An Unauthorized Field Guide to the Hunt Page 5

  Made sense.

  Besides, the blond was right. Shane and his cat both needed information, and Shane hadn’t met his goal of reaching another landing pad. He’d yet to find an ally. Judging by the size of the feast the wardens had gifted him, they’d chosen Fallon to partner him. “Hungry?” Shane asked.

  Fallon beamed, bunched shoulders relaxing. “Starved.” Keeping his palms up, he walked to the opposite side of the fire. He lowered to the ground. Alarm zipped through Shane when Fallon didn’t use his arms to brace himself. The muscle control in the guy’s legs must be phenomenal. In Shane’s current condition, Fallon was stronger. “Damn, that feels good,” Fallon said, shrugging off his backpack. He rubbed his neck with a tired groan. “I hiked all day and night. You?”

  Shane shook his head. “The cat caught me when I stopped for shelter at dusk.”

  “I stomped through the arena to lure one, and you managed it by playing hard to get.” Tossing his head back, Fallon laughed.

  One corner of Shane’s mouth curved. “I wasn’t playing.”

  Snickering, Fallon nodded to the haunch of meat over the crackling fire. “That meal looks ready.”

  “Go ahead. I’m vegetarian.”

  The blond blinked at him and then snorted. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Gloating satisfaction swelled Shane’s chest. “Nope.”

  “You realize if you win, you’ll be mated to an obligate carnivore?”

  “My handler at the screening center assured me the cats are accustomed to adapting to the nutrition requirements of offworld mates. Few are non-meat-eaters, but I wouldn’t be the first.” That his diet would make him less appealing and therefore less likely to become a victor was just a happy bonus. “Their bodies reject fruits, vegetables, grains, and manufactured proteins. They can’t help it. They can’t eat anything else, but I’ve never minded others eating meat.” He waved at the campfire. “Dig in.”

  Arching an eyebrow sardonically, Fallon retrieved his mess kit fork from his pack. He leaned to spear a chunk of meat, prying it free. More oils and juices spattered to the fire.

  “So. Tell me what’s been happening,” Shane said.

  While he ate, Fallon regaled Shane about the rush of wardens and med techs after he’d gutted the Nambian at the landing pad. The ship’s third human had indeed been struck by a viper during the race through the brush. Fallon hadn’t extracted the venom, so the unlucky bastard had been medevaced. The Nambian had been evaced as well. Wardens had argued about disqualifying Fallon for using the forbidden weapon, but they’d ultimately agreed he shouldn’t be punished because the Nambian had broken the rules. “I had no way of predicting when wardens might arrive to disarm the Nambian, and after showing the dagger he knew his time to use it was short. If I hadn’t stuck the Nambian, he would’ve stabbed me.”

  Probably true.

  Pity Fallon hadn’t been bounced from the arena. He wasn’t as fit or as pretty as the cats generally liked, but the blond had proved himself a formidable opponent.

  Around bites of food, he also told Shane about the dull night he’d spent, livened briefly by a small Nambian group hunting territory to the east. “The rest are still at the landing pad, and judging by the growls and screams, a lot of cats too. That orgy will last a while. Do you mind if I take more?” He pointed his fork at the roasted meat.

  “Help yourself.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.” He cut another chunk free and groaned at the juices that spilled into the fire. “Aren’t you worried about angering wardens by rejecting their gift?”

  So Fallon wasn’t too stupid to notice the metal spit either. Shane’s estimation of the guy climbed another notch. “The meat was to lure the cat. Not for me.”

  “There’s a lot.” Fallon licked his oily fingers. “Sure it wasn’t to attract an ally?”

  “That too.” Shane sighed. “But the feast still wasn’t for me.”

  “Everything is for you. The cats crave an early victor, always have, and from what I’ve seen you’re their best chance in Arena 4.”

  “Not if I starve to death.” Shane returned to rifling through his stuff. “My flatscreen is gone,” he grumbled. “How am I supposed to know what’s safe to eat without my screen?”

  “Oh,” Fallon said on a long drawl.

  Shane lifted his chin. “What?”

  Fallon wiped his greasy fingers on a bunch of leaves. “Your odds were so good in pre-Hunt betting. I thought you’d realize.”

