Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(32)

There.

“Good. Let’s go.” Within one heartbeat, Gawain was a cougar, tail lashing as he waited for her to lead out.

With no hesitation, she bounded forward. Oh, when she found sneaky Owen, she was going to bite his ear.

His overwhelmingly male scent drifted to her, and when the wind shifted, Gawain taught her to sniff the trail for scent markers left by cat paws.

Farther on, she found the stinky urine Owen had obligingly provided on a tree. Ew.

She discovered a faint trace where he’d brushed against a huckleberry.

The forest opened into a sun-filled meadow. They were so high that much of the grass was still green, and a tiny stream rippled through the center.

Owen, still in cat form, was sunning himself on a flat rock. The jerk looked far too comfortable.

With three swift bounds, she sprang across the clearing, landed on him, and tumbled him off the rock.

Success. Delighted, she grappled with the cougar, pretending to bite on his ear, clinging with her paws to his muscular shoulders. Huge shoulders, she realized, as his giant paw curled around her neck.

Suddenly Gawain joined the fray, and she was squished between two huge panthers. Unable to move.

A second later, she was in human form. What?

Stepping away, Gawain shifted.

Freed, Darcy scrambled away from Owen. The late season meadow grass stabbed her bare feet painfully as she retreated farther. “I…I…what happened?” She stared down at her arms. Her human hands. “I didn’t look for the door.”

Gawain’s dark beard showed his white teeth in a smile. “It happens with new shifters, some more than others. I enjoyed teasing Owen back in the day.”

She blinked at Owen as he shifted to human form. The deadly cahir had accidentally trawsfurred? “You?”

Owen’s grin was a revelation. Had she ever seen him simply enjoying himself? “Aye, me. Frustrated me no end until I finally got control.”

“I bet.” She’d been terrified when she couldn’t shift back to human for all those days. And now she was trawsfurring accidentally? Her jaw clenched. No, she wouldn’t have it. Just, no.

“Catling, accidents happen,” Gawain said gently. “Within a few months, most Daonain get enough control that they won’t unexpectedly shift.”

Most, but not all. She remembered the Scythe basement. The guards had dragged a young male of about seventeen into the laboratory. He’d been begging. “No. Please.” He’d shrieked in pain…then human screaming came from the room. “A bear. He’s a bear.” The guards had rushed in, shooting. She and the rest of the children could smell the blood. The death.

Her heart ached even as anger made her growl. She wished the young werebear had killed more of them. All of them.

Suddenly she was a cougar again.

Oh, bloody scat.





Chapter Seven





?


On Saturday afternoon, Owen entered the Wild Hunt tavern and stopped to swipe his sleeve over his wet face. The fall storms had begun. Outside the sturdy 1800s log building, thunder rumbled, and the early October rain drummed pleasantly against the windows.

As he waited for Gawain to arrive, the scents of popcorn and roasted peanuts made him wish he’d eaten more than the mouse he’d snatched up when out with Darcy earlier. Being a polite male, he’d let her eat all of the rabbit she’d caught. Actually, he’d been as pleased as she had been with her successful hunt. She’d done well.

He glanced around the room. Near the massive fireplace to the left, a shifter was reading a book. Two regulars were playing pool in the alcove on the right. At a center table, a male whose clothing stank of fish sat with another human and boasted in a nasal voice about his success on the stream. The rest of the heavy oak tables and chairs were empty.

Behind him, the door opened. Gawain stepped in and shook his wet hair, spattering Owen with water.

“You mangy-tailed maggot.” Owen wiped his face off…again. “You’re not a dog; stop acting like one.”

His littermate grinned and glanced around. “So where’s Calum?”

“Behind the bar.” Owen pointed headed toward where the gleaming wooden bar that extended across the back with a mirrored wall behind it.

“A Cosantir is a bartender?”

“Keeps him up on all the information. What he doesn’t hear, his brother Alec, the sheriff, does.”

Gawain scratched his beard. “Interesting and rather sneaky. Nice.”

Noticing their arrival, Calum motioned toward the end of the bar before crossing the room to serve the fisherman and his companion.

As Owen settled onto a wooden barstool, Calum returned. “Can I get you something?”

“Coffee would be great,” Owen said, and Gawain nodded.

Calum poured coffee for all of them and slid over a tray containing cream and sugar. “How are you feeling, cahir?”

“Good. My leg’s fine. The wrist is…close.” It tweaked his tail to admit Calum’s order to rest and heal had been appropriate.

“Excellent. How is Darcy doing?”

Gawain picked up a cup. “Fair to middling. Unfortunately, her healing is slower since she was so physically run-down. Donal ordered her to take it easy for a while yet.”

“I see.” Calum frowned. “How about her shifting and control?”