Chapter One

Maximus

Valentine Growville.

Population… variable. What did that even mean? And that had to be up there with the weirdest town name ever.

I leaned forward and peered at the town sign that I had only just noticed after weeks of being in town. Was that…rhubarb? It looked as if it was coming out of the ‘w’. I chuckled at the sight of something coming out of its ass.

Like I said, it was weird! But weird is why Randy, the little pink ram who’d joined our pride two years ago, wanted to move here. He liked weird, so we’d opted to give it a go.

Now I was having second thoughts. All I’d done was ask the woman at the counter for two pounds of rhubarb. Anyone would think I’d asked her to sacrifice her firstborn.

We’d gone into the biggest store on the tiniest street ever. I mean, with six shops, could it even be called the main street? Burke had smelled the rhubarb from outside the closed door. Our mini bull would smell rhubarb from five miles away. He had an addiction. He wasn’t the only one, all our pride loved it.

Had it been much busier when we arrived? I was positive there’d been a group of men at the counter, but now there was only the woman giving us a stern stare when we’d brought our full shopping basket to the one check out.

“We don’t sell rhubarb,” she replied, like I was mad to even suggest it.

I looked at the large pile of rhubarb on the counter and then back at her, not bothering to hide my skeptical expression. “Are you giving it away? Do you have too much? Because I’ll take the lot as Burke here,” I pointed to the mini bull who hardly reached up to the center of my chest, “really loves the stuff.”

A movement on the countertop caught my eye, and I stared at the pile of rhubarb, tilting my head and squinting at it.

Had that stalk just moved?

I rolled my eyes at my own silliness. Jeez, I had started to suspect everything had the ability to shift, even fruit, after hearing about Potatoville and the fingerling shifters on the news.

Fuck me, wonders would never cease. I’d wanted to go to Potatoville to see the fingerlings for myself, but Burke had a love-in with rhubarb, so I was outvoted. That’s the way we worked in our pride.

“No.” The woman was so flustered it drew my attention back to her. Her mop of red curls bounced frantically. “You can’t take them. They’re mine.”

Huh?

Then she scooped the long red, furry stalks off the counter, clutching the rhubarb to her ample bosom.

“Uh…okay,” I said, starting to back away. There was weird and then there was crazy town. “Is there anywhere else I can buy rhubarb?”

“No!” She clutched what she held tighter, and it made the oddest fucking noise.

Was it squeaking?

“We don’t sell it to your kind here.”

“My kind? Like rhubarb crumble makers?” I asked. I was pissed that it looked like we might have to move once more. We’d only just found a house that felt right for the seven of us that made up our mini pride, after being kicked out of our last one.

I was used to people who hated shifters based on their differences, but they didn’t usually clutch sticks of rhubarb to their breasts while spouting their nonsense.

She dithered, spluttering, and finally let go of the rhubarb, placing it back on the counter. I swear I heard sighs of relief.

“Sorry, I’m just really protective over my rhubarb,” she said like that made total sense.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Could this day get any stranger? “I just wanna buy some fruit for us. It’s not like I wanna cause a fruit massacre.” I laughed as I said it, trying to lighten the mood.

Her brows did combat with each other as they pinched, and her crimson red lips pursed.

I held up my hand and sighed, seeing I wasn’t going to win any friendship contests here. “I’ll just have what we’ve got in the basket then.” I dropped it next to the pile of rhubarb, acting like it wasn’t even there.

That stalk definitely wiggled. I know it did.

Burke nudged my elbow, giving me a pitiful look. “Sorry,” I muttered under my breath, “you’re outta luck.”

Three sacks of shopping later, we exited the store and Burke sniffed loudly, letting us all know he was miffed.

“There is nothing we can do if the lady won’t sell it to us,” I pointed out.

He sniffed again.

Randy, who’d remained quiet throughout the trip around the store, stopped at the side of the minivan we’d bought to accommodate all of us. “It’s odd, she was almost being motherly over the rhubarb… don’t ya think?”

“Yeah, it was odd for sure. I mean, who clutches rhubarb to their chest like I was threatening it?” I asked, once more figuring we might have made an unwise decision to move to Valentine Growville.

“You were thinking about Potatoville, weren’t you?” Randy said.

I nodded, while opening the side door to put the shopping in, because I had been.

“I thought so. It’s almost like you have to look at everything as a sentient being.”

“Why do you have to say that shit!” snapped Apollo, all sharp teeth and blown out mane, a lion who enjoyed fruit, same as all my pride. He dropped the sack he held next to the one I’d placed inside the van. “Now I’ll be thinking about that when I pick up a damn apple to munch on it.” He shuddered and stomped to the front of the minivan. Opening the door to the front seat, he climbed in, still grumbling under his breath.

Randy, used to Apollo’s outbursts, continued on. “There was definitely a vibe coming from the rhubarb. Couldn’t you pick it up?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he slipped into the seat behind Apollo.

I rolled my eyes at thoughts of the return trip to the house and two bickering pride members. We weren’t ever going to be a traditional pride. In fact, we weren’t really a pride at all. Three lions, a pink ram, a bull, a goat, and a llama. Some might, and in fact many had, say we were just a bunch of misfits. We didn’t care. We were a co-op. Friends brought together by circumstances.

I ran my finger down the jagged scar running from my left ear, down my throat and disappearing under the collar of my sweater. That one I’d gotten for protecting Randy from another pride member. One who didn’t see the value of any other shifter when they weren’t a predator. I had other scars that weren’t so visible.

It was easier to shake off the terrible memories nowadays, and think about the rhubarb that at least was more amusing. I swear that rhubarb squeaked and wiggled. I breathed a little faster at the thought.

“Hurry up,” Randy grumbled.

And then I realized I was standing in the parking lot, considering hitting on a squeaky rhubarb. I hoped they didn’t see me blush all over.

As the designated driver, I started the engine and shut out the others behind me, focusing partially on the minimal traffic as I drove back to the place we’d found just on the edge of town. My mind latched on to what Randy had said about there being a vibe coming off the rhubarb. Now, without the distraction of the woman in the shop, I could clearly recall one stalk of rhubarb had moved independently of the clutching hands.

I chuckled about the little tingle in my boxers at the next thought that popped into my head. What would a piece of rhubarb be like to fuck? The chuckles turned into full-blown laughter at my own crazy thoughts.

“Whatsup with you?” Apollo asked from the seat next to me.

Would it be weird, I mean really weird, if I said what was in my head? No, they’d never let me live it down.

“Anyone ever thought about rhubarb fucking?”