Sumerhouse

Caly’s Lion Lions of the Serengeti: Book Three Published: 2011 ISBN: 978-1-936950-56-0

Published by Summerhouse Publishing. Copyright, Lizzie Lynn Lee. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

Summerhouse Publishing http://summerhousepublishing.com Email [email protected] Editor Marisa Chenery Cover Artist Lizzie Lynn Lee This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. Smashwords Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

Caly Anderson had two choices. One—get killed by the militants…or two—get eaten by a lion. She figured neither would be any less horrible than the other, though the first choice might be a tad less painful than the second—that was—if the militants didn’t sexually assault her first. She was the only westerner in this refugee camp, and she stuck out like a sore thumb. She quickly closed the shack door—a place that had served as her home for the past couple of weeks, and dragged a half-filled drum of oil in front of it to block the way in. The Janjaweed militants from Darfur were on a hunting spree. In her short time here, she’d learned that Ahmad Ibrahim, the head of the camp where she was assigned, had had no choice but to make a bargain with Omer Abuda—whose men had come in open vehicles and on horseback—not to harm the refugees. In exchange, Ibrahim had to give Abuda, leader of the militia, half of the aid he received. Though, being that she wasn’t a refugee, she supposed Abuda might not consider her to be included in that pact. So, when Abuda had gotten wind that she, an American nurse, had been dispatched to the camp, she knew it would only be a matter of time before he’d come looking for her and take her hostage. And after just two weeks, that time seemed to be now. She also knew any stray American in this patch of desolate land was worth a lot of

money to someone in Abuda’s position. That was, if the foundation she worked for, would even pay the captors’ ransom. And they wouldn’t, since they didn’t negotiate with terrorists. When she’d been hired to do this humanitarian job, she had to sign a waiver for such risks. No, if anything were to happen to her out here, she was on her own. Caly had been taking care of a new mother and her baby when Mali, Ibrahim’s runner, had warned her Abuda and his men were about to storm the camp. The roar of their vehicles and thunderous sounds of galloping horses could be heard from miles away. Caly had run—ever so quickly—to the shack that sat near a big, dead tree. She’d been living in the hollow underneath it since she’d arrived. Ibrahim had told her it was for her own safety, and now, if she hadn’t before, believed him. The shack had a trapdoor to her nest, but she couldn’t get in there right now, because a huge male lion sat on top of it. If she stayed where she was, Abuda would certainly take her hostage. If she made a move for the trapdoor, this lion might have her for his snack. So for now, she stood as still as humanly possible. Caly hadn’t heard of any lion sightings in this part of Africa, but now there it was, staring right at her. Her adrenaline pumping, she made a rash decision to take a chance with it. If it were hungry and wanted to eat her, at least, it would be a dignified death. Unlike the alternative. Abuda and his men were infamously known for their sadistic behavior. She hated to think about what they’d do to her, an American woman, in this war torn country.

She crouched next to the drum, making herself small. The lion had done nothing but stare at her. No growling, advancing, no nothing. He was a biggie too. His paws were enormous and looked every bit as deadly. She was certain he could sever his victim with just one swing. His body was heavily muscled and sinuous, and his tail was long, repeatedly whipping back and forth as she watched. The lion’s mane lush and golden, the beast was actually quite beautiful, once she got past her freak-out-o-meter. His amber eyes were luminous, and she thought she saw intelligence behind them, more so than any wild animal she’d ever encountered. Caly then noticed something else. Drops of blood. He was wounded. His right front paw appeared to well with it. He didn’t seem bothered by his injury, but Caly knew it couldn’t be good. If his wound wasn’t properly tended to, he’d likely get an infection. Besides, she knew losing a lot of blood spelled disaster for any hot-blooded mammal. A strange maternal instinct surged through her. She wanted—no needed—to help him. Or maybe it was something else, like her being a nurse, and she couldn’t stand seeing any creature in pain, without trying to do something to help it. But she wasn’t a veterinarian. Plus, she didn’t see how she could tend to him without getting mauled first. An idea sprung into her mind. On the wildlife shows on TV, she always saw the vet tranquilize the wild animals before getting close. Too bad for her, the emergency medical kit was tucked away in her hiding hole—exactly where she couldn’t get to right now.

Caly had been a combat medic for the U.S. Army for four years. She’d been dispatched to Iraq after having been honorably discharged three months ago. She’d treated a lot of injuries on the warfront. She only hoped helping a wounded animal wouldn’t be much different than the soldiers she’d tended to. Except her patient would likely growl, instead of moan and bitch. If she could somehow get into her hideaway, she could snatch the kit, then treat this injured lion. Rather unlikely, though. The lion didn’t seem inclined to move anytime soon. He was still staring at her, appearing to size her up with his luminous, golden, predatory gaze. Meanwhile, outside, she could hear Abuda’s men making cacophonous noises as they checked the shacks and tents, all while harassing the refugees. Shit. Caly had to get to her hiding hole. The militants would more than likely check the shack she was in because it was the biggest, used to store fuel and food. Suddenly, the lion growled low. The hair on her nape stood up. Goose bumps broke out all over her flesh. The lion scrambled up and hissed in the direction of the shack’s entrance. He then looked back and forth between her and the door, as if he knew what was happening. So eerie. The lion limped toward the door, growling deeper. “Shh,” Caly whispered without thinking, “they’re gonna find out about us.” The lion suddenly quieted, as if he understood what she said. That was the weirdest thing ever. So too was the way he hunched, putting himself between the door and where she hid, seemingly to protect her. Caly’s fear was replaced by amazement.

Maybe this lion was a trained animal, and not a wild one. She couldn’t figure out how he’d gotten here in the first place, though. Or how he’d been wounded, either. Caly cut her gaze to the trapdoor. Now that the lion had moved from it, she could get into her hideout. Hesitation curled at the base of her spine. Would the lion attack her as she made a dash for it? She considered it for a moment. She took a gamble he wouldn’t. Slowly, she crawled past the big beast toward the pile of crates. Her heart beat so fast, all she heard was the wild, thunderous pulse from her tight chest. The lion let her pass unmolested. Caly pushed a row of empty crates that helped shield the trapdoor. She found the ring handle and lifted it. The heavy door planks groaned open, and the short, rickety stairs welcomed her into the dark. She was halfway into the hole when a thought occurred to her. If the militants broke into this shack and found the lion, she was certain they would kill him on sight. He might be a big predator, but he would be no match against rifles, shotguns and automatic weapons. Besides, he was wounded. Caly climbed back up and poked her head into the opening. “Hey, Mr. Lion.” This is silly. It’s not going to work. To her sheer astonishment, the lion turned and looked in her direction. I’ll be damned. “Hide here. If the bad men see you, they’ll shoot you,” she warned. But the lion turned back to the door. Okay, that would’ve been too good to be true. What was I thinking? Talking to a wild lion as if he were a golden retriever? Caly was going to close the trapdoor when the lion moved in her direction, causing her to freeze for a

moment. No way. Does he really know what I’m saying? Their gazes locked. The lion appeared to be looking at the stairs. Holy shit. I think he really does. Caly crawled out to let him in. The lion gave her a sniff before he climbed down—as if he owned the place. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She grabbed an old tarp to cover the trapdoor the best she could, then closed it. She felt her way down, stepping on one stair at a time. When she reached the bottom, she just sat at the foot of the steps. The lion must be around somewhere. Her nest was relatively small, measuring approximately twenty feet long by fifteen feet wide. It had a small table, a cot and stacks of wooden crates she used for her belongings, including clothes. The air was damp and smelled from the earth, but the small space was fitted with a pipe that went outside for fresh air circulation. She sat still and listened. She had a lighter in her pocket, but she didn’t dare use it. She also had candles and an old-fashioned lantern for a light source. But she had to wait until Abuda’s men left the camp to use them in order to escape detection. A minute later, the loud, unmistakable noise of a door being kicked in sounded above her nest. Heavy boots thundered from above. Men yelled at each other. She recognized Ibrahim’s voice pleading with Abuda’s men in Arabic. The men argued. Caly prayed they wouldn’t notice the trail of blood. The shack was rather dark, and the floor was mainly covered with dirt and sawdust. This particular group of militiamen wasn’t a clever bunch, and being that they weren’t anything like crime scene investigators, she sincerely hoped searching for a clue would be the last thing on their feeble little minds.

Caly allowed herself to breathe, because the men above haggled about something else. Her guess had been right. She heard a couple of boxes being moved from the shack. It seemed Ibrahim was bribing Abuda’s men with MREs—or Meals Ready-to-Eat. Caly cursed in silence. That food was for the refugees. There were women, children and the elderly who needed it more than these stupid-ass militia grunts. She and Ibrahim had carefully rationed the meals to last until the next drop. Now, more than a few would have to go hungry. Caly was still steaming when the men left the shack and the door closed. Had she been a superhero, she would’ve kicked those men’s asses to Mars. Back in the Army, she’d been issued an M-16, but here, she didn’t pack a single form of defense. The foundation was a religious organization, and having guns, no less using them, was frowned upon. Independent contractors, like Caly, were expected to ward against warlords like Omer Abuda with love and prayers. The sound of feline snuffling snatched her back to reality. Shit. She forgot she had a guest. The lion. Since they’d dodged a bullet, literally, Caly felt confident enough to use her lighter. She fished it out of her pocket and flicked it on. The fire illuminated her nest. Oh, how nice. The lion was lounging on her cot. Luckily, it was constructed with a bed frame and mattress. Otherwise, she had little doubt it would’ve collapsed under the extreme weight of the lion.

Caly crawled to where she’d put her candle and lit it. The nest became a little bit brighter. The lion seemed interested in the light source she held in her hand. He watched her with what she thought were inquiring eyes. His front paw was still bleeding. “If you let me, I can help you,” Caly whispered. The lion cocked his head. “I have my medical kit. I can stop the bleeding and make your boo-boo feel better.” The lion blinked. “Say meow if you understand.” A loud roar filled the nest. “Whoa. Quiet down. The bad men will know we’re down here.” Caly scratched her head. “Am I crazy or what? But…it seems as if you understand me.” The lion shot her what she guessed to be a reproachful look. “Don’t get me wrong. I thought dolphins were the smartest among animals, but you seem to be pretty damn smart yourself. I’m going to touch you. Don’t eat me, okay?” Caly dared herself to touch him. When the lion didn’t make any attempt to bite her head clean off, she petted his forepaw and edged forward to have a closer look at his boo-boo. Tranquilizer? What tranquilizer? The lion must’ve known she meant well, because he proffered his wounded paw for examination. This whole situation was surreal. Caly didn’t know if all lions were this smart, but she had a feeling this one was pretty special. She put the candle on the crate. She grabbed the kit and rummaged through it for the supplies she needed—gauze, bandages and Betadene. She took a packet of sterilized

wipes and proceeded to sanitize her hands. She focused on the source of where the blood was coming from. She recognized it as a gunshot wound—she’d seen lots of them during her deployments with the Army. “You poor thing,” she crooned. “What did you do to deserve this?” She could swear the lion was grinning at her. Nah. Must be her imagination. The lion’s muzzle peeled upward. Maybe he was in pain? She shook herself and continued on. She grabbed a wad of gauze and dabbed it with Betadene. The lion watched her as she cleaned his paw, the area of his wound. She saw an entrance and exit wound—it appeared the bullet had torn right through. Judging from its diameter, the damage had been caused by a small caliber weapon. She reckoned the militants typically carried biggies like Uzis and Soviet AK-47s, though truthfully, it wasn’t as if she’d had the chance to inspect every weapon they used. “You’re lucky, you know? Whoever did this could’ve easily killed you.” He replied with a small grunt. Caly liked this lion already. She noticed the blood had already begun to coagulate. She tried to determine if the bullet had damaged his bones or arteries. Examining it, she came to the conclusion it had been a clean through and through. The bullet had missed all his vital parts. The entrance wound was small, but the exit wound was a bit bigger, and would require some suturing. She applied fresh gauze, then put pressure on it to further aid in stopping the bleeding. Working on the exit wound was going to be rather tricky. Caly prepared the suture and coaxed the lion to twist his forepaw upward. She wasn’t sure how she was

going to do this. Stitching a human was sometimes a pain in the ass, and the most macho of soldiers still flinched and screamed in pain. She had no idea what a lion would do. But so far, he’d been a perfect patient. No whining, and especially, no biting her head off. She gave him enough stitches to close the gaping wound, so it wouldn’t get infected when he stepped on the dirt, but left some space open for drainage. Suddenly, the lion growled when she sutured his paw, but he didn’t move, or eat her. He was being so good. Super good. She would’ve liked to have given him a lollipop if she had any. Caly finished by applying more fresh gauze and bandaging the forepaw tightly. She didn’t know how long any of it would stay on. Animals had the tendency to lick or chew any object that was stuck to their bodies. When Caly had had her golden retriever neutered, her dog had to wear a cone around his collar to prevent him from licking the stitches. To her surprise, the lion didn’t even try to touch the bandage. Instead, he craned his neck and licked her face. “You’re welcome,” Caly giggled in a low voice, no longer afraid. His tongue felt like sandpaper. This lion was friendly. And astoundingly smart. Perhaps circus trained? Or maybe he was an animal behaviorist’s pet at a game reserve. Caly cautiously ran her fingers through his mane. At first, she wasn’t sure if he’d allow her to touch him. But after a few tense seconds passed, it seemed he trusted her enough to let her groom him. Feeling bolder, she petted him, while probing his large body to see if he’d been shot anywhere else. When she got to his belly area, he gave her

a loud growl. She stopped. It seemed the lion didn’t like being touched there. Okay. She instead focused on petting his mane once again, as he appeared to like that. She’d picked up one or two bits about lions from nature shows she’d watched on TV. They were bold and gallant animals. Caly remembered her grammar school teacher saying the Egyptians adored lions so much that Pharaoh Ramses II went into battle being accompanied by one. A thrill surged through her. Petting a huge lion felt so different than petting any domesticated animal. Like her dog. He was predictable…but this lion surely wasn’t. Though she hoped she were wrong, because realistically, at any moment he didn’t like what she was doing, the lion could simply bite her head off. And so, the danger became a thrill. It might’ve been what had driven the Egyptians to adore this magnificent, noble beast in the first place. Ha! She felt like Ramses II already. Toying with danger. Taunting fate. All that was missing were palm leaves and topless servants bearing trays of ripe fruits. The lion let out a chuffed sounding purr and laid his head down on his good paw. Caly let him sleep. She collected her medical kit and stored it away. Suddenly, exhaustion weaved into her muscles. Maybe from the tension. Maybe from the heat. Her nest was pleasantly cool and dark, even though the air was a bit stale. She found it to be the perfect place to rest inside the entire camp. Caly leaned against the plank-covered wall. Her surroundings fell silent. Usually, she heard children playing or chattering. But not today, not after Abuda’s raid. Every living soul must be hiding in their tents or shacks. Like herself. And the lion.

