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  He barely managed to stop from puking as he watched and felt it change back to his own face. His gut churned with the thought of his entire body transforming into a wildcat. He didn’t want to even think about it, much less face the truth in Haley’s statement about changing into a full jaguarondi in front of her. Instead, he distracted himself from his fear by yelling at this woman who was responsible for the very clothes on his back.

  “If I’m such a monster, why didn’t you just shoot me?” Dylan tilted his head slightly to look into her eyes.

  Her lips pressed into an angry straight line that Dylan resisted, just barely, tracing with his finger. Pale blue eyes narrowed above sharp cheekbones covered by smooth skin slightly flushed with pink. Honey-blonde eyebrows tried to furrow together resulting in small puckers at the bridge of her long nose. Dylan wanted to ease the creases with kisses while he cradled her face.

  “I don’t kill innocent people,” she screamed. She took a deep breath which had a very interesting effect on her breasts under the gauze top.

  More calmly, she continued, “Under the jaguarondi, I knew an innocent man was trapped in something beyond his control.” Her breath wafted sweetly to his nose and held the scent of the green tea and sugar cookies she ate while he devoured the steak.

  Dylan stepped away from her before his lust turned him completely into a caveman who wanted to take her here, now. He had to figure out what was happening to him and fast. His cock had to take a cool down and let him think.

  He knelt and began to pick up pieces of broken mirror. In each small sliver he saw his face holding thirty years of growing from child to teen to man. He saw the faint lines brought by studying long hours, by concentrating on skills to save his life and others, by joyously loving family, friends and several incredible women. His anger dissolved and left him with the sick-tasting tang of force-swallowed fear. “I suppose I should thank you for sparing my life, but…”

  “But maybe I didn’t do you any favors considering what you just saw happen to you?”

  Thank God, she didn’t sound sorry for him. He wanted his own pity party and he didn’t want to invite anybody except maybe his friend Jim with his bourbon or his buddy José with his outstanding tequila.

  She knelt on the floor beside him. Her lovely fingers began to gather glass fragments.

  The silence they worked in broke with a gasp of pain from Hildy.

  Dylan looked up to see her sit back on her heels and jerk a sliver from the gauze skirt. A blotchy red flower of blood bloomed in the pastel floral material.

  “Crap.” Haley snatched the stained skirt above her knees to see blood trickling down her shin. She blinked back the quick well of tears. The tears came more from her long-denied reaction to the stressful day rather than the dying pain of the small cut and the blood staining her favorite skirt. “I love this skirt. I bet I never get the blood out.”

  “Hydrogen peroxide and cold water.” Dylan’s voice sent hot shivers through her to tighten her nipples unbearably and make her cunt wet with longing.

  “Oh please, all-knowing male,” Haley grumbled while she tried to decide how to stand and still hold her skirt away from the blood leaking down her leg.

  Crunching glass, Dylan walked to the sink, bits of glass sparkling on the jeans covering his shins like tiny diamonds. He unrolled some paper towels and ran water over them.

  Haley managed to struggle to her feet and continue her harangue, “I’m such an innocent female. Please tell me something else I’ve known since before you were old enough to slap your sausage.”

  Dylan’s gush of laughter surprised Haley. She realized he’d temporarily set aside a reality he couldn’t deal with at the moment. The change in his face from solid world-weary fighter to easy joy twisted her heart with tenderness. He knelt at her feet and pressed the sopping paper towel against the small cut.

  Rivulets of cool water slid down her leg. His touch made her so hot she found it amazing the water didn’t turn to steam immediately.

  “First you call my cock a pickle. Now it’s a sausage. What is this, some kind of food fetish with you?”

  “Everything’s always better coated with chocolate,” Haley’s mouth said before her lust-filled brain had time to think.

  Dylan stopped cleaning her leg but continued to apply pressure to the cut. He leaned back and looked up at her.

  “Got any?”