  “Realize what?” Shane asked, irritation growing.

  “Your cat wants you dependent on him.”

  Shane frowned. “Hunt rules forbid any action by a cat that directly and intentionally impedes a player’s ability to compete.”

  “He’ll provide for you and if need be return your screen should your mating fail.” Fallon smirked. “Until then he’s courting you. Remember: they need to lure us to them too.”

  Shane shivered, recalling in embarrassing detail how exquisitely the cat had lured him last night. “I’m here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t have made it through the battery of screening tests if I didn’t grasp that mating a cat is my sole purpose inside the arena,” he said, schooling his features so wardens wouldn’t read the lie on his face.

  “Me too. Sole purpose: kitty bait. Got it.” Fallon winked. “I’m here for a fast track into the diplomatic corps. You?”

  Smothering a grin, Shane gave his brothers a mental fuck you. “Fleeing homicidal relatives.”

  Fallon studied Shane, assessing his injuries up and down. “Volunteering to be tossed to a bunch of horny cats has worked out so much better for you. Safer.”

  “Shut up.” Shane chuckled, for the first time genuinely regretting he’d met Fallon in the arena. Why couldn’t they have bumped into each other afterward? Running from Narone had saved Shane’s life, but he’d also left everyone he’d known behind. He hadn’t even contacted his grandmother once he’d arrived at the screening center for fear his murderous brothers would target her for retribution because she’d helped Shane escape. He needed a friend, but that wasn’t going to happen, not now. The closest thing he could have to that in the arena was… “Ally?”

  “Allies.” Fallon stuffed a last morsel of meat into his mouth. “That bite’s seeping. A little scarring is part of the Hunt, but infection could net you a medical evac—unwanted this early, at least,” he said. “Want antibiotics from my first-aid kit?”

  Shane wasn’t sure if a scar from last night would be a positive sign or a horrible mistake—damn cat, lousy hormones, cursed mating lust—but he definitely didn’t want to get sick. “Sure.”

  When Fallon reached around the campfire to pass the tube of ointment, snarls erupted from the tree canopy directly above them.

  Fallon yanked his hand back, the color draining from his face.

  Stomach jittering, Shane forced a stiff smile. The cat had mated very strongly to him. Shoving down fresh fear and unwelcome anticipation, he slipped the mocs from his backpack and over his feet. “Move out of range while I draw him away,” he told Fallon. “I’ll find you later. Don’t look for me. Unless he wants information, the cat will drive you off.”

  “Later. Got it.” Fallon gulped. “Thanks.”

  “See ya.” Shane hoped.

  Shane anchored the fur on his shoulders and padded into the woods, grateful the cat didn’t pounce right away. Claws scratched tree limbs, and leaves rustled overhead. Rather than ambushing Fallon, the cat followed Shane. Which was good. Shane needed an ally and didn’t stand a chance of gaining one if his cat defended his territory—Shane—too aggressively.

  As Shane walked through the woods, butterflies took flight in his stomach at the idea of finally seeing his cat. In the dark of night he’d only been able to go by feel and by scent. Doped on pheromones and sex, most of what he remembered was how good the cat’s cock had felt dancing inside him. Some Mariket tribes were composed of enormous cats almost twice as tall as Shane, though he was pretty sure h
is cat couldn’t be so large. Anyone that big would’ve torn Shane when they’d fucked. Besides, when the cat had mounted him, blanketing Shane with his body, Shane had felt overpowered and wonderfully helpless, but he hadn’t felt dwarfed. That narrowed the field of possible species. Probably from one of the panther tribes. They were most common on Mariket, but felid tribes weren’t as rare anymore, especially puma who were reportedly solitary hunters that stalked prey most often at dawn and dusk.

  Shane had been taken by a lone hunter soon after dark.

  Could he have lured a puma? Shane trembled as he picked a path over rocky ground, brambles catching on the pelts draping him. His heartbeat skipped. The cat had stalked him all night, hunting and fucking his prey until Shane’s resistance had withered away. Tigers and jaguars lacked the patience of a prolonged chase. Even the largesse of the wardens’ gift made sense. Lone cats were as vulnerable as Shane to species that moved in groups. They both needed allies.

