Her Mountain Lion Mate (Shifter Special Forces Book 3) Read online

  The softly curling line of hair trailing down from his navel intrigued Tamara. When her fingers touched his naked skin, Cree’s breath came in sharply. His weight shifted as his arms moved.

  Tamara waited, frozen, anticipating his embrace.

  “It’s all right,” Creole said, his voice as soft as firelight. “See? No hands.”

  With haunted eyes, Tamara watched him put his hands behind his head. Fingers tightly laced against his overwhelming temptation to touch her as she was touching him.

  “Does this mean I still get to touch you?” Tamara hated the way the words trembled, but she needed to be sure.

  “As much as you want.”

  “This isn’t fair to you,” Tamara protested.

  “Let me worry about that. It’s enough that you’re touching me. We’re both alive, and you’re here with me.”

  Heat rose from his skin, tempting her to explore further. The silky treasure trail of hair curling below his navel, and the sharp involuntary movement of his body as her fingers slid beneath the soft T-shirt she traced the long muscles of his torso from his waist to the top of his ribcage.

  Eyes closed with pleasure, Tamara let her hands savor his strength and stillness. The changing and compelling textures of his body beneath her palms. Her fingers searching among the crisp rair of his chest alive with the feel of him. The silk and the hardness and the heat of him.

  And Cree watched her, his green eyes hot with a hunger that couldn’t be assuaged. At least not tonight.

  Tamara brushed her lips across Cree’s mouth loving the feel of him. Firm and sweet with an answering heat all his own. “Can I?”

  “Fuck, yes, anything,” Cree said, arching into her.

  Tamara giggled shyly. “You don’t even know what I want.”

  One side of Cree’s mouth kicked up in a crooked smile. “I have a pretty good idea of what you want, Tams.”

  “Can I take off your shirt?”

  Their gazes met. Hotly. Profoundly.

  “What are you waiting for?” Creole asked. As he spoke, he unlocked his hands and stretched his arms above his head.

  Tamara’s hands moved up his body, pushing the soft folds of his T-shirt over his chest. His head. His arms. Until finally the shirt fell aside, forgotten. Her breath came in and then out on a long sigh of shameless arousal. She ran her hands freely from his fingertips to his waist. Creole’s breath sounded more like a groan as he laced his hands behind his head once more.

  For an instant, Tamara hesitated. She was going too far. Taking them off an unknown cliff. Then Creole’s body twisted sinuously beneath her hands begging to be touched. She whispered his name as she bent down and kissed him. Hungry for the feel of his tongue against hers.

  Her palms rubbed slowly over his chest, stroking him. Absorbing his scent. When her nails scrape gently over his nipples, he shivered with pleasure. Tamara’s fingertips circled them lovingly then tugged at the small, hard nubs.

  His tongue moved sensuously in her mouth, stealing her breath until she was dizzy.

  “I think I could kiss you forever.”

  “You will.” Creole fought to keep his voice even despite the waves of hunger hammering through him. His fingers twisted against each other until bone ground against bone.

  Tamara gazed at him. A wild cat-like man wearing only firelight and jeans. She traced the line of skin just above his jeans with her tongue. Her hands smoothed his thighs and enjoyed the flex and shift of his muscles. Denim over heated steel.

  He was her mountain lion mate. The eyes of a cougar with the soul of a poet.

  “I don’t know how to end this,” she confessed shyly. Her cheek rubbed against the bulge in his jeans as uncertainty reared its ugly head.

  Cree a shifted on the bed his erection firm against his pants. “I can take care of it.”

  Curiosity lit up her face. “Can I watch?” her voice was husky and urgent.

  Unable to deny her, Cree nodded. Slowly he unlocked his fingers. With shaking hands, he undid the snap of his jeans and lowered the fly. “Look at me,” he begged hoarsely. “Know that you’re the only woman I’ve ever been naked for. Will ever be naked with like this.”

  Tamara licked her lips as she realized what he was saying. Cree was still a virgin. Hunger and ache rose in the wake of his words.

  “I’ve never been naked for a man, either.”

