Her Lonely Mastiff Read online

  Lacey was terrified. She had survived twenty-seven years without a serious heartbreak (unless you counted that idiot Tom Murphy in sixth grade which she totally didn’t). But as Quinn’s dark brown eyes fastened on her, she realized her heartstrings were beginning to play a melody that only Quinn could inspire.

  She had considered a fun interlude. Two sexually compatible adults engaging in the kind of sex that would make her mother blush and her grandmother faint. It was a good thing neither of them was here.

  Quinn pressed his body against hers and, his hands fell to her hips. Trapped between the flames from the fire and Quinn against her front, Lacey was pretty sure she’d never be cold again.

  She couldn’t stop the all-consuming tingling from transporting her. If she had any sense at all, she should be running. Apparently, Lacey decided, she wasn’t normal. Because instead of high-tailing it the other way, she pressed herself against him.

  Using the rasp of his beard, Quinn brushed his cheek against hers. Her head tilted as though no longer connected with gravity.

  His right hand buried itself in the tangle of her hair and pulled her closer. He inhaled deeply, and Lacey shivered as she felt loved. Cherished. Protected. “You should go,” he said, his voice husky and deep.

  Quinn teased a line of kisses down her neck, and she shivered as a sprinkle of gooseflesh appeared. He let his lips touch hers, a butterfly-soft kiss from a man the size of a mountain.

  “I’m not good with little things,” he said against her shoulder.

  Lacey licked her lips, fighting for control when her mind was clearly long gone. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m not a little thing, huh?” She could feel his body tremble with excitement. A low noise, half groan, half-animalistic growl, tore from his throat. And darn it, she liked it.

  Quinn’s other hand tightened against her hipbone. Clean, unvarnished lust tore at her. Oh, this was what she’d been missing her whole life! How dare her family keep this dark secret from her?

  She moved against him, her hips seeking the rock-hard cock she knew was restrained beneath worn denim. Quinn tightened his grip, and she moaned. Instinctively she’d known he was an unrefined man with rough desires. Just what she’d needed, even if she hadn’t known about it yesterday.

  The confidence of Quinn’s hands gripped her. Held her. Warmth pooled deep in her core, and Lacey felt her panties dampen. “You’re going to owe me,” she whispered along his heated skin

  “For what?” The words were torn from his throat as though he were unwilling.

  “For the panties you just melted,” she said with a sultry, teasing smile.

  Quinn groaned. “Stop tempting me, Trouble,” he whispered against her temple.

  How did he remember words at a time like this? Lacey wondered. “Oh yeah?” she challenged. “Whatcha’ gonna’ do if I keep tempting you?” She was playing with fire, but damn if it didn’t feel ah-ma-zing.

  Lacey cupped her hand over his and guided him down to the drawstring of her pants. Their eyes met with fierce heat. Playtime was over.

  Quinn turned her and pulled her against his chest. One hand reached under her top and cradled her breast. He thumbed one marble-hard nipple, and Lacey felt her head tilt back against his shoulder. Oh, my word.

  His other hand slid down the waistband of her pants, strong fingers parting her cleft. Exposing her clit. She whimpered in Quinn’s arms. “Please,” she whispered.

  “What do you want, Trouble?” Quinn taunted, his finger hovering over her heated skin.

  “You. Inside me.” She arched back, grateful for his sheer size and overwhelming strength.

  “Like this?” Quinn stroked her clit until her moans were incoherent with need. Her body arched bow-like as she succumbed to the lure of hearth and heat and helplessness. Sensitive nerve endings came alive under the mastery of his calloused hands until she felt her soul leave her corporal body as pleasure wracked her frame.

  So close. She was so, so close.

  “Quinn,” Lacey begged, hoping he could read her mind. Hope he understood what her body demanded. He gave her everything and yet, her greedy body demanded more. Each ounce of pleasure reminded her Quinn could give her gallons more.

  His lips were on her neck. Then his teeth held her firmly at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Not quite a kiss. More like a claiming. Lacey wanted him to lock into her. Spin her around. Claim her. Devour her.