She stared blankly into the candlelight until sleep finally claimed her, sending her off to Never Never Land.

Chapter Two

Jax Rarh was catapulted from his dream and thrown back into reality when an angry voice threatened to bash his head in if he didn’t wake up and explain himself. He groaned, squinting at the owner of the voice that yelled at him. His head hurt. Every part of his body felt sore and achy as if he’d been run over by a Mack truck. He blinked. A woman’s face came into focus. She wielded a pipe and hissed about how she wouldn’t hesitate to use it if he didn’t answer her questions. But what were they? “I’m sorry, miss.” His throat was parched. Jax needed some water. “What did you say again?” “Who are you? How did you get here?” Her gaze darted to his bandaged hand. “It’s impossible. Nonono. You’re a fucking lion. I treated you myself.” Oh, is this what the ruckus is all about? “I’m a werelion,” Jax said weakly. The headache. And the dull pain in his belly. “A were—what?” “Lion.” “Werelion? Like…a…werewolf?” “Yeah, like that.” “But that’s fucking impossible.” “Then explain how I got here.”

The pipe lowered slightly. Her cheeks flushed. “I don’t know. You must’ve snuck in while I slept.” “And what about the lion that was sleeping here?” Her green eyes flashed. “You shooed him away.” “And the bandage?” Her lips thinned when she seemed to have run out of a logical explanation. “Who are you?” “I’m Jax. May I sit up?” She lowered the pipe. A little bit. Her eyes watched his every move, as if with distrust. Jax hoisted himself into a sitting position. His head spun. He’d lost a lot of blood yesterday. When he’d been spotted by Omer Abuda’s men, he’d been shot from fairly close range. A mistake on his part for underestimating them. The bullets had torn through his gut and his paw. A shifter like him had the ability to mend their flesh fast, but after he’d healed the wound in his gut, he had no strength left to regenerate his paw. He’d been stretched thin by the long journey from Al Fashir to Ibrahim’s refugee camp. He’d made the quick decision to hide in the shack to rest and gather his energy. He hadn’t expected to meet this lovely nurse. Jax inhaled deep and released it. His gut wound had healed nicely, but the ghostly pain still lingered. The woman narrowed her eyes. “Are you okay?” Her voice seemed to be filled with sympathy.

“I’m fine.” Her gaze skated to his belly. He was barechested. Due to the heat, when Jax had shifted, he’d only had on a pair of jeans and sneakers. K’stal was the only shape-shifter pride able to retain what they wore when shifted to their beastly form. Others had to be naked, or destroyed their clothes in the shifting process. “You have a scar on your abdomen,” she stated. “Is that new, or an old one?” “You can say it’s new.” “How recent?” “Same time as I got a hole in my paw.” She seemed to become interested. “You’re joking.” “Lady, why would I make a joke like that? It ain’t funny.” “How did that one heal faster than the other?” Jax grinned. “Ran out of my superpowers. It happens, you know?” She looked as if she wanted to argue, but seemed to have changed her mind midway. “Let me see your hand.” “As long as you promise not to hit me with that big stick.” She harrumphed and dropped the pipe. “Let me see it,” she demanded. Jax surrendered his bandaged hand. She then produced what looked like a medical kit and rummaged through it until she found a pair of scissors. She cut the bandage and carefully lifted the gauze. Dry blood caked the dressing. He felt a slight pinch. No new tear. The surface of his skin had healed completely, leaving a dime-sized scar. She whistled, as if amazed. She flipped his hand. She removed the compress with

the same gentleness as before. The exit wound on his palm was already closed, leaving only the stitches she’d put in last night. “No fucking way,” she breathed out, an expression of awe radiating from her pretty face. Jax wanted to snort. Apparently, Miss Nurse also had a potty mouth. Did she kiss her mother with those lips? He knew he would. Her lips, not her mother’s. Jax had to admit she was the delight of this bleak, depressing place. She was dressed in green fatigues and a pair of scuffed boots. Judging from her Battle Dress, Jax had first thought she was either a UN or NATO peacekeeper. Though, her being the only one in this camp had told him otherwise. And after a few attempts at eavesdropping, Jax had found out she was a privately contracted nurse who was employed by Lighthouse, a charity based foundation similar to Red Cross. Everyone called her Nurse Anderson. Jax preferred to call her Nurse Sexy. She wasn’t built in Hollywood’s standard of sexiness. A stick figure with two augmented balloons, she was not. She had curves. Jealous people might call her plump, but Jax preferred to think of her as voluptuously lush. Like a real woman should be. Her hair was strawberry blonde—and a real blonde too, because he didn’t see any dark roots. And pulled to the back of her head in a tight bun. Her skin might’ve been pale originally, but working for hours under the hot sun had seemed to have earned her a healthy tan. She had a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks, making her that much cuter. Her eyes were shockingly green, glittering like emeralds. Her nose was

slim and tilted slightly up at the end. Her cheekbones were high, and her lips were shapely and sensual. And her body… Jax indulged himself in a bit of dirty thought. Her breasts were large, but not freakishly so. They looked as if they would fit perfectly in the palms of his hands. Not too big. Not too small. Just perfect. And judging from the way they looked, they were also real… “Hey!” He averted his eyes to catch her frowning. “My face is up here.” “Sorry, I was looking at your nametag.” “I don’t have one.” “That’s why I was looking for it.” “Yeah, right.” “What’s your name?” “Anderson.” “That’s your last name. What’s your first name?” “What’s your first name?” “I told you already. Jax.” “Your last name?” “Rarh. Jax Rarh.” She appeared to cringe. “What kind of name is that? And how do you spell—” “R—a—r—h. It’s from an old Bantu tongue. So, Nurse Anderson, what’s your first name?”

She paused before answering in a small voice, her gaze fixed on the stitches on his palm. “Caly.” “Caly Anderson.” Jax reflected upon it. “That’s a beautiful name.” A blush reddened her cheeks. She threw her hands up in the air. “I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t stitched this up myself. Either you’re the lion you claim you are, or I was having one hell of a hallucination last night.” “I can give you good news—you weren’t hallucinating last night.” Her green-eyed gaze fixed intently on his. “Shape-shifters aren’t real.” “If that’s what you think, then I’m as real as Santa Claus.” She grimaced. “Jax Rarh, huh?” “Yes, ma’am.” “You have an American accent.” “And you have a Southern one. Tennessee?” She shot him an inquisitive look. Jax shrugged. “I lived in Boston for ten years before I decided to return home.” “Home. Are you really a shifter?” “Wanna bet? I have ten bucks in my pocket.” “Show me.” “My ten bucks?” he teased. “Jax!” “Promise you won’t freak?” She nodded.

Jax sighed. “I think you’re nicer to me when I’m a lion.” He summoned his power and shifted. *** Caly pinched her arm to remind herself she wasn’t dreaming. Ouch. No, she wasn’t. To her knowledge, she wasn’t hallucinating, either. What she was—was hungry, and thirsty. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since yesterday. The man before her turned into the wounded lion she’d tended to last night. In a strange way, it made sense. The lion’s intelligence. And his lack of aggressiveness. Wild lions either bolted or attacked when they were approached by humans. This one did neither. And this one had a name. Jax Rarh. He was lethally stunning. She stroked his mane briefly before a hand caught hers and wouldn’t let go. In the blink of an eye, Jax had shifted back to his human form. He grinned from ear to ear. “Admit it. You have a thing for lions.” Caly yanked her hand back. “I feel like an Egyptian pharaoh.” “Pardon me?” “Ramses II. He used to bring his pet lions to the battleground.” “Wow. He’s a lot nicer than Julius Caesar. Don’t know if it’s true, but I’ve heard he slaughtered four hundred lions when he held a sanctification celebration of his forum.” “The Romans were a bunch of sadists.”

“They didn’t have TV back then, so I suppose they had to get creative in the entertainment department.” Jax eyed her hand. “There’s a mark from a ring on your finger…were you engaged?” She quickly covered it with her other hand. “It’s not your business.” Why was he suddenly so nosy? Surely, he wasn’t interested in her, was he? She didn’t think she was much to look at. Besides, Jax was a really good looking guy. He was a beautiful lion, and even more so as a man. He was blond with shoulder-length hair and tawny skin. He had a strong jaw and a perfectly curved nose. Day-old stubble covered his lower cheeks and jaw, which made him even sexier. She’d never seen people with true amber eyes, and Jax’s were the kind that could melt a woman with just one look. And his body… Perfectly toned and sinuous like a lion in his prime. “Married?” he asked. “Are you hitting on me?” “Sweetheart, if we were in Boston, I’d like to take you to dine at Pigalle. But since we’re in the middle of nowhere, I thought you might be interested in grabbing a cold one at my pride’s abode, once I settle a few things.” Heat rose to her face. Was he asking her on a date? Caly was flattered, but also wary at the same time. Her divorce had recently become final, and starting a new romantic interlude would be the last thing to cross her mind. Carlton, her ex-husband, had hurt her more than she could’ve ever imagined. While she was deployed in Iraq,

he’d secretly taken on a mistress, spoiling her with a trip to Vegas with Caly’s hardearned money. She’d found out about the affair when she’d returned home on a surprise R and R, finding Carlton and that tramp in flagrante delicto. In their bed. Which she’d paid for, busting her ass working as a combat medic in the U.S. Army. Carlton had lost his job two years prior and hadn’t managed to find a new one. She alone had been shouldering the financial burden. To this very day, his betrayal cut deep. She couldn’t get divorced while she was deployed, so she'd had no choice but to wait until she was stateside. It was during their divorce proceedings she’d decided not to renew her enlistment. And once finalized, a friend of hers, Dr. Cassidy, whom she’d befriended while enlisted together, had offered her this humanitarian position she held. Caly thought the gig would be good for her. New place, new job, so she could forget all the humdrum happenings of her old life. She just hadn’t expected to be working under the same threating conditions as when she’d been deployed. The fate of some people. Jax studied her face. “So? What do you say?” Caly tried to distract herself from the subject. “Let me see your stitches. I need to pull the sutures.” He opened his palm. The wound had already closed, leaving a small scar. Caly took tweezers from the medical kit and just was about to remove the stitches when she noticed them kind of “floating” on his outer skin. She rubbed them off. “You have rapid healing. Who are you, Wolverine?” she asked. “That would be nice, having steel blades to play around with.” “They’re claws. Adamantium.”

“You’re an X-Men fan?” he asked. “I read the comics when I was a teenager.” Jax dusted his hands. “I don’t want to impose, but do you have some water around here?” Caly got up from the floor. She had a few bottles stashed in her crate. The water wasn’t sanitized and they had to boil it, or use a purification tablet to make it safe for human consumption. The foundation sent bottled water with each drop, and Caly usually kept a few for herself. She could go without the rationed MREs, but she couldn’t part with clean, palatable, drinking water. It was as precious as gold in this place. She handed one to Jax. “You sure I can have this?” “Of course.” “Thank you.” He opened the cap and emptied the bottle with several long drags. Some water splashed on his chin and dripped down his throat and chest. Suddenly, Caly had an urge to lick the drops off his skin. She shook herself. Where did that come from? “That was great. I’ve gone for two days without fluids.” Jax saluted her with the empty bottle. “Much appreciated.” “What are you doing here?” “I’m looking for an old friend. He’s been missing for a couple of weeks. His wife asked my help in locating him.” “Who?”

“Richard Cassidy. Know him?” “Doctor Cassidy?” Caly frowned. “He went back to Los Angeles.” “No. I checked. He never made it out of Sudan. Immigration didn’t have any record of him ever leaving the country.” “That’s impossible.” “When was the last time you talked to him?” “When he left.” “How do you make contact with your employer?” “Oh, the foundation has a branch office in Nairobi.” “When was the last time you spoke with your supervisor?” Caly knitted her eyebrows. “Hmm, about two weeks ago. Our radio communication is broken. Dr. Cassidy promised to have one sent with the next drop.” “When is that?” “Three days from now.” “You’re saying you’ve been without any form of communication with the outside world for two weeks? Don’t you find that a bit peculiar?” “Peculiar?” Caly snorted. “Finding a lion turned into a man is peculiar. Losing contact with headquarters isn’t.” “I must tell you, you’re really something. I want to take you out. Too bad we aren’t in Boston.” “Yeah, too bad,” she replied, humoring him.

