The journey home was slower than the desperate flight to the sea, measured by the rhythm of small feet and frequent rests. The cubs, exhausted by their adventure and confused by their mother’s absence, clung to me with a neediness that broke my heart and warmed it simultaneously. We traveled through forests thick with summer growth, the canopy filtering sunlight into dappled gold that danced across our skin.
On the third day, we found a clearing where a stream widened into a pool, fed by a waterfall that tumbled over moss-covered stones. Willow trees lined the banks, their branches sweeping low to kiss the water’s surface, creating curtains of green that swayed in the breeze.
"I need to wash," I said, feeling the grime of the cave still clinging to my skin, the memory of Aeric’s touch that I wanted to scrub away.
"I will go with you," Leon said immediately, his dark eyes flashing with something that was not entirely about protection.
Ravin nodded, understanding passing between the men. "We will watch the cubs. Take your time."
I led Leon through the willow curtain, the branches parting around us like welcoming arms, their leaves whispering secrets against our skin. The pool was secluded, hidden from the world, a natural cathedral of green and gold where the water ran clear and cool and perfect over smooth stones. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in shafts of liquid amber, dancing across the surface, turning the pool into a basin of captured light.
I stripped without ceremony, my clothing falling to the grass in a careless heap and walked into the water until it reached my waist. The coolness made me gasp, my nipples tightening, my skin breaking out in gooseflesh that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Leon followed, his movements predatory and deliberate, his eyes never leaving my body. He shed his fur slowly, revealing himself inch by inch; the lean, corded muscle of his chest and abdomen, the narrow hips and powerful thighs, the scars that mapped his battles like a history written in flesh. The mark on his shoulder from Rina’s tiger mate had faded to a pale silver, a reminder of what he had endured for me. And between his legs, the hardness of his desire jutted proudly, thick and heavy and curved, making no secret of what he wanted.
"The first time I saw you," he said, his voice rough as gravel and honey, "I wanted you. Even when I knew you belonged to my brother. Even when I told myself you were not meant for me, that I could never compete with my brother who was the next king." He entered the water, ripples spreading from his thighs, his hips, his chest, the water beading on his skin like diamonds. "I was a fool, because no matter what I told myself, I was always yours even before you claimed me. My body knew. My heart knew. And when I finally became yours, even in name I was still happy. But when you finally let me into your heart and inside you I became the happiest lion in the world."
He reached me, and his hands found my waist, pulling me against him with a force that made me gasp against his mouth. His skin was furnace-hot despite the cool water, his arousal pressing insistently, throbbing against my belly, leaving no doubt of his need. I felt him twitch against me, felt the heat of him branding my skin.
"Leon—"
"Please," he groaned, the word torn from his throat, raw and vulnerable. "I want you. I need you. When you were taken, when I watched that bird snatch you away..." His hands trembled where they gripped me, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to leave marks. "I was more scared than I have ever been. Not of dying. Of living without you. Of failing you." His mouth crashed against mine, and there was nothing gentle about his kiss.
It was hunger and possession, fear and relief and desperate longing poured into the slide of tongue against tongue, the nip of teeth against my lower lip that made me whimper. He tasted like wild things, like pine and sweat and the salt of his own tears. His hands roamed my body with desperate urgency, cupping my breasts with reverent greed, thumbs brushing my nipples in slow, maddening circles until they hardened into aching peaks against his palms, until I was arching into his touch, begging without words.
His mouth left mine to trace a burning path down my throat, my collarbone, closing around one nipple with a suction that made me cry out, my hands tangling in his wet hair to hold him there. He lavished attention on each breast in turn, licking, sucking, nipping, until I was panting, until the pleasure was coiling tight and hot between my legs, until I could feel my own wetness mixing with the water, slick and ready.
His hand slid down my belly, fingers dipping below the waterline to find me, to part me, to slide through the evidence of my arousal with a groan that vibrated against my breast.
"You’re ready for me," he growled, the sound possessive and triumphant. "Already wet. Already mine."
"Yes," I gasped, my head falling back, my hips bucking against his hand. "Leon, please. I need you inside me. Now."
He walked me backward until my back pressed against the trunk of the largest willow, the bark rough against my shoulder blades, a delicious counterpoint to the silk of his skin against my front. The branches created a canopy of privacy around us; a world reduced to green and gold and the heat of his body.
"I need to be inside you," Leon rasped against my throat, his mouth tracing fire along my pulse, his teeth grazing the tendon with a threat that made me shiver. "I need to feel you around me, hot and tight and perfect. I need to know you’re real. That you’re here. That I didn’t lose you." He lifted me easily, his hands under my thighs, spreading me open against him. "Hold onto me, Krys. Don’t let go."
