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he fucked him, like their sex the first time, slow and tender and sweet. The cat’s purr vibrated Shane’s chest. His scent mesmerized Shane. The cat gnawed on Shane’s ear, teeth sharp enough to sting, but Shane tilted his head to the side, offering more. Shane’s head spun faster and faster with every thrust, with the scrape of the cat’s teeth down the column of his throat. He ached everywhere, bruises and scratches from the blind sprint through the forest screaming in protest. The long scratches down his back throbbed in time with the cat’s thrusts, and the punctures on his hips from the cat’s claws hurt like a motherfucker. His skin felt too tight, tingly. The pleasure of the cat rocking inside him stole his breath. Shane wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his dick, sandwiched between their rubbing abdomens, hardened again.
    The cat didn’t restrain Shane. He didn’t need to because Shane clung to him, legs wrapping around the relentlessly pumping hips. Shane twined his arms around the cat’s shoulders. The cat’s fur was soft against Shane’s fingers. Luxurious. And so damn warm, Shane burned. The cat lit him up from the inside and out. Just holding on demanded all the strength Shane could muster. When the cat lurched one last time into him, when the bite pierced the meat of his shoulder, Shane shuddered. He spilled between their writhing bodies, smearing sticky cum into the cat’s fur. The cat’s semen flooded into him, so much hotter than Shane had anticipated. The cat held Shane down, the bite of razor teeth deepening. Wet trickled in streams down Shane’s pec. His fingers splayed, then clenched the cat’s ruff, thicker around his neck and his head. Shane inhaled the earthy, pungent smell of their sex. The cat licked the wound at Shane’s shoulder, lapping Shane’s blood. Woozy, Shane whimpered in pain.
    “Precious,” the cat whispered.
    The cat held him tighter, so close Shane couldn’t smell the copper of his blood anymore, just him. Just the cat and the heady musk of their joining.
    Mercifully, Shane fainted.

Chapter Three
    “Strategic alliances and becoming a favorite are essentials in the arena. Without both, your path to cherished fuck toy will be rockier.”
    ~ Shane West
    Day 2
    The forest floor
    Shane’s own groaning woke him.
    Thick fur cocooned him as soft as a lover’s caress against the bruises and scrapes from his race through the dark. Exhausted, he kept his eyes shut and cataloged the aches. His body throbbed. The bite on his shoulder pounded hideously. His ass was so sore that sex would be too painful today. He curled his fingers, resisting the urge to rub the scratches that itched like crazy. He’d wanted the temporary protection of a cat’s mating sigil shallowly etched into his body, but if the marks scarred, the cat would earn them. Shane wouldn’t aid that task.
    He was a fucked-out mess, but nothing was broken. Nothing required a med tech or a catastrophically early evac. Fueled by hormones and instinct, the cat who had stalked him last night had mated strongly to him, but the last few attacks from Shane’s brothers had done considerably more harm. He’d survived worse.
    Assured the damage wouldn’t remove him from the arena, Shane focused his bleary senses for clues to where he was and what the day might bring.
    The scent of wood smoke and succulent meat tickled his nose, permeating the forest smells of plants and the earthy rot of mulch. The sporadic hiss of fat dripping into a fire interrupted morning birdsong.
    No strong musk of cat lingered, though, just wispy traces of his cat’s scent.
    Wary, he slitted his eyes, and then, stomach twisting, he opened them wide at the dense leaves of the thicket he’d foolishly selected as last night’s shelter. He lay in a pile of pelts, watertight skins facing outward to repel the damp morning while the fur within absorbed and reflected his body heat. A campfire flickered oranges and yellows next to him, a spit