“I’m serious. My pride’s abode has super generators and water heaters. And we have a bunch of kickass Jacuzzis and a hot tub.” “No shit.” “When was the last time you took a nice, hot bath?” “Are you trying to tempt me?” “Courting. We lions court for our potential mate.” “And you think I’m eligible?” “More than eligible. Your scent is unbelievable.” “Are you saying I’m smelly?” Caly pouted. She sniffed herself. It wasn’t that bad. Water was rationed and showers were a luxury. She used deodorant religiously and No-Rinse Bathing Wipes every day. Jax laughed. “No, not that kind of smell. The estrous kind. I could scent you from a mile away.” “What?” “Nothing. Anyway, it’s not safe for you to be here. You have to leave this camp.” “Are you nuts? I can’t leave these people. They need me.” “Caly.” Jax got up from the cot. He was so tall, she felt like a midget in front of him. Though, at five-foot-six, she wasn’t exactly a pixie, either. “You can’t help them if you’re taken. Everyone knows Abuda and his men are looking for you.” “Yes, I know that.”

“And how do you plan on stopping them from capturing you? Your colleague is missing. You have no way of contacting headquarters. Something isn’t right here.” “I’ll think of something. In the Army, we winged it…a lot.” “You were in the Army?” Jax looked curious. “Combat medic. Served in Iraq. Honorably discharged.” “Hmm. More bonus points as a mate. Divorced?” His gaze skittered to her ring finger again. Caly clammed up. She didn’t feel like discussing her private life with a stranger she’d just met. And thinking about Carlton just pissed her off. Besides, she didn’t want to ruin the good chat they were having. Jax gusted a theatrical sigh. “He must be a dick if you refuse to talk about him, whoever he is.” He ran his hands through his golden hair. “This whole thing has turned out to be more complicating than I’d originally thought. I need to find out what happened to Cassidy first. Then I need to get you out of here.” “As if.” Irritation rose to her throat. Who did he think he was? Deciding what was in her best interest? “You’re not the boss of me.” “Fine. I’ll just wait until Abuda’s men get you, and then, maybe you’ll be more inclined to leave this depressing camp. You can’t keep hiding in here forever. There are bound to be snitches everywhere you go. Eventually, someone will tell Abuda about your secret hiding place. And when that happens, you’re screwed. And not screwed in the good way, either.” Eww. But he had a point.

“I have to go. But I’ll come back for you.” Jax planted a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you for last night.” He climbed up the stairs. “Where’re you going?” “To look for Cassidy.”

Chapter Three

Dawn had barely broken over the horizon when Jax peered through the crack of the shack door. All was quiet. No sign of Abuda’s men. He slipped through the camp and shifted into his beast form, bounding into the brown grassland. He skittered past the refugees’ tents that were haphazardly fashioned from canvas, straw mats and just about any material readily available. Goats bleated in the distance. The arid air seized his nostrils. Jax leapt around rocks and uneven depressions of land, looking for a perfect spot to blend in. The sun bled the hillside area with a jacinth-like glow. The heat dust already rolling in, it carried with it the promise today would be a scorcher. He settled by a dying thicket. The sand-encrusted leaves and tall grass helped camouflage his presence, while he watched the camp from a safe distance. Caly emerged from the shack. She slung her medical kit on her back and walked to the big tent where he assumed she tended to refugees who needed medical attention. He’d been informed there were more than a thousand people in Ibrahim’s camp, largely made up of woman, children and the elderly. Nearly all of them had been displaced from their homes and families due to the country’s constant state of unrest. From the militia always being at odds with the government, or the warlords constantly feuding among themselves. From Cassidy’s wife, Jax had learned that a couple of months ago, the UN had assigned three peacekeepers, including a doctor, to assist the camp. Those very

peacekeepers were killed in a violent Janjaweed raid. The doctor was still missing, presumably dead by now. Since then, the foundation had taken over most of the management duties from Ibrahim, but not before he’d made the deal with Omer Abuda. The militant would spare the refugees so long as he was compensated. Richard Cassidy had been his roommate at MIT, but then left before the second semester started to enroll in Harvard Medical School. Jax and Cassidy remained close, and were best friends until they’d graduated. It was only after Jax had taken a job at a well-known financial firm that they’d begun to grow apart. But still, they would occasionally get together for dinner and catch a few baseball games. Jax had even been Richard’s best man when his friend had married Claire. But shortly after Jax had returned home to Africa five years ago was when he’d lost complete contact with his friend. He’d been taken by total surprise when he’d received a call from Claire, out of the blue, saying her husband had gone missing. Fraught with guilt he hadn’t kept in touch with his longtime friend, Jax had made a promise to Claire he would help any way he could. Cyeon, Jax’s cousin, had flown with him to Al Fashir by way of private charter. Cyeon and he had split up to try and cover more ground, hoping to find out Cassidy’s whereabouts as fast as possible. To learn of when the doctor had last been seen, Jax had decided it best to start at the camp. At that time, Jax hadn’t known Ibrahim’s camp was directly inside Omer Abuda’s territory. And now that he did, he had to consider the possibility his friend

had met with foul play. Like the last doctor had. Jax wondered if his friend had spoken against Abuda—possibly gotten into an argument about stealing aid from the people who needed it most. Jax’s first thought had been his old friend, Richard Cassidy, must’ve gone loopy. Why else was he working as a humanitarian in a place God must’ve cursed a long, long time ago? It was no secret Cassidy had gone to med school to become a doctor because he loved to help people in need. It was just…Jax had never imagined the extent of his friend’s dedication. And now, it seemed highly likely that that very commitment might’ve also put him smack dab in the middle of this dire situation. Though Cassidy was a nice person, all in all, he tended to be confrontational when someone messed with what he believed in. And that kind of attitude could easily translate into a death wish, especially when dealing with a hot-headed bastard like Omer Abuda. As much as Jax hated to admit it, the more he thought about it, the less he was sure if his friend was still alive. But he couldn’t give up hope. No. Not until he was presented with cold, hard facts that told him otherwise. Right now, all he knew was that Richard Cassidy had been missing for two weeks, and as far as Jax knew, there hadn’t been any ransom demands. Cassidy had left in the foundation’s Rover to Al Fashir Airport and had just vanished into thin air. So, where was he? Unable to stop his thought process, his mind strayed for a moment… What about that nurse?

She too had to be some kind of a nutjob foreigner, willing to work in the heart of this country’s bloody unrest. He could understand Cassidy’s motivation. Hers, not so much. It couldn’t have been the wages, because he knew that nonprofit organizations didn’t pay like Blackwater paid their contractors. He thought he had an idea why she might’ve taken the job. The beautiful and lush Nurse Anderson must be running away from something. If he had to guess, it was from a bad relationship. Marriage, perhaps. The light mark on her finger meant she’d recently taken off her wedding ring. At least, that was what his gut told him. Otherwise, why would a skilled medic take on a dangerous job with most likely less pay? Jax was certain the foundation hadn’t lured her with the lucrative benefits like the U.S. Army could. No, it seemed Nurse Anderson wanted to get away from it all, perhaps to start anew, no matter the dangers she’d face. While the situation appeared to suck major ass for her, at least, for Jax, this was a blessing in disguise. He’d been on the hunt for a mate since his cousins, Cyeon and Keto, had taken theirs. And Caly Anderson was exactly the woman he’d been searching for. She was pretty, funny and kindhearted. Not to mention she had a lush body that made his mouth water. The first time he’d laid eyes on her, he knew he wanted her. Bad. And he was going to make her his. It was a shame they had to meet under such shitty circumstances like this, though. Jax would like nothing more than to focus on courting her, if it weren’t for the more pressing matter at hand, of finding Richard Cassidy.

The sun was up now, and the camp bustled with life. Fire flared pots made from earthenware. Children clung to their mothers’ legs. As time passed, the camp resumed its daily activities, leaving no evidence of Omer Abuda’s raid. Jax decided it was time to leave. He hated to leave Caly here, but he knew she wouldn’t leave the camp and its refugees no matter what dangers she faced. Though they’d just met, this was already painfully obvious. He needed to get back to Al Fashir and ask Cyeon for backup. Of course, communication would be a lot easier if he still had possession of his portable satellite phone, but sadly didn’t, since he’d accidentally crushed it while fleeing from the Janjaweed fucker that shot at him. He needed Cyeon to watch his back while he sneaked back into Abuda’s compound. He wanted to know if Abuda had ambushed Cassidy on his way to the airport. Using his keen sight, Jax had seen a Rover in Abuda’s yard. The vehicle had been torched nearly beyond recognition, but the surviving markings suggested the vehicle belonged to the foundation. When Jax had come in for a closer look, some goat fucker had rained bullets at him, forcing him to leave. But, goat fucker with a gun or not, he’d be back. This time, with backup. Whether he found Cassidy at Abuda’s or not, once he was done, his next priority would be to take Caly far away from the camp, even if it meant he had to drag her out, kicking and screaming. This area wasn’t safe for an American woman to be in. If she were so hell bent on being a humanitarian, Jax would be happy to point her to a dozen or so other places in South Africa that could use a nurse with her skills. But not here.

She was lucky not to have been found by the militia. The crimes and sexual violence against women in these parts were unspeakably horrifying. He narrowed his eyes, spying Caly standing near a woman who cooked something in a big pot. Several children cajoled her—they seemed to be vying for her attention. Caly laughed as she picked up the smallest of the bunch and held the girl with what appeared to be genuine affection. She would make a good mate. A great mother. Jax swished his tail and lurched away from the camp. Lions weren’t known for their stamina like cheetahs. A couple hundred yards of running would make a common lion pant for dear life, and most likely wouldn’t be able to pursue his hunt over a long distance. But being a werelion gave his kind a few perks. Rapid healing, agility, stamina and speed. If Jax ran fast enough, he should reach his destination before nightfall. *** She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Jax, the beautiful werelion. That cocky big cat. God. Didn’t think his kind existed. But obviously, they did. She thought she'd be more freaked out than this, but she found she wasn't. Some unexpected thrill had swept through her when she was with him. Perhaps it was his good looks. Or maybe his cheery disposition. It was strange how comfortable she felt around him, though honestly, discovering about the “lion” part of him had been rather unnerving at first. One thing she couldn't deny was how attracted to him she was. What woman wouldn’t be?

That face. The hot body. The way he smiled and teased. Courting, huh? She liked the flirting, and also his straightforwardness. She hadn’t been this giddy since Carlton had proposed to her at Thanksgiving dinner, in front of her folks. They’d had some good times, but now, it was all over. Maybe it really was time for a new beginning. Thinking about Jax made her heart dance the cha-cha. His interest in her wasn’t only a tease, was it? Was he merely flirting? She sincerely hoped it wasn’t. But she questioned whether it was the right time to open her heart so soon. It had only been a few months since her divorce had become final. She’d run half the world away so she wouldn’t have to face Carlton, her parents, or the reality that she’d been the wife of a cheating bastard. Her parents had never liked her choice for a husband. They’d tried to tell her Carlton was bad news, but having been in love with him, she’d gone ahead and married him anyway. The last thing Caly needed right now was to hear them say, “I told you so.” Ugh. And so, here she was, in Sudan. Caly looked around to see if anybody had noticed she’d been grinning like an idiot. No. The children at her feet probably thought she smiled for them. They were such darlings. They never seemed to lose their happiness and innocence, even though they’d already endured so much hardship.

Ahmad Ibrahim, the camp leader, came to her. “We need to talk.” His tone sounded serious. A haunted look plastered his deep, lined face. Ibrahim was once a chieftain to his people, owning a large parcel of land where he and his family farmed and herded cattle. Fighting had displaced him from his village and his loved ones. Sadly, only he and his youngest son, Yosef, had survived it. Caly told the children to play nice, then shuffled off and followed Ibrahim to his shack. She went in and found Ibrahim’s son lying on a straw pallet with his eyes closed, a bloody rag covering his head. “What happened?” she demanded. She quickly checked Yosef’s wound. A deep five-inch gash marred the boy’s left temple. The bleeding had stopped, but the cut would need some stitches. Yosef flinched when she touched his head. Good. He was conscious. And he didn’t exhibit any signs of a person with a concussion. After examining him, she noted his vitals were stable. “Abuda did this. He was teaching me a lesson.” Ibrahim dropped his head. “I told him we didn’t have an American here, but he didn’t believe me.” Caly gritted her teeth. His boy had been punished because of her? Son of a bitch. Ibrahim gave her a wary, faraway look, like a man who’d been beaten by fate one too many times. “While we appreciate your help, it’s for your own safety, and the safety of my people, if you return home. It’s only a matter of time before Abuda figures out that I haven’t been truthful. You’re in great peril, Nurse Anderson.”

