Shifters' Captive:Magical Menages 1(8)

As his adrenaline level rose, John released his primal self, allowing it  out of the cage where it dwelt when his id was in control. His body  began to shift, a grinding of bones and reshaping of muscles that  twisted him into his other shape. It was painful, but such a familiar  necessity that he never thought about the pain-wouldn't have now if  Sherrie hadn't mentioned it earlier. The process was simply a part of  who he was, like his big feet or his tone-deaf singing voice. Soon it  was over, leaving him panting and exhausted for only a few moments  before his heightened senses kicked in.

The rustling in the grass was much louder. The piercing trill of tree  frogs hurt his sensitive ears, and he whimpered. Lifting his muzzle, he  breathed in. So many delicious smells to explore. Rabbit, squirrel and  mouse trails zigzagged all over the forest floor, as clear to him as if  they were laid out like blue laser lines.

But he would not follow any of them tonight. There was something else  out there he needed to investigate, something hiding in the dark. The  threatening presence was uphill from the cabin, how far, he had no idea,  but it drew him.

John padded silently over the rough terrain, tongue lolling, hackles  raised and nose constantly scenting the ground. He could smell nothing  out of the ordinary, earth and animal, pine needles and leaf mold, but  the sense of a foreign presence on the mountain grew stronger as he  loped along. He paused at a stream trickling from a fissure in the earth  and drank deeply, lifted his dripping muzzle and gazed into the  darkness.

The world looked different through animal eyes. Shapes and shadows were  sharper and clearer, and their patterns spoke to him in a different way.  The thing that was drawing him up the mountain was not a normal part of  nature. It was foreign, beyond his comprehension-and evil. He had no  idea how he knew all this but the impressions broke over him with the  clarity of a sunrise. The being would have to be killed, taken down like  a rabid animal before it spread its infection further.

He sensed he was still far from his goal, whatever it was, and Sherrie  lay alone and unprotected in the cabin. He must get back to her.  Intuition never steered him wrong so he listened to the inner voice that  told him to go back, abruptly turning and trotting downhill.

Light glowed through the windows of the cabin in the hollow. Thinking  about Sherrie naked on the futon made him pant and run faster. His cock  hardened as he imagined mounting her. She'd be sleepy at first, but  would quickly wake and respond as he rammed into her. Their joining  would be rough, hard and fast and when it was over, he'd do it again,  slowly and gently with more of his human mind engaged. He'd give her  complete pleasure.         

     



 

If she were a shifter, he'd stay in wolf form while he fucked her, but  it was too much to expect a human woman to welcome him like this. Before  he reached the cabin, he changed from his animal shape and was walking  upright by the time he reached the steps. He could smell Sherrie's  earthy musk before he pushed the door open-and something else. A  stranger. Another male.

He threw open the door to see a naked man bending over the woman on the  bed. Cougar, his senses identified, and John launched himself across the  room at the cat-shifter. Grabbing hold of the taller man's shoulder, he  spun him around and plowed a fist into his face. His head snapped to  the side, but he quickly recovered and punched John in the gut, knocking  the breath from him.

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."

"How'd you know about her? Who sent you?" John leaned close, but not so  close that the prisoner could hit him with an unexpected head butt.

"No one. Followed a dream."

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about. I found her the same way you did-dreamed about her. She's the one."

"Whoa!" Sherrie interrupted, stepping forward and brandishing her club.  "I keep telling you all, I'm not special. I'm just a normal person."

His eyes looked deep within her as John had done earlier, and he shook  his head. "No. You're not." John was gazing at her too now. Two pairs of  eyes, warm brown and amber ale, stripped her more naked than she'd been  without her clothes on.