I wrapped my legs around his waist, my ankles locking at the small of his back, opening myself completely to him. He positioned himself at my entrance, the thick head of him nudging against my folds, teasing, promising, and then he entered me with a single, powerful thrust that drove the air from my lungs in a scream that echoed off the water.
He was big, stretching me, filling me so completely that I could feel every vein, every pulse of his heartbeat inside me. We both froze for a moment, adjusting to the perfection of the fit, our foreheads pressed together, our breath mingling.
"Move," I begged, my nails raking down his back. "Please, Leon. Move."
He set a pace that was brutal and perfect, each thrust driving me harder against the bark, his hips snapping against mine with a wet slap of skin on skin that mixed with our gasps and groans. The water churned around us, splashing against our heated skin, cool contrast to the fire building where we were joined. He shifted angle, grinding against me with each thrust, and I felt the pleasure building, coiling tight in my belly, radiating outward until my toes curled and my nails dug crescents into his shoulders.
"Look at me," Leon commanded, his hand cupping my jaw, his thumb brushing my swollen lower lip, forcing my eyes to meet his. His gaze was dark like obsidian, wild and fierce and utterly focused on me, as if I were the only thing in his world, the only thing that had ever mattered. "Look at me while I take you. While I make you mine again. While I love you."
I held his gaze, drowning in the intensity of it, the vulnerability and strength mixed together. He shifted again, hitting a spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyes, and I cried out, my body arching against him, my inner walls fluttering around him in warning.
"Leon," I moaned, my voice breaking, tears streaming down my face that had nothing to do with pain. "Please. Please. I’m close. So close."
"Come for me," he growled, his pace becoming erratic, losing control, his own orgasm approaching in the tension of his body, the way his thrusts became desperate, savage, perfect. "Come for me, Krys. Now. Let me feel you. Let me feel you squeeze me, milk me, take everything I have."
The orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave, my body arching against him, my inner muscles clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses that dragged a roar from his throat. He thrust deep, once, twice, burying himself to the root, and then he was spilling inside me, hot and endless, pulse after pulse of his release filling me, marking me, claiming me as his body shuddered against mine with my name breaking from his lips like a prayer, like a curse, like a promise.
"Krys. My Krys. Mine. Always mine."
We stayed like that for long moments, joined, trembling, the water settling around us as our breathing slowed. He pressed his forehead against mine, his nose brushing my cheek, his hands gentle now as they stroked my back, my hips, my thighs, as if memorizing every curve, every inch of skin.
"I love you," he whispered, the words raw and precious, spoken into the hollow of my throat where his lips pressed reverent kisses. "I love you, and I will never let anyone take you from me again. I will die before I fail you again."
We made love twice more against that willow tree, slow and deep and devastating, until the sun began to set and Ravin’s voice called through the branches, concerned, wondering where we had gone.
We emerged eventually, sated and marked by each other’s passion, to find the others waiting with knowing smiles and the cubs asleep in a pile of fur and warmth.
We slept that night under the willows, Leon’s body curled around mine and Ravin on my other side, my two other mates guarding us, and when morning came, we continued our journey.
---
The stream we found the next day was shallower, perfect for washing the cubs who had managed to cover themselves in mud, sap, and what smelled suspiciously like fermented berries.
"Absolutely not," seemed to radiate from the largest cub’s entire body as he squirmed away, his little paws digging into Ravin’s arm, his tail lashing with indignant fury.
"Yes, absolutely yes," Ravin growled, dunking the protesting cub into the water.
The cub came up sputtering and outraged, his fur plastered to his body, his eyes wide with betrayal. He let out a high-pitched yowl that echoed off the rocks, a sound of pure, outraged protest that needed no translation. His siblings, watching from the bank, seemed to consider this a declaration of war.
What followed was chaos. Four cubs, slippery as eels, shrieking with delighted outrage as their fathers tried to scrub them clean. The largest cub caught Ravin’s finger between his tiny teeth, growling around the digit with all the menace his small body could muster. Leon caught one mid-leap, only to be splashed in the face with a deliberate paw swipe that sent water up his nose. The cub responsible chirped with glee and tried to bolt. Soryn used his tail to corral two at once, but they climbed him like a tree, leaving muddy paw prints on his scales and tangling themselves in his hair. Caelion laughed so hard he nearly dropped the soap I made for this very occasion.