  His voice held the challenge of a man in full sexual rut wanting his woman right now. Underneath the alpha male command that appealed to her inner take me, take me cavewoman, the gentle hint of invitation beguiled the romantic in her. Part of her felt assured that if she decided not to go further in this, her choice would be accepted without rancor.

  “In the refrigerator,” she said, her mouth wanting his tongue in it to ease its sudden dryness.

  Dylan wiped the last of the water and blood from her leg, then set the paper towel on the table as he rose to his full height.

  Haley had the giddy feeling of being twelve and in love again for the first time in her life. It took one rapid heartbeat for her to realize the impression came from Dylan being shorter than she, the way the first loves in her life had been before they finally got their adolescent growth spurts. At that point, most of the boys either reached her height or surpassed it.

  She’d had her fertility inhibition since she was an adolescent. She wanted a baby, but on her terms, not because she neglected to stay up to date with free and easy protection. Most loving parents taught their children the practicalities of preventing pregnancy and the tools for safe sex years before the first lust addled their minds. Why run the risk of having a baby during schooling and job skill years when the situation could be avoided with a visit to the local Population Planning Council?

  She stepped closer to him and put a hand against his chest. “There is a problem. We need to talk about this jaguarondi shape-shifting of yours. I don’t want to suddenly have a jaguarondi on me just as I reach orgasm. You almost did it once already. Shift again while we’re making love and I will use my rifle on you.”

  “I didn’t change into a jaguarondi!”

  Haley ignored him and went to the broom closet, then laid a dish towel on the floor in front of his glass-glittered jeans. She used the broom to sweep the jeans free of glass so the shards dropped into the towel. Her thong grew wet at the thought of sweeping her palms across his bulging crotch.

  “I don’t.” His voice deepened with a harsh growl. “I don’t turn into a jaguarondi. Especially not when we’re enjoying each other.”

  Haley tilted her head, almost certain she heard a cat’s growl in some his words. Trying to decide how to tell him, she swept the last of the glass into a pile then onto a dustpan which she emptied onto the towel. She set the broom and dustpan away, then picked up the towel at Dylan’s feet. When she stood, she looked into his face set so tense his cheekbones stood in sharp relief, and she marveled at his self-control. If she were the one changing, she’d probably have the screaming jeebies.

  She pitched the glass-covered towel into the trash, then turned her back to him and lifted her skirt. “Note the claw marks on my butt. Made by you while we were getting it on in the hallway.”

  Dylan looked down at his fingernails, torn and ragged. “I need to trim my nails. That’s all. I don’t have claws.”

  She dropped her skirt and turned around. “The jaguarondi tail came out while we were rolling on the floor.”

  “You,” Dylan said between clenched teeth, “were fingering my butthole, then slapped my ass.”

  “I wasn’t doing your butthole—I slapped the tail and it went away.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I’m crazy? I’m crazy? You’re the one with the jaguarondi shifting. Look,” Haley untied the skinny strings holding up the top of her dress and pushed her shoulder at his face. “Look at the bite you marked me with. It shows pointed teeth, not round human teeth.”

  Dylan’s arm snaked out and caught her. He pressed
against her ass until her pelvis rubbed against the rigidity of his crotch.

  “I won’t change into a wildcat. I don’t.” He tilted her face down to his.

  His mouth nibbled her lips, coaxing, wordlessly pleading for her to open her mouth.

  She let him in.

  His tongue dived between her lips, stroking her mouth as though she were the sweetest juice he ever drank. Their tongues dueled and mated, playing the game of chase and retreat, conquer and surrender.

  Dylan felt her hands first around his waist, then felt the tug of his shirt being pulled from his jeans. While her hands slid up his skin, he managed to get the two of them turned around and her back against the wall. He pulled apart the strings tied on her other shoulder, pulled the top of her sundress down and captured one nipple in his palm. Dylan rolled his prize with his fingers while continuing to lick and suckle her mouth.