  Lacey cried out and shuddered in his arms as finally, blessedly, her orgasm swept over her. Tendrils of pleasure pulsed and rippled through her body. Release and relaxation. Utterly satisfied. She sagged against Quinn’s strength.

  “Fuck,” he muttered into her hair as he held her.

  Tears of release filled her eyes. What had she been missing her entire life?

  His lips hovered over her as they shared a breath before a wild scream tore the air. Quinn’s body tightened and grew wary like a parent guarding its young. Or a man protecting his mate.

  Lacey turned towards the window. A sharp, high pitched scream sounded, followed by the rumbling snarl of a male animal’s challenge. “What was that?”

  “Stay inside,” Quinn ordered, he pulled his shirt off. Giving her only a moment to admire the firm lines of his chest and back, Quinn took off out of the cabin and bounded across the snow-covered yard.

  Sneaking a peek out the door, Lacey saw only a tangle of wild animal prints. Her thoughts rushed to Zoe, alone in their cabin. Was her fur-girl freaking out over the strange animal screams? Ignoring Quinn’s directive to stay inside, Lacey grasped her jacket tightly and darted back to her cabin.

  Chapter Five

  Lacey

  Lacey and Zoe shared a disgruntled look. “I don’t know why his pants were on the patio, either, Zo,” Lacey said. Lost in thought, she twirled the box of matches she picked up from Quinn’s home. The Lusty Leopard. While she could attest the burgers were delicious, what kind of a place was it?

  Unfortunately, Zoe didn’t have any answers to the questions that blurred through Lacey’s mind. Had she gone to his cabin for the sole purpose of seducing him? If kissing Quinn was enough to melt her panties and turn her wanton, what would sex be like with him? Who or what had screamed and pulled Quinn away from her? In a way, she was almost glad. Lacey wasn’t quite ready to make love with Quinn. Yet.

  Because her biggest concern, the one that overrode all others was–could she survive making love to Quinn Maxwell and then go back home to her quiet life in Winston-Salem? Or would she crave the feel and taste and touch of him for the rest of her life?

  Zoe purred on her lap, content to be petted while Lacey’s emotions roiled and surged like the ocean.

  “Well, I’m not getting any answers sitting here,” Lacey said. Ignoring Zoe’s look of annoyance, Lacey moved her off her lap. “I’ll bank up the fire and go for a walk.” Lacey rose to do just that and smiled at herself. Talking to a cat. “I love you, Zoster the Toaster, but sometimes I wish I had a dog to take long walks with.”

  Lacey tromped into her boots, grabbed a bright pink down vest and matching hat, and headed out the door. She stared in multiple directions before heading east. “If I just stay heading east, all I need to do is turn around in thirty minutes and follow the sun west. Right?”

  Right.

  Or. Wrong.

  Stupid trees, Lacey thought. Somehow, in her city-girl naïveté, Lacey had figured heading east would be accomplished easily enough. Follow the line of the sun, admire the snow-covered landscape. Take a few pictures. Watch out for bears. What could be simpler?

  And the view was stimulating. Tall trees stood in stark relief against the winter-white sky. The frost of her breath misted in the near-freezing temperatures. A delicate flurry of snowflakes.

  Except the trees got in her way. Lacey found she had to go two feet south-west. Or another few inches north-west. But still, she figured she’d be okay. Even an idiot could navigate by the sun. Goodness, the Vikings could navigate using only the sun, right? Or was tha
t the moon? Well, whichever. Even she knew the sun rose in the east and set in the west. As long as she stayed on that trajectory, she’d be fine.

  What she hadn’t counted on was the increased cloudiness covering the sun. Or how fast mid-day turned to dusk.

  Teeth chattering, she decided to turn around and follow her own footsteps back. “That should work, right?” she asked, filling up the void in the hushed silence of the forest.

  Except, after a few steps, she couldn’t see her steps anymore. “Well. Dang.” She was tempted to swear. Desperately. But whenever she felt like swearing that’s when her mama’s lessons hamstrung her the most.

  The wind howled past her and for one brief, perfect moment, the sun shone down on her shoulders. “A cave,” she said, lowering her voice in hushed reverence. The snow-coated land felt sacred and holy. Almost like a church.

