Shifters’ Captive(15)
Sherrie screamed and jumped from the bed. John sucked in a painful breath and drove his shoulder into the blond man’s abdomen, trying to knock him off balance. It was like ramming into a tree trunk.
The man cuffed John in the head with one big fist, sending him flying across the room. Pain shot through his shoulder as he hit the wall and slid down it. Shifting even as he fell, he became wolf again and ready to fight with tooth and claw. He sprang toward the panther, jaws open, intent on ripping him apart while he was in his vulnerable human form. Once the stranger shifted, he’d again be outmatched.
His attention was focused on the man before him, whose shape shimmered and began to change even as John lunged at him. Then, suddenly, the panther-shifter crumpled and fell to the floor.
Sherrie stood over him with a wooden chair clutched in her hands, her eyes wide and her bare breasts rising and falling as she gasped for breath.
John stopped his leap before it carried him over his opponent’s prone body and into her. He nosed the fallen man, memorizing his scent, and considered tearing out his throat before he regained consciousness.
But that would destroy the fragile truce between wolf and panther. It would be better to find out why the cat was down here in wolf territory and what he wanted with Sherrie.
John gathered his flagging energy and shifted into human form once more.
Chapter Four
Sherrie clung to the chair she’d cracked over the stranger’s head and stared at his sprawled, naked body. She was shaking and her heart pounded so hard she felt light-headed. Two nights in a row of strange men accosting her was too much. Sick of being some kind of pawn in this bizarre new world she’d stumbled across, she was half tempted to bat John with the chair too, as he morphed into human form.
“Who is this guy? Another one of your pals? I saw him start to change.”
“No. Not one of my clan. He’s a panther shifter. I can smell the cat in him.”
“Like a mountain lion?”
“Yes, but shifters are a lot bigger.” John pulled the belt from his jeans and began to bind the man’s hands behind his back. He’d reverted to human shape when Sherrie had knocked him down. “They’re loners, not pack-oriented like us. They keep to their own territory in the mountains. We have different hunting needs, and the panthers interact with humans even less than we do.”
“What’s this one doing here? What does he want with me?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out. Run out to the Blazer and bring me the rope you’ll find in the back. We’ve got to get him tied up before he comes around.” Sherrie ran to obey, becoming aware of her nudity only when the night air chilled her body as she stepped outside of the cabin. The bizarreness of the entire situation struck her, and she fought back a burst of giddy laughter. If she started to giggle, she wouldn’t stop until she’d broken down into tears and ended up curled in a fetal position on the ground, blubbering.
As she carried the rope back to John, she wondered how they could possibly keep their prisoner contained if he shifted again. Could mere cotton rope hold an angry cougar with claws and fangs?
John tied the man to one of the chairs—not the one Sherrie had hit him with, which was broken. She grabbed one of the chair legs, avoiding the splinters, and tore it off, intending to use it as a club if necessary. By the time John had finished binding the stranger, he was wrapped like a mummy and he was beginning to regain consciousness.
Sherrie put on her waitress uniform while keeping an eye on the blond stranger. He was basketball-star tall and muscled like a linebacker. It was a wonder he hadn’t killed John with one swipe of his big hand. She couldn’t help but notice the ridged muscles of his abdomen and his flaccid cock—uncircumcised like John’s, large and framed against tawny hair. A surge of lust shot through her, and she tore her gaze away from his genitals.
After slipping on her shoes, she picked up her makeshift club. The panther-shifter’s amber eyes opened and focused on her. They were almond shaped, giving him an Asian appearance at odds with his Nordic fairness. He stared at her until John punched him in the chest then his gaze narrowed and swung to the other man. A snarl curled his lips, and a growl rumbled through him.
Sherrie’s skin prickled at the bestial sound, and her nipples tightened. As her thighs tensed, she was ashamed of her body’s perverse reaction. Had she become some kind of thrill-seeker, turned on by dangerous strangers and edgy situations?
“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?” John demanded.
At first it seemed the prisoner wouldn’t reply. He looked like he’d rather swallow broken glass than give John the satisfaction of an answer, but at last he snapped, “Here for the girl, just like you.”