  Understanding blended between them, each lost in knowing that when they were finally together, they would meet on equal footing.

  Jeans lowered, he pulled his cock out of his underwear, letting it jut against his flat, muscular belly. Tamara’s gaze flitted between his heated green eyes and the cock nestled between his hard fingers.

  Creole swallowed as his hand stroked. Long ones. Short. Then long again. He groaned. His eyes dropped to half-mast as he jerked himself off.

  Unable to resist, Tamara placed her hands over his. His cry was deep. Needful as his neck arched, teeth gritted. Creole gave himself up for her pleasure. Streams of cum splashed harmlessly on the flat plane of his abdomen.

  “That’s beautiful,” Tamara whispered in the darkness.

  Creole’s cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. “Let me clean up,” he said, slowly disengaging from her intertwined limbs.

  Tamara nodded and then reached for him, suddenly afraid. “Come back to bed?” She hated the begging tone in her voice but she didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again.

  Creole nodded and padded into the bathroom.

  Several minutes later, he came back to the bed. He lay down, arms at his side while Tamara curled against him. A low purr started in his throat.

  “That is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard,” Tamara mumbled before drifting off to a deep sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Cree

  Cree woke to the delectable sensation of having his mate wrapped around his body. At some point in the night, Tamara was drawn to his heat. One of her bare legs slid between his denim-clad ones. Her arm was thrown over his chest. Sweet puffs of her breath blew against his neck.

  He vowed they would wake like this every day for the rest of their lives together.

  But, for today, Cree knew he needed to slip out of bed without waking her up. He refused to startle her awake after the sensual haze of last night.

  Cree smiled remembering the sheer joy of her hands exploring his body. Her curiosity as he jacked off. The sheer delight in waking up next to her. Those were memories he intended to save.

  After starting a pot of coffee, Cree rummaged in the pantry to see if there was any food or if he’d have to hit Lacey up for a meal. Cree grinned as he thought of sharing a quiet meal with Tamara. Letting her trust in him grow.

  A dark government-issued SUV pulled into the driveway. Cree closed the pantry door, forgetting about breakfast with Tamara. His senses went on high alert. He didn’t like dark government-issued SUVs showing up before breakfast.

  He walked out onto the patio barefoot, arms folded across his chest.

  Cree almost cracked a grin when he saw Quinn take the same posture when he stepped out of his cabin.

  “How did you find me?” Cree called, recognizing his handler immediately.

  “By accident.” Special Agent Christian Walker nodded to Quinn but walked towards Cree. “I checked your house, but you weren’t there. I came to see if Maxwell knew where you were.”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.” Cree broadened his shoulders defiantly. He had a mate to defend now.

  Walker handed him a file. “Let’s have a cup of coffee and talk about it.”

  “No.”

  “Why don’t you see what he has to say,” Quinn suggested when he joined them. Cree felt his hackles raise, and he wanted to hiss at all of them. How dare they get this close to Tamara?

  “Coffee. That’s it.” Cree turned on his heel, glad to see Tamara wasn’t out of bed yet. He peeked in on her and smiled. God, she was the perfect mate. He gently, but firmly, closed t
he door.

  “What do you want, Walker?”

  Scattered across the table was a myriad of photos. “Why are these animals caged?” Cree demanded. There were three cougars, a mother, and her cubs.

  “Drug dealers have gotten sharper. They’ve moved on from pit bulls and Shepherds. Now, they’re using mountain lions as their enforcers. We had a DEA agent lose his leg and had to put five cougars down in the last six months.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Cougars use stealth and ambush. High vantage points. They hunt alone and attack from behind. They’d never go after a leg, for fuck’s sake. Look at the hind legs. They’re bigger than the front. Cougars are the perfect hunting machine. We can jump twenty feet vertically and forty feet horizontally.

  “You’d be dead before you’d realize you were hunted,” Cree continued. “A cougar breaks the neck of their prey by biting it at the base of the skull.”

  “These cougars never learned to hunt or fight.”