“But how do I get out of here? Doctor Cassidy took the only vehicle, and our radio is broken.” “I can arrange for Mali to escort you to a UN camp in El Rayeed. It’s guarded with peacekeepers, and more importantly, they have a radio facility on location. You’ll be able to contact Lighthouse.” “That’s forty kilometers from here. On foot.” “If you stay, I’m afraid…you’ll die.” Caly bit her lower lip. It pissed her off to no end that she would no longer be able to help the people who really needed her. She thought about the new mother in such poor condition she couldn’t take care of her newborn. The little girl with a breathing problem who needed constant supervision. A baby with a severe case of malnutrition. Several elderly refugees with complications. How could she just leave them? Then again, she knew her prolonged presence at the camp could also endanger the safety of the refugees. Especially if Abuda was to find out Ibrahim had lied to him. Yosef’s injury had hit a little too close to home. She felt as if she had no choice but to leave. She wondered if Jax had been right all along. “I’ll stitch Yosef up first. Then I’ll pack,” she told Ibrahim. “It is a wise decision, Nurse Anderson.” *** Caly decided to travel light. It was going to be a long walk to El Rayeed, and it didn’t make any sense to take all of her belongings with her. She figured her spare clothes and shoes would be put to good use by those who needed it more than she did.

The medical kit would stay and so would whatever food she could spare. She would take as many water bottles as she could carry, though. The last thing she wanted was to be stranded out in the middle of the desert with insufficient amount of water. And potentially die of thirst. The backpack felt as if it weighed roughly thirty-five pounds. Roughly twentyfive miles on a sun-beaten path to El Rayeed in one hundred and four degrees would be no picnic. She cringed and tried to lighten her pack even more by taking out a few other items. Too bad she didn’t have a gun to defend herself. She felt naked without it. She had a small Swiss Army knife in her pocket, and that was it. A moot point really, since she knew she wouldn’t be able to scare a battle-hardened warlord with it. Annoy him? Maybe. Perhaps she should pocket a rock. Propelled and aimed carefully before thrown, she thought it could make an excellent weapon to crack a guy’s head with. On second thought, that was a rather stupid idea. Only an idiot would carry a heavy-ass backpack and a rock in her pocket for self-defense. If someone happened to attack her with heavy weaponry, the last thing she’d want to do would be to piss the guy off. Caly straightened her back when she heard something suspicious. Even though she was several feet underground, she still heard the noise. The sound of galloping horses. Roaring of engines. The earth shook from between the wooden plank walls, causing clouds of dry dust to fill the air. They were here again. It had to the fucking Janjaweeds. Who else would it be?

She’d wasted too much time, and hadn’t left the camp soon enough. Now what was she going to do? Twice in less than twenty-four hours. This couldn’t be a good sign, since usually, after taking one of Ibrahim’s bribes, Abuda wouldn’t show his face for at least a week. Which coincidentally, was when Abuda’s supplies ran low. Fear oozed from the pit of her stomach. She had the unshakeable feeling that this time, he was here for her, and not for another bribe. Caly picked up the pipe she always kept by her bedside. She sat on her cot uneasily with the weapon it in her lap. The invisible lump in her throat was difficult to swallow. She felt alone and vulnerable. She wished she had a friend, a battle buddy, or someone she could rely on. Or a lion. Her thoughts drifted to Jax for a moment. It would’ve been really nice to have him here with her. She refocused when the ruckus got closer. She heard the shack door open, creaking miserably. Stampedes of heavy boots thundered above her, mixed with angry barks of men shouting in Arabic. By now, she was convinced Abuda had made this trip especially for her. Unlike any typical raid, this time, she feared he’d come to take her hostage. Someone moved the crate and yanked open the trapdoor. Her heart plummeted into a free fall. Two columns of light shone on the dark stairs. More barks in Arabic. She didn’t understand much, only a few basic words the Army had taught her, in a crash course before she’d been deployed to Iraq. Still, she couldn’t make out exactly what they were

shouting about, because she wasn’t proficient in their regional dialect. Caly rose from the cot, holding her stance, hands tight around the pipe. It was made out of heavy steel with the length of a baseball bat. In the right hands, she had no doubt it could seriously injure someone. But even then, she doubted if the pipe would be useful in her current situation. Not against guns and automatic rifles. Unless she happened to be Bruce Lee. And even then… Hatch slamming open, a man stormed down the stairs like a hurricane. The barrel of his rifle pointed directly at her. He looked to be in his early thirties, stocky, and quite tall for a man from this area. The militant was dressed in green fatigues, and she guessed him to be an Arab. She’d wager not a drop of African blood was in his veins. The Janjaweed mostly consisted of Sudanese Arab Muslims who abhorred the indigenous ethnic groups that populated Central Africa. They hated westerners even more. The man spoke English with a strong accent. “Drop it.” Caly instinctively clutched the pipe even tighter. Teeth gritted. Without warning, bullets vomited from the man’s rifle, shredding her cot and the walls behind her with a deafening sound. Caly shrieked as he shot so close to her she could feel the bullets whizzing by. She knew it had been a warning. Shards of wood, straw and dirt pelted her body. Her defiant attitude was reduced to nothing in two seconds flat. As a combat medic, she’d gone outside the walls of her Forward Operating Base in Iraq, nevertheless, the hostile environment she’d experienced there had nothing on

being shot at close range—especially since she was defenseless. The close call with death immediately shed her of any bravery she might’ve felt, and it now shocked her to the core, even more so than when she’d found the lion on her trapdoor. She dropped her pipe. Her ears still rang from the gunfire as the man barked another command to get up the stairs. Numbly, Caly trudged to the steps and climbed them. More men with rifles “welcomed” her as she crawled out of the trapdoor. Caly counted nine of them—dust-streaked men in green fatigues and combat boots. From the looks of it, it appeared as if they hadn’t seen a shower in more than a year. They stank like hobos. Heavy rifles, from AKs and G3s, were slung on their shoulders. Killing paraphernalia were neatly stuck in their belts and other strategic places. Their faces appeared to be fixed into perpetual frowns, all with a smidge of disgust. Hard eyes stared at her like a triumphant hawk’s. Caly straightened her posture, putting on a show she wasn’t afraid of them, while inside, she wanted to squeak and hide like a mouse. The militiamen parted and gave way to someone approaching. Judging from everybody’s facial expression and body language, she guessed the person must be their leader. Caly hadn’t seen Omer Abuda in person, but she had the sickening feeling she was about to meet the infamous Janjaweed commander. He stood nearly six feet tall, and he had a heavy, solid build. His skin was dark, as if he’d been scorched by the sun. He was dressed in desert fatigues and wore a khaki shemagh (headdress) with black stitching wrapped over his head. A pair of black sunglasses shielded his eyes, leaving only a small part of his face visible. He didn’t

carry a heavy rifle like the others. Nested in his gun holster was what looked to be a SOCOM issued Beretta pistol—one that could make a neat, large hole in her head. He probably came into possession of it from spoils of war. Caly’s attention darted to the big, golden ring on his finger. As soon as Abuda stood close enough to her, a trail of it flashed into her vision. Her head whipped backward. Pain exploded in her cheek.

Chapter Four

Jax couldn’t find Cyeon when he reached Al Fashir Airport. He spoke to Alexei Kiev, the pilot of the chartered plane, who’d found out Cyeon had met with someone from the embassy, and hadn’t yet returned. Jax tried Cyeon’s satellite phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Jax left a brief message, getting him caught up on the latest situation, and ended the call with a request for backup. He then called Keto at the pride’s abode. Jennifer answered on the third ring. “Hello?” “Jen, is Keto there?” “Hold on a second. He and Sarah were about to go to the reserve for night hunting. They might still be in the garage.” He heard Jen put the phone down. A minute later, Keto was on the line. “Bonjour.” Jax growled. “It’s nighttime over here.” “In French, bonjour is the same as hello.” “Hello my ass. Speaking of ass, I need your ass over here. Actually, I need the entire pride over here.” “Define here.” “Al Fashir, Sudan.” Keto whistled. “What the fuck are you doing there?” “Looking for my friend, Cassidy. I think he’s been kidnapped by the Janjaweed.”

“Janjaweed? Ugh. I’ve heard those guys are mean.” “No shit. I got shot while nosing around their compound.” “Please tell me you got it in the ass. ‘Cause that would be hilarious.” “Fuck you. How soon can you get here?” “Where did you say you are again?” “Al Fashir right now. But I’ll be heading back—” Keto cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” Through the phone’s speaker, Jax thought he heard Keto scribbling something. “I could wake up George and ask for another charter. You want the twins too?” “Bring the whole gang. I need as much backup as I can get.” “What kind of attack are we talking about? An all-out Schwarzenegger-type assault, or the quiet pride hunting kind?” “The latter. The security personnel at Al Fashir Airport are likely to become hysterical if you come here packing. Too many questions…and with that, too many people looking for bribes.” “Roger that. I’ll wake the others. Hang in there, cousin.” “Thanks. And I’ll leave instructions…just in case.” After hanging up, Jax decided he needed to head back to the camp. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and cursed himself for leaving Caly alone—unprotected. He drew a map of the camp and Abuda’s compound and left the directions for Alexei to pass on to Cyeon when he returned. After drinking three bottles of mineral water and scarfing down two energy bars, not wanting to wait until the next flight out, Jax bounded back to Ibrahim’s camp.

*** Caly curled into a fetal position, waiting for the pain in her belly to fade away. She’d completed an injury assessment on herself earlier, and felt relieved she’d only sustained bruises on her cheek and abdomen. It could have been worse. She could’ve been raped and beaten to a pulp. She had no doubt the men would have, were it not for Omer Abuda having given specific instructions not to do so. Luckily for Caly, nobody could lay a hand on her except Abuda himself. He’d already backhanded her and punched her in the stomach. It had hurt like hell, but she pulled herself together and dealt with it. What else could she do? She presumed he’d done it to display his power over her. His intimidation technique had worked. As much as she hated to admit it, Omer Abuda scared the crap out of her. The man was a personification of all things evil. She’d seen his eyes when he’d taken off his sunglasses. They were cold and empty, and the sight had caused Caly to shudder. She’d felt as if she was staring into the dark—a bottomless abyss of hell. Gradually, she was able to breathe again. The pain subsided. She wished she had Tylenol, or another form of painkiller. Or at least some water. Her throat was parched. The heat here, in Central Africa, was unbearable. She likened it to being slowly simmered in a bubbling cauldron. Caly hauled herself up into a sitting position. She scanned her surroundings. The room she was confined to was quite small, and she began to feel claustrophobic. The wall was made from straw and dry mud. It also had a small ventilation hole, and was secured with metal bars. There were two separate doors made from thick wood. One

where they had shoved her into—and the other was adjacent to another room. Room. Yeah, right. Cell was more appropriate. The air smelt like stale body odor and urine. And death. There was a brown stain on the wall which displayed a splattered pattern. A black, congealed puddle in the corner had flies buzzing around it. She had a good idea of what it was, and the mere thought of it terrified her. She breathed shallow through pressed lips and fought the urge to gag. Caly studied the adjacent door. Could there be another prisoner behind it? She began to crawl but then came to a sudden stop. A wave of nauseating stench rolled over her. Jesus Christ. What was this place? A slaughter house? She hated to think Abuda was anything like Idi Amin, an infamous dictator who supposedly loved to kill and mutilate people, and had a taste for the human flesh. It was rumored he even ate parts of his wife after killing her. Suddenly, another shudder coursed through her. Instincts told her to stay away from the door, to curl up and hide in the farthest, safest corner. But still, curiosity nagged at her to find out what had happened in the other cell. What if there was a prisoner that was hurt—or worse yet, dying? While she could only do so much, considering she was neck-deep in shit herself, the least she could do was to take a look, and perhaps offer some comfort. But the smell… Caly swallowed hard and forced herself to produce something that resembled a greeting. “Hello?” she whispered. Nobody answered. She listened closer. No grunts. No sound of any kind.

Then, she heard Abuda’s men outside. She pictured them in the courtyard, talking and laughing. Probably busy comparing dick sizes and bragging about who was the biggest of them all. Caly got up and tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. She pushed it open. Immediately, a putrid, rotted stench ambushed her nostrils. Caly fought through the foul smell. She was lucky to have been blessed with a strong stomach, since she hated puking. The room was empty. No prisoner here. Or dead body. The cell was identical to hers, though it wasn’t as bright. She saw that the ventilation hole was blocked with bushes, leaving the place dim and depressing. She was sure somebody had been murdered here—left to rot for a couple of days before the body had been disposed of. Caly retraced her steps and closed the door. She slumped back in her corner, feeling miserable. She was hot, sticky, hurt and scared. She supposed the thought of not knowing what would happen to her was the worst part of her situation. If Abuda had wanted her dead, wouldn’t he have killed her already? Maybe he planned on making money by ransoming her out to the foundation. She didn’t want to think of her fate if they refused. Something they were likely to do, since it was their stance not to negotiate with terrorists. More than likely, no one was going to come to her aid. She’d accepted the risks of the job of her own free will, and she had no one to blame but herself. Question was—what the hell had she been thinking? Was this her punishment for running away from her life? One thing she was sure of…was that she deserved a hard kick in the ass.

