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

her.
     
    *
     
    “Rise and shine, darlin’. You got a hog roast to attend. And let’s be honest… there’s plenty enough hog on you to roast!”
    The sharp pain of being slapped and Lance’s voice brought Renae out of sleep. Out of instinct and experience, she curled up. Hands up to protect her stomach and her head, she scuttled backwards to get out of Lance’s reach.
    She blinked groggily and tried to clear her head. They were out in the square. Hell, she must have fallen deeply asleep for them to have gotten her here without her being aware of it.
    Her gaze swept around her. The sun was just about to set and the whole pride was assembled for what looked like a garden party. Best bib and tucker, long summer dresses for the women. No kids though. That was odd.
    Then she spotted the fire pit and the absence of the children made horrible sense. Kindling and firewood were stacked beneath two racks, the sort used to roast pigs. Her eyes widened, bile rising in her throat as she realized what he had planned.
    “You’re a sick fucking son of a bitch, Lance.”
    His picture-perfect features twisted into a snarl of rage. “Keep a civil tongue in your head when you talk to me, witch’s whore!”
    He lifted his fist, stepping in toward her and she ducked, covering her head again. Her lioness snarled, demanding to be free. To punch claws free of her fingers and dig them bone deep into Lance’s crotch, at her eye level…use her cat’s fangs to give him a final blowjob he’d never fucking forget.
    Before his fist could descend though, a warning growl filled the air. Deeper and more dangerous than anything Renae had heard in her life, it lifted all the hairs along the back of her neck.
    Lance frowned, his head snapping up. “Who is that?”
    The growl intensified to a snarl. Lance spun around, his face almost purple with rage as he spat. “Who the fuck is that?”
    The two lions holding Hale limp between them stumbled back as the werelock stood, shoulders hunched. Slowly he lifted his head and she gasped. His eyes were molten amber, glittering with  as he looked at Lance. The sheet around him fell away, leaving him naked for a second before the air shimmered around him and clothes formed on his body.
    “Your worst fucking nightmare. That’s who.” The werelock’s voice was deep and low, more like a shifter, and as she watched, a golden aura shone around him. It glimmered over his skin, settling into the form of a lion’s head and mane over his human head and shoulders. He reached out, his hands flexing as the magic flowed over them, giving him the claws of a lion. Magical in nature but no less sharp, the edges glittered lethally in the mellow light from the sunset.
    Pride filled her, her lips curving up into a soft smile.
    He was her man, and he was magnificent.
    Lance’s face was a picture of horror and surprise as he stumbled backward. “Wh…what? How? Get away from me!”
    Spinning around wildly, he made a grab for her. The snarl burst free before she could stop it and she swiped at him with the claws that burst from the ends of her fingers. He wouldn’t use her again, not ever.
    He was too fast, backhanding her across the face, before hauling her up in front of him by the throat.
    “Get back!” he ordered, hand hard around her neck.
    “What the fuck are you lot waiting for?” he snapped at his bully-boys, who were looking at the werelock with shock and fear. No-one seemed interested in getting within reach of those magical claws. She didn’t blame them. With the snarls tumbling from his curled lips and the danger that radiated from him, she wouldn’t either. “Get him! Kill him!”
    They snarled and moved en-masse, looking to use numbers to bring down their prey. Snarls filled the air, the fading sunlight glinting off claws as they sliced through the air. She moaned, fear for her man filling her.
    “That’s right, bitch. You’re gonna watch him die, then you’re going to die alone in the fire,”