The Shapeshifter's Bride

Chapter Ten

Christian's fingers laced through Daisy's with possessive heat, refusing to surrender her attempted retreat. Electricity sparked where skin met skin—her pulse quickening beneath his touch, betraying her outward composure. Alec's gaze flashed to their entwined hands before returning to study his sister with the vigilance of a man anticipating disaster.

Tension coiled around Daisy's form, vibrating beneath her skin like an approaching storm. But beneath that resistance lay something darker, more primal.

Desire.

It radiated from her in waves as her eyes tracked Marcus Hargrove across the gleaming mahogany. The lion's presence had ignited something in her that made Christian's blood simmer. His muscles coiled with predatory readiness—one leap across those crystal glasses, one precise blow, and that self-satisfied smirk would shatter.

Marcus Hargrove—wealthy CEO, ruthlessly efficient, and conspicuously unmarried despite his culture's emphasis on bloodlines. During their reconnaissance of the lion's territory, Christian had noted the abundance of eligible lionesses within Hargrove's reach. Yet the predator had extended his hunting grounds beyond his own species.

Why would no female within his pride accept him? Christian's attempts at gathering intelligence had met impenetrable silence. The absence of information left shadows where clarity should exist.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, sir." Daisy's voice emerged wrapped in practiced refinement, her curtsy executed with aristocratic precision.

Marcus inclined his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The pleasure is mine, Ms. Sawyer."

Christian studied her through narrowed eyes. This measured, polished creature bore no resemblance to the woman who had hurled obscenities at him mere days ago. Where was the tempest that had swept through these halls like divine retribution?

He applied gentle pressure to her hand, receiving a flash of emerald fire in response. She yanked against his grip. This time he released her, pulling out the chair to Alec's left with calculated courtesy. Daisy settled into the offered seat, the delicate curve of her neck exposed by her upswept hair. The sight of that vulnerable flesh made Christian's mouth go dry.

"Eastwick, won't you join us for dinner?" Alec gestured to the vacant chair beside Daisy. "You've met Christian Eastwick already, haven't you? He's my right-hand man. He takes care of my sister and keeps her out of trouble."

"But I'm sure Ms. Sawyer is no trouble at all." Marcus's gaze slid over Daisy like silk across bare skin. "If I were her bodyguard, I wouldn't even want to be paid for the job. The pleasure of her company would be enough compensation."

The banality of the flattery hung in the air like cheap cologne. Christian waited for Daisy's inevitable evisceration. Instead, she focused on the elaborate ritual of unfolding her napkin across her lap, movements deliberate as a ceremonial tea master.

"Chris?" Alec's voice carried subtle command as he indicated the chair once more.

Refusal gathered on Christian's tongue. There were interviews to conduct, evidence to examine—recordings that might contain the whispered truth about who was systematically slaughtering the leopard females. He'd planned for solitude—hours of research followed by hockey's mindless violence on television while monitoring for Daisy's inevitable moonlit departure.

His stomach contracted as Alfred placed an enormous platter of meat at the table's center—primal flesh glistening beneath crystal chandelier light. The scent of death rose in fragrant waves, nearly triggering his gag reflex. His people venerated life's sanctity, sustaining themselves on nature's willing gifts—fruits, nuts, vegetation.

His attention slid sideways to Daisy, who methodically filled her plate with asparagus, potatoes, and corn while ignoring the crimson offering. Her verdant vegetables formed a protective wall around her plate's perimeter. Marcus observed her selections with clinical interest, his expression revealing nothing beyond mild amusement. Alec, meanwhile, paused mid-bite, fork suspended in air as he frowned at his sister's deliberate choice.

Christian pondered the significance of Daisy's apparent vegetarianism. Genuine aversion, or calculated rebellion? His thoughts scattered as she captured an asparagus spear between full, rose-tinted lips. The slow withdrawal of the vegetable between those perfect teeth made heat pool low in his abdomen.

The lion watched with predatory focus, pupils dilating visibly as he leaned forward imperceptibly, as though contemplating bypassing the main course entirely.

"Is there something wrong with the steak, my sister?" Alec's question emerged soft as arsenic.

Daisy paused in her precise dissection of potatoes. "I wouldn't know." She impaled a cube with surgical precision. "I don't eat meat."

Marcus's teeth flashed white when he smiled, amusement dancing in azure eyes.

"You're a carnivore," Alec spoke with exaggerated patience. "It is in your nature to eat meat."

Daisy severed an asparagus spear between perfect teeth. "The leopard can eat all the meat it wants, but I don't have to."