  A puma.

  Had to be a puma. And if his cat was a puma, Shane could count on—

  He turned his head at a quiet chuff, and his breath lodged in his throat.

  He had indeed mated a puma.

  Short golden fur covered lean lines and sleek muscle from the tips of the ears perked on the crown of the cat’s head to the pads of his bare toes. Four toes, though Shane counted five fingers. Those fingers had gripped Shane’s hips, retractable claws scoring Shane’s back and thighs. Those hands had pulled him close and held Shane when he’d surrendered.

  He shivered, tearing his gaze higher.

  Gold fur darkened at the cat’s neck, deepening to a rich russet on his head. Tufts of black hair accented ears that Shane itched to touch. The cat wore only a black cloth twisted around his hips to cover his dick, but even across the miserly distance separating them, Shane spotted the oily smear that proved the cat was in season and primed for sex. Shane’s body responded in kind with instant tingling want.

  Trailing behind him, the cat’s tail—a third the height of his body—jerked from side to side, revealing the cat’s agitation and how dearly resisting the urge to pounce cost. The puma was courting rather than forcing him.

  Maybe Fallon was right about his odds of becoming a victor.

  Gods, Shane hoped not. He tried to read the cat’s expression, to confirm any indication of the puma’s interest beyond another coupling, but the cat’s face was so alien, so foreign to him that Shane couldn’t. Yellow eyes slanted with oblong pupils that sharpened to points. His nose was blunted, whiskers framing a generous, sexy mouth.

  The same mouth that had sucked Shane’s dick.

  Temporary or otherwise, his mate was a puma, and Shane had never seen any creature as exotic or alluring. Most likely the abrupt thickening of Shane’s cock was provoked by muscle memory—during the Hunt, cats trained competitors to submit and that conditioning began early with the very first chase.

  Perhaps the rich musk of the cat’s pheromones called to Shane across the gulf of the forest floor between them. The tang of the cat’s sweat stirred Shane’s blood, and his mouth watered at the rich, lingering perfume of their sex. Even hurting as badly as he was, the desire to drop to all fours and lift his ass in offering rocked him.

  Probably Shane’s lust would’ve swamped him just at the sight of all that agile power sculpted into the gorgeous puma. Competitors registered for the Hunt and endured the lengthy screening process in hopes of experiencing sex with the elusive cats. Most entered arenas for business purposes and for their own selfish reasons as Shane and Fallon both had, but a few wished only to be fucked by the most sinuous and skilled lovers in the explored worlds.

  Why arousal burned through him like fire wasn’t important anymore, though. Nothing was—not Shane’s training, the cat’s mating pheromones, or even the puma’s dangerous beauty.

  What mattered was the instinct demanding Shane belonged to this cat. That compulsion annihilated everything else: Shane’s determination to maintain a careful distance, the hurts shrieking through his body, the stupidity of making the cat’s quest so effortless.

  He needed. And so needing, he surrendered again.

  On unsteady feet, Shane stumbled toward the puma despite the scent that would both drug and inflame him. His stare never wavered from the stony gaze of his mate. The lack of welcome didn’t slow him. Rather it encouraged him to breach the distance between them all the more urgently. He must reach his cat. He must tremble under the cat’s touch, melt at his caress.

  Shane licked his lips.

  He must taste the puma who had mated him.

  He halted when they stood a scant breath apart, when the cat’s lightly furred chest brushed Shane’s nipples with Shane’s every ragged gasp.

  “Precious,” the cat said and leaned forward, angling his head. Shane longed for the cat’s kiss, but instead the cat bent to nip Shane’s chin. “So mine. And so hungry.”

  A fervent moan escaped Shane’s mouth. The cat was in his prime, old enough to have been in other Hunts, and knew better than Shane what his hollow and hurting body required. It was an unfair advantage, but what could he do?

  The cat lifted a palm and threaded his fingers through Shane’s hair to cup his scalp. He tugged, drawing Shane in, and Shane let him. He wanted this, wanted to feel the heat of the cat’s body, the solid weight of muscle against him. When the cat dragged Shane’s face into the crook of his neck, Shane shuddered. “Breathe me in,” the cat whispered.