*** Jax had reached Abuda’s compound by sunset, after having learned of the unsettling news his nurse had been taken captive. What he had felt in his gut all along. He waited impatiently for midnight to pass, until the early morning hour had embraced him with a perfectly cool breeze. From his experience, people were most susceptible to drowsiness between midnight and dawn. These guards were no exception. After having endured a day of the hot, scorching sun, a cool wind like this would likely lull them into a nice little snooze. He leapt from the underbrush, careful not to make any noise. Jax paused and sniffed the air. He could smell her. Caly. He sensed they had her locked up somewhere near the west side of the compound. But nothing about Cassidy. He observed two, presumably low-ranking Janjaweeds guarding the entrance. They were in the courtyard, playing cards and conversing in low voices. Jax studied the compound’s defenses. He knew Omer Abuda commanded about two dozen men, but it appeared as if less than a dozen were currently present. He must’ve sent out the rest, perhaps to scout other potential camps or villages to pillage. He narrowed his eyes to the two goons slouching by the fire. One of them nodded off as the other leaned on his rifle, appearing to stare blankly at the sky. It would be easy to take them down. Jax didn’t like killing people, even though some deserved what came to them. But, he believed it would be impossible to neutralize the two guards quietly, without gravely injuring them. Sometimes, he underestimated the strength of his lion form. And in his human one, he felt he would have a difficult time

sneaking up on the guards. It wasn’t as if he was a trained Navy Seal or a Special Forces guy. When Jax let his beast take over, hunting and disarming his enemy became natural for him. But before that, he had to check on one thing. Cassidy’s whereabouts. Two birds with one stone. Though he wanted nothing more than to save Caly, he wanted to poke around some more in the area of the burned vehicle—to verify if it was indeed the foundation’s Rover. Maybe then, he would get a clue as to where Cassidy was—and if he were still alive. But, he had to be quick about it. The moon hid behind a stretch of thick, dark clouds, casting a gloomy shadow across the compound. The temperature dropped some more, he felt it against his skin. The air was pregnant with a cool mist—the perfect weather to take a siesta after a long, hot day. Jax bounded to the farthest end of the yard where it appeared the militia burned their trash, and apparently, several vehicles. He saw a bus, a van and the skeleton of a Rover. It seemed they also burned wooden crates, plastic containers and boxes. Jax took a closer look. The crates and boxes were stamped with the foundation’s name. But not all of them. Some were stamped with the predecessor’s, the one before Lighthouse took over. There were empty food packages. Water bottles. Diapers. Diapers? Jax snorted with amusement. He couldn’t imagine what the Janjaweed did with them. From the looks of it, they were burned, unused. The militia must destroy whatever they can’t use. Hurry up. He sniffed and pawed the earth, looking for clues. He circled the Rover’s skeletal frame. The vehicle had been upturned before it’d been torched. Jax couldn’t understand

why they had burned this one. This type of vehicle could’ve served them well in this terrain. Unless…they’d wanted to hide evidence. Jax looked for more signs to connect this vehicle to Lighthouse. A half-burned sticker. It had partially melted into the windshield and was difficult to read. He could only see the white spire of the Lighthouse logo, but it was enough to convince him that this vehicle belonged to them, and was most likely the SUV Cassidy had driven on the day he went missing. Something stole Jax’s attention away. A small, rectangular, brown box was stuck between the edge of the seat and door. Jax shifted into his human form and plucked it from the charred vehicle. It wasn’t a box. It was a book. A journal. The top half of it was blackened, but the rest had survived. Jax thumbed through the pages. He would recognize the handwriting anywhere. Small, neat and maniacally tidy. It was Cassidy’s. Jax looked around and slid between the Rover and the bus, hiding. Relying on the silver rays of moonlight that managed to squeeze between the clouds, Jax skimmed through the journal. It was about Cassidy’s journey to Africa. And some of it didn’t make sense. He saw page after page of tables and calculations. After a while, he surmised the numbers represented the dollar amounts of what Lighthouse received from its donors, and what was actually distributed as aid. Jax wasn’t an accountant, but it wasn’t difficult for him to see that something fishy was going on with Lighthouse. Somebody in that organization was embezzling money. The name wasn’t mentioned in Cassidy’s journal, but whoever it was—the culprit had stolen close to two million dollars. His friend had obviously noticed the discrepancy.

Jax frowned. What did you do, Cassidy? Poking around like this could’ve gotten anyone killed. Cassidy must’ve snooped around where he didn’t belong. Now, he was missing, and the vehicle he was last seen in had been burned to a crisp, found inside a warlord’s compound. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots. But who all was involved in this scheme? Surely, it wasn’t Caly. Of course not. He pushed the ridiculous idea far from his mind. Was that camp leader, Ahmad Ibrahim, also involved? When the Janjaweed carried out a raid, they burned, pillaged, raped and killed villagers and refugees. Without discrimination. Ibrahim’s camp had been raided on a regular basis, and yet, was left pretty much unscathed. Fishy. But now was not the time to try and figure it out. He had to save Caly. Jax slipped the journal into his jeans pocket and transformed back into his beastly form. If Cassidy’s vehicle was burned in this compound, he couldn’t be far away. Perhaps he was imprisoned with Caly. Jax quickly circled the junkyard for more clues. Having found nothing worth investigating, he felt he’d wasted enough time, and decided it was time to free Caly, and hopefully his friend, Cassidy. Crouching close to the ground, he headed to the courtyard. Halfway there, he approached a clearing that was surrounded with dense bushes and trees. A foul stench wafted in his way, catching his attention. Rotting smell. Flesh. Dead animals. Lots of it. In his lion form, the miasma of death didn’t bother him as much as it would’ve in his human one. As a lion, once a year, he hunted and ate fresh kills to sate his inner beast. Gazelles. Zebras. Sometimes wildebeest, if he were feeling ambitious. But he was

never interested in eating rotten carcasses. Yuck. And he never found himself as unfortunate as starving lions. Among his pride, Jax and Cyeon were the only ones who still carried on the tradition of hunting. The rest were too lazy, preferring to munch on solely human food, instead. Jax crouched behind a large bush, blending in, in case a guard happened to look in his direction. He couldn’t see any signs of animals being left to rot on the ground. The scent of death permeated from shallow graves, only a few feet from where he hid. A sliver of anguish sliced through Jax’s heart. There weren’t dead animals in these graves. No, there were humans. He counted seven mounds of earth. He went to investigate the one that appeared to be the freshest. Jax hoped he wouldn’t find Cassidy’s remains there, but the scent rising from that grave crushed all hope he had in finding his friend alive. Jax had locked on to Cassidy’s scent from his journal, and it was still distinguishable, even though it reeked from a burnt smell and diesel fluid. The cloying stench was that of Cassidy’s. Only deeper. Sickly heavier. Deader. Jax glanced around before he dug with his paws. And he didn’t need to go deep. Approximately a foot later, and he spotted a decayed hand. He stopped. Jax transformed into his human form and almost gagged. The stench was overwhelming. Breathing through his mouth, he searched the hand and saw a medical bracelet wrapped around the wrist encased in flesh. It was made from stainless steel, and engraved with Cassidy’s name and his diabetic condition.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, but the realization his old friend was really dead nearly knocked the wind from his lungs. How was he going to tell Cassidy’s wife? Jax mourned his friend for a long minute before he shook himself, and his task at hand. He needed to focus in order to go through with the plan. Saving Caly. He took off the bracelet to give to Claire, and pocketed it. Jax transformed into his lion form and bounded to the courtyard. Death fresh on his mind, he wanted to get Caly out of this place as soon as possible. There was no more time to waste. *** Caly couldn’t sleep. She paced around her cell when she heard noise coming from the courtyard. It was a subtle one—halted breaths and bodies thumping to the ground. Nothing that would alarm the whole compound. She whirled on her heel and rushed to find out what was going on. She peered into the small keyhole under the doorknob where she’d taken a peek before. Then, two guards had been sitting by a small fire in the courtyard. Now, she saw them sprawled on the ground. A flash of a tawny object zoomed in her direction. She gasped and took a step back. Something big crouched in front of her door. The doorknob rattled. Then something else, like a padlock, rustled. She heard someone sigh. “Caly?” a seemingly cautious, low voice called to her. “Jax?” She pressed her hands and ear to the door. “Is that you?” “Yup. Are you all right?”

Caly breathed out in relief. Oh god, it was really him. “I-I’m fine,” she answered in a quiet voice. “Are you hurt?” Three seconds passed before she answered. “Yes, my feelings.” Even though her face ached like hell and a dull pain throbbed below her chest, she didn’t want to admit it to Jax. It would shatter her “tough chick” image. “Being kidnapped isn’t as glamorous as it sounds.” “Ha.” Jax snorted. “I’m going to get you out of here. I’ll try—” “I think the door is padlocked from the outside.” “I can see that.” “Those goons might have the keys.” “I checked. They don’t.” “Then Abuda might have it.” “That’s the problem. I can’t sneak inside Abuda’s room and steal his keys. I wish I was the Invisible Man.” Caly sighed. “I like Lion Man better.” “Really?” Jax sounded pleased. “I’ll go looking for some wire or something. I’m going to pick the lock.” “Wait.” Caly fished in her pocket. She had a couple of stray hairpins on her at all times. “Would hairpins work? I’ve seen detectives use them on TV.” “Slide them over.”

There was roughly a one inch gap between the door and the ground. Their hands brushed against each other’s as Jax plucked the pins from her palm. Electric shivers coursed through her arm. All of a sudden, she was overwhelmed with a need to touch him. Jax worked on the lock. Caly slumped against the door. Relief skittered inside her. He’d kept his promise. He’d come back for her. “How did you know I was here?” “I went to Ibrahim’s camp. Snuck into your bat lair, but you weren’t there. Some of the refugees told me what had happened to you. So, I headed here. Once I arrived, I could smell you in this place.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I would’ve been by a bit sooner, but I had to check on a few things first.” “You drove?” “Nah. I ran.” “In your lion form?” “Yeah. Sometimes, it’s easier that way.” “Wow. That must’ve been quite a distance. Having lion superpowers must be awesome.” “Too bad I can’t fly or go invisible. It would come in handy at times like this.” “No shit.” Caly shifted her position into a crouch and peeked through the hole. She couldn’t see anything, because Jax blocked the view. A minute passed before she thought of something to ask. She hated silence, and right now, she didn’t want to feel as if she were alone. “By the way, do you eat people?”

“I heard they taste like chicken.” “I mean, seriously,” she replied. “I’ve eaten women before. And they loved it.” Goddamn it. If she could only reach him, she would’ve liked nothing more than to give him a smack in the head. Could he get serious for just one second? Maybe Jax was trying to keep her spirits high after the ordeal she’d been through. Caly changed the subject. “You said you’re from Boston.” “Uh-uh. I lived there for ten years. Went to school and worked there. I’m actually from Tanz.” “Tanz?” “Tanzania. Born and bred.” “You don’t exactly look like the native people.” “My mother’s from New Zealand. And my father, well, like all K’stal, we have the blond gene. Don’t ask how and why. It’s been like that since the first K’stal roamed the Serengeti.” “Ah, I see. So your parents are in Tanzania?” “No. Auckland. They’re retired. My mom wanted to be close to home. They visit us every Christmas.” “Us? You have siblings?” “I have a brother. Cole. If you’re curious, he’s a white lion. Chicks dig him, a lot.” “No kidding. Why did you leave? Isn’t it nicer in Boston?” “Got tired of the corporate grind. Cutthroat business and all.”

“What did you do?” “What’s this? An interview? I was a tech geek working in IT. Dealt mostly with networks.” “And what do you do here?” “I’m a handyman.” Her eyebrow shot up. “You traded a yuppie style life in Boston to be a handyman in a third world country?” “Hey, you traded your medic position in the Army for a humanitarian job in this shithole.” She snorted. “C’mon. What’s the real reason you left?” A pause. “There was a girl I dated.” His voice was filled with sadness. “I thought she was the one, you know? I proposed to her…but all she wanted was to use me to climb the corporate ladder.” “I’m sorry.” It seemed she and Jax had something in common. They’d both been hurt, and she could relate to his pain. The two of them were alike. “So. Why did you divorce him?” Caly startled. “How did you finally guess?” “I don’t know…you have the mark of what I thought was a wedding ring on your finger. I saw the pale stripe, and I just figured you’d recently taken it off.” “Ah. I went home for a surprise R and R, and found him playing hide the salami with some skank.” “Ouch. I’m sorry. No wonder you were reluctant to talk about him.”

“That’s okay. It’s for the best, I guess.” “Not all men are dickweeds like him, you know?” “Are you defending your gender, Mr. Rarh?” “Kinda. One thing’s for sure, if I had a wife like you, I wouldn’t be able to find any time to ogle other women. I’d be busy having my way with you…in bed.” Oy. As cocky as he was, she couldn’t help but feel flattered. A silence stretched between them again. Jax was still busy with the lock and the hairclips. “This looks much easier on TV and in the movies,” Jax complained. “MacGyver would’ve had this done in two seconds flat.” “You’re a lion. Don’t you have superpowers to break a lock?” “Baby, I’m a shifter. Not Wolverine. Besides, we want to keep this nice and quiet, so we can have a good head start. Sure, I could break the door with my super-awesome lion power, but then, we’d make a lot of noise.” “I’ll take my chances. I just can’t take being cooped up any longer in this cell. I’m about to go insane.” Caly jumped to her feet. Desperate. She needed to get out and breathe fresh air. She needed to see him. To touch him. Only then, would she know that everything was going to be okay. After what seemed like forever, she heard Jax murmur, “Jesus Christ. Fuck this. Stay away from the door. And get ready to run.” Caly jumped aside. Her heart hammered fast inside her chest. One second she heard nothing but silence, and the next, there was a deafening boom. The door slammed onto the floor, and now, there was a six-hundred-pound lion

on top of it. Jax shifted into his human form and grabbed her hand, dragging her into a fast run. As she kicked dust behind her, she heard angry shouting inside the compound. Holding her hand tight, Jax led her as they ran faster and faster through bushes and slid between stunted trees. Then she heard the rapid sound of gunshots. Assault rifles. Engines started. The militiamen now chased them in vehicles. Caly ran until her lungs and legs burned. She slowed, gasping for breath. She felt weak from lack of water and food. Jax yanked her wrist. “Come on!” She forced herself to run, but after a while, she slowed down again. She wanted to faint. Jax skidded to a halt. Caly almost tripped and crashed into him. “What?” she asked, between sharp breaths. He transformed into a lion. Ride me. “What? How can I hear you in my head?” It’s mind-speak. No time to explain. Hop on. For a second, Caly wasn’t sure this was going to work. She’d never heard of anyone riding a lion before. They weren’t ponies, right? But then, Jax growled, and all the hairs on her nape stood up. She felt as if she had no choice but to obey him. She climbed onto his back, flattened her body against him, and held on to his mane. She was no pixie, but Jax was a huge, huge lion. This is wrong. I’m too heavy. I’ll hurt him. Jax trotted for a few meters. Hold on tight. Ready? “Yes,” she squeaked, and Jax suddenly bounded like there was no tomorrow.