"You are the leopard." Frustration gathered between Alec's brows.

"And you are the asshole, but somehow you also manage to be Alec Sawyer." Her expression clouded momentarily. "Or Alec Sawyer is an asshole. I always get those two confused."

Silence descended upon the dining room like funeral shroud. The lion reclined against his chair, attention ping-ponging between siblings with theatrical interest. Daisy returned to her elaborate food architecture, constructing vegetable fortifications with military precision.

Her insult to the Patron before another Alpha constituted an unpardonable transgression. Most packs punished such behavior with death or exile. Alec would choose neither for his sister, but retribution would come. The thought alone caused Christian's grip to tighten until metal threatened to surrender to supernatural strength. Above them, the chandelier trembled, lights flickering in sympathetic response.

The lion's laughter—sudden and explosive—fractured the tension. "Your sister certainly has spirit, Sawyer. I like that in a female."

Something dangerous unfurled in Daisy's expression as her gaze swept over Marcus. "May I ask you something, my lord?"

Christian heard Alec's sharp inhale, noted how his fingers closed around amber liquid before emptying the glass in one desperate swallow.

"Anything, my angel." The endearment dripped with presumption.

"Why would you look to another species for a bride?" Her question struck with deceptive innocence. "Don't get me wrong, I love all the colors of the rainbow, and I'm all about equal opportunity loving, but would your pride even accept a female that isn't a lion?"

"My pride knows that I only want what's best for us." The lion's confidence never wavered. "They will approve of the match, if only because I am their Chieftain. They will accept the female I choose for a mate."

Daisy's attention narrowed to the asparagus tip between her fingers, examining it with scholarly intensity before directing it toward Marcus. "Even if she's not one of them?"

"The elders believe that the child resulting from the mating of two different animals will prove to be stronger, faster." His voice carried the practiced cadence of recitation. "It is good to throw in something new into the gene pool once in a while."

Silence followed his declaration, Daisy's expression contemplative. "Then why would you choose me? I don't know if my brother had disclosed this to you, but I have a little bit of a substance abuse problem. I'm probably not the best candidate for breeding."

"Why not?" Something ancient and hungry awakened in Marcus's gaze. "You're beautiful, obviously intelligent, and a descendant of a powerful feline family. I'd be a fool not to consider you for my mate."

"Perfect for a broodmare, then." Her words emerged wrapped in poisoned honey as she twirled her fork with ballerina-like precision. "Expected to do nothing but lie down, spread my legs, and squeeze out kittens for you. Hmm... tempting."

Alec erupted into violent coughing. Alfred materialized behind him, delivering a precise blow between his shoulder blades. A partially masticated projectile launched across the table, landing with spectacular accuracy atop Daisy's potato sculpture. Revulsion twisted her features as she covered the plate with her napkin.

Outside, nature's fury intensified—windows rattling beneath torrential assault. Darkness descended as electricity surrendered to the storm's violence. Within the sudden void, Daisy's breathing transformed to something primal—ragged, guttural, interlaced with growls that seemed to emanate from the deepest recesses of her being.

A responsive growl rumbled from across the table—Marcus sensing the leopard's emergence, eager to engage. Tension coiled through Christian's muscles, every fiber prepared for combat. He could incapacitate both the Chieftain and Alec if necessity demanded. The consequences would be irreversible, but his body prepared regardless.

Daisy's sharp inhalation cut through darkness. Christian's fingers found hers instinctively, encircling delicate bones with protective strength. Initial resistance melted into acceptance as she threaded her fingers through his. Her pulse gradually slowed beneath his touch, breathing stabilizing as illumination returned in hesitant increments.

"I didn't realize this part of the country experienced such harsh weather in this time of year." Marcus's observation came wrapped in calculated nonchalance.

"It doesn't." Concern etched lines into Alec's forehead as his attention fixed on their intertwined hands. "It was actually supposed to be nice and clear tonight."

"I had a relative who was very powerful." Marcus's voice dropped to conspiratorial intimacy. "Her moods and feelings affected the weather itself. When I was a child, I remembered when she was once furious at my father. A freak storm tore through our county and caused an old tree to fall on our house."

His pointed gaze at Daisy left no doubt regarding his meaning. Christian had encountered tales of weres with abilities transcending normal limitations. He'd once met a were capable of conjuring fire through thought alone. Christian himself could influence meteorological patterns; he'd initially attributed the rainfall to his own emotional turbulence. But this tempest, with its foundation-shaking thunder and sky-splitting lightning, belonged to another.

