The Mane Squeeze (Pride #4)

by Shelly Laurenston

“Seems to me you got more of an education in the military. Especially if you saw combat.” She leaned in closer, her studious gaze moving up the strands of hair. She smelled wonderful, especially with that damn honey shampoo she was using. “Did you see combat?” she asked. “I wasn’t in a combat unit.” She turned her head to look at him and her mouth was so close. It took everything in him to not kiss her again, to not slip his tongue in her mouth and lick his way to heaven. “We’re stalkers. We hunt the ones who hunt us.” “You were in the Unit?”

“I’ve got to go,” he said to Gwen again, oblivious to the curses and promises of violent retribution being tossed at him from the floor. “But I want you to know I had an amazing time tonight.” The words were said with such sincerity that Gwen completely forgot about her poor—now special-needs—brother struggling on the floor. She gazed into those big brown eyes that were almost too big for Lock’s human face and too small for his bear one and said, “I had a great time, too.”

Letting out a breath, Gwen buried her face in the couch cushions. She didn’t know how long she stayed there, pressing her face into the fabric, but she didn’t have any intention of moving. That is, until she couldn’t stand the constant moaning anymore. “I’m dying. Help me,” her brother whined. “What?” she demanded, glaring at him over the back of the couch. “What are you whining about now?” “Hospital. Need hospital.” Gwen snorted. “You’re not even bleeding.” “Internal. Bleeding inside. Slowly dying.” She got up and headed to her bedroom. “Such a drama king!” she yelled over her shoulder. “How does Sissy put up with you?”

She kept smiling until he walked out of the room, then she went to her closet and grabbed the high school football jersey Mitch had kept at their mother’s house. Gwen had taken it, because she liked to wear it even though she knew her brother would lose his mind if he found out. She dropped it to the floor, unleashed her front and back claws, and proceeded to rip the living shit out of it! When she was done, she put the shreds in a paper bag and stuck it in the back of her closet. When the time was right, she’d hand it right back to him. Maybe with a bow on it.

“What are these?” Sabina demanded, pointing at the wide arms of the chair. “Cut into the wood.” “Those are Nordic runes,” Lock explained. “Nordic?” Gwen asked. “Oh! You mean like Nazis?” Turning on her, Lock exploded. “Nazis?”