  Tension plucked Cree’s spine like a deadly mandolin. He didn’t want to know more but was helpless to respond. “How? We’re too solitary. We don’t train worth a fuck. We’re just as likely to bite the hand that chains us as we are any DEA agents.”

  “That’s where you come in.”

  “I’m not going undercover and getting trapped by drug dealers, Walker. Are you crazy?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. We know what the bad guys are doing. They have a female cougar.” Walker tapped the picture. “They put her out to lure in a male to breed on her. Once she has her kittens, they’re taken away from her. They’re used as guards until they start eating too much or getting too big to handle. They’re tossed away to fend for themselves in the wild while the female continues to breed new enforcers.”

  Cree was horrified. He knew man could be sick fuckers. The sight of a magnificent 750-pound tiger jumping through fire hoops taught him man had no care for animals. But this disregard for life disgusted him.

  “Which is why you keep hearing of cougars attacking,” Cree mumbled as another thought occurred to him. “They were caged animals never taught to fight.”

  Walker nodded. “That is where you come in. We have a raid set up for tonight. Your job is to show up one hour before the drug bust and lure the juvenile mountain lion away.”

  “That won’t work. Mountain Lions are highly territorial. They will actively avoid other cats except during mating. Do your homework, Walker. Cougars are secretive, shy. Elusive.” He stared purposefully at Walker. “They prefer to remain hidden.”

  “That’s why we need you even more. You can guide the agents better than anyone else can.”

  Quinn took a sip of coffee and looked up from the pictures. “You need to do something, Cree.”

  “No, I really don’t. I’m a civilian. I never asked for my DNA to be spiced. Never wanted any of this bullshit.”

  “But you might be the only one to help.” Tamara entered the room, brown eyes cautious as she faced off against Walker and Quinn. She pressed herself against Cree’s back, her arms wrapped around his waist. “You don’t want those poor cats to be destroyed because they were victims, do you?”

  Cree hung his head and sighed. “How am I supposed to ever say no to you?” He turned to look at her, and she rose on her tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the mouth.

  “You aren’t, silly,” Tamara teased. Gazes meeting, she rubbed her nose against his.

  Cree felt himself melt a little at her playful touch.

  “We’ll tranq the animals,” Walker said, changing his game plan. “There’s a big cat sanctuary a half hour from here that’s ready to take them.”

  “What do you need me for?”

  Walker hesitated. “When the sanctuary heard we had a contact who was a cougar shifter, they got excited.”

  Cree visibly bristled at the idea of being anyone’s contact, but Tamara’s caressing hands soothed him. Apparently, last night broke down the barrier of her touching him.

  “Why?”

  “They want you to help see if these cubs can be rehabbed. Taught to fight in the wild. They don’t deserve a life behind bars. Any more than you did.”

  Cree narrowed his eyes. “You did not just go there, did you?”

  Walker shrugged. “It’s the truth.” He nodded to Tamara. “Miss Brennan. Nice to see you again.”

  Tamara hid her face behind Cree’s shoulder. “Agent Walker,” she greeted coolly. “It’s been a few years.”

  “Years I don’t think either of us wants to talk about,” Cree said. His hand reached back, pleased when Tamara held it for strength.

  “These cubs are discarded after two or three months, Cree. Then they face starvation, death by attack, or are stupid enough to wander into some town and get shot by farmers. Their only crime is they got too big to handle. They were no longer cute.”

  Tamara snorted. “Cougars are beautiful animals. No matter the size.”

  Cree closed his eyes against the sight of the wild animals caged. Confused. The desire to flee ran deep in a mountain lion’s soul. “Fine,” he said, finally agreeing.

  Walker sighed. “You won’t regret it. Mountain lions are becoming extinct in the east. We want to do our part, too. We don’t want to kill them in a raid or euthanize them for lack of space in a decent sanctuary.”

  “What time do you want me to meet you?”

  “We were hoping to take you right now.”

  Tamara stiffened behind him, her arms tightening possessively around his torso. Both Cree and his cat gloried in her touch. “Let me have breakfast and a cup of coffee first.”