  He used his full body to press her against the wall. Her legs parted under the skirt and he lifted one of her strong legs to wrap around his waist.

  Once again he had access to the treasure he’d been wanting to touch ever since he first saw her standing in front of him in her uniform.

  Dylan ran his hand across her ass and felt the ridges of the scratches she claimed she gave him. He smoothed his hand across her butt again and traced the silk ribbon of the thong between her butt cheeks. He continued to plunder her mouth and toy with her nipple even while he ran his fingers under the thong.

  He dipped his finger under her thong and across her folds, judging how wet she already was. Her groan of pleasure encouraged him to slide the little bit of silk covering her curlies to one side to give him room to probe deeper and harder.

  Her mouth grew frantic under his. She pressed her head against the wall and arched her back to give him full access to her generous breasts.

  He paused half a heartbeat to enjoy the strawberry red areolas and jutting nipples on the mounds of her creamy skin. Hmmm, when they got around to it, he decided to use her chocolate to have himself some chocolate-covered strawberries and cream.

  Dylan suckled one nipple deep into his mouth and enjoyed its taut texture against his tongue. He found her clitoris and tickled its tight knot with his fingers the way he tickled her nipple with his tongue.

  She undulated against him. Her hands dug under his jeans to grab his butt in both hands. Now she pressed him against her.

  He rubbed her wet pussy again, then drove two fingers deep inside her. Her inner walls clenched around his fingers and her entire body shuddered. Her gasps grew sharper and higher in pitch.

  Bless her, even while she shook with her own pleasure, she unsnapped the jeans button and pulled down the zipper.

  His engorged cock pushed its way through the opening in the briefs. Her hands wrapped around it and tugged.

  Dylan pulled his fingers from Hildy’s wet folds and tore her thong on one side. He pressed her tighter against the wall while he lifted her other leg around his waist. The remaining bit of the silk thong slithered around her thigh and against his arm.

  His fingernails dug into her round ass while he positioned her to plunge into her welcoming wetness the way his tongue had been greeted by her mouth.

  Her slick passage enfolded him. The sheer pleasure held him breathless for a moment. He also wanted to give her a little time to adjust to his girth.

  When she started moving on him, he pulled out to thrust in deeper.

  Her inner muscles clinched tighter around his cock while she moved her body in sync with his pumping.

  His balls constricted. Her body shimmied around him. Her slick muscles pulsed and vibrated around his cock. He clamped his mouth on her shoulder, determined not to bite her again. The taste of her skin, the texture of her muscle in his mouth anchored his mate to him. He surged deeper into her and exploded into her body as she shrieked with pleasure.

  Even as his shaft finished its last pulses, Hildy pounded on his back and shoulders.

  “Ouch!” She screeched in his ear. This scream wasn’t pleasure filled. This was mad. “You scratched me!”

  “What? Huh?” Still holding her, still locked inside her, he pulled his upper body back to look at her face.

  “Get your fingernails out of my ass. You’re hurting me! Let me down!” She pounded her fists against his chest and started squirming and kicking.

  “What the fuck?” Dylan slid out, let go of her butt and set her legs on the floor before she wiggled loose and fell from his grasp.

  Her pale blue eyes flashed angrily, then widened. “Oh, damn, damn, damn. Dylan, you’re changing.”

  Dylan stepped away from Haley and looked at his tingling hands. Claws protruded from his fingertips.

  Haley stroked across his face.

  He jerked his head away when her fingertips touched his sensitive whiskers.

  Whiskers?

  Dylan reached his hand to his face. Yes, he still had a hand. The claws curved over the fingertips. He brushed the stiff whiskers with the claws.

  “Hildy?”

  From someplace far away, he heard the command voice of his Valkyrie of the First Amazon Unit. “Hang on, Dylan. Remember who you are. Concentrate on being you. There has to be some way for you to stop this. Think. Stay with me, Dylan.”