  Trembling, Shane sucked in air through his nose and groaned at the musky fragrance of last night’s sex still thick on the cat’s fur. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the familiar comfort of the cat’s silken body and that amazing scent. He nestled closer, dick hardening at the responding purr and the hand that dropped to Shane’s sore hip, nudging him squarely into the V of the cat’s thighs. Gods, it felt decadent. Shane rubbed his cheek on the short, satiny hair at the cat’s throat and was rewarded with a chuckle.

  “Stubborn,” the cat said, voice husky with approval. “But affectionate.”

  Shane didn’t have an affectionate cell in his body, but this felt so pure and right. He stroked his cheek against the cat’s fur again, shifting slightly away to part the pelt covering him so he could plaster his naked skin against the warm cat head to toe. “Cruel.” Shane sighed blissfully. “But seductive.”

  Laughing, the cat bent to brush a quick kiss over Shane’s lips, and while Shane blinked in astonished yearning, the cat slung him over one silky shoulder. Air left Shane’s lungs in a whoosh. The cat crouched and then jumped, launching them into the trees. Fighting for oxygen, Shane watched the ground grow distant beneath them, luck more than design securing the pelt around him. Caught under his weight, the fur mostly stayed around him so he wasn’t lashed by twigs and stray branches. He grunted as the cat sprang from limb to limb. Higher, into the canopy. The ground disappeared to a dizzying vague smear of brown between vibrantly green leaves.

  They crossed territory quickly in the upper reaches of the forest. Every jump jarred Shane, but he was a big boy. The cat wouldn’t be easy until he’d separated his new toy from the threat Fallon had represented the moment the other man had tried to touch him, so Shane wouldn’t complain. He didn’t truly relax until the puma dropped lower, though, returning them to the forest floor.

  Back on solid ground, Shane looped his arms around the cat’s neck. He slid to his feet, finding his balance on shaky legs while he relished the luxurious treasure of the cat’s hair between his fingers.

  Still wary, the cat hadn’t taken him to a mating den in the treetops.

  Perfect.

  Exhilarated, a little scared, and a lot turned on, Shane tipped his head back and stared into the cat’s odd, slanted eyes. “Kiss me again.”

  Those eyes darkened.

  A scream shattered the hushed morning birdsong—a human scream that abruptly cut off, followed by the reverberating thunder of a snarl that liquefied Shane’s bones.

  Fallon! Something had
cornered Fallon.

  Not a cat, either. No cat had ever made a noise like that.

  Shane’s cat whipped his head in the direction of that sound. His clawed fingers briefly dug into Shane’s biceps before releasing and pushing him away. “Run.” The cat leaped up and into the trees, racing toward the screams as Fallon’s next shriek pebbled gooseflesh on Shane’s skin. “Run! Then climb. I’ll find you.”

  Pulse rocketing at the crack of splintering wood that signaled battle in the direction of the camp abandoned moments ago, Shane obeyed. He didn’t have claws like the cats or other competitors in the Hunt. He had no weapon or the innate grace to jump from tree to tree. Nor was he familiar with the predators that stalked the untamed woodlands of Mariket, but Shane didn’t need to be told that a human fighting whatever had breached the arena’s security shield was suicide.

  Fallon’s piercing screams spoke eloquently.

  Heeding that wordless warning, Shane sprinted. As far and as fast from the growls as he could.

  Tripping over the bottom edge of the fur pelts, which caught on thorny branches, Shane released the only covering he had. Speed was more important. Wearing only his mocs, he ran until his chest heaved, laboring for oxygen. He paused to look for branches low enough to grab.

  A sleek, heavy weight flattened him to the ground. Rocks and twigs beneath a thin layer of forest detritus gouged into him. His panted breath fled his lungs.

  A cat.

  Every sense in Shane sprang to alert at the scent, similar to the cat who had fucked him, but different.

  Soured.

  Wrong.

  Another cat.

  He lashed out, kicking the cat pinning him. “No!” he shouted, despite the enormous body pressing down to make inflating his chest with oxygen almost impossible. His feet connected with the cat’s legs, but his flailing fists barely skimmed over dense muscle. “No!” he screamed louder.