Free Southern Shifters: Werelock (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Mina Carter Page A

both.
    So be it. She had nothing left to give.
     
    ***
     
    Hale came to as hard hands dragged him out of blessed coolness and into sunlight. Not sure what was going on, he stayed limp and let them half carry him, half drag him along what looked like a garden path.
    What the hell was going on? His throat was drier than a nun’s crotch and his head throbbed like he’d been on a three-day bender. Even worse, his bare feet brushed against grass and a cool breeze around his groin informed him that whatever he was wrapped in, it wasn’t anywhere near actual clothing.
    Great, he was near naked with the hangover from hell. And from the pain in his body, someone had worked him over real good. For what? He rarely carried cash on him and his jewelry was all cheap crap or spelled to him so not worth the time to pawn .
    Perhaps a rival bounty hunter? Men in his line of work were used to violence and it wouldn’t be the first time a rival had gotten violent when they thought he was treading on their patch.
    The fuzziness in his head felt different as well. As soon as he probed it, it gave with the telltale shimmer of magic. Shit. He’d been hit with a spell. He chased the remnants in his system down and studied them before he shook them off. A sleep spell? He almost groaned in disgust at himself. Felled by a simple sleep spell even the most inept witch or warlock could cast. It was damn embarrassing.
    But he had bigger fish to fry than worrying about his ego. Letting his head roll with the movement of the men carrying him, he got a look around him.
    A garden. Houses. The scent of the country and lion shifters. Lots of lion shifters.
    The Brogan property.
    Memory returned in an onslaught of images and feelings. The contract with Lance Brogan. The image of a young blonde. The same blonde naked in a bed, her face a mask of pleasure as he moved over her.
    Renae Brogan. Fuck that, he didn’t like thinking of her with that asshole’s name. As soon as he got the chance, he planned to change that.
    Where was she? If Brogan had hurt her…
    He stopped, realizing he loved her. Head over heels, stupid in love with the stubborn lioness.
    His lion roared, wanting nothing more than to rip the heads off the two lions who held him and go on a rampage. He could do it as well, manifest claws with magic to replace the ones his lion would have had if he’d been a shifter. Not a spell, just tapping the source of his magic, his lion, in a different way. He’d never been able to do it before, but he could see how as clear as day in his mind.
    He reached inside for the source of his power and had to bite back a yelp. Normally he had to dig deep to reach his power, and its lion guardian, but now it felt like the damn thing was right beneath the surface. So close he could feel its fur brushing the inside his skin. It was like touching a live wire.
    “And our guests of honor have arrived.”
    All Hale’s hackles went up at the sound of Brogan’s voice. His lion went still, watching. Waiting. Before it had always followed his lead but seemed stronger now, a more defined personality, and it had its own plans for Brogan. Like a slow and lingering death for what the son of a bitch had done to their mate.
    “Someone wake up that bitch. I want her fully aware. What about that one… is he awake?”
    Hale let his head drop back. The lion shifter who held him grunted. “Nah, still out for the count.”
    He cracked an eyelid as the shifter let go of his hair, letting his head drop back instead of forward, allowing him to see what was going on. They were in the middle of what looked like a village green with two fire pits set in front of them. Renae was off to the side, her captors having dropped her unconscious form on the ground.
    Fury hit him hard and fast as Brogan leaned down and slapped her hard across the face to wake her. She murmured, trying to put her hands up to defend herself, but the Lion alpha simply knocked her hands away and carried on slapping