The two animals couldn’t have been more different, yet both stared at her with a predator’s focus.
Sherrie searched their eyes for a glimmer of the men she knew somewhere inside.
The big cat padded toward her, and she unconsciously took a step back. Grant made a low throbbing sound in his chest and rubbed his enormous head against her hip. John whined and paced side to side, his long pink tongue flicking over his chops.
Animals. Good God, they’re actually animals. Her head spun at the surrealistic experience. At the same time, the vigor throbbing through the shifters seemed to infect her. She felt wide awake, alert and aware of every tiny sound and smell in the woods around them. She heard the snapping of a twig and knew it was a mouse scurrying. She inhaled and smelled water, signaling a stream somewhere not too far away.
Her mind was open and experiencing the world as they did—primal, direct and undiluted by rational thought. Somehow they were affecting her.
Again Grant rubbed his head against her, knocking her backward. Sherrie reached out a tentative hand and rested it on his warm, soft shoulder, which reached waist-high on her. His rumbling purr vibrated through her hand.
She glanced at the anxiously pacing wolf before moving to Grant’s side and slinging a leg over his back. She drew her legs up so her feet wouldn’t drag on the ground and dug her fingers into the thick fur of his neck. His muscles bunched and flexed between her legs as he moved forward.
Sherrie had never ridden astride anything besides carousel animals and a motorcycle. No horses, no ponies and certainly no wild mountain cats. With every stride, she slid a little from side to side. Her buttocks clenched, and she dug her knees in harder to keep her seat. The heat between her thighs wasn’t only from the beast’s body. Her sex clenched in response to the living animal clamped between her legs.
The cat moved fast, prowling around fallen boulders as he headed uphill. John trotted near his left flank, occasionally pausing to lift his muzzle and scent the air.
“We’re Off to See the Wizard” played over and over in her head. Who or what would they encounter at the end of their journey and how would they overcome this powerful being?
For a long while, she clung to the panther’s furry back and concentrated on not falling off. The flow of his powerful muscles was amazing. She began to get the rhythm of his stride and rose and fell in sync with it. Her tailbone was a little sore, but that had more to do with the spanking and sex earlier than with a bumpy ride. She wondered how it was possible to have physical effects from a dream encounter, but at this point, nothing surprised her.
The sky turned from jet black to midnight blue then foggy gray as they neared the top of the mountain. It felt like hours had passed, but without a watch Sherrie couldn’t measure the time.
At last Perron stopped and gave his body a little shake, muscles rippling beneath her. Sherrie dismounted. She patted the big animal’s back, and he turned his head to look at her with eyes that glittered like reflectors. He opened his mouth and gave a hair-raising cry that brought Walker bounding over. The wolf’s hackles rose, and he growled threateningly.
Grant hissed before slinking away into the woods. Sherri watched him disappear then turned to find John already changing back into human form. He lay on the ground, hands braced where his paws had been, breathing hard.
Sherrie crouched beside him to touch his heaving back. “Are you all right?” He nodded without speaking.
“I don’t know why you do it when it’s clearly so painful.” She rubbed his smooth, solid shoulder—all skin, no fur.
He looked up at her, eyes warm and human once more. “I couldn’t live without my other half. It’s not a choice.”
Rising, he took the backpack from her and rummaged through it for his clothes.
“So, did you like your ride?” His voice was muffled as he pulled a T-shirt over his head.
“I guess. Where’d he go, anyway?”
“Hunting for breakfast, I suppose.”
Her stomach rumbled at the word. John pulled a few power bars and juice boxes from the pack and offered them to her. “Hope it’s enough to fill you up. I didn’t want to pack too much.”
“This is fine. Thanks.” She drank deeply of the tepid juice and wolfed down a bar in a few bites. John opened one of the foil-wrapped bars, but didn’t take a bite. He toyed with the wrapping and stared at the ground until the silence between them grew painful.
“Sherrie, did something happen at the cabin when I was gone?”
“Something like what?” She was annoyed that a pang of guilt shot through her.
He met her gaze with his concerned brown eyes, his head slightly cocked. “You know what I mean.