  “You can come over to my cabin and wait,” Quinn offered. He patted Cree on the shoulder. “You made the right decision, Cree.”

  After they left, Tamara turned him in her arms. She cradled his face, smoothing a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “You be careful out there, Creole. The list of people I trust in the world is pretty short. Don’t make it any smaller.”

  He nodded, and she came closer. Brushing her skin against his. “Do you really want breakfast?” she whispered huskily.

  “What did you have in mind?” Cree asked.

  “More kissing.” Tamara rose on her toes to tease his lips with her own.

  “Sounds like the best way to wake up,” he said, standing still and allowing Tamara to kiss and caress his already aroused body.

  Tamara

  The town of Silver Fells sat at the base of Maxwell Mountain. It was a charming village with a diner, a hair salon, and not much else.

  The bell over the door of Jaguar Realty chimed when Tamara and Lacey walked in. “Hey, Mr. Tucker,” Lacey said, taking charge. “This is the friend I was telling you about. Tamara Brennan.”

  Rafe Tucker looked up from the papers on his desk, and Tamara had to fight not to gasp. Coal black hair sprinkled with salt. He was in his mid-50s she guessed and had the same wiry, muscular strength Creole had.

  He was definitely a shifter.

  Tamara swallowed back her fear and offered her right hand. Even that simple touch was getting easier, she noted, as Rafe shook her hand.

  “You’re looking for a place for a yoga studio?” Rafe clarified.

  Tamara cleared her throat. “Yes. Small enough to be intimate, but big enough to grow. If it already has wood-look floors that would be great.”

  They discussed her budget. “I’m primarily looking for a place to rent. I’m only nineteen and not sure I could get a mortgage.”

  “I have a few places in mind.” Rafe tapped his finger on his desk. “Let me print some listings out, and we’ll take a look.”

  He left the room, and Lacey and Tamara shared a look. “Did you see his ass?” Lacey hissed against her ear. Shifters had exceptional hearing, and she didn’t want to be caught.

  “We can swoon later,” Tamara promised.

  Giggling, they stood up to follow Rafe out of his office. As Lacey accidentally brushed against her, Tamara noticed two things. The first was how much fun the
y were having just being silly. The second was how little Lacey’s casual touch bothered her.

  Tamara put her sunglasses on as they went out into the bright afternoon sunshine and wondered what had changed. Had being near Creole again lightened her sensitivity to touch? Was it the casual, fun vibe Lacey exuded like carbon dioxide that Tamara responded to? Was it being away from the toxic fuel her mother provided?

  Or was it as simple as all of the above? For the first time, Tamara felt the early stirrings of the hope for a future with Creole. A chance to finally start living.

  <<<>>>

  “I can’t wait to show it off,” Tamara gushed, eyes bright with excitement. “It has these gorgeous hardwood floors.”

  The four friends ate lunch at the Lunchbucket while Tamara filled them in on her plans.

  Kimber sat in the back of the booth, nursing baby Anthony. Tamara tried not to stare but couldn’t resist the idea of her own baby. Of course, there was only one way to get babies, and so far, she and Creole hadn’t finished the deed yet. But soon, Tamara thought.

  Hadley listened with wide grey eyes. “That sounds great, Tamara. I can’t wait to join and take a class.”

  Lacey grinned as Tamara bounced up and down in her seat. “Are you sure you have the money?”

  Tamara frowned. “I think I do. I’ve been saving for years, and this place has a cute apartment on the second floor.” Flo approached the table, her tray full of sandwiches. “And maybe I can get a part-time job here. At least until business picks up.”

  “Oh, sugar, I am so proud of you opening up your own shop at such a young age,” Flo said as she handed out the plates. “You think I’m too old for yoga?”

  “First, no! You aren’t old at all. And secondly, no one is ever too old for yoga,” Tamara said as Flo went to help another customer. She ate one of her fries, still steaming hot and hummed with pleasure.

  Kimber burped the baby and set him in a carrier on the table. “He’s such a good baby,” Lacey said. She held her finger out, and Anthony grabbed it and began gurgling and talking to her.