Roaring for Him (BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance) (Wicked in Wilder Book 1) (7 page)

A low
woof
drew her attention and she shook her body, settling into her fur. She stretched her front legs like a house cat before doing the same to her back legs and then hopped from the SUV. She landed on the soft ground with a low thump and slowly made her way around the vehicle.

And… what she found surprised her.

Mitchell was big. Huge, even. The average werewolf she came in contact with resembled natural wolves. Maybe a little bigger, a little stronger and faster, but still similar to a natural wolf.

He wasn’t anything like others she’d met. His shoulders were higher than hers, his bulk making him near her in weight and his head and jaws… She wondered if she could fit her head into his mouth. More like an abstract wondering. It wasn’t something she was intent on testing. Because while she trusted him, it was only to a point.

Putting her life in his jaws wasn’t something she wanted to experience just yet.

Mitchell padded forward, giving her a doggy smile with his tongue lolling out. The moment she drew near, he woofed and wagged his tail, tilting his head toward the forest. The silent message was clear. He was ready to go, ready to have fun… ready to hunt.

Was he really after food? Or her?

She couldn’t wait to find out. She also wasn’t going to admit she’d really like to be on the menu.

* * *

God. Damn. Tilly was beautiful. All sleek lines of golden fur and lithe muscle. When she was on two legs, he loved every inch of her curves, all that softness just waiting for him to stroke and taste. But as a lioness? Her restrained power was a lure, an almost irresistible temptation to his wolf. He wanted to tangle with her, race her through the forest, hunt with her.

She was solid muscle and fur and… his.

Soon.

He’d probably said too much already, pushed her too hard, but fuck it. His wolf wanted her—he wanted her—now.

Mitchell
woofed
once more and took a step toward the forest, beckoning her. If they were mated, they could speak telepathically. For now, they’d have to depend on barks, howls, whines, and body language.

She padded toward him, those large, deadly paws sinking into the soft earth. She flexed her nails, digging them into the dirt and then she was off like a shot. She bolted toward the tree line, a roar escaping her wide maw and each lope sending soil flying. He was on her heels, howling and releasing his own call as he began his chase.

Her muscles flexed and stretched beneath her skin and fur, tensing and relaxing with each stride. She was fast, nearly faster than him, but he pushed to keep pace with her. She raced, leaping over obstacles, and bouncing between tree trunks. She’d push off from one, latch onto another and then vault into the air after leaping off the third. She was like a gorgeous, tempting pinball.

Who was leading the show?

Mitchell barked and snapped at her hind legs in an attempt to get her attention. The teasing lioness glanced back at him, never slowing, and flashing a hint of pale fang. Really? Was his delicious mate an agile predator? Sure. Did she know the forest better than she knew herself? No.

Mitchell did.

From the moment they entered the forest, he knew what lay before them. So when she was forced to stutter in her pace in order to take a last minute leap, he raced onward. They battled for the lead, giving and taking the spot until they came upon a narrow bend in the creek.

He put on speed then, his wolf’s body gathering momentum and digging deep for additional power. When he reached the edge, he leapt, soaring to clear the twenty-foot span. He landed on the other side with a low grunt, his paws digging into the muddy bank as he slid sideways along the shore.

Tilly wasn’t far behind him, but while he anticipated the leap, she was surprised. As she landed on the opposite side of the creek, her front paws connected with the small slope at the water’s edge while her back legs landed in the cool liquid with a splash.

Her momentum carried her forward another few stumbling steps. She sought him with her gaze and leveled a glare on him when their stares connected. He fought very, very hard not to laugh at his half-soaked mate. He could do that later.

But even covered in creek water, she was gorgeous, the liquid matting her fur against her slick body. Glare in place, she took another few steps forward, and then shook herself, sending droplets flying. Followed by a feline sneeze.

She widened her eyes, the expression similar to a human raising their eyebrows, and he padded toward her. She didn’t back away or retreat, but merely remained still at his approach. Unable to resist, he nuzzled her muzzle and then rubbed his cheek across her snout. He gave her neck the same treatment, enjoying the feel of her fur against his. She belonged to him and if he couldn’t claim her with his mating bite, he could at least transfer some of his scent to her body.

