Badlands: The Lion’s Den(2)

“Hey,” Finn growled as he muscled his way up to them. “Is there a problem?”

“No problem,” the panther shifter slurred, sounding annoyed, “Ek-shept you’re interrupting me and my lady friend here. Buzsh off.” He didn’t even bother to look up at Finn, just moved closer to the feline until she was backed up against the bar.

Her eyes were an icy, inhuman blue, and her hair was pale and silvery, with black streaks. She scented like some kind of lynx shifter, with a hint of cinnamon perfume. And her curvy, generous figure looked even more delicious up close.

Finn inhaled again. Canadian lynx shifter.

Tasty.

“We’re not friends,” she protested, raising her voice to be heard above the music. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m not actually looking for companionship right now.”

I’m terribly sorry? First day in the Badlands, that was for sure. Any of the local girls would have just punched this guy right off his feet. And then the bouncers would have tossed him out back into a dumpster.

“Sho what kind of drink am I buying you?” the panther leered, ignoring her protests.

She tried for a polite smile. “I already have a drink, and I told you, I’m waiting for someone.”

“Well, too bad for him, cuzh he’sh not here and I am.” The jerk exhaled a cloud of beer fumes mixed with halitosis as he slurred his words.

She fanned the air with her hand and slid farther down the bar. “Excuse me, I said no.” Now she had an exasperated edge to her voice.

“Hey, why you gotta be sush a bish—owww!” he howled as Finn grabbed his arm.

The man finally turned to look at Finn, who stood a good six inches taller than him, and his eyes widened in fear. By then it was too late. Finn picked him up by the collar and carried him, legs kicking and arms flailing, over to the front door.

He stepped outside into the cool night air, still holding the guy aloft.

“He’s eighty-sixed,” Finn said to Jose, one of the three bouncers standing by the front door. That meant the guy was permanently banned.

Jose nodded.

After Finn dropped the guy on the ground, he actually turned around and, comically, tried to run past Finn back into the club.

Finn grabbed him by the collar and spun him around, dropping him once more. He planted a boot on the drunk’s ass and pushed. The guy went sprawling, face down, and then scrambled to his feet and hurried off, head hanging low, without looking back.

Several blocks in the opposite direction, Finn heard loud shouts, and then a clattering sound that made him start, and he froze where he stood.

He’d been home for almost three years now, and it was still the same. Loud, sudden sounds set his heart racing and sent adrenaline shooting through his veins, and just like that, he was thousands of miles away and it was happening all over again.



The heat was pitiless. The sky was a burning, saturated blue, the light glaring off the superheated sand. The baking air was dry in Finn’s throat…and tinged with the unmistakable scent of blood. Sweat trickled down his temples, gluing his hair to his brow, and his tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth. His thirst was almost physically painful, but his canteen was empty.

The village was remote and poverty-stricken, but the locals had shared what food and water they had with the squad. Just as well, as they’d been down to a single MRE a day, and there was little to hunt out here in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere, even for an all-shifter squad. The nocturnal desert rodents were fast, and didn’t go far to fill empty bellies. But the last of the villagers had fled now, terrified by the rumors that insurgents in the area were planning an attack.

Now the ramshackle buildings lay abandoned, eerily silent except for the sharp report of gunfire and an occasional bark of command. Their transport was useless, the engines clogged with sand, even if they’d had any fuel. Their comm units were out of range of any other squad. There was no prospect of reinforcements. It was do or die.

Finn leaned his shoulder against the weathered wooden planks and peered cautiously around the side of the building, flinching back as a bullet buried itself in the sand inches from where he was taking cover with one half of the squad. They were battered and battle-weary, but there were no soldiers anywhere he’d rather have at his back. They’d been to Hell and back together. And here they were again. Hell.



“Finn!” Jose barked at him, and Finn realized that the big, scarred wolf shifter had been calling his name for the last minute.

“Yeah, what?” he rasped. He felt his heart pounding in his chest.

Jose shook his head at Finn. “It was just some garbage cans banging together, man. Stop being such a pussy.”