She fisted his mane and prayed she wouldn’t slide down and keel over. Abuda’s compound was situated away from the general population. Only hills and grassland with bushes and scarce trees sprawled across the terrain. Bullets sang around them. But Jax expertly dodged and ran as if he had the devil himself on his tail. And, as far as she was concerned, there really were devils on their tail. Abuda would pop a cap in their heads if he ever caught the two of them. She had no doubt about it. Adding to her fear, she heard galloping horses from behind. Last time she’d checked, they were faster than lions, weren’t they? Caly clenched Jax’s mane until she ripped out a few strands of his fur. He didn’t seem to care. He just kept running. After a few kilometers, they were somehow able to shake their pursuers off. But the Janjaweed were still chasing. The ground shook with the rumble of their vehicles and the hooves of their horses. The air was filled with the sound of gunshots and the smell of discharged ammunition. Caly felt Jax tense. Suddenly, he stopped, throwing her off-balance from his back. She landed on the ground with a meaty thump. Before she could make sense of everything, Jax seized her collar with his jaw and dragged her behind a large, dense bush. He put his paw on her chest as if to stop her from struggling. Stay still. Don’t make any noise if possible. She wanted to ask why, but refrained at the very last second. Goose bumps broke out all over her flesh. She heard another roar of a lion. No. Lions. Many of them.

Jax stared at her with luminous lion eyes before he leapt away. Stay down. You’ll be safe here. I’ll be right back. Scared out of her mind, Caly pulled herself into a ball. And waited.

Chapter Five

The pride link went live as soon as Jax spotted the first lion storming down the hill. It was the alpha lion. Cyeon. Jax, Cyeon said. You okay? Hunt, hunt, hunt, Keto added, following closely on the alpha’s tail. Hunt me some Janjaweed, Cole drawled, joining in the link. Too bad you can’t smoke this type of weed. Dude, one of the twins, Bane, said. The other, Saber, chuckled. I’m okay, Jax supplied. I have Caly with me. But Cassidy’s dead. Who’s Caly? Arcan asked. My soon-to-be mate. She’s exhausted. And hidden. I’ll explain everything later. They’re shooting at us. Those bastards, Bane cursed. Let’s give them some paw love. What do you think, Alpha? Cole asked Cyeon. I want them dead, Jax spat. They killed my friend. They torched his car and buried him in a shallow grave. Cyeon didn’t answer. Jax saw him break into a trot, tail swishing menacingly. He knew Cyeon never wanted to kill humans, even though some of them deserved it. His cousin was a stickler for human law, being a lawyer himself. Cyeon’s father was much more fun. Uncle Mica never hesitated to tread on the dark side of the law when he saw justice needed to be upheld. Too bad he was already retired in Florida, with Aunt Lindsey. If Uncle Mica

were here right now, Jax was sure the former alpha would be delighted to hunt the Janjaweed, employing the good, old-fashioned ways of the lions of the Serengeti. Fine, Jax said, no killing. But can we beat the hell out of them? Like within an inch of their lives, maybe? Cyeon grunted. That, I can agree to. How many are there? Around a dozen. Give or take. He wondered if Omer Abuda himself would bother to include himself in a chase. There was a chance he’d send his goons to the dirty work while he waited for the news from the comfort of his compound. Gentlemen, let us hunt, Cyeon said. Shock and awe formation. The others let out uproarious shouts into the pride link. Jax got a headache from it. He leapt behind a bush, and waited for the enemy to come. There was no sense in chasing, since they were coming right at them. It was similar to attacking a horde of wildebeest. All they had to do was herd them until they were confused and tired. When one of them got separated from the pack, at that moment, the lions would jump from cover and strike their victim, delivering a fatal bite to the throat. The wind favored their position. Not that it really mattered with these dumb humans. In the wild, animal prey could sense predators from their scent. Shape-shifters like his pride didn’t retain their musky, lion scent as did the typical beasts in the wild. The K’stal smelled of aftershave and soap. The Janjaweed were a different story. Unwashed bodies. Sweat. Tobacco. Burnt ammunition. All things dirty, and Jax could smell them from a mile away.

The men rushed toward them. Two riders on horses in the front. An open-top jeep, with four men fully seated. A King Cab with three men in the front, and two in the back. All armed to the teeth. One of the riders opened fire randomly with an automatic weapon. As clumsy as the shooter was with his rifle, Jax was surprised the son of a bitch didn’t accidentally shoot his own foot—or his horse. Cyeon growled into the link. Let’s flush them out. Bane and Saber. Lure them. Yes, Alpha, the twins chorused. Saber bolted several hundred meters toward the dense thicket. Saber roared as he fled, and Jax knew the twin was making sure the Janjaweed spotted him. Bane followed shortly, stopping midway, hissing at the one closest to him. The rider shot at Bane, but missed terribly. Pathetic. The other rider sprayed him with bullets, but Bane was already long gone into the bushes. Every pride member moved into position, stalking, running and crouching behind cover. Jax, Cole and Arcan, Cyeon commanded, attack! Jax leapt to attention. Blood rushed. Adrenaline pumped at an all-time high. For him, the moment right before the hunt was the most exciting part. He focused on his kills. Five men in a camouflaged truck. The driver’s two companions sitting in the passenger side were carrying what appeared to be assault rifles. The two sitting in the back were both armed as well. But they weren’t so confident in their hunt. Jax could smell their fear. Confusion was on their faces. Their hesitance would serve as a great advantage to Jax and the pride. As would the darkness.

Everything else seemed to be progressing in slow motion. Jax heard each of the Janjaweed’s heartbeat. Their breathing. When one of the men’s rifles jammed, Jax honed in on the petrified expression on the militant’s face. His comrade looked as if he were ready to shit his pants. It seemed none of them had expected to be greeted by a pride of savage lions. Arcan, you plow the truck. My brother and I will snatch the two in the back, Jax said. The truck tottered in front of them, because of the unsteady ground. Now! Jax leapt from the bush, and went after the two jackasses in the back of the truck. The man with the jammed rifle saw him and screamed in Swahili, “Simba! Simba!” Yes, I am a lion, you jackass! Jax pounced and swiped his paw. The man tumbled to the ground, his weapon thrown out of his grasp. From the side, Cole swiped the other man with a similar technique. He practically scooped the son of the bitch from the truck, then slammed him into the grassy ground. A heartbeat later, Arcan, the biggest lion of them all, plowed into the truck headon, causing the driver to jerk left. Overcompensating, the man lost control and swerved toward a nearby tree. The vehicle collided with the trunk of a big acacia tree. Arcan immediately took cover and disappeared when the Janjaweed fired on him. Jax and his brother, Cole, clamped their jaws on their victims’ collars and dragged them into the underbrush. The militiamen cried in horror and pleaded for their

lives. The guy with the jammed rifle still had a handgun in his holster, but he must’ve been too terrified to think about using it. And the man ensnared in Cole’s mouth whimpered uncontrollably, shaking so hard Jax wondered if the guy was literally shitting his pants. Especially when Cole shook him a bit and made growling noises. Jax wondered if the man thought Cole was going to eat him. In reality, his brother was a very picky eater. He always demanded his steak be filet mignon only, trimmed perfectly of fat and grizzle and grilled medium rare. It if weren’t perfectly seasoned and cooked just right, he wouldn’t touch it. But Cole’s charade as a vicious, ravenous lion was pretty convincing. The man sobbed some more, then passed out. Cole spat him out. Yuck. I need to rinse my mouth. He smells like shit. Tastes like rancid oil, spoiled milk and rotten egg, all mixed together. My man tastes like ass. Not that he knew what ass tasted like—it was just a figure of speech. Jax slammed his captive on the ground and gave him a ferocious shake—just as Cole had done. The man moaned in pain. Jax swiped his paw and rendered him unconscious. Blood trickled from the man’s shoulder and cheek. For good measure, Jax smacked him again. Why did you do that? Cole asked. Rather excessive, don’t you think? This guy shot at me before. Bullets went into my gut and made a hole in my paw. Hurt like a bitch. Tit for tat. Do carry on, Gov’nor.

Cyeon growled through the link. Jax, Arcan, Cole. Finish the truck. The rest, take down the jeep. Jax sprang into action. Arcan was already pawing at the truck’s driver’s side door. The driver pointed his handgun right at Arcan, but he must’ve been too nervous, because his shaky hand couldn’t pull the trigger. Arcan swung his paw, knocking the gun from the attacker’s grip. The man shrieked. Jax and Cole worked the other end, ripping the passenger door open and extracting the two men inside. He took a glance and saw Cyeon and the twins ambushing the jeep. The men didn’t appear to put up much of a struggle. They cowered as soon as the lions closed in on them. One of the riders plunged from his horse when Keto rammed his head into the animal’s body. He landed awkwardly, and immediately began to yelp in pain, possibly as a result of broken limbs, while the horse whinnied, seemingly eager to escape. Keto, being the fastest runner in the pride, zoomed off to catch the other rider who fled when most of his comrades had been taken down. A few minutes later, a pathetic scream split the air. Jax knew Keto had gotten his man. Jax too was busy with a Janjaweed militiaman in his mouth, who whimpered and begged for his life. Too bad Jax didn’t speak Arabic—it would’ve been funny if he were able to reply with something witty. Arcan ran around, knocking away any weapons in reach of the militia, while Cyeon and the twins assessed the damage. Cole dragged the defeated and unconscious men into a clearing, laying all of them down in a neat row. Jax pulled his most recent

captive next to the one who’d shot him in the compound just a couple of days ago. The son of a bitch was just starting to regain consciousness. Jax put on his fiercest growl and showed off his teeth, scaring the man so much he fainted again. Yeah. Very manly. Pillager, Rapist, Killer. Jax snorted in disgust. Without their big guns, they were nothing but a bunch of losers. Keto came from the underbrush dragging a Janjaweed soldier by the arm with his mouth. Out cold, Keto lugged the man around like a ragdoll, then set him down at one end of the row. You know, if we were real lions, we’d be having a feast. Too bad we don’t eat people. You could…if you want, Jax suggested. No, thank you. But I’ve heard humans taste like chicken. That’s what I told Caly. Jax counted the Janjaweed, but none of them were Omer Abuda. Just as he’d predicted. Abuda hadn’t bothered himself with the hunt. He must be waiting in his compound. Cyeon approached with a slow gait. He sat and cleaned his mane with his paw. Lions, in general, were very fussy about their manes. Their muzzles, paws and bodies could be splattered with the blood of their kill and they wouldn’t care, but their manes had to be spotless. Yeah, it was a lion thing. Which one of them is Omer Abuda? Cyeon asked. He’s not here. Jax sniffed the air. I bet he’s still in the compound. Shall we give him a visit? We must. I have a little parting gift for him. Jax rose. But first, I want to check on Caly.

Where is she? Cole asked. Not far. I’ll be right back. Then, I’ll introduce all of you to my mate.

Chapter Six

The long flight from to Nairobi to Victoria Falls had felt like a dream. Cyeon Rarh, Jax’s cousin, alpha of the K’stal pride, had rented a private charter so all of them could fly back home together. After escaping Abuda’s compound that early morning, Cyeon had led the pride to Al Fashir, where a chartered plane awaited, to take them to Nairobi—to straighten out a few matters with the Lighthouse branch office. “Straighten” was quite an inadequate word. Jax and the alpha had stormed into the office and had demanded to speak to the branch manager, their glower scaring off all the employees inside. Cyeon, when he wasn’t a lion, worked as a lawyer by trade, and soon after he’d read Caly’s contract, he’d discovered it was nothing short of crap. He’d said she’d been employed without being adequately informed of the risks. That in all honesty, it was equal to suicide. It hadn’t taken him long to find several clauses that would enable him to file suit on Caly’s behalf. She didn’t care much about the hokey contract, or if the foundation was liable for her safety. She was just glad to be able to get out of there in one piece. She only regretted she couldn’t help the people in Ibrahim’s camp, but she couldn’t deny the fact she very much wanted to keep her head neatly on top of her neck. Caly had learned about Doctor Cassidy’s death from Jax while they’d been in Al Fashir. She continued to mourn the loss. He’d not only been a great man, but also a

great friend. She admired his dedication to help those in need. Caly was surprised to hear someone in the foundation had been responsible for his death. Still very new to Lighthouse, she really didn’t know anything about the politics involving the foundation. It was infuriating for her to see the greed of some men…and how little they valued the life of a human being. Cyeon promised justice for Doctor Cassidy. The donors and the board of directors had been notified, and she guessed there would be plenty of finger-pointing to go around. The person responsible for the corruption and ultimately the doctor’s death had been apprehended by Interpol, in Madrid. His name was Bob McFarland, and currently awaited extradition back to America. The three days spent in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe had included an embassy visit, where they’d met with an attaché and various military personnel. Once she’d been issued a new passport and visa, and after all matters had been concluded, Jax had brought her home to Tanzania, to his pride’s abode. From Victoria Falls, their next stop had been to Serengeti National Park. Apparently, the pride’s abode was located in a nearby town. Finally at their destination, and because Cyeon, Keto and Jax had business to tend to, Caly headed to the abode with the rest of the pride. Two women greeted Caly in the driveway. They were Cyeon and Keto’s mates. She’d learned that Jennifer had been a schoolteacher before she met Cyeon, and Sarah was a wildlife photographer, currently working with Keto to open a few art galleries.