"I rather doubt this storm was caused by anyone in this house." Forced humor underlined Alec's denial. "There are no magicians or conjurers here."

"That you know of." Marcus's attention shifted to Christian, blue eyes sharpening with predatory insight. "What is your background, Mr. Eastwick? I must admit, I can't even tell what kind of were-animal you are, and I've always been confident in my ability to be able to do that." His focus returned to Alec. "How about it, Sawyer, won't you tell me about this man guarding your sister?"

Daisy's scrutiny burned against Christian's profile, her curiosity a tangible force. He maintained forward focus, wondering what secrets Alec might choose to reveal.

"Eastwick's reputation with me is sacrosanct." Loyalty resonated through Alec's response. "I would trust the man with my own life. As for his background, I know enough of it, but it's not something I will disclose to you. I beg your pardon, Chieftain, but I do believe the man is entitled to his privacy."

"Do you know what he is?" Daisy's challenge carried genuine curiosity.

"Is it important?" Alec countered.

"Not at all." Wine disappeared between her lips in one continuous motion as she rose. "I have always wanted a were-panda of my very own. Now, if you'll excuse me, this dinner has gotten very boring. I believe I will now retire to my chamber and binge-watch Drag Race on Netflix."

"Sit down, Daisy." Exhaustion threaded through Alec's command, barely concealing simmering rage beneath. Gold eclipsed olive in his irises—beast rising to surface.

Daisy became statue-still, yet Christian sensed her inner struggle—the leopard pacing its cage with increasing desperation. Perspiration beaded at her temple, trailing down alabaster skin like teardrops. Pain radiated from her in waves, yet he remained powerless to intervene.

A fleeting glance in his direction preceded her surrender. She returned to her seat with uncharacteristic obedience, hands folded primly across her lap.

"Thank you." Alec's brief examination of his sister preceded his cursory inspection of remaining food. One finger nudged the plate away. "Who's ready for dessert?"

Alfred's arrival with an array of delicate pastries coincided with Daisy's agonized cry—a sound that sliced through Christian's nerve endings like serrated steel. Chair legs screamed against hardwood as she propelled herself backward, body contorting in unmistakable anguish. Silent scream parted her lips as ebony hair retreated into scalp, replaced by golden fur adorned with obsidian and amber markings that rapidly consumed exposed skin. Bones restructured with sickening precision, human form elongating into feline elegance.

"She's changing." Awe infused the lion's observation.

"No s**t, Sherlock." Alec dropped beside his transformed sister, hand extending toward her shoulder. Jaws snapped inches from his fingers, nearly severing them.

Transformation complete, tattered white silk pooled around her like discarded petals, the leopard released a roar that vibrated through crystal and wood alike.

"It's all right, mon chaton." Christian extended his hand toward her, offering familiar scent.

"I wouldn't do that, friend." Marcus's warning carried false concern. "This beauty of a cat looks ready to pounce."

Christian placed his palm against her head, ignoring the unsolicited advice. Amber eyes assessed him with cold calculation—predator weighing potential prey. He stroked one velvet ear, bringing his second hand to mirror the first, drawing closer until breath mingled between them. French endearments fell from his lips in soothing cadence as she evaluated him with primal intelligence.

His palm glided along her flank, connection maintained through unbroken eye contact. Pink tongue darted across obsidian nose in feline contemplation. Christian closed his eyes, ancient words forming on his lips as he cradled her jaw. He reached for the silver cord binding them together—the ethereal connection that transcended physical form—but found only emptiness. Whatever essence made Daisy uniquely herself—the defiant spark in emerald eyes, that melodic laugh that vibrated through his soul—lay buried beneath primal instinct.

The woman who haunted his existence had temporarily ceased to be.

***

The leopard crouched in darkness, watching the four-legged creature grazing beyond the shrubs. Horse, supplied the Daisy-brain imprisoned within. Horse is food. Horse is meat. She could tear through its vulnerable throat before it registered danger. Her claws would find purchase in yielding flesh, fangs rending sinew from bone.

She inched forward on velvet paws, pausing to sample rainwater when her quarry lifted its head. The horse raised its head, meeting her gaze with uncanny cognizance, methodical chewing suggesting expectation rather than fear. Uncertainty flickered through her confidence. What scheme lurked behind those liquid eyes?

A small creature—rabbit, offered the Daisy-brain—paused nearby, nose twitching before bolting into underbrush upon recognizing death's proximity.

