47
874 Words
In a burst of energy that sent a heated blast of air rippling through the small clearing, the nine other panthers Shifted as one. Behind Hawk, Jacqueline squeaked in terror.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Nando stepped forward and peered in avid curiosity around Hawk’s shoulder. Against his back, her fingers trembled, and before Hawk knew what he was doing, a low warning growl rumbled through his chest.
It brought Nando up short. His brows lifted. “No need to get testy, ahu.” His lips twitched. He added, “You lying, scheming, underhanded son of a dung beetle.”
The other nine burst out laughing, and Hawk’s temper snapped.
He stepped forward, lashed out with his fist, and connected with Nando’s jaw like a hammer against a mango.
The big male went flying backward in an awkward tangle of naked limbs. He landed on his back in a thicket of underbrush with a thud and the pouf of flying foliage. Shouting a volley of curses, he thrashed around among the low branches until he scrambled to his feet again, while the others howled with laughter, slapping one another on the back.
“The next one who says another word is going down with him,” Hawk snarled, eyeing each of them in turn.
“Somebody hasn’t gotten laid recently,” chuckled one of the group.
Another answered, “I’m sure he’ll take care of that later tonight; Luiza’s so hot for him to get back she’s practically in Fever.”
Hawk had them both flat on their backs with devastating punches before either of them could make a move in defense.
“Anyone else?” he shouted to the remaining seven.
No one replied.
Cradling his jaw and staggering around in the demolished bushes, Nando snarled, “You won’t be able to play with Luiza tonight because you’ll be back in the stocks again, Salsu Maru! You can’t attack the Alpha’s guard!”
“We’ll see about that,” Hawk muttered. He turned, grabbed Jacqueline’s hand, and pulled her along behind him as he marched into the trees, not bothering to look and see if the group had followed.
They hadn’t yet . . . but they would.
They always did.
After trudging through the dark forest behind a seething Hawk for about five minutes—and regaining her equilibrium after witnessing a group of giant black cats morph into a group of giant naked men—Jack said, “So! That went well.”
He spat something in that strange, beautiful language Nando had spoken. His strides were so long and hurried she nearly had to run to keep up with him.
“Just out of curiosity . . . are you that popular with everyone in your colony?”
Still he didn’t answer. She heard grumbling and growling over his shoulder, some noises that sounded like a spitting snake, but he didn’t answer or even break his stride, seemingly determined to get where they were going as fast as humanly possible.
Humanly. Ha!
Jack was breathing hard, and it wasn’t because of their accelerated trek through the jungle. Her nerves were screaming, her heart was pounding: she felt as if she might jump right out of her skin.
This was it. This was what she’d spent nine days of her life sailing and hiking and dreaming about, and getting mentally prepared for.
The Big Event.
Did a bride walking down the aisle feel as nervous as this?
She doubted she’d ever find out.
“Uh . . . Hawk?”
Silence.
Okay. You don’t want to talk. Fine. Let’s try—
“Salsu Maru!”
What a lovely sense of satisfaction that was, watching him freeze mid-step when she spoke those two—admittedly unknown—words.
He whirled around and stared at her with all the geniality of a shark contemplating the fat, luscious form of a seal bobbing in the waves above its open maw.
“You don’t even know what you’re saying!” he spat, livid.
Jack crossed her arms over her chest. “Whatever it was, it served my purpose. I have your attention now.”
His lips thinned. His nostrils flared. His eyes—the darkest, richest emerald—narrowed.
Scary-beautiful. Been there, done that. Moving on.
“I just want to ask you this one thing, and then we can continue our lovely death march down the hill toward my ultimate demise.”
He waited, breathing hard, his eyes flashing Danger! like neon signs.
Jack drew in a breath and asked, “Are you okay?”
He blinked a few times. His nose twitched. “Am I okay.”
He’d repeated it flatly as if she’d spoken in a foreign language and he was trying to grasp the meaning of the words.
“Yes. That’s the question: Are you okay?”
It seemed to pull the plug on his anger, letting it filter out of his body like water down a drain. He exhaled, passed a hand over his face, and muttered, “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
Jack frowned at him. “Uh . . . no. Yes? I don’t know. What do you mean?”
- Writer