Jennifer was the first to give her a bone-crushing hug. Next, Sarah did the same. “You’re so brave,” Jennifer said. “I’ve heard so much about you from Cyeon and Jax.” “I hope good things.” “Great things. Come on in, you must be tired.” The pride’s abode wasn’t much to look at from the outside. It was a small mud and brick building that housed big generators, pumps and massive ducts. But their entire living area was subterranean. No one, least of all her, would’ve guessed there was a vast building underneath the surface. Several trucks were parked in the gravel driveway. There was an orchard and a small vegetable garden behind the building. Nothing special. Nothing to give her the impression that a race of ancient shape-shifters lived here. Half a kilometer from the abode was a watering hole at the foot of a kopje, where Cole said the pride loved basking in the sun after lunch. Earlier, when they’d driven past it, she’d seen a herd of giraffes. So neat. Jennifer gave Caly a tour of the abode. Caly would’ve called it an underground mansion, not just an abode. It had seventeen rooms, eighteen bathrooms, a large chef’s kitchen with an equally big dining hall, living room, library, empty nursery, utility room, and a game room—where the pride spent most of their time when they weren’t lions. Jen showed her Jax’s room, where she would be staying. Caly was fairly impressed. For a bachelor, Jax was pretty damn clean. The bed was made with white sheets that begged to be slept on. Clothes were tucked tidily in the drawers and closet. His desk was absent of clutter, but there were plenty of computers and gizmos on top of

it. A small, rectangular area with wall-to-wall shelving housed a library of books and an entertainment system. A few floor cushions were strewn about. She liked it—it felt cozy and inviting. After living in a dirt nest under a hollow tree, she welcomed the change with delight. One spectacular thing that caught her attention was the bathroom. Hail Mary, Jesus and Joseph! Jax hadn’t lied. From floor to ceiling, it was swathed in polished marble. Even the vanity was made out of it. Then there was the jackpot. A big-ass Jacuzzi that could easily fit several people. Her heart sang with joy. It was silly, she knew that. But after living in the refugee camp with rationed water and lacking even the most basic of necessities, a tub where she could take a long, hot bath was a luxury she’d always dreamt of. “I know what you’re thinking.” Sarah approached, laughing. “Nice, isn’t it? Each room has one. Cyeon renovated the entire house when he took over as alpha. Cole was the one who engineered the whole system.” “I can’t imagine the water and electric bill.” Caly frowned. Though, she didn’t recall seeing any power lines near the house. The pride’s abode stood in a patch of lonely land, covered in bushes and trees. “You kidding?” Jen joined the laughter. “We’re pretty self-sustaining. We have pumps and generators. And we buy fuel by the tanker. Wait until ‘fuel day.’ I swear upstairs smells like a gas station.”

“And if you’re curious, we do have internet and satellite TV. Phones too, in case you want to call your family,” Sarah said. “Do you—” “Oh, I already called them from Nairobi. They’re all okay.” Jennifer appeared to be studying Caly’s face. “Did you tell them what happened?” “No way, José. My mom and dad would freak out. You should’ve seen them when I was deployed to Iraq. If they knew I’d been kidnapped by the militia, they would demand I go home this instant.” “I can see that.” Sarah widened her eyes. “But you should tell them you’re okay, since you’re living with us now.” “With us?” Caly echoed. Jen lifted a brow. “Jax hasn’t claimed you, has he?” Caly’s cheek reddened from the ambush. “We haven’t slept together, if that’s what you mean.” “Didn’t have a chance? Or just…” Sarah left her words hanging, as if prodding her reaction. Caly giggled. “Jax is a pussycat. He wants to court me. Woo me the right way.” “Jax is sweet, I’ll give you that,” Sarah replied. “Well, we should probably leave. I bet you want to get comfy right now.” Jennifer eyed the paper bag in Caly’s hand. “I bet those came from the general store.” “Yeah,” Caly admitted. The bag contained a t-shirt. Sweatpants. Cotton bras and white underwear. Socks. Flip-flops.

Jennifer snapped her fingers. “I have new undies and a bra, unused. I always buy extra when I shop. I think we’re the same size. They should hold you over until we have the chance to go properly shopping. I also have some dresses, with the tags still on. You can have them.” “Jen is the queen of shopping.” Sarah grinned. “She always finds cutest outfits.” “My Jersey heritage.” Jennifer grinned. “I was born in the mall. No kidding, it’s true. My mom was nine months pregnant when she’d been dying for a teeny-weeny bathing suit. After having me, just three weeks later, she wore it on a Jersey beach.” “Wow. She must’ve been a supermom.” “Nah. She just liked partying.” A gleam of sadness could be seen in Jennifer’s eyes. “Anyway, Jax will want to take you out tonight. But since we’re far from civilization, I know he’ll want to have a romantic dinner—safari style. He wants you to be ready by six. That gives you plenty of time to prepare.” “Romantic dinner?” “Yeah. Like you said, Jax is a pussycat.” Jennifer waved at Sarah. “We should leave so Caly can rest.” “I’ll put the stuff on your bed, okay? Bet you want to test drive the Jacuzzi.” Sarah winked. “You’ve read my mind.” ***

After a couple of hours of soaking in the tub, she toweled dry before digging into Jax’s CD collection. Now that Caly was scrubbed clean and shampooed, with music softly playing through the speakers, she was ready for a little nap. Strewn on the bed were a bunch of clothes for her to wear. All still in their packaging, every single garment was a designer piece. She guessed Cyeon and Keto must be loaded if their women could afford such expensive brands—the stuff she saw in fancy catalogues and drooled over. Jax’s bed was huge and fluffy, and she felt as if she were resting on top of clouds. So different than her cot at the camp, and when she’d been deployed to Iraq. It wasn’t long before sleep came over her—she was simply exhausted. She woke up about five-thirty and got ready for her date. At six, someone knocked on the door. “Caly, honey, are you ready?” Sarah’s muffled voice called out to her. Caly turned the knob and pulled it open. Jennifer and Sarah giggled and jumped around and did a little dance. “You’re gorgeous,” Jennifer exclaimed. “The dress I picked for you fits perfectly.” “And these too.” Caly lifted her leg. A pair of white Jimmy Choo slippers graced her feet. They looked like the real deal, not just some knockoff. “We wear the same size shoes.” Jennifer nodded with approval. “We have to go shopping this weekend. I heard Cyeon has business to attend to in Cape Town. It’ll be a long flight, but we could tag along. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Sarah added. “I’ll bring my camera. Cape Town is old and exotic. There are a lot of exciting scenes to shoot.” “Ladies,” a male voice called. Cole, Jax’s younger brother, poked his head in from the hallway. “Is Caly ready? Jax is waiting. Well, there you are.” Cole sauntered in. Unlike the other Rarhs, Cole had silver eyes and platinum white hair. Jax was right. His brother was a real looker. But Caly preferred Jax’s manly beauty. Cole raked his gaze over her appreciatively. “A breathtaking sight of sunshine.” “Rarh men know how to flatter,” Caly said, rather embarrassed with the compliment. “No, ma’am. We simply adore women.” Cole offered his arm. Caly took it. “Don’t you think this is kinda overkill for dinner? I’m perfectly happy with microwaved macaroni and cheese.” “Microwaved?” Jennifer sounded hurt. “Not while I’m in charge of the kitchen. Jax wants to make tonight special. And I’ve labored over the stove all day, cooking. Now shoo.” “Have fun.” Sarah winked. Cole ushered her toward the main stairs and up the steps. Machinery hummed when they walked past. They exited the backdoor. Fresh air breezed past her. The temperature had dropped considerably. Light rain had washed over the area while she’d been in the shower. The grass and gravel was wet with dew. Cole paused to light a torch. He then led her into the backyard stepping on large, winding stones.

She saw that someone had set up for outside dining in the back garden. Several torches lit the surroundings, giving off a seductive nuance. The table was covered with white linen. Gold-rimmed china and crystal glasses were perfectly arranged on it. A champagne bucket sat near a daybed. An outdoor fireplace crackled merrily with logs. Jax was busy doing something right by it. The man was cooking. The smell of meat sizzling in the Dutch oven wafted through the air. Caly became hungry all of a sudden. Jax looked fresh out of the shower, and was dressed in a white cotton shirt and faded jeans. He wore an apron that said, “Kiss the Cook.” When he saw her coming, he paused. His eyes lit up. “God, you’re beautiful.” He held a spatula as he kissed her on the cheek. “I love seeing you in a dress. Though you’re still hot, even in camouflage.” Cole had a big grin on his face. Jax turned to his brother. “What you still doing here? Shoo.” “Okay. Enjoy the night.” Cole stalked off. Caly just had to ask when Jax’s brother was out of sight. “You cook?” Jax lifted an eyebrow. “Why? You think I can’t? I enjoy it…and I’m quite good at it.” A hot guy who enjoyed cooking. Wow. Caly noticed how different Jax was from her ex. Carlton had told her he was too macho to do such a thing. He thought cooking was a woman’s job. And so was cleaning up the house. Or mowing the lawn and taking care of the yard. Caly had long concluded Carlton was just lazy—a lazy, good-for-

nothing of a husband. She often wondered why she’d gone against her family and married him anyway. It was amazing the things people did when blinded by love. “I just didn’t expect it.” Caly peered into the grill. “What are you cooking?” “My special venison tenderloin with fresh morel sauce.” Jax looked so proud he was adorable. “Venison?” “Deer. But here, we mean antelope.” “Wow. I’ve never had it before. Where did you get one?” Jax flashed her a bewildered look. “Seriously. You hunt?” “Of course. I picked the juiciest one from the herd.” “Are they any good?” She wasn’t a picky eater. In fact, she was rather adventurous. “Wait until you try it. This will take a couple of more minutes. Sit down. I’ll get us some wine.” Caly took a seat. The table had been set nicely with candlelight, sparkling crystal glasses and expensive china. She realized Jax had put a lot of effort into this dinner in order to impress her. And well, she rather was. Jax uncorked a chilled bottle and poured it into two glasses. He went back and removed the meat from the fire. He grabbed a pan and melted some butter, threw in herbs and glazed it with the wine he’d just opened. He let the sauce simmer and put the meat back into the pan. A big smile was on his face as he brought it to the table. He

served some onto their plates. A delicious aroma rose to her nose. Jax had also prepared soup, along with homemade bread, which he set down on the table. “Jen made the bread, soup and chocolate cake. Can’t take credit for those. Oh, by the way, the cake is to die for,” he told her. “Oh man, chocolate cake, you said? I haven’t had that in…forever.” “You’ll love it. Jen’s our domestic goddess.” “She’s very nice.” “She is. Cyeon is lucky to have her.” Jax took a seat. “Let’s dig in.” They toasted. Caly sipped the wine. It was really good. Fruity and rich. She tasted the venison. Oh god. It was delicious. The meat was cooked just right, and the sauce was scrumptious. “This is the best dish I’ve ever had.” “Thank you. More wine?” “Are you trying to get me drunk?” “Mellow you out a bit, so I can get lucky.” Jax. Caly loved his sense of humor. She tried the bread and soup. They were both incredible. She plowed through the food as they chatted about their childhood. Jax complimented, flirted and made her feel special. And by the time they got to dessert, Caly wanted to smear the chocolate cake all over him and eat him up. After dinner, Jax uncorked the champagne. They moved to the front of the daybed. The wine had given her a nice buzz and the champagne topped it off…just a

little. Caly giggled. She hadn’t felt this good in a long time. She felt relaxed and happy. No more worries. No more heartache. “What’s up with the daybed?” Caly wanted to know. “Told you, I’m trying to get lucky.” Jax wound an arm around her shoulder. “But I’m already seduced, without you having to do all of this.” Caly snuggled closer. “I want everything to be perfect. You wouldn’t like rolling around in the dirt, would you? Besides, I bet you’ve never spent a night under the Serengeti sky. It’s breathtaking.” Caly looked up. The moon was half hidden by the clouds. The night breeze quickened past them, offering some relief from the day’s heat. From afar, she heard the noise of animals. Jax was right again. The evening in this part of Africa was beautiful. No wonder some of the explorers made such a big deal out of the safari. Jax put his champagne glass on the round table that held the ice bucket. He cleared stray locks away from her face before tugging up her chin and kissing her. It was incredible. The first time he kissed her on the lips since they’d met. She’d wondered when he was going to actually kiss her properly. And not a mere peck on the forehead…or on the cheek. Her heart beat faster. Heat rushed through her veins. It started slow, a mere brush. Then he followed with a light drag across her lips. Exploring. Measuring her reaction. He felt so warm. So tempting. He pressed his lips on hers and engulfed her upper lip. Nibbling. The tip of his tongue traced the outer

contour of her lips. What he did jolted high octane lust within her. Her body responded in accordance. Fire stirred in her pussy. Her nipples hardened. Jax’s tongue paused in the corner, then slowly dipped into her mouth. Caly welcomed him with delight. With a slight moan, Jax pried her mouth open with his tongue. He kissed her hungrily. Caly held on to his shoulders. The aches at the juncture of her thighs intensified. Her pussy creamed. The feeling was unbelievable. He hadn’t even fucked her yet. He’d only kissed her. And with that, he’d set her whole being on fire. What would happen when he took her? Caly waited in anticipation. Her heart beat fast. Jax seemed to take his sweet time, and the wait was killing her. Caly kissed him back with heat and passion. Didn’t he know she wanted him too? She kissed him as hungrily as she needed her next breath. She longed for him. Badly. Jax let out a growl that sounded like a pleased purr of a lion. The seductive, throaty rasp of his voice made her spine tingle and goose bumps breakout over her skin. Jax parted his lips, and whispered, “You’re mine. All mine.” Her heart swelled from his declaration. Did she really mean that much to him? If she didn’t, he wouldn’t have risked his life for her, right? Compared to her ex-husband, Jax was like heaven on Earth. He appreciated her and liked her the way she was. So unlike Carlton, and his lies and demands. True, she and Jax had only recently met, but she felt he was a genuinely good man. Gentle heart. Pleasant personality. Liked the simple things in life. Though, it didn’t hurt that he was extremely good-looking.

