Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(82)

“How long has he been a cop?” Darcy’s jeans were snug enough that she had to wiggle her curvy ass to get them up.

That ass. Owen remembered all too well how perfectly her hips could be gripped, how… With a grunt, he looked away and tried to recall her question. Bad cahir.

All too observant, Gawain grinned and prompted, “How long?”

Tynan. They were talking about Tynan. “I think he’s been in Seattle ten to fifteen years. It must be agony for a wolf to be without a pack.”

Her dark eyes held sympathy.

“Poor bastard,” Gawain muttered. “Why in the God’s forest is he there?”

“Donal told me the God sent his brother there, and he’d know when he could leave.”

Gawain dumped the firewood he’d collected near a circle of boulders that would serve as a heat reflector. The high canopy of leaves would disperse the smoke. “He’s got more guts than I do.”

“Or he’s crazier than a ram in breeding season.” Owen shook his head. “He can’t stay much longer. He told Donal he’s not aging as fast as the other officers who are supposedly his age, and it’s beginning to be noticeable.”

“Oh. I bet.” Darcy frowned. “Isn’t that a problem in shifter-human towns, too?”

“I’m not sure why, exactly, but in a territory, the humans don’t seem to notice the fifty or so years difference in our lifespans. The Mother and Hunter might exert a blurring influence or something.”

An hour later, they settled in front of the blazing fire. Tynan, may the Mother bless his name, had included a skin of scotch.

As they passed the skin between them, Darcy drank, although she wrinkled her nose with each sip. Fuck, she was cute. Even better, her defenses were down, which was what he’d been waiting for.

When he nodded at Gawain, his brother drew her into a discussion about good colors for a living room.

Silently, Owen slipped into the forest, stripped, and shifted. You’re not a nice cat, Treharn. But this was part of being a shifter—and what with being hunted, she didn’t have a year to master control.

Gawain noticed the second he sneaked out of the tree line. In a most painful fashion, their mentor had taught them what happened to unobservant shifters. Despite the years, they’d never lost the edgy awareness.

Darcy was as heedless of danger as a sprite focused on a new flower. Tonight, she’d learn attentiveness as well as control.

Owen vibrated his throat in a low growl. Panthers couldn’t roar, but this had the same effect.

Her muscles tensed even before her mind comprehended the danger behind her.

When she turned, he charged with a piercing hiss-spit.

She screamed, the scotch went flying, and suddenly they had a panicking panther encumbered by jeans, shirts, and vest.

Being swift of hand, Gawain had caught the skin of scotch in midair.

Owen chuffed a laugh and lay down in the grass.

He had to give Darcy credit; she stopped panicking faster than any youngster. After only a minute, she realized he wasn’t moving. She looked at Gawain who was drinking more scotch, and she gave her own growl.

A second later, she was human again, trying to set her clothes straight. And scowling. “You scared me on purpose.”

“Aye,” Gawain said. “So, pretty panther, did you trawsfur because that was the wisest choice?”

She sank down on the log. “No,” she said slowly. “I didn’t even think. I was scared and shifted.”

Lesson learned. Owen nodded at her and returned to the woods.

Before her clothes were even put to rights, he did it again.

And again.

When she finally stayed human despite his charging her, he gave her a break.

When Owen, back in human form, approached the fire, Gawain winked at him. In another hour, it would be his turn.

Shivering, Owen took a seat on the log beside Darcy and held his hands out to the flames.

Frowning, she turned. “You look almost frozen.”

“Yeah, my clothes were fucking cold when I put them on.” The temperature away from the fire was freezing.

Without a thought, she put her arms around him, generously sharing her body’s warmth…even though he’d done his best to scare her to death.

He kissed the top of her head, soaking up the feeling of being held as much as the warmth. “I thought you’d hate me by now.”

“The thought occurred.” She rubbed her hands up and down his back, chasing the chill away. “But after the first times, I realized you weren’t doing it for fun.” Her lips curved. “Although, I did see Gawain laugh at me a time or two.”

“At least that,” Gawain said agreeably. He leaned forward and handed Owen the scotch.

Owen took a sip. The liquid slid down his throat and spread warmth into his belly.

Scotch, a fire, and a clear night sky. An evening with his littermate. Darcy snuggling with him. As contentment seeped into him, he pulled her onto his lap.

When she tried to pull away, he kept an arm around her and lifted her chin. “Is that habit or do you really want to move away?”

Actually, she rarely jumped when they unexpectedly touched her now. The trust in that pleased him immensely.

Frowning at him, she opened her mouth. “I…” Then she buried her face against his shoulder. “I don’t think you’re so cold you need me on your lap.”