I sat on the bank, laughing until my sides ached, watching my powerful mates brought to their knees by four small, determined, filthy children who communicated entirely through growls, yips, and the occasional well-timed bite.
By the time the cubs were clean, the men were soaked, covered in scratches, and grinning with a joy that made my heart burst with love and pride.
We were almost home.
---
The attack came without warning, as the best attacks always do.
We were crossing the open plain that bordered our tribe’s territory, the familiar hills rising in the distance like welcoming arms. Atlas were riding on Ravin’s shoulders, Leon carried Ryder who wanted to run, Jasper fell asleep again with Soryn, and Chase snuggled in Caelion’s arms.
Then the wind shifted, and Ravin went rigid.
"Cheetahs," he snarled, dropping the Atlas into Soryn’s coils.
"Circle formation. Now."
They emerged from the tall grass like ghosts, spotted fur blending with the golden savanna until they were upon us. Ten, fifteen, twenty of them, lean and fast and deadly, their eyes fixed on us with predatory intensity.
"Protect Krys!" Leon roared, shifting into his lion beast form mid-leap.
The battle erupted.
Ravin became a mountain of fury, his massive lion form swatting cheetahs aside like flies, their bodies flying through the air to crash against the earth with wet thuds. Leon was a blur of black fur and gold skin and blood, his jaws closing around throats with sickening crunches, his claws raking bellies until entrails spilled steaming onto the grass. Soryn rose to his full height, hissing, striking with precision that sent cheetahs scrambling back in fear, his venom dripping from fangs that gleamed like ivory daggers. Caelion fought with his tail, the sharp fin like blades, slashing and cutting through flesh and bones with his lethal strikes.
But there were too many.
While the men fought, three cheetahs broke through, circling around to where I stood with my back against a rock face. They moved with liquid grace, muscles coiling, preparing to pounce.
"Ravin!" I screamed.
He turned, saw the danger, and lunged.
A massive cheetah, larger than the others, scarred and battle-hardened, intercepted him. They collided with a force that shook the ground, rolling in a tangle of fur and fury. The cheetah was fast, impossibly fast, and skilled. He twisted, using Ravin’s own momentum against him, and suddenly my lion mate was pinned, the cheetah’s jaws at his throat, claws digging into his chest.
"Ravin!" I shrieked, trying to run to him, but the three cheetahs blocked my path.
I watched in horror as the scarred cheetah prepared to deliver the killing bite, Ravin’s struggles weakening, blood pooling beneath them.
Then the cheetah was gone.
Pried off Ravin by a blur of silver motion, thrown through the air to crash against the rocks with a sickening crunch.
A man stood where the cheetah had been, his back to me. Pointed ears rose through silver hair that fell to his waist like liquid moonlight and in his hand he held a blade that dripped with the cheetah’s blood.
Ravin didn’t hesitate. The moment he was free, he was moving, barreling past the stranger, crushing the skull of one cheetah that had reached for me, breaking the neck of another with a single swipe. The third tried to flee, but Ravin was on him, and the sound of tearing flesh was wet and final.
The scarred cheetah rose from where the stranger had thrown him, shaking his head, blood dripping from his muzzle. He saw Ravin distracted, saw me surrounded by my other mates who had finally broken through, saw Caelion ready to defend.
The cheetah made his choice.
He lunged for Ravin.
But Ravin was no longer distracted. His cubs were safe with Soryn. His mate was protected. And the debt he owed the silver stranger was paid in the moment of rescue.
Ravin met the cheetah’s lunge with open arms and a roar that shook the earth. They collided, and Ravin’s greater mass and fury drove the cheetah back, back, back toward the rocks. The cheetah raked claws across Ravin’s chest, but Ravin didn’t flinch. He grabbed the cheetah’s head in both massive paws and twisted, a sharp crack echoing across the plain, and then he tore, his strength fueled by rage and the memory of nearly dying, nearly losing everything.
The cheetah’s body went limp, his head separated from his shoulders by Ravin’s bare hands, blood spraying in an arc that painted the grass crimson.
Silence fell, broken only by the panting of the survivors.
The remaining cheetahs fled, tails between their legs, disappearing into the grass.
Ravin stood there, covered in blood, his chest heaving, the cheetah’s head still in his grip. He dropped it, turned, and walked toward the silver-haired stranger who had saved his life.
The man turned to face him, and I saw his eyes for the first time. Silver, like his hair, like moonlight on snow.
"What’s your name?" Ravin asked, his voice rough with exhaustion and gratitude.
The stranger smiled, small and tired and real.
"My name is Veylan," he said.