Caly plastered her mouth on his and kissed him hard. He mauled her back. Her lips. Licking the side of her jaw. Her neck. She shivered with pleasure as electric thrills simmered beneath her skin. The moment his sandpaper tongue laved her fevered skin, morsels of delight burst out in her sex, making her wetter. Everything he did made her horny. Jax stroked her hair lovingly as he ventured lower. She panted when he sucked on her flesh, marking her neck with love bites. Then he trailed and licked the hollow of her throat. She felt as if she’d melt in an instant. She was hot. And needy. Like a bitch in heat. What was it called again? Estrous? He held her when her knees wobbled and she couldn’t support her own weight. Jax steered her to the daybed. She plopped down. He sat next to her. He kissed her again. His hands were everywhere. Her breasts. Belly. Thighs. And she needed those touches. To feel those rough hands on her skin. Marking her. Claiming her. Making her his. “I love your dress,” Jax whispered. “Well, you can’t borrow it. It’s Jen’s.” Jax laughed. “I’ll try not to ruin it.” He slipped the straps off carefully and undid the zipper at her back. He helped her pull it off over her head. The silk dress rustled in a soft whisper when Caly hung it on the metal headboard. His gazed settled on her white lace bra. “Is that Jen’s too?” “Yeah.” “No ripping involved then.” Jax unhooked it and took it off.

Her heartbeat turned erratic when he took off her slippers. Her panties followed. He touched her. Kissed her with the tenderness and passion of a skilled lover. Jax inhaled her scent and murmured how much he liked it, and how she was driving him crazy. Caly trembled. Jax was a totally different lover than her ex. Jax exuded warmth and protection. She felt secure with him. Cherished. Worshipped. He kneaded her breasts and plucked her nipples. Caly fidgeted. Jax rolled the hard nubs with his fingers. The impact devastated her. Pure pleasure shot through her sex. The rippling ecstasy made her want to melt like a wax candle. “You’re nipples are so pretty, I just want to eat them.” Jax lowered his head and sampled one. Caly’s eyes widened. The pleasure. She instinctively grabbed his hair and clawed his scalp. God. She squirmed. Jax trapped her nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. His breath seared her skin. He then tortured her with slow, siphoning sucks that made her lose her mind. Her lust blazed as the last strands of her sanity slowly went up in flames. Her spine kinked as she arched her back in pleasure. Jax released her nipple and took the unmolested one. New fire shot through her. She trembled. Her pussy clenched in anticipation of being filled. Jax touched her thighs and pushed them apart. He groped her mound as he let go of her tight bud. “Mmm. God, babe. You’re wet.” He shifted his seat and leaned his back against the headboard. “Come here. Straddle me.” Caly felt giddy as she swung her leg over him and sat on his lap. Her bare pussy pressed against the hard-on underneath his jeans. His bulge was impressive. His cock

jerked with interest when she put her weight on him. It was so intimate having him like this. She’d wondered about this for the past couple of days. He hissed. “Caly, you’re a goddess.” Jax curled one arm around her waist, drawing her closer. “Kiss me…” She was more than happy to oblige. She kissed him hard. Tongues delved. He returned it with extra greedy nips. Jax slipped a hand on her pussy, stroking her trimmed pubis. She halted her breath when he parted her sex lips. A gush of her own juices wetted her seam. He found her clit and captured it between his thumb and forefinger. He rolled it with the same finesse as he had with her nipples. She fidgeted again. The pleasure was addictive. “Jax...” “Too hard?” She swallowed. “No…I just...” She needed more than that. Just a bit more. As if he’d read her mind, Jax rubbed her entrance and slid a finger into her. Yes. Caly moaned. The pleasant aches became more intense. Her pussy clasped around his finger. The rings of her muscles tightened, choking the delicious intrusion. Jax rubbed her slowly, then pushed until his palm pressed against her vulva. She felt the roughness of his calloused finger around the cream-slicked walls of her sex. She found his mouth and kissed him as he finger fucked her. In and out. Push and pull. Light and innocent. Pleasure rising. Jax placed his thumb on her clit, pressing and prodding. What he did next made her liquefy into a pool of need. He stimulated her in tandem. The pleasure dragged her higher into the sky. Then it was more.

Jax seemed to know her sweet spot, where the bundle of nerves was most sensitive. Only she knew where it was when she pleasured herself. Her ex hadn’t known squat. Nor had he ever explored pleasure for her sake. Her pussy quivered as Jax crooked his finger and rubbed that dime-sized spot behind her pubic bone. Her Gspot. Her heart beat erratically. God. It was unbelievable. Jax barely rubbed a dozen strokes when an overwhelming urge to come swept through her. Once more. Twice. Thrice. It hit her. A climax so fierce it knocked the breath out of her lungs. Red-hot pleasure consumed her whole. Her body quivered like a windblown leaf in a thunderstorm. Jax watched her as she came. He looked as if he got a kick from it. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” She answered with, “Mmm.” Her tongue felt as if it had been glued to the roof her mouth. Her brain had stopped functioning properly after the neuron-frying orgasm. But she knew one thing she wanted. It was her turn. Caly tugged his shirt collar. Her voice was a shade deeper than husky. “Take this off.” * The voluptuous goddess in his lap wanted him naked. That was one hell of an easy boon. And who was he to deny her pleasure? He’ been ready since Cole had brought her into the garden. She’d looked so beautiful in the dress. But she was fucking fantastic without a thread on her body. He couldn’t get enough of her lush, healthy

curves. His cock was hard under his pants, and his balls swelling against the teeth of the zipper started to bug him. Jax unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. “Nice,” the goddess approved. “Your undershirt, please.” He pulled it off over his head. Caly ran her hands over his chest, his belly. His groin. His cock leapt with excitement the moment she touched him. Jax fumbled with the snap and the zipper, but she swatted his hands away. “Mine.” Jax was surprised to hear the sharpness of the claim in her buttery, Southern drawl. He obliged. “All yours.” Caly giggled. Her girlish laughter knotted a tension in his loin. She unzipped the front of his jeans and shoved down his briefs. His cock bobbed free. He heard her breath halt at the sight of his erection. She clasped his shaft and pumped him. Fuck. It felt so good. He knew his whimpering growl gave it away. “Too hard?” She looked worried. “No, babe. It’s perfect.” She smiled naughtily and choked the base of his cock. “How about now?” Jax groaned. “Teaser.” Caly let go of him and slid down from his lap. She patiently took off his loafers, socks, jeans and briefs. She pushed his knees apart and wedged herself between his thighs. Her attention returned to his cock.

His heart jumped to his throat when she lowered her head and gave his shaft an introductory kiss. It was light, yet the impact devastated him. Heat jolted straight from his spine to the crown of his erection. She licked him, tongue sweeping over his slit. His droplets of cream were lapped clean. “Mmm,” she purred. She seemed to like what she tasted. The feel of her soft tongue made him want to shiver. His every nerve ending screamed from the pleasure. She began from his balls and lazily dragged the flat of her tongue up, across his veined shaft to the underside of his cockhead and finished up with a light suck on his tip. Sweet Christ. Where had she learned to do that? Not that he had anything to complain about. But that was…wow. The sweet caress made him burn from the inside out. Caly gently engulfed his cock until his tip touched the back of her throat, followed with slow, soulful sucking that drove him out of his mind. Nerves came alive with the intense ferocity from her sweet torment. Jax was astonished at the way she made him feel. No one had ever set him on fire the way she did. His back arched. Toes curled. If she kept doing this, he wouldn’t last. Jax didn’t want to come before he could fuck her properly. He stopped her. “Are you trying to make me come?” Caly released his cock. “That’s exactly what I’m about to do.” “I don’t think so. Not before I take you.” “Come on.”

He laughed. “The first one is special, babe.” He snatched her wrists and pulled her up. He arranged her in the position he wanted, with both hands on the soft mattress of the daybed. Her ass thrust upward, she was ready for the taking. “Stay still.” Caly obeyed him like a good girl. She didn’t move. Jax slipped behind her and squeezed each of her cheeks. Suddenly, he had a ravenous appetite—to devour her. * She waited with her heart thundering against her ribcage. Caly smashed her cheek onto the vanilla-scented sheet. For a moment, she was affected by the heady smell. She felt Jax’s hot breath somewhere near her exposed sex. The first lick threw her over the edge. God. Caly clawed the sheet. Jax’s mouth and tongue were even more wicked than his finger fucking skills. His tongue caressed her folds before lancing into the source of her aches. She gasped. Pleasure seized her in its sudden grip. His tongue swam in her sea of heat. Licking. Twirling. Her knees wobbled. A strangled cry ripped from her throat. “God, babe. I think you’re more than ready.” Damn right. She was more than ready. Jax positioned himself behind her. She felt his crown pressed hard against her opening. Her pussy contracted upon contact. “Babe…” He thrust into her.

Caly groaned into the sheet. She felt as if she were being split open. His cock slid in, spearing, forcing her to accept him. He pushed in a couple of inches. He paused and pushed again. She closed her eyes. He was too damn fucking big. He’d hurt her. He would… Jax grunted and thrust. The air around her thinned. God. She opened her eyes. She didn’t think it was possible, but Jax seemed determined to shove his whole length into her woefully inadequate cunt. He worked inch by inch, breaking her tightness until he was successfully sheathed, balls deep. “Fuck.” She felt Jax shudder the moment their flesh became one. His cock felt so hot, like fire encased in velvet, pulsing in her depths. He gripped her waist as he languidly ground his hips. He moved so his cockhead almost left her opening, and just as slowly, he thrust back until she felt as if she were about to burst. Her pussy creamed, slicking his shaft. The pleasure thickened like molasses…like drowning in viscous ecstasy. Jax still fucked her with slow thrusts, as if he wanted her to feel every inch of his alarming length and the fatness of his girth. Her breaths were cut into rapid rasps when his fucking turned short and incessant. Thousands of shimmering sensations crashed through her. The pleasure was so pure, it was mind-shattering. Jax pounded, pulled with sheer savagery, battering her pussy until she only felt fire. He grunted and pounded her ferociously, hammering her with hard, fast, primal fucks. Her pleasure climbed higher. Caly reared to meet his brutal slamming.

She exploded. Fireworks burst before her eyes. A violent orgasm claimed her. Her body went rigid. Darkness swallowed her vision at the height of her rapture. When she floated back to reality, she noticed Jax jerking behind her, climaxing. Half-formed words rasped from his mouth as his cock spasmed in her cunt, flooding her with his seed. Jax pulled her into his arms as they snuggled on the daybed, in their birthday suits. It felt so natural. Like Adam and Eve must’ve felt, making love under the starry sky. “So.” Jax cleared his throat. “Did you like dinner?” “The best meal I’ve ever had.” “Do you like my room?” “Your Jacuzzi is kickass.” “Do you like me?” Caly laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “A fuck of a lot.” “Enough to make you want to move in with me?” “I think so. I like your wooing technique.” Jax purred. “Hmm.” “What if I were to say I don’t want to move in with you, and that I just want to go back home?” “Then I’ll have to woo you harder.” “Oh?” “Yeah. Open your legs and I’ll show you the tricks I have up my sleeves.”

About the Author: Lizzie Lynn Lee was a guitarist, receptionist, executive assistant, tarot reader, boutique owner and graphic artist before she discovered writing is her dream job. The advantage is she can do it in her pajamas and socks. She’s an incurable chatterbox, heavy metal aficionado, book worm, digital enthusiast and a night owl since most of her stories were done in the wee hours of the morning because of her caffeine-induced insomnia. These days she still plays her guitar whenever she gets bored, staring at her computer’s screen or plotting the most elaborate scheme of world domination. Fortunately, she has a chronically short attention span. She loves to hear back from her readers, so drop her a line at: mailto:[email protected]