Marie Harte - Outfoxed

“She’s a fucking fox?” Ronnie sneered. “I thought she was a cat. Dumbass. You grabbed the wrong woman!” He smacked the injured man and kicked him in the crotch, adding to his pain.

She only wished she’d smashed his testicles too on the way out. Turning, she raced back toward Cougar Falls, dodging her way in and out of the forest to leave a fox’s scent. She couldn’t wait to shift into her cat. Between the cat, the fox and the woman, she planned to run rings around them. Which would give her rescuers enough time to find her and get her the hell out of Dodge.

She hoped.

Cats screamed, and she ran faster. Grady Chastell, move your ass!

Grady followed the eagle in the sky, thankful for Sean Whitefeather’s direction. The bird turned after circling and landed on the hood of his truck. “She’s about three miles west. I spotted around ten cats, but there could be more. You want help?”

Having known and been reluctant friends with Sean for years, Grady had no problem hearing him. “You bet your ass. Go back and let Burke know what you found. We’re worried there might be more trying to make a move on the pride.”

“Outstanding. Time to clean up a few naughty pussies. I’ll grab my brothers.” Sean screeched with glee and took off again, his seven-foot wingspan impressive in the extreme.

Not to be outdone, Grady whipped the vehicle back on the road and onto a dirt path that would cut a good mile off the distance.

“Hurry up,” Dean urged from the passenger side and embraced his animal spirit.

Behind him, Ty and Monty sat already shifted, a silver fox and a gray wolf, ready to race to Gabby’s rescue. At times like these, Grady loved the pride more than anything. His family, his blood. Cat or not, all the men in this truck were loyal to the bone. Not to discount the females, who’d stayed on the ranch to protect the more vulnerable, pregnant members of the pride. Grady would have liked them to come along, but they couldn’t afford the distraction. They’d suspected there might be more than the four or five cats Miles had seen. With Burke and Rachel in charge at home, he had no fear Lex’s pride would get their claws into anyone without losing a few limbs.

He hurried to a stop when he came to the point where the SUV could go no farther, at the base of a large hill covered in trees. Already naked, he leaped out of the car, shifting faster than he’d ever shifted before. Then he inhaled and followed his nose—he’d know Gabby anywhere. He yowled for her to let her know he was on his way.

The urge to kill overwhelmed, to protect his mate and warn others never to even think of harming her again.

He vaguely heard the others behind him, his focus intent on the feline scent entangled with his own. It stopped and started in odd places, and he realized he’d crossed her tracks several times. The woods here were thick, but if he ran a mile east, he’d be on flat, visible ground again, away from the trees and hills.

She had to be in here somewhere. Then he realized his intelligent mate was playing with her enemy. Vulpine spoor hit him, a fox’s scent, then a cat’s. The woman’s too, he noted as he saw smaller human footprints near a tree.

He grinned, impressed, though he knew her well enough to expect Gabby to exceed his expectations. A few low rumbles and coughs signaled cats nearby. Without waiting for the others to catch up, he raced forward.

He attacked without warning and ripped out the back tendon of the first cougar. When another jumped at him, a barking fox dove on top of his opponent and nipped through his ear. She jumped away before the cat turned on her. Then Grady was there, screaming and hissing and tearing with claws and teeth.

Furious anyone would try to harm his mate, he sent her a plea to take cover and set to work obliterating the enemy. He annihilated two mountain lions and suffered a few gashes and scratches down his flank, but he had no intention of losing to some flea-bitten losers from Miami. Fucking Everglade felines.

He wondered where the others had gotten to when he heard Monty’s bark and Ty’s yip echoing in the woods, accompanied by throaty roars. They’d encountered more cats. Figured. Dean would be sure to add a few well-needed licks—he was a great asset in any fight.

He continued to battle, annoyed as fuck when a smaller, more cinnamon-colored cat joined him. He turned to yell at her to leave when three cats came out of nowhere and jumped him. One ripped a hunk out of his shoulder while he sliced into the other’s belly. It went down hard when he pulled out a claw full of intestines.

Gabby pulled the third cat off him, suffocating him with teeth around his throat while Grady fought the other. After some time, his foe dropped, severely injured. He turned to see Gabby releasing dead prey. She gracefully walked over the body to Grady, who felt such pride it humbled him.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He let her rub under his chin and against his flank, but stumbled when sudden weakness shook his legs.

Another screech, the high pitch of a baby’s cry—a cat’s warning—sounded close. In the distance, Grady heard Monty, Ty and Dean rounding up the others. But two more cats stalked him and Gabby. How many had come with Ronnie, that scared little runt? And just where had he gone? He blinked away the dizziness when he saw how the two flanked him, ignoring Gabby for the moment.

Which was what he wanted.

He wavered on his feet, and she nudged him to stand up. “Gabby, go up the tree and get to safety while I—”

“I’ve been playing with these idiots for hours, Mr. Macho. So don’t even think about telling me to back away. These creeps were feeling me up while you took your time coming to get me.”

He saw red. The weakness that had almost taken over vanished as raw fury consumed him. He screamed and threw himself at the cat closest to him. With claws and fangs, he did a hell of a lot of damage. Yet when he’d finished, he noted Gabby sitting by the other cat, her large forepaw on his chest as he lay panting on his side, bloodied and scratched. His conquering heroine put the concept of smugness to shame.

He smiled at her. Then he laughed through the pain, thinking his mate looked terrific for a bloodied feline who should never have been this close to danger…again.

“Oh hell. Now I have to rescue you too, I suppose.” She sighed and walked over to him with a sway in her hips. Her tail flickered. Her whiskers twitched and her eyes gleamed like golden coins. Such a pretty kitty.

He told her so, then passed out cold, the sight of her bright eyes the last thing he took with him.

Something wasn’t right. She could feel it.

Joy Bermin crept near the barn, aware of the itch at her back. While Amy and Melissa helped Burke watch over the breeders in the main house—and boy, did those women not like that term— she and Stacey had agreed to take a last look outside. Though the ranch had way too much land to patrol, they figured the barn and the cabin closest to the house made the most sense to check.

Her sister hadn’t listened when Joy had ordered her to stay close. Instead, Stacey had given Joy her own orders in that haughty tone she’d perfected at age six. For a younger sibling, Stacey could be annoyingly bossy. A lot like Miles.

Joy frowned. The last update they’d had about her brother hadn’t been good. He’d been shot twice and was unconscious, even though the raptor who’d brought the news insisted he’d recover.

God, she hated Lex and Ronnie. Michael Gates had been the best thing to happen to the pride. Life under his rule had been harmonious. His lieutenants kept things running smoothly, and Quince… She stopped that line of thinking and shoved the handsome traitor out of her mind.