  Chapter Four

  Dylan looked up at Hildy, not quite certain what she was saying. He understood his name, but the rest was just garbled. The calmness in her voice soothed him, even if he didn’t have a clue what she was babbling.

  Her eyes worried him. She pressed against the wall as if she were afraid of him. He never wanted to hurt her. He didn’t mean to stick her with his claws.

  “Speak English,” he tried to tell her, but his voice sounded like a growl instead of the words he tried to say.

  He shook himself and the clothes around his backside slid off. He twitched his tail to and fro, enjoying the freedom. Now he needed take off this shirt that clung to his neck. He got front paws freed from it easily, but he had trouble getting it off his neck.

  “Dylan?”

  His name he understood. He cocked his head at his mate, his Brunhilde, enjoying the cadence in her voice even if she did persist in talking that weird foreign language. As a member of the First Amazons, she had probably learned a number of languages. He learned several himself during his compulsory military service. Unfortunately, none of the ones he had learned seemed even distantly related to whatever language she was speaking. He wished she’d go back to English or her bad Spanish or something he knew.

  She moved closer to him and the scent of her sex nearly overwhelmed him. Even though he’d just come, he wanted to mate with her again. She smelled of ripe sexy woman cream, strawberry shampoo, lavender and oatmeal body wash, laundry detergent, fabric softener, the potato she had baked for his supper, that wonderful steak.

  Out of politeness, he had eaten the potato and salad she served with the steak. He wanted to devour the steak and maybe a second or a third one. He still smelled its juices hanging in the air.

  “Dylan?”

  Brunhilde knelt in front of him. He smelled his own scent on her. He licked across his teeth, remembering the taste of her tongue in his mouth, the taste of her skin.

  Every atom in his being wanted to take her and brand her his mate. He wanted to bury his teeth in her shoulder while he again drove himself into her, hard, fast and deep.

  She slowly stretched one hand out as though she wanted to touch him but was hesitating for some reason. Her scent had changed to the sharper odor of fear.

  He held himself in tight control. He quit struggling to take off the shirt and held himself still. He didn’t know why she was suddenly frightened. This woman had done so much and been so kind to him, a stranger to her. He didn’t ever want to betray the trust she had showed when she brought him into her house, gave him clothes and fed him. He never wanted to scare her.

  When she placed her palm against the side of his head, he rubbed against her. If he didn’t mate with her right no
w, at least he made sure to place his scent on her. Other males would give her wide berth when they smelled him on Hildy’s skin.

  Haley, you fool. Her name is Haley, not Hildy. To hell with it.

  For him, she was always going to be Hildy, his Brunhilde. Throughout his work on his college degrees, he dreamed of meeting a perfect living representative of the immortal Valkyries who determined which soldiers would be honored after death by being taken to Valhalla and given the privilege of serving the god Odin.

  Now one knelt in front of him, rubbing his ears and around his neck and chin. She kept saying his name and talking.

  Dylan settled down into rest position with his legs and paws tucked under him. Bread loaf, that’s what his mom used to call the cats when they sat like that.

  Hildy put both her hands on his neck and scratched his chin and ears.

  With her touch, Dylan felt contentment rising in him. His purr rumbled from the soothed, calm place deep inside him. He felt peaceful for the first time since he had been captured while trying to rescue people being abused by the cartels that ran so many of the countries south of the United States border. His capture took a decidedly worse turn when he was imprisoned in the Hell Hospital for so many months. He’d never forget the battles he fought to stay sane in that place. The smell of puke and crap overrode the medicines and antiseptics. The cries and curses of other prisoners remained engraved on his psyche. Disjointed, anesthetic-induced memories haunted his dreams.

  Yet now, with Hildy stroking his head and talking to him, he finally felt part of the tight tension in him begin to unwind.

  A jerk snapped Dylan from his peaceful respite. Startled, he jumped to all fours, puffed his fur into attack mode and snarled at Hildy. “What the fuck did you do?”

  Hildy leapt onto the table