  “Decision time, St. Claire,” Lacey muttered. The wind blew and for a brief moment, the sun outlined her footprints. Would is stay shining long enough to get her home? Or was her best bet to make a fire and hunker down in the mouth of the cave until morning.

  The wind blew again obscuring the land and taking its ambient light with it. “Fickle, fickle girl,” she said, cursing the wind and clouds. “So, cave it is.”

  Lacey gathered up some dry twigs and pinecones as she made her way to the cave. “Well, maybe cave is too important of a word,” she said with a laugh. “A niche, perhaps? But it should help get me out of the wind.”

  “Some rocks, too,” she muttered. Time began to pulse at her as she realized daylight was almost gone. Lacey knew she had to build a fire before full dark or she’d be as helpless as a new puppy.

  After making a circle of rocks, Lacey pulled a bit of pocket lint out of her jacket and jeans pockets. She made a little ball of fluff and attached it to the pinecones. Lacey smiled in satisfaction when they caught quickly.

  She placed the rest of her pine cones within the circle and then covered them with the dried twigs. Once they were neatly lit and giving off heat, Lacey put bigger logs onto the fire until it popped and cracked cheerily.

  A glint of metal caught Lacey’s eye, and she went to investigate. A crushed soda can. “Perfect,” she whispered aloud, now more to keep herself company than anything else.

  Fear rose, but she swallowed it down. “I know you’re scared, girl, but you’ll make the best of it, right?” Terrified was closer to the truth but like Scarlett O’Hara, no southern belle would admit to the dread plucking away at her insides.

  Using the curved end of the crushed aluminum can, Lacey scraped together the world’s worst igloo. With the cave niche as its rear wall, she built two walls on either side. She bent off some fir tree branches and placed them across the top as a make-shift roof.

  “Okay, little shelter, you won’t win any house beautiful prizes,” she said to the tiny structure she’d built. It was little more than a wind shelf open to the warmth of the fire. “But you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She gathered all the available twigs and downed branches within the circle her fire threw off. “You just need to wait until dawn,” Lacey reminded herself. “The sun will show my footprints, and then I can follow my own trail home.” She refused to think about the possibility of more snow through the night. Completely dismissing the fear that her footprints would be wiped out as though they were sand along the ocean.

  “You got this, girl. You read enough Hansel and Gretel as a kid. Why didn’t you leave a trail of pebbles?”

  Time ticked by with relentless slowness. Eventually, her own voice only amplified her loneliness, and Lacey stopped talking to herself.

  She sat huddled. Forlorn. Feeling very afraid and abandoned. Lacey stared into the flames with their contrasting cheerful warmth and refused to give voice to her growing dire circumstances.

  Unbidden came that hope that maybe Quinn would realize she wasn’t home, but Lacey quickly abandoned that one. She only had herself to count on in life.

  She counted the flames. The twigs. The pinecones. Anything to get her mind off—

  SCREEEEEEEE

  “Sweet mother of Santa Claus,” Lacey said as the scream died down. For extra protection, she made a quick sign of the cross and trembled with fear. Shock. Anxiety. Glowing eyes appeared in the distance, and Lacey’s heartbeat soundly in her chest. Was that a bear?

  “No,” she reminded herself, huddling tighter to herself. Making herself as small as possible even though logic told her she was clearly visible. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Bears don’t scream. Scream. Scream,” she chanted. Lacey rocked back and forth, seeking some ancient evolutionary comfort. “Bears don’t scream. Cats scream. Lynx? Panthers?”

  Mountain lion.

  Panic tightened around Lacey’s chest and constricted her throat as the exquisite tawny animal entered her circle of light. He was huge with a long, elegant neck and muscles that rippled in the shadow and light from the fire. His green eyes were opaque as the amber flames reflected off them.

  The cougar paused three feet away from Lacey. His breath chuffed in the winter’s air causing little clouds of mist to form. If Lacey hadn’t been so terrified, she would have admired the animal’s perfect form.

  Instead, Lacey was more aware she was about to become kitty kibble. A bubble of hysteria rose in her throat, but she tamped it down. Was this how she was going to die? With an epitaph that read, “Here’s what’s left of Lacey St. Claire, after she foolishly went for a walk.”

