Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(62)

Biting her lip, she studied the scuffed-up dirt around the fire…and wanted to scream. Heat was already rising within her, and she did want Owen. She always had.

She’d just hoped that he liked her…a bit. She didn’t want to be with someone—even him—if she disgusted him. Would his body, his own needs, make him mate with her even if he hated her?

The thought made her want to throw up. “This is awful.”

“Let me ex—”

“Maybe I don’t like you either.”

Owen leaned forward so his cheek rested on hers and his unshaven chin scratched her shoulder. “Listen to me, little cat. Even with a full moon heat, if a female dislikes a potential partner, she doesn’t get aroused. Your body and mind must agree.”

“But I would never have mated”—she shook her head—“so many males.”

“Mmm, numbers are irrelevant. Right now, the only question in your body and mind is: Is this male worthy of a child of my body? Do I want to carry a cub from this male?”

“Oh.” Truly, that was an entirely different matter. Against the rising haze of need, Darcy looked around at the males.

Donal, the healer, whose knowledgeable touch had roused her completely—and who had been so very kind.

Tynan, who saw things in black and white, and fought for what was right. He had been slow and incredibly, sexily thorough.

Gawain, called by the Goddess, was like the blades he made, sparkling silver over a steel core. He’d made her first mating something beautiful.

She would be proud to carry a child from any of them.

Then there was Owen.

Her body was filling her with need already. With each brush of his hands against her skin, she smoldered with the desire to have him cup her breasts. To kiss her.

The cahir had rescued her from the Scythe in Seattle. Had come after her here in the forest. Would protect her with everything in his power. He was blunt and bossy and…would never lie to her.

Yes, she would love to carry his cub.

When she tried to push to her feet, he rose and helped her up. Silently, he waited, leaving the choice to her—and she knew this was the difference between humans and the Daonain. A Daonain female couldn’t control coming into heat, but the decision regarding who she would mate with was all hers.

She extended her hand and held her breath. Would he want to be with her? Truly?

His dark wicked eyebrows were drawn together, making him look harsh, yet the corner of his mouth tipped up. A second later, his big hand engulfed hers in warmth.


In the tiny mating clearing, the moon danced on the edge of the trees. The light wouldn’t last long, and wasn’t that a shame; Owen wanted to see the little female. It had been a long time since he’d truly enjoyed mating. But Darcy was special. Being with the little cat was…different…some-how.

He laid her down on the soft meadow grass and stretched out beside her, propping his head up on his hand. “You asked me a question.”

“I noticed you didn’t answer.” In the moonlight, her eyes were liquid pools of night. “You told me a female wouldn’t mate someone she disliked. But I bet males are different.”

Did she have any idea how appealing her clever mind was? “’Tis true males are less discriminating. He can mate someone he doesn’t particularly favor. In a way, we see it as our duty to the race.”

Her tiny sniff said she knew this would be the fact.

He grinned. “However, there is a wide gap between like and dislike. No male can rise for a female he hates.”

Her soft lips formed an O.

He ran the back of his knuckles over her softly curved cheek, feeling the increasing warmth. As he moved down, he found the pulse in her neck was delightfully rapid. Her collarbone gave him a path to her sternum and down to rest between her breasts.

She was holding her breath.

He gave her the honesty she’d asked for. “I like you, Darcy.”

At the release of her held breath, he smiled despite the ache in his chest. He was an ill-tempered weasel for making her doubt her appeal.

Awkwardly, he gave her the rest of the truth she was owed. “I was…poorly treated…as a cub and somehow figured all females were manipulative and self-centered. Since I’m gnome-stupid, it took me this long to realize not all females are the same.”

Her expression held compassion, and she stroked his shoulder in a way he enjoyed all too well. “I’m sorry you had such a rough time, and your mother was so cruel.”

She knew about his mother. By the God, the females had been gossiping about him. He started to pull back, then closed his eyes and wanted to groan. Aye, he was an idiot.

“Even knowing better, I keep seeing females as the enemy.” He laid his palm on the side of her face. “Please grab me by the tail and yank if you see me fall into the trap.”

Her lips curved. “Now there’s a nice invitation.”

He knew this female had the courage to tell him when he was messing up.

And now…after all the unkind words he’d given her, he owed her the good ones, as well. He stroked a finger over her lips. “I like your honesty—how you come right out and say what you want, what you’re feeling.”

Her startled look was a delight.

He trailed a finger down her pointed…stub-born…chin. “I like that you don’t cave in, and you have the courage to do what you think needs to be done.” He snorted. “Although the Cosantir might not be as appreciative.”