Free Fierce Protector (Sierra Pride Book 3) by Liza Street

Chapter One
    Gabriel would give anything to get out of his own head. Even as a lion, though, his thoughts churned. Every part of him wanted to be with Hera.
    Hera, his brother’s mate.
    His large paws made no noise as he paced over fallen pine needles. All he could think about was how he’d pressed against her, finally, victorious at being close to her. When Blake had interrupted, Gabriel had said, “Just showing her how to throw darts,” and his hand had skimmed along the top of her back pocket.
    He’d wanted her then, and he wanted her still.
    But nobody thought she should belong to him. It wasn’t right—even Gabriel knew it wasn’t right—but that didn’t stop the craving he had to press his lips against hers, rub his cheek against hers, drink in her scent.
    Her scent still lingered on him, despite numerous dips in mountain streams still running low from the drought.
    Now, though, there was a new distraction. Someone was following him.
    He’d purposefully fled to the far reaches of the Sierras, way out of the range of Yosemite tourists and random hikers. Far from people. And fuck it all if someone hadn’t come after him.
    He tried to ignore the hope in his heart, that it was one of his brothers coming to tell him that everything was all right. That he wasn’t banished from the pride, that he was still their alpha and they still loved him, that they understood. Nobody had banished him—he’d left voluntarily because damn it, he’d screwed up, even though it wasn’t his fault Hera got to him like she did. He’d never asked for it. And there she was, living in his family’s house, fucking his brother in the room across the hall.
    Mountain lion shifters could hear everything .
    Every moan, every gasp of delight, every whispered endearment.
    Now he could hear the soft footsteps of someone approaching, trying not to be seen. It wouldn’t be one of his brothers—they would’ve called him out on his bullshit already, told him to stop shifting so much, that it wasn’t good for his mind to stay so long in cat form.
    If it wasn’t his brothers, then it had to be some stupid hiker who thought it would be cool to see a mountain lion in the wild. Or a hunter? He sniffed the air, but he couldn’t scent anything like gunpowder or metal. A bowhunter? Nobody would be that big of a dumbass.
    The thing was, whoever was following him was doing it with purpose, and they were skilled. He hated that the hiker was so close to the stash of clothes he’d left in an abandoned hunting shack. He’d tried to hide his tracks at first, hoping to dissuade some dumb fuck who’d happened upon a lion trail and thought it would be cool to follow it. It hadn’t worked, which meant the person was determined and skilled.
    He snorted. A part of him was curious, but his Aunt Nan had always talked about curiosity and the cat. Besides, he didn’t have the patience for this bullshit.
    He had one thing a human would never have in these mountains: speed. Coiling back on his haunches, he sprang forward and sprinted through the woods.

Chapter Two
    Miranda set down her hiking pack and leaned it against a boulder. The big cat had been spooked and was running—she saw how its footfalls came farther apart, and there were no signs of fleeing prey, so it wasn’t hunting. He’d probably sensed her following, and she was lucky he hadn’t turned around to confront her. She’d have to be more careful.
    Hell’s balls. She should give this one up, she thought, rubbing at her aching shoulders. The pack was damn heavy, full of all kinds of research equipment, and this lion obviously wanted to be left alone. But she’d been out in the field for months without any signs of cougars—no tracks, no scat, no kills, nothing.
    Give up? No, Miranda Hsin wouldn’t give up. This research was important. She needed to know the size of the home range of each individual cougar, and she’d collect samples which could then be shared with other geneticists. It