  Lacey bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming. The mountain lion was huge. Lithe. Dangerous. And yet, he seemed almost curious rather than attacking. Hope dared to emerge within her. Maybe the wild cat was more curious than hungry.

  He sniffed, whiskers twitching as he closed in on her. He growled again, a truly boot-knocking, hair-raising sound that clicked in Lacey’s memories. Realization dawned on her as awareness hit. This was the sound that had interrupted hers and Quinn’s interlude earlier.

  “Hey, kitty,” Lacey said, crooning. “I’m pretty poor pickings,” she said, voice trembling with her terror. “You might want to just skedaddle on along, now, hear?”

  The large cat ignored her pleadings. He still wasn’t attacking, though. Merely watching with cool, detached green eyes. Their gazes met, and Lacey saw icy intelligence in his eyes. Whatever this cat wanted, it wasn’t to eat her.

  ROARRRRRR

  An enormous Tibetan Mastiff raced towards the fire. His immense body shouldn’t have seemed graceful and yet, it was. His feet barely touched the snow-covered ground as his long stride ate up the real estate between them.

  Lacey’s golden eyes met the dark coffee brown of the dog’s. Lacey tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. She’d seen those dark eyes before. But where? It was almost there, but she couldn’t focus.

  The tawny cat hissed as the dog thrust himself between them. He was protecting her by putting himself in harm’s way.

  The Mastiff was huge. Menacing. He paced and kept her behind him at all times. The mountain lion lifted his lip and showed off his large, sharp incisors.

  Feeling like she was caught in some kind of nightmare, Lacey’s teeth began chattering. Doubts crashed in, and she wasn’t sure she could survive this night after all. She was a nice girl who didn’t even speed. Dying on the side of a mountain on her first vacation since vet tech school seemed highly unfair.

  The cat lunged. The dog caught him mid-leap. They rolled and twirled in a macabre dance of muscle, growls, and teeth.

  But somehow, their claws stayed sheathed, and vicious canines remained unused.

  Too scared to double think her own actions, Lacey grabbed a piece of wood from the fire and brandished it like a weapon. But when she approached the battling duo, the Mastiff shot her a look of pure male disgust.

  She’d seen that look before. Male. Coffee dark eyes. Huge. Muscular.

  Could it be…Quinn. Was Quinn a shifter?

  Lacey had hear
d of shifters before. They were studied in school. Genetically enhanced soldiers who had agreed to have their DNA spliced with a chosen animal. Born of an idea from the turn of the century, it had gone public under FDR and was perfected by the 1960s. The US Government had exploited them shamelessly during Vietnam. And then had come the two-decades-long conflict in the Middle East.

  But shifters were like former presidents, astronauts, and World Series winners. Sure, they existed, but most people went their whole life without ever meeting one. Some of that was due to their high mortality rate. Many of the Shifter Special Forces rarely made it back to civilian life. But part of it was fear and discrimination by non-shifters. Or, as a recent political ad had said, “No one wants bear shifters running loose in Manhattan.”

  But whereas Manhattan might be a shifter-free zone, Maxwell Mountains, North Carolina had at least one running loose.

  Lacey took in the angry mountain lion. Maybe two running loose?

  She had gone her entire life without even meeting one. And now, by a glancing blow from fate, not only had she met one (maybe two) but had been kissed by one!

  “Stop,” she called out. “Quinn?” More tentative now “Is that you?”

  But the two massive territorial males ignored her. Lacey almost doubted her instincts but shook her confusion away. Everything made sense. The cougar’s lack of attack. The Mastiff with Quinn’s eyes.

  More determined than ever, Lacey charged at the battling pair, determined to stop their nonsense and find answers to her growing list of questions. Quinn shifted to human form as she neared the battling duo. “No,” he called out, mid-shift.

  But forward momentum had Lacey and the mountain lion in its grip. Fueled by fear, rage, and the ironclad laws of physics, Lacey and the cougar collided with the unyielding force of a freight train.

  Chapter six

  Quinn

  “You are such a fucking asshole, Cree.” Quinn’s frown was lethal, and he used it with impunity on the younger man. “What is wrong with you?”