Episode Seventeen Lions

C haska

It strikes me that I'm not impaired. At all. Ro is so rabbit-like it hurts to watch him—his nose quivering, his still-gorgeous green eyes filled with fear. Alex is pretty wolfy, what with his penchant for raw meat and his hungry glances at Roman.

I'm still 100% me. Well, other than I look like a dragon, can breathe fire, and can possibly fly. But my mind? All me. Weird.

My three mates are ready to run: backpacks on their fronts so they can slide right into their seats, coolers in hand, looks of determination on their faces.

"I'm outta here. Count to twenty, then make a run for it," I call as I slip out the side door.

I figure the farther I get from the house before I cause a distraction, the safer the three of them will be. Maybe I should have told them to count to twenty-five because I hadn't factored in my lumbering body and the balance problems caused by my wings.

I manage, though, and the moment I'm in front of the neighbors' house, I make a noise. I hadn't really known what would come out of my mouth when I yelled. It's a deep bellow which attracts the undivided attention of the two lions on the lawn across the street.

Their heads pop up from the gazelle they're gnawing on. I shut down that line of thought as I remind myself that wasn't actually a gazelle, that was a human being until yesterday.

Now they're on their feet, haunches lowering as they ready themselves to spring toward me. God, they're formidable. I remind myself I have a few weapons in my arsenal, too.

I bellow again, this time willing myself to breathe fire. Nothing.

Shit. Well, I guess I have one less weapon at my disposal than I'd thought.

They leap toward me as I hear the van's back hatch open. The way I figure, I have to stay alive at least another minute for my mates to grab rifles, stow ice chests, and dive into the car. That's considering no other animals attack the three of them.

I'm not sure these lions are going to let me live for one more minute.

"Stay back!" I shout, brandishing the pistol. It seemed formidable against Alex in his wolven form. Not so much against not one but two lion-guys who are approaching on all fours, their feline-human mouths gaping open in a ferocious display of sharp teeth.

One leaps at me, bringing me to the ground. Absently, I realize this is a husband-wife team. I only allow myself one second to appreciate how crazy this is before I point my weapon at his chest and fire.

His body kicks backward an inch as he snarls, but after only a moment, his mouth continues its trajectory toward my face. I manage to pull the trigger another time. The second bullet must hit something major because he slumps on top of me.

Just as Alex grew bigger over the last 24 hours, this lion weighs more than a normal man. It takes all my might to heave him off me.

When I do, his wife, mate, whatever you want to call her, leaps to take the male's place, straddling my chest with her hands, or are they paws? Miraculously, the male's lifeless arm is draped across my throat, so she's unable to pierce my neck with those four-inch fangs of hers.

I don't hesitate this time, squeezing off two shots in quick succession. She's dazed, but not dead.

"You killed Billy," she accuses around those deadly teeth. "Fucker!"

After one more shot, the golden light in her eyes dies. I push her off me, rise to my feet, and bellow. This time, it's accompanied by a stream of fire, which I direct at the mound of golden fur in a pile nearby.

Shit. That smells nasty. Burned hair.

Just in time, Alex pulls up, pops the back door, and orders, "Get in."