Shifters' Captive:Magical Menages 1(20)

Janus's dark aura drew him. Grant wanted to see him face to face, needed  to see he was solid and real, a being with a body that could be mauled  and shredded. He was so focused on his goal he didn't register his  attacker until the other panther leaped on him from its perch on higher  ground. Claws raked his back, and teeth dug into his neck before he  could twist around to fight. It was a full-blooded wild animal, not a  shifter, and therefore smaller than him, but that didn't make its bite  any less lethal.

Grant yowled in pain and surprise, a resounding cry that echoed across  the valley. He shook his body, trying to dislodge the other cat, but its  fangs sank deeper into the back of his neck. The unprovoked attack  wasn't natural. This was no fight over hunting grounds. The mountain  lions tended to stay out of the shifters' way and vice versa. Grant knew  in his gut the panther, like the rockslide, was controlled by Janus.

He rolled onto his back, crushing the other animal's body beneath his.  The cat's jaw loosened, and Grant ripped away, leaving a chunk of flesh  behind. He twisted and landed on his feet. Claws extended, he leaped  toward his opponent. If he could pin the other panther on the ground,  his superior weight would hold it no matter how it twisted. Then all he  had to do was bite its throat.

The other beast regained its footing, and they came together with a  clash of claws and fangs. Grant became one with his animal side as he  bit and ripped and growled in rage. They clashed, the smell of blood and  fur rising. Locked in a lethal embrace the two cats rolled over the  ground, still snapping and snarling.

Jagged stones stabbed Grant, and sharp claws tore into him.

They landed at the edge of a steep drop off with his attacker on top.  Jaws open wide, the animal bit down on Grant's throat. Fangs slipped  through his thick ruff of fur and punctured his neck.

He shook his head, trying to break the animal's grip again, but the cat  clung like a burr. Grant's vision grew hazy and dimmed around the edges.  Bested by a common mountain lion? Not going to happen. With a mighty  flex of his muscles, Grant twisted and rolled. His opponent loosened its  jaws and Grant pulled free again. He slashed with razor sharp claws at  the other panther's belly just as the ledge of rock crumbled from  beneath him.

Both animals plunged off the side of the mountain, down the steep slope.



John held Sherrie's hand and pulled her up the rock face. "Not much  farther to the top." The hair on his nape prickled at the sense of the  dangerous entity nearby. His body felt electrified as if a big  thunderstorm was coming. Part of the feeling was the pending  confrontation with the unknown enemy and part was the aftermath of the  threesome with Sherrie and Perron. Yes, there'd been the purely  pleasurable sensations of sex, but also an incredible energy flowing  among them, magnified as if each were contributing to it. The power  filled him still. How he could use it he had no idea, but it seemed  their combined strength might be enough to defeat Janus. Why else would  Sherrie have been indicated as the necessary element in their battle  against him?         

     



 

"We're getting close. Can you feel him?" Sherrie panted as they reached the top of the rocks.

John nodded and clasped her hand tighter as he led her into a stand of  trees. Through the branches, he glimpsed the dark, open maw of a cave in  the side of the mountain. It abruptly dawned on him that he should've  brought guns from the sports shop. Coming here unarmed except for some  possible mystical powers suddenly seemed like a vastly stupid idea.  Maybe he couldn't kill their enemy for fear of hurting his victims, but  there was no reason he couldn't take him down with a shot to the leg.

He pulled Sherrie down behind a thick tree trunk. "You stay here while I run ahead and take a look."

"Wait. What?" She grabbed for his hand and held on, stopping him from  leaving. "I don't think that's a good idea. We've already lost Grant  from him going off half-cocked. I think it's important the three of us  stick together."

"That's why I'm not going far. I'll circle around to the other side of  the cave where I can get a better view, but I'll be right back."

Before Sherrie could protest again, he tugged free from her grip and  trotted through the brush, staying outside the clearing by a good  distance. Even in human form he could move through the woods nearly  silently, and his hearing was keen enough to catch the slight rustle of a  bird flying from branch to branch.

