Tags:
Fiction,
Romance,
supernatural,
Werewolves,
shifters,
cat,
King,
wolves,
spicy,
shape shifter,
lion,
goddess,
werewolf romance,
blue collar,
hybrid,
WereLion,
werecat,
bluecollar,
bluecollar werewolves,
cat scratch,
egyptian cat,
egyptian cat goddess
black leopard, was a sign of
the goddess’s favor.
“Just know Tigre, Lia, that I know my duty.”
Nathan said; the surety of a true believer in his voice. “The cat
clans may have forgotten their tasks since the Leo fell, but we
panthers know that Bastet has not truly abandoned us. We stand
ready for the return of Her favor. We fight where She sends us.”
“Oooo. Panther . I wouldn’t have taken
you for the cliché religious sort. Didn’t think anyone actually
followed that crap. No one has believed in life tasks for
generations. We wander until it is time to fuck or die.” The
tiger’s snide comment had the edge of pain to it. “Does the dead
Leo speak to you too?”
“You’re hurt, Tigre, so I’ll let that slide.
I can be respectful or I can be a vicious bastard. I choose to
begin with respect. How do you want to finish?”
“Enough.” Naomi whispered. “Thank you for
your words, panther. They do bolster the soul. You remind us of who
we are, though I am far from being clan leader, much less a
queen.”
“For your pretty words, my Lia, you may call
me Nathan. I am at your service, lovely lady.” his voice warmed,
bringing a pang to her heart at his insistence on the title. If
only they knew.
“I am not so pretty, Nathan, but thank you,
again.” As if she could ever be pretty again. Her shaved head, the
scars that must cover her face as well as her body, and the
ugliness the psychics left inside her soul made her unworthy of
such loyalty.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” The tiger
growled.
“Have you chosen then, Tigre?” Nathan’s
voice was smooth as silk. “The bastard in me is more than welcome
to sharpen my claws on your hide.”
“Sorry. My name is Morrow.” The weretiger
sounded truly contrite.
“I am Naomi.”
“ Ah. A lovely name for the Lia.”
Nathan’s words practically dripped with approval. And was that
interest? Naomi thought she might be reading more into a
conversation than she should. Breeding males pumped pheromones and
hormones that only other cats could register. Only normal male
scents of panther and tiger were in the room. The supernaturals in
the room were often injured, so blood, sickness, and charred flesh
were a constant. Still no breeding hormones enticed her.
“I imagine you flirt with all your fellow
prisoners.” She couldn’t believe she just said that. Once, Naomi
might have engaged in wordplay with a male, but that was before her
capture nearly a year ago. “I mean, you’re taking this all rather
well.”
Nathan’s rough chuckle was almost a purr.
“Not really, my Lia. I’m just where I’m supposed to be. I’m not
particularly happy with a lot of Bastet’s plans lately. But what’s
the point in bitching?”
“You hinted at that before. Are all panthers
as… secure as you?”
“Oh, Lia. I’m very secure.”Nathan
crooned.
Her cheeks heated at the teasing. She
fidgeted, itching to pace the confined space. Suddenly, she
realized that felt better than she had in a long time. Some of
that, she supposed, could be due to Dr. Drake’s methods. She still
wasn’t sure why the strange scientist would help them heal when the
experiments were designed to kill. It was something to think about, later , while she was still clear-headed.
For now, she leaned forward, intent on her
conversation. Naomi wished she could see the were-panther face
while they talked and she hadn’t touched another person in so long…
Nathan made her feel like a person again, like an embarrassed girl.
“No,” she corrected, “I mean secure in your faith . That
there is a purpose to what we’ve suffered.” The sudden silence made
Naomi dig her fingers into the thin mat. Goodness, she hoped she
hadn’t offended him. Morrow the tiger’s soft snore told just how
much the interaction had worn him out.
Small sounds came from Nathan’s side.
Unseen, she could only attribute them to his settling in. Perhaps
some dissatisfaction with her line of questioning? She