N. Walters - Pride of the Lion

“Look at me.”

She’d know that deep, commanding voice anywhere. Her eyelids fluttered open and he filled her vision. “Leander.” He was leaning over her, his incredible golden eyes filled with concern. His brows were furrowed, giving him a very stern expression. She smiled at him, feeling kinda loopy, as though she’d had one too many glasses of wine on an empty stomach. She reached up and rubbed at the furrow in his forehead. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

One corner of his mouth kicked up and the lines on his forehead smoothed out. “You’re not afraid of me when I’m angry?”

She giggled. That didn’t seem right. She wasn’t a giggler, but she couldn’t seem to help it. Now what was it he’d asked her? Right. “No, silly, I’m not afraid of you.” She reached up, linked her hands around his neck and yanked him lower. “You’re my lion.”

He cocked one eyebrow at her and she giggled again. He looked so fierce, his exotic features making him appear more lion than man. His long mane of hair fell to his shoulders, the colors enthralling. She slid her fingers through several locks.

“So I’m yours, am I?”

She gave him a stern frown. “Of course you’re mine.”

He leaned down and rubbed his nose against hers. She loved the smell of him, masculine and spicy heat. “Does that make you mine?”

“Absolutely.” There was something she was forgetting. Something important. She strained to remember.

“What’s wrong?” Now it was Leander’s turn to rub her forehead and try to erase the deep furrows of her concern.

“I’ve forgotten something. Why don’t I remember?” She frowned at him even though it wasn’t his fault. Or at least she didn’t think it was his fault. Percy chose that moment to jump up beside them. He grumbled and bumped his head against her arm. “Hey, Percy.”

“How much do you remember?” Leander sat back and she sank into the pillows. Pillows, she was on her bed in her room. Nice. How had she gotten here?

“Not much.” She chewed on her bottom lip as she struggled to remember. Leander groaned, but she ignored him as she scoured her memories for details. She came straight up in bed. Bad move as her head protested, sending shards of pain ricocheting through her skull. She would have toppled over if Leander hadn’t caught her. Percy gave a disgruntled grumble, turned his back and sauntered down to the end of the bed.

“Hades.” In spite of her headache, she swiveled her head from one side of the room to the other, searching every dark corner.

“He’s gone. It’s past midnight.”

Past midnight. That meant the curse was truly broken and the danger over. The throbbing in her head settled into a dull ache. “We did it?” How had they survived? There’d been too much time left. “How?”

Leander shrugged, his large shoulders blocking most of her view of her room. “Who knows? Maybe the Lady was able to help. I’ve found that time sometimes moves in strange ways when gods and goddesses are involved.”

“But you were dead.” She remembered it all clearly now. All remnants of giddiness left her and she was stone-cold sober once again. “You died.” She ignored the pain, sat up and ran her hands over the broad expanse of his bare chest, over his washboard abs and up his injured side, grateful there was only a long, reddish scar there now.

He caught one of her hands and flattened it over his heart. “You died too. I gave my life force to you so you could live.”

“I gave it back to you.” She remembered it all now, waking up to find him so still beside her, her frantic phone call to Marko and trying to bring him back to life. She thumped him on the chest with her free hand. “Don’t ever do anything like that to me again.”

“Don’t ever do anything like that to you?” he sputtered. He threw back his head and roared. The entire room vibrated and a painting on the other side of the room fell off the wall and crashed to the door, the glass shattering into a dozen pieces. Araminta slapped her hands over her ears and winced. Percy gave a very loud grumble, jumped off the bed and headed for the door, leaving them alone in the room.

Leander lowered his head and scowled at her. “You died for me.” He thumped his chest hard. “For me.”

In spite of the fact she wasn’t really afraid of him, her heart sped up. Okay, maybe she was the teeniest bit afraid. She’d never seen him quite this angry.

“Promise me.” He gripped her shoulders and yanked her close to him. “Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again.”

He was so upset and she wanted to soothe him, really she did, but she couldn’t lie to him. She carefully shook her head. “I can’t.”

Oh boy, if she’d thought he was angry before, she was wrong. She instinctively tried to pull away from him as his face morphed into that of the lion, complete with gigantic fangs. He shook himself and the lion retreated, but she knew the creature was very close to the surface.

“Why?” A muscle pulsed in his jaw and another one jumped beneath his eye.

“Because I love you.” She caught his face between her hands. “Because I’ll do anything to keep you alive.”

He grabbed her and yanked her against his chest. She could barely breathe, but she sensed he needed to hold her. Who needed to breathe anyway?

She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. His breathing was labored as he all but crushed her against him. His huge muscled arms were shaking.

“It’s okay. Everything is okay. We’re both alive.” She remembered pouring Leander’s life force back into him. “Why aren’t I dead?”

“Because I gave some of my energy back to you.” His voice was slightly muffled because his face was buried in her hair, but she understood him.

“But you’re okay?” Had he given her too much?

He nodded. “I’m fine.” He raised his head and his eyes were luminous. As she watched, a lone tear rolled down his cheek. To see a man this strong, an immortal warrior, a shapeshifting lion, shed a tear for her almost broke her heart.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m okay. It’s all good.” She patted his cheeks, rubbed his shoulders, touching him wherever she could reach him.

He nodded. “You are now immortal. Like me.”

Whoa. That stopped her cold. Yes, she’d written about it in her books, but she’d always assumed that part of it was purely fiction. You couldn’t make a human immortal, could you?

“Really? You’re sure?” She noticed that her headache was already fading.

Leander nodded. “Marko said it was so.”

She swallowed hard and tried to digest what that meant. She was immortal. Everyone she knew would die and she would still be alive. “Will I age at all?”

He shook his head. “You will remain as you are now.”

Crap. If she’d known in advance what was coming she might have tried to lose ten pounds first. And she’d obviously slipped a gear if she was concerned about her weight. “What does this mean?” She hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud. She didn’t want Leander to think he was responsible for her now. He’d saved her life and kept her soul safe from Hades. That was more than enough.

And speaking of Hades. “The curse is truly broken, isn’t it? You’re safe from Hades?”

Leander grabbed the hem of her top and yanked it over her head. She sputtered when the material covered her head, but raised her arms and helped him remove it.

“Yes. We are both safe from him and his minions. If he attacks us it will rebound on him three fold.”

“Cool.”

Leander reached for her bra.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Not that she minded getting naked with him, but she’d just noticed they were both still covered in blood and probably some demon gunk too. Not that her skin was burning anywhere—a sure sign of demon gunk. She guessed that when the life-force energy had healed them it had taken care of the minor burns too.