock Pridelands.

Well, as safe as a Hound from Shifter Town
Enforcement could be around here.

The lion-shifters of Bayrock would hardly
welcome the shifter equivalent of a cop on their lands, especially
when she’d come to tag and bag one of the resident pride males.
That tended to get their tails in a twist. Her lips twisted in a
wry grin as she lay there, breathing in the thick scent of dirt and
dried grass. He shouldn’t have attacked a Hound if he hadn’t wanted
to get caught.

Hounds didn’t take kindly to one of their own
getting clawed up by a giant-sized kitty cat. Lennox slowly eased
herself into another crouch, her hands and clothes stained with the
desert-red dirt all around her. A quick scan of the area revealed
barren, yellowed rock that stretched for miles, broken only by
tufts of weed and the occasional boulder. Well, that and the small
cluster of ranch houses sitting several hundred yards to the
south.

With the sun still clinging to its perch in
the sky, more than a few of the pride members were lolling about
outside, meaning Lennox was stuck in wait mode for the time being.
Licking her dirt-chapped lips, she decided that having to hunt a
pride male in his own territory wasn’t her favorite way to spend
the evening. She wouldn’t exactly be able to march in there without
drawing the attention of the whole pride, and Enforcement liked
their takedowns cut and dried. No fuss, minimal mess.

Meaning her boss would shit sticks if Lennox
botched the takedown and he had to send the rest of the pack out to
save her ass. She needed to take Kanon Reyes in quietly, but quiet
wasn’t something lion-shifters did very well. They were a lot like
their wild brethren. Lions, both shifters and real ones, were
violent, edgy, and always riding that fine line between aggression
and brutality.

Visitors more often than not equated to
snacks.

Keeping low, Lennox crept closer to the small
ranch. Six houses total. It wasn’t the biggest pride around, and
once everyone settled in for the night she should be able to make
her move with a minimum of uproar. A car rattled up the road and
Lennox froze. The only cars heading up this drive would be other
pride members. But she should be fine since she’d planned her
clothes to blend in easily with the red dirt and wiry brush that
dotted the landscape. She’d dressed for a romp along a country dirt
road, and at this point her khaki camos were dusted thoroughly with
prairie dirt, and her tan tank top matched her skin. To a car
racing down the road, she should be invisible.

The car drove on past, exhaust billowing out
in dark, angry plumes, and Lennox waited, breath held. Watching.
Taillights flashed in the dim evening light as the car pulled to a
stop in front of a two-story house with a wraparound porch. She
watched the towering form of a man get out, black hair flipped back
in the wind. Had to be her man.

And he was alone. Lion prides, just like in
the wild, were typically run by a coalition of ‘alpha’ males. The
Bayrock Pride only had two coalition males, and one of her pack
mates was supposed to have eyes on Tegan Sharpe to make sure he
didn’t make it home in time to come running to his partner’s
aid.

One pissed male lion-shifter was going to be
bad enough. She licked the grit off her teeth and stretched out,
belly-crawling over the dry, cracked grass. All this would have
been easier if she’d just shifted into her dog-half and trotted the
distance in a low crouch, but she kept her inner Rhodesian
ridgeback clamped down. The trip to the ranch would have been
easier, but it was a waste of energy and magick that no experienced
Hound would risk.

She needed hands to put cuffs on Reyes when
she got to him. Hands to slip a gag in his mouth if she needed one.
Hands to tranq him enough to make him cooperative. Human logic had
won out, so Lennox crept over the ground. Lean muscles bunched as
she hung low, scanning the road for any other cars heading this
way. Her shoulder holster chafed against the back of her arm as she
rolled to get a good view.

All clear.

About damn time. She loved a good hunt.

Quickly working her way closer to the ranch,
she was stopped cold by a roar that filled the slowly darkening
sky. A tremor ran down her back, raising gooseflesh down her arms
in a rush. It sounded again, deeper this time. Throatier. The roar
had a physical punch to it. She could feel it rattle in her lungs
and she caught her breath at the sheer force behind it.

With nothing more than sound, Reyes left her
frozen on the dirt a quarter mile away from his ranch, staring as
the pride scurried into their homes. A lion cub pounced on a human
sibling before darting in a front door; an impatient woman tapped
her foot against the whitewashed porch step before she, too,
disappeared inside. Reyes stood on the tan steps of the two-story
house in the center, his face tilted back toward the dying sun.

The embers of fading sunshine highlighted the
rich tan of his skin, illuminating his profile in sharp contrast to
the shadow of his jaw. It made him look hard, fierce. His tongue
darted out over pale pink lips, and then his mouth opened again.
She could see him shudder and then sway as he roared again. A
shudder stole up his spine and his whole body swayed with the force
of the sound ripping out of him. It thundered across the savannah
sky, leaving Lennox trembling under the force of it, grubby
fingertips curling into dirt.

Mine, it bellowed. Mine!

The stark claim settled over the land, and
with a final glance across the now-silent string of houses, Reyes
let out a satisfied snort and turned on his heel, disappearing
inside. Lennox watched him go, strength coiled through every step.
Like most lion-shifters, Kanon Reyes was built like a tank—his
capacity for sheer power and brutality evident in the shift and
play of muscles and skin. He’d hurt one of her Hounds, left the
poor man hospitalized. He’d pay for that. Her jaw tightened.

She was going to take the violent bastard
down.

Hard.

***

Kanon stretched out across the leather sofa,
a bowl of popcorn balanced on his stomach as he flicked through the
channels. A few hundred channels, and he’d have thought he could
find one decent thing to watch. Frustrated, he settled on a rerun
of Halloween. Maybe watching Michael Meyers kill people would make
him feel more at ease.

The night felt off, and it bugged the hell
out of him.

The house was too damn quiet.

One finger tapped the volume button until the
sound level rattled the walls. Nights without Tegan at home were
long, dull affairs that put his teeth on edge. But it had been a
choice between a night home with the pride without Tegan or a night
negotiating territory with the Idaho Basin Pride’s coalition.

He’d passed on the latter.

Kanon didn’t have the temperament for it. The
bastards had trespassed. In Kanon’s book it was simple: A quick
slice of claws and they wouldn’t be an issue anymore. Tegan had
more patience, more finesse. And then, when all else failed, Tegan
would kick their asses as cleanly as Kanon could have.

The new shifter laws required that all
shifters belong in easily catalogued groups, and for lions that
meant being classified as part of a pride. There was still the
occasional rogue lion-shifter, but they had to report their
permanent address and every job they worked to Shifter Town
Enforcement and suffer the random check-ins. Which meant a Hound
could show at any time to make sure they were staying on the
straight and narrow. After Kanon had almost eaten the last Hound,
when the bastard had showed up unannounced in the dead of the
night, they’d opted to give pride life a shot. There were less
check-ins and hassle from the Hounds.