enigmatic pale gray eyes. For all that she gave of herself generously, as purely uninhibited a lover as he’d ever had, she always kept that part of her safe. Separate.
Except when she slept. At least her subconscious was willing to acknowledge that she belonged with him.
Landon didn’t know when the decision had been made, but sometime between that first teasing taste of her scent in the bar and their lazy post-coital chats as dawn broke, he had made his choice. Ava was the only lioness he could imagine taking as his mate. She would not cling to outdated traditions, but would help him bring a sense of humanity into their less than human world. She would support him, argue with him when he needed it, and was brave enough to step between him and his prey when his ire was up, strong enough to face down his misdirected anger. She was ideal.
Now all he had to do was convince her of that fact.
She was so eager to run from him, his little mate. So ready to hand him off to someone she had decided was more suitable to rule beside him.
Landon tightened his arms around her sleeping form. His stomach grumbled again and again he ignored it. There was no food inside his bungalow. None of the sleeping quarters on the compound were set up with kitchens. In the communal living environment of the pride, all meals were taken at the mess hall. It had taken Landon some time to accustom himself to eating with his pride, after the years he and his sister had spent fending for themselves, but he had found, much to his surprise, that he enjoyed the familial feeling the large community meals inspired.
Attendance at mealtimes was not required, even the pride-first oriented lions had too much feline independence for that. Snacks were always on hand in the kitchen for those who chose not to dine with the group, for whatever reason. So his and Ava’s absence at breakfast, which they had long since slept through, at least wouldn’t be noted.
If they were still missing at dinner, it might raise some alarms—and Landon might die of hunger, if the ache in his stomach was any indication—but he was hopeful he would be able to convince Ava to become his consort before then. His plan consisted largely of keeping her trapped in bed until she said yes. Not terribly sophisticated, but hopefully all the coercion she would require.
He stroked her hair away from her face and she hummed and sighed against him as she slept. He had worn her out, poor thing, but it seemed her heat had finally subsided. The scent of her no longer demanded that he wake her just so he could make love to her again. Their libidos were finally allowing them some rest.
He wondered how the rest of the pride would react to their pairing. She wasn’t who they would have picked for him, if he’d put it to a vote, which he had actually considered doing at one point, when all of the candidates had seemed identical in ambition and appeal.
Landon was still trying to find his way in the pride, for all that he was their leader now. He’d been a nomad, responsible for only himself and Zoe, who was entirely capable of taking care of herself, for so long. Without the protection of the pride, they’d had to be constantly on alert, never knowing when it was safe to shift or hunt, always wary of exposure, being caught and turned into a science experiment.
He had been constantly tense, waiting for the ax to fall, always on edge, but life here in the pride was one hundred and eighty degrees different.
The pride owned all of the land for miles in every direction around the ranch. Security measures to keep out prying eyes—even some that distorted satellite photos that might compromise them from space—were in place all around the compound. Every member of the community contributed, some within the ranch, those who chose working in nearby towns, but the rhythm of life here was slow and easy. Hammocks were strung between the bungalows for long afternoon naps in the sun.
The shifters were
Except when she slept. At least her subconscious was willing to acknowledge that she belonged with him.
Landon didn’t know when the decision had been made, but sometime between that first teasing taste of her scent in the bar and their lazy post-coital chats as dawn broke, he had made his choice. Ava was the only lioness he could imagine taking as his mate. She would not cling to outdated traditions, but would help him bring a sense of humanity into their less than human world. She would support him, argue with him when he needed it, and was brave enough to step between him and his prey when his ire was up, strong enough to face down his misdirected anger. She was ideal.
Now all he had to do was convince her of that fact.
She was so eager to run from him, his little mate. So ready to hand him off to someone she had decided was more suitable to rule beside him.
Landon tightened his arms around her sleeping form. His stomach grumbled again and again he ignored it. There was no food inside his bungalow. None of the sleeping quarters on the compound were set up with kitchens. In the communal living environment of the pride, all meals were taken at the mess hall. It had taken Landon some time to accustom himself to eating with his pride, after the years he and his sister had spent fending for themselves, but he had found, much to his surprise, that he enjoyed the familial feeling the large community meals inspired.
Attendance at mealtimes was not required, even the pride-first oriented lions had too much feline independence for that. Snacks were always on hand in the kitchen for those who chose not to dine with the group, for whatever reason. So his and Ava’s absence at breakfast, which they had long since slept through, at least wouldn’t be noted.
If they were still missing at dinner, it might raise some alarms—and Landon might die of hunger, if the ache in his stomach was any indication—but he was hopeful he would be able to convince Ava to become his consort before then. His plan consisted largely of keeping her trapped in bed until she said yes. Not terribly sophisticated, but hopefully all the coercion she would require.
He stroked her hair away from her face and she hummed and sighed against him as she slept. He had worn her out, poor thing, but it seemed her heat had finally subsided. The scent of her no longer demanded that he wake her just so he could make love to her again. Their libidos were finally allowing them some rest.
He wondered how the rest of the pride would react to their pairing. She wasn’t who they would have picked for him, if he’d put it to a vote, which he had actually considered doing at one point, when all of the candidates had seemed identical in ambition and appeal.
Landon was still trying to find his way in the pride, for all that he was their leader now. He’d been a nomad, responsible for only himself and Zoe, who was entirely capable of taking care of herself, for so long. Without the protection of the pride, they’d had to be constantly on alert, never knowing when it was safe to shift or hunt, always wary of exposure, being caught and turned into a science experiment.
He had been constantly tense, waiting for the ax to fall, always on edge, but life here in the pride was one hundred and eighty degrees different.
The pride owned all of the land for miles in every direction around the ranch. Security measures to keep out prying eyes—even some that distorted satellite photos that might compromise them from space—were in place all around the compound. Every member of the community contributed, some within the ranch, those who chose working in nearby towns, but the rhythm of life here was slow and easy. Hammocks were strung between the bungalows for long afternoon naps in the sun.
The shifters were
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