Today’s theme for snippet saturday reminds me how much I love a good reunion among lovers. It’s so much fun to write.
Especially with shifters. (Plus I just happen to have shifters on the brain right now.) In Malcolm, the story opens with Malcolm hunting an intruder in his house. In the case of shifters it doesn’t take them long to pick up a familiar scent and he knows exactly who’s come after him. I can’t reveal much about their relationship without getting all spoilery so I’ll just have to leave you with this.
“Looking for me?”
He whirled at the sultry voice behind him in time for her to deliver a kick to his stomach, catching him off balance and sending him flying backward to sprawl on the floor. Air whooshed from his lungs and his head cracked against the hard floors. Pain exploded in his head, little shards of sharp, burning sensations that took hold for several long seconds before clearing.
Stunned that she’d snuck up on him, he groped for his bearings. The little minx took full advantage of his delay and pounced on top of him, straddling his legs with her own. He didn’t even see the knife until she had it pressed to his throat and dangerously close to his jugular.
“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”
Malcolm slowly dragged the air back into his lungs and wondered what kind of crazy bitch she’d turned into. The power emanating from her came soaked in strength without even a whiff of fear. For a second or two, he felt frozen in time. This woman looked nothing like the Chey he remembered. This woman had obviously trained and his instincts screamed she would not be an easy fight. Interesting.
Her white blonde hair was tied up in a braid but a few strands had come loose and curled around her face. His fingers itched to brush them from her cheeks. With the anger in her eyes and the stern shape of her mouth, she reminded him more of the women from his clan than ever. In an act of aggression, she bore resemblance to the cougar more than ever.
“My tongue’s just fine, Chey. Want to find out?”
The look in her blazing eyes flared hot, shining in the moonlight as she speared him with her gaze. Electrifying pools of blue that a man could easily get lost in. All but a few shifters had green eyes and he’d only heard of one kind that had blue. He curled his lip at the memory.
The elusive white cougars.
Half-breeds that no clan wanted except for their dirty work. While he and his brothers carried out death sentences in accordance with the laws and traditions of their councils, her kind had trained for a different kind of mission. They’d become mercenaries available to the highest bidder. They used methods of stealth that he and his brothers rarely bothered with. They didn’t need to.
“In your dreams, Malcolm.”
Over the years he’d allowed his perception of her to soften. Maybe she was different. Obviously not, considering the position he now found himself in. There was nothing soft about the blade cutting into his skin, or the strength in which she pinned him with her free hand. Obviously the only emotion she’d developed outside her family was anger. It probably made her missions easier.
He growled warningly. “Then get the hell off me.”
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