When she returned the gestures, her feline tongue lapping at his fur as she caressed him, he knew she felt the same way. Even if she wouldn’t yet accept the truth, her cat welcomed their connection. That thought was reaffirmed when a low, rumbling purr filled the air. Her lioness was pleased with him. Of course, when the sound was immediately silenced with a low huff and Tilly’s quick retreat, he knew his mate’s human half wasn’t as excited.

He took a step away from her, his wolf anxious to chase his prey and present a meal to his mate to prove his worth as a partner and provider. It was archaic, but the desire was built into him, part of his soul. He
had
to feed her. There was no other course of action. When she moved to follow him, he eased toward her and nudged her back, trying to encourage her to stay put. He couldn’t exactly kill for her if she participated.

With a feline huff, she lowered her ass to the ground, sitting prettily and looking gorgeous despite the water and mud buried in her fur. She looked more like a brown lioness rather than gold, but it couldn’t diminish his attraction. He huffed at her, narrowing his eyes, and she released a sigh before laying down completely. He didn’t trust her though. The minute he turned his back…

Tilly hissed at him, pealing her lips back and baring her fangs as she released the sound. Apparently his mate was tired of waiting.

He released one last bark and then darted into the trees, nose to the ground in an effort to find worthy prey. He rustled a smattering of leaves, a bush here and there, and ran his muzzle along the base of tree. Rabbits recently passed, but he wanted something bigger.

The wind shifted and the scent of deer teased his nostrils. It called to his wolf, his animal anxious to hunt and run the animal to ground. They’d sate one hunger and he hoped the two of them could come together and satisfy another they shared.

Mitchell quickly changed direction, immediately spinning the moment his feet touched the ground and dashed west. He put on additional speed, racing toward the source of the aroma. He wasn’t sure how far he’d have to run, but he
would
get the animal. What sucked was he’d have to carry the fucker back to her. He wasn’t dragging a damned deer through the forest as a wolf. He’d feed her, but he wasn’t gonna take all fucking day to do it.

A rustling of leaves ahead of him and to the left drew his attention and a flicker of brown fur flashed into sight before disappearing once again.

Got it.

He was in pursuit, sprinting after the deer. He was fucking close as hell. This was easier than he’d anticipated. He leapt over the row of bushes and his prey entered his vision once more, the animal fleeing for its life.

So close…

But something interrupted his mad dash. It destroyed his desire to kill for his mate. Or rather, it killed his desire to hunt prey. It
did not
destroy the urge to kill in its entirety.

Because right then, as he cleared a fallen tree and snapped his jaws at the deer, a ferocious, enraged roar broke through the forest.

Tilly’s roar.

And she was pissed.

Fuck.

Mitchell spun, breaking off from his chase and raced toward the creek. He flew over the ground, leaping over everything in his path. He cleared bushes with ease, the fallen trees no match for his wolf’s power.

Another sound met him, her hiss shooting through the forest, announcing her growing anger.

And then… a growl. A low threatening rumble that had him pushing harder, going faster as he bolted toward his mate. There was no mistaking the source, no doubt in his mind that a wolf threatened Tilly, and that was unacceptable.

The breeze shifted, changing direction, bringing the scent of her blood, the coppery tang holding the essence of her innate aroma. Not only was a wolf threatening her, he’d attacked as well. He released his own growl, the sound vibrating the air, louder and deeper than the beast currently antagonizing his mate. Maybe it’d scare the attacker off long enough to get Tilly to safety before he began the hunt for the wolf that’d harmed his female.

He bounded over the last row of bushes hiding the stream from view and took in the scene with a swift glance. Tilly stood in the stream’s shallows, a large swath of red soaking her fur and just opposite her, a wolf.

One of Mitchell’s wolves, one of his pack. The dark gray and black fur, the wolf’s size, told him all he needed to know about the attacker.

Seth.

Mitchell didn’t slow, didn’t even hesitate to head straight for the male who’d harmed his female. He couldn’t imagine Tilly had managed to rip into her own back on a rock from the stream. And then he spotted the blood on Seth’s paws, true evidence he’d attacked the lioness.