The leopard recalibrated, weighing options. The rabbit represented guaranteed sustenance; the horse promised greater reward at unknown risk.

Movement within rabbit's sanctuary drew her attention. Another leopard emerged—male, carrying limp prey between powerful jaws. He approached with measured steps, depositing his offering before her. The rabbit's throat gaped open, stillness confirming successful hunt.

Hunger twisted through her as she realized dawn approached without sustenance. The male nudged his gift closer with gentle insistence. She claimed ownership with proprietary paw, studying him with inherent suspicion. His attempted nuzzle provoked immediate retreat, earning disapproving growl in response.

The horse interrupted their exchange with pointed snort, drawing male attention from female rejection. The calculated disinterest bordered on insult—did this prey not recognize imminent danger? The male lowered himself into hunting posture, tail signaling imminent attack. Territorial rage ignited within female breast—she had tracked this quarry through half the night.

Male entitlement would not claim her rightful prize.

Her paw connected with his face, talon embedding in vulnerable jaw. His pain-filled roar preceded retaliatory lunge—teeth finding purchase in her flank. Agony radiated outward as she reared upward, momentarily gaining dominance. Her paw pressed against his throat in restraining technique, but he slipped free with practiced ease, jaws clamping around her extended limb with crushing force.

Bone shattered beneath relentless pressure, vulnerability recognized too late. Distracted by overwhelming pain, she failed to deflect his talon as it sliced across her throat. Warmth flooded golden fur as vital essence escaped. She collapsed earthward, gaze lifting toward infinite darkness above. Death's approach carried certainty. The Daisy-brain screamed within confines of shared consciousness as the male prepared delivering final judgment.

Earth-shaking roar interrupted execution. The male's paw froze mid-descent as terror replaced bloodlust in his eyes. He retreated with undignified squeal, abandoning potential conquest. Towering above her fallen form stood a creature larger than surrounding trees, massive body eclipsing moonlight. Bear, provided the Daisy-brain with uncharacteristic helpfulness.

The unfamiliar entity represented unknown threat. She attempted rising, but throat wound rendered movement impossible. The bear's massive tongue swept across her injury—wet velvet against torn flesh.

Great, muttered the Daisy-brain. Now we're going to die. Get up and fight, you stupid b***h!

The Daisy-consciousness typically remained dormant during moonlit excursions. The leopard wondered if death's approach would be accompanied by incessant commentary. The bear continued examining her wound with gentle persistence. Unfamiliar instinct urged flight, yet physical limitation rendered such strategy impossible. Resignation settled as the creature methodically cleaned her injury—pain gradually subsiding beneath ministrations. Despite improving condition, movement remained beyond consideration. Dawn's approach promised Daisy's return to dominance, but present desire focused solely on finding shelter.

You're going to be all right, whispered unfamiliar consciousness within shared mental space. I'm here for you now. I'll take care of you.

Her head lifted with remaining strength, bear tongue connecting with her snout in response. She batted away the intrusion with indignant paw, rolling to observe this anomaly more clearly. Masculine energy radiated from the creature—certainty without explanation.

Moon-round eyes studied her with unsettling intensity. Frustrated growl escaped her throat, testing reaction. Such provocation typically triggered either flight or confrontation. The bear employed neither strategy, merely continuing his silent evaluation with infinite patience.

Uncertainty plagued her typically decisive nature. Experience taught that hesitation invited death—action ensured survival. Her existence followed simple directive: roar, pounce, kill. Predatory identity had never wavered until this moment. The bear's considering gaze transformed her from hunter to hunted—reducing her to rabbit-like vulnerability. The sensation proved deeply disagreeable.

She positioned herself for potential escape, muscles responding sluggishly to command. The bear's strategy remained indecipherable, yet instinct warned against passive acceptance. Rising to pounce position, calculation interrupted by the bear's unexpected movement. He stood upright, towering impossibly against night sky, releasing earth-shattering roar that vibrated through surrounding vegetation.

She retreated backward, unfamiliar instinct urging submission. No witnesses would observe potential cowardice save nocturnal insects. Escape represented superior strategy to becoming midnight sustenance. Her legendary speed would provide adequate advantage.

Before execution of planned retreat, blinding luminescence enveloped the bear from paw to ear-tip. She buried her face beneath protective paws, shielding sensitive vision. Cautious assessment through taloned barrier revealed astonishing transformation—bear replaced by human form.

Naked, shivering, conspicuously hairless—yet somehow familiar in ways that transcended memory.