Shifters' Captive:Magical Menages 1(13)

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." Her answer was short but accompanied by a smile, so he felt a little better.

He wished they could have a minute alone so he could really talk to her.  They hadn't had time to discuss what had happened between them, and  John felt sure it had been more than sex. Some energy had bonded them in  a way he'd never felt before. Surely, she'd experienced it too. He had  to know.

Perron opened the car door and got out. When he'd closed it behind him,  John reached for Sherrie's arm, stopping her from leaving.

"Are you really okay? I mean about the sex."

She finally looked into his eyes, and hers glowed in the dim light.  "Yes. It was amazing and left me feeling …  strangely powerful. I can't  explain it, but I'm glad we did it." She grinned, and her teeth shone  like a wolf's. "As a matter of fact, I'd like to do it again." Her words  allayed his concern that she just wasn't that into him. He let his hand  slide down her arm and took hold of her warm hand. "Me, too. I told you  I don't usually believe in having sex with humans.

Crossing species doesn't seem like a good idea, but something was different with you. I felt-"

"I should tell you something," Sherrie interrupted.

The driver's door opened. Perron stooped to gaze into the vehicle. "Are  you coming? Let's go." John got out. Rising to his full height, he still  had to look up to meet the panther's eyes. His own were narrowed, and  his jaw ached from clenching it. "I don't want to get into a fight with  you again. It won't serve any of our needs. But back the hell off." He  jabbed his index finger into the other man's chest before turning away.

After taking out the pack of food and supplies from the back of the  Blazer, John slammed the door shut and looked toward his companions  standing on the far side of the vehicle. Sherrie leaned toward Perron.  Her posture was casual, almost intimate, and she talked quickly with  lots of hand gestures. The hair on his nape rose. He swallowed back the  growl in his throat as he stalked toward them over crunchy pine needles.

Shouldering the pack, he moved between them and took Sherrie's hand in  his. "If you're not used to climbing, this could be hard, especially  wearing new hiking boots." She squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Not to  mention it's almost pitch black. You don't get this kind of dark in the  city."

Perron strode in front of them, leading the way. John was content to let him do so. He had Sherrie by his side.



John's jealousy was an almost palpable energy surrounding him. Sherrie  was simultaneously touched and irritated by it. He barely knew her.  Where did he get off acting as if he had some hold over her just because  they'd had some amazing sex? And what would such a jealous guy do if he  found out she'd had spanky dream sex with the panther shifter-a duel  over her honor?

She was glad for the thick socks John had brought her which cushioned  her feet from the heavy boots, but even with the protection, her heels  and toes began to hurt after about fifteen minutes of climbing uphill.

Her calves and ass were also screaming in agony. Waitressing kept her on  her feet all day, but it wasn't the same thing as clambering over rough  terrain. The high elevation wasn't doing her any favors, either, and  soon she was huffing and blowing like a winded racehorse.

John supported her with an arm around the waist, half hauling her up the  next slope and keeping her from stumbling over stones in the dark.

"We'll rest soon," he promised, then yelled at Grant, who'd disappeared into the darkness, to hold up.

When they reached the top of the rise, Grant stood waiting. "I knew she wouldn't be able to keep up.

We can travel faster if we shift and she rides on my back." Evidently  her life could get weirder. But she was exhausted and sore from walking,  and the idea of wrapping her legs around a wild beast-man didn't sound  as preposterous or as kinky as it might have.

"Yes, we should shift, but Sherrie stays with me," John snapped.

"She weighs too much. I'm bigger, a lot bigger. I can carry her. Simple logic, Walker. It's no reflection on your masculinity."         

     



 

Sherrie turned to John, taking hold of his arms and looking into his  frowning face. "He's right. It doesn't mean anything. It's just  practical."

His brown eyes moved back and forth as if reading hers, and he nodded curtly.

Grant was already half undressed, rolling up his shirt before stuffing  it in John's backpack. Folding her arms, Sherrie looked at the ground,  the starry sky turning to gray on the eastern horizon, the silhouetted  peak of the mountain … anywhere except at the two men stripping off their  clothes. But after a few moments, she couldn't look away.

There they were, nude and beautiful: Grant, tall, wide-shouldered,  golden as the mountain lion he'd soon morph into. And John, a little  shorter, also muscular, but with a leaner build. His dark, shaggy hair  begged a hand to comb through it. The slight tilt of his eyebrows gave  him a permanently anxious expression, but when he caught her look, his  teeth flashed in a smile that warmed her like a cup of hot coffee.

Their cocks, which she couldn't stop herself from looking at, were  semi-rigid and growing more erect under her gaze. Did changing from  human to animal give them an erotic charge or was it her inspection that  aroused them?

Sherrie looked away and stooped to pick up the backpack, slipping the  heavy burden onto her shoulders. She felt the air charge with energy as  Grant started to change. His body shimmered and twisted, and her heart  pounded as the mountain lion inside him was revealed.

The cat was huge and hulking, his shoulders standing as tall as her  chest. His head hung down, and he panted, a harsh inhalation and  exhalation. Golden eyes rimmed in black gazed at her and then the animal  opened its mouth and yowled, revealing scimitar-sharp teeth.

Adrenaline pumped through her system, and her legs trembled with the  need to run. Meanwhile, John had completed his transformation and was  once again a wolf with a thick ruff of hair at his neck, a bushy tail,  long legs and a narrow, angular face.

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.