Seth tensed, muscles in his legs tightening in a precursor of a leap and Mitchell went right for him. The male launched himself in the air, mouth open and body aimed at Tilly. Mitchell caught him mid-air, plowing into the male, sending him skittering over the muddied ground. He kept his feet under him while Seth continued sliding before rolling to his feet.

A smart wolf would have come upon Tilly, sniffed the air, and recognized Mitchell’s fresh scent that coated her fur. Then that same smart wolf would have left Tilly alone. A
smarter
wolf would now realize his mistake and bare his neck in submission before shifting and offering his apology.

Seth was a fucking dumbass. He bared his teeth at Mitchell, lips peeled back to expose his white fangs. Saliva dripped from their tips. The threat—the challenge—was clear.

And Mitchell was ready to accept for more than one reason. Seth had been giving him shit lately, pushing his boundaries, acting insolent and disobedient on more than one occasion. Then there was the grumbling and general bitching about a cat amongst wolves.

Now he’d attacked Tilly—Mitchell’s mate. He readily admitted they weren’t yet mated, but his scent covered the lioness as well as the area. The flavors were fresh. There was no reason for Seth’s attack and yet the wolf had come after her.

Rather than wait for Seth to strike first, Mitchell took the fight to him. He rushed forward, paws kicking up dirt as he closed the distance between them. They met in the middle as they both rose to their back legs. Paws collided, mouths wide, and they snapped at each other, fighting to find a weakness.

He dug his claws into Seth’s shoulders, sinking into the vulnerable flesh. He held on for a moment, caused what damage he could with that small connection, and then shoved the wolf back. His opponent bled from the deep wounds, but didn’t look like he had any intention of giving up.

No matter, Mitchell’s wolf was enjoying himself, the animal anxious to taste Seth’s blood for daring to lay a paw on Tilly.

Seth came forward again, teeth bared as before, but this time Mitchell didn’t meet him on back legs. No, when Seth rose, Mitchell went low. He darted forward, snapped at the male’s back leg and sank his teeth into his opponent’s hindquarter.

He went deep until his teeth struck bone. The injury caused the wolf to whimper and Mitchell shook his head to cause greater harm. He didn’t want to disable the wolf, but he also knew a shifter recovered quickly and easily. The damage he caused now would be repaired within the hour.

Mitchell released Seth and danced away. His wolf evaluated the other male’s condition, noting the heavy limp and copious amounts of blood staining his fur. It wouldn’t be long now before Seth submitted. Not long at all.

His opponent snarled and hobbled forward, teeth still bared in a threat.

Dammit. Enough was enough. This time he didn’t go for a debilitating bite but for submission. He leapt and came down atop Seth. His weight drove the other wolf down and Mitchell gripped his opponent’s scruff with his teeth. It took one giant heave to flip the male, to send him flying overhead and then he slammed him to the ground. He immediately crouched over the wolf now laying on his back. He opened his jaw wide and placed his mouth inches from Seth’s exposed throat, a growl rumbling from his chest. The message was clear—submit or die.

Seth trembled and twitched and Mitchell wondered if his pack mate was truly that stupid. Just in case, he increased the rumble and lowered his tone, reaffirming his threat. That got a reaction, but not the one he sought. His opponent stilled and appeared to submit, his body relaxing slightly.
Appeared.

But Mitchell was an alpha and
he
knew the difference. So he snarled and lowered his head as he gripped the male’s throat between his teeth. He increased the pressure until Seth’s breathing came in low wheezes. An alpha couldn’t be weak, had to have full control of every member of his pack. To allow Seth to live without gaining his submission would be like handing his pack over to the idiot. Never gonna happen.

The next sound from Seth, the
real
whimper and relaxation of his body, told Mitchell the wolf had finally given up. He
should
release Seth and step away, give the male a chance to leave.

Mitchell didn’t always do as he should. He tightened a hint more until blood decorated his fangs. This male injured Tilly. His Tilly. His mate. He ached to kill Seth for the offense, but a low whimper—a
feline
whimper—had him releasing Seth and he backed away to put space between them. Tilly was injured and needed him more than Mitchell needed retribution. He’d deal with Seth as soon as he ensured Tilly’s safety.