He looked through the green fringe of leaves at the black mouth of the  cave. Was this a man or something else? Where had he come from, what was  his plan and why had he decided to target shifters?

John heard the snap of a twig a moment before he felt the crackling jangle of lightning enter his body.

His body jerked and his brain went numb as electricity fired through him. He spun around to catch a glimpse of his attacker.

You! Recognition crashed over him before another jolt of the taser stole his consciousness and sent him crashing to the ground.





Chapter Nine


Stupid men. Sherrie peered around the trunk of the tree, trying to catch  a glimpse of anything other than foliage. The woods were silent except  for the tiny rustles of chipmunks or birds and the shrill of tree frogs.  A deerfly buzzed around her head and she swatted it, flattening it  against her neck with a slap that stung her sweaty flesh.

A little bit ago, she'd heard something large moving through the  underbrush some distance away, but the sound had stopped. For the past  God knew how many minutes, there'd been no movement. She wished she wore  a watch. She wished John would come back. Or Grant. She wished she  dared move from this spot and take control of the situation. But the  truth was she was afraid.

She was all alone in the wilderness near the cave of a psycho. What if  she simply left, went back down the mountain, found her way to the road  and hitched to the nearest town not inhabited by werewolves? Would that  be so wrong? Any sane person would do the same. She was no hero, hadn't  asked to be a savior. Perhaps saving herself was the best thing she  could do.

But even as the very viable possibility flashed through her mind, she  knew she wouldn't abandon John and Grant. She had to find out where this  road led and what secret Janus claimed to know about her.

Sherrie rose, took a deep breath and shook off her anxiety as if she was  about to walk onstage. She could do this, adopt another persona,  perhaps a cross between Indiana Jones and Xena, and march into the jaws  of danger with bravery and panache.

Still, it would be nice to have a weapon. She pawed through the backpack  and found a jackknife which she slipped into her pocket, then she  shouldered the pack and headed through the trees following the path John  had taken. There were no broken branches or bent ferns to mark the way,  and she soon gave up trying to track him. Instead, she looked toward  the mouth of the cavern, keeping it always in sight through the branches  as she walked. Her face prickled with sweat, and she wiped away a slick  of perspiration on her throat as she slapped a mosquito this time.

Sherrie stopped stock still when she came upon a spot in the woods where  the underbrush was flattened. It looked like a fight or worse had taken  place here. There was a narrow path where something heavy had been  dragged away. Her chest was so tight she could scarcely breathe, and her  heart pounded deafeningly in her ears. The path couldn't lead anywhere  good, but what was her other option, to wait for one of the men to  return and tell her what to do next? She'd never been much good at  waiting or at taking directions.

Sherrie followed the path that led straight to the clearing outside the  cave entrance and there Janus stood. Their meeting was almost  anticlimactic. He didn't raise a weapon to threaten her. No minions  rushed to seize her. Suddenly he was simply there in front of her, an  average-looking man with thinning brown hair who stood with his hands  crossed primly at his groin. He wore a charcoal gray sweater with a  snowflake motif, a pair of brown trousers and black boots.         

     



 

Sherrie fought a ridiculous urge to give him fashion advice about the  sweater as she stepped into the clearing and faced her nemesis in the  flesh. "Hello."

"You came alone."

"You didn't give me much choice. Where's John?"

"Unharmed and safe. I can't vouch for the other one." Her stomach did a  slow barrel roll at the news-one of her would-be protectors imprisoned,  the other one possibly injured or dead.

"Well, I'm here," she said. "What do you want with me? What's your big secret?"

"Come inside, sit down and have some tea." He gestured toward the mouth  of the cave. "The place is a bit primitive, but it suits my needs for  now."

Sherrie weighed her options. She'd be safer outside the cave with more  chance to run away if necessary, but if she went inside she might learn  something that would lead her to John. She followed Janus into the  darkness.