Captured by her Cougar (Cougar Creek Mates Shifter Romance Series Book 2) Read online

  “Only if you don’t sing.” His voice was a low growl, a deep rumble that rattled her with the force of his words as they hit her.

  Gabi shook her head.

  “How can I sing when I don’t know the tune?”

  CHAPTER 2

  Storm wasn’t convinced that his Little Bird didn’t know the tune he wanted her to sing, not one bit. She hadn’t been surprised to hear him mention Archangel, which meant she knew about them, and he had no doubt she was in league with them.

  Like brother, like sister.

  Ivy kept vouching for her, but even Rath wasn’t buying what his mate was selling—that Gabriella was an innocent caught up in all of this.

  If she was innocent, she would tell him everything she knew. She wouldn’t have a reason to keep denying him and refusing to speak.

  “You know the tune, Little Bird.” He turned away from the door, strode to the couch and slumped onto it. “You just don’t want to sing it. I’m a patient man… I can wait until you break.”

  He wasn’t a patient male. Not by a longshot. He was itching to open that door and scare her into speaking, but gods, some part of him couldn’t do it. He could still taste the terror that had gone through her when he had grabbed her and pulled her towards the bedroom, her fear that he had been about to violate her, and it was bitter on his tongue, had him cursing himself for causing it. He had only meant to scare her into speaking by locking her in a dark room.

  Of course, Little Bird had got revenge by using the last shred of his electricity.

  It was going to be a long dark night in there for her.

  Storm kicked his feet up onto the coffee table between the couch and the log burner and slumped further, so he was almost horizontal as he stared at the fire. Tomorrow, he would wheel the solar panels out into the clearing and jack them in. Not for her sake though. His desire to get some juice in the batteries had nothing to do with the petite blonde ball of fury ranting in his right ear about being a prisoner.

  He tried to tune her out, but fuck, she was persistent.

  “I demand to know how Ivy is.” Her tone, so damned regal and oh-so-British, grated on his nerves.

  No one ordered him around.

  So he ignored her, let her rant until she wore herself out and went quiet. He switched the focus of his senses to her, tilted his head to his right as he felt her stillness, and listened. Her breathing was soft, even.

  Little Bird had worn herself out and right to sleep.

  Storm kicked his feet down, tempted to check on her. Two reasons not to sprang to mind. One, she might be trying to trick him into opening the door so she could attempt another escape. Two, he didn’t give a damn whether she was comfortable or not.

  He really didn’t.

  Not only was she human, but she was born of the same woman that the fuck-head Alexander had come from—a woman he was sure was involved in Archangel as much as her husband had been, and therefore had been involved in what had happened to his family and his kin.

  Thirty-six years ago.

  He slid his grey gaze towards the bedroom door.

  Gabriella looked no older than thirty, hadn’t even been born when his parents had been brutally taken from him during the attack by the hunter organisation, but gods, he couldn’t stop himself from laying blame on her shoulders, because he needed someone to aim his anger at, the rage that had been festering inside him for close to four decades now.

  Rage that wouldn’t be satisfied until he hunted down every last human who had been involved in the raid and painted his claws with their blood.

  He tipped his head back into the couch, the leather creaking as it depressed, and sighed as he closed his eyes and tried to relax. His cougar side shifted restlessly beneath his skin, the pain of his memories of that night winding him tight inside, until he felt sure he would snap.

  He shoved to his feet and paced, his strides clipped as he fought to work off some of the energy flooding him, aggression and pain that needed an outlet or it would drive him to shift and hunt.

  He needed a run.

  He hated mountains and forests, and everything that reminded him of his early years, before Archangel. Preferred big cities and fast cars, and even faster women. All the modern conveniences and concrete and glass that made this world feel like a million miles away.

  But the mountains and the forests gave him one thing he loved.

  Space to run.

  He stripped off his t-shirt and lowered his gaze and his hands at the same time, reaching for the button on his jeans. He froze as his eyes landed on the thick scars that ran over his right hip and disappeared into the waist of his jeans, could almost feel them where they trailed down his thigh to the inside of his knee.

  His heart started to pound, a heavy rhythm that rattled his ribs as fear rose to choke him and he saw blood on his bare skin, saw muscle carved open in the line of the scar and bone peeking through in places. His throat closed as he heard Cobalt’s words swimming in his ears, telling him to hold on, and saw his older brother viciously battling to protect him from the humans trying to get to him while he was weak and wounded.

  Pull it together.

  Storm shook off the fear and squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his teeth as he breathed through the pain, fighting to suppress it and break the hold his memories had on him. He wasn’t there now, pissing his pants and fearing for his life like a fucking cub while Cobalt went to war, his older brother’s strength more than a match for the humans while Storm’s had been inadequate because he had been seven years off sexual maturity.

  Movement on his senses had him snapping back to his cabin, on high alert as alarm rang through him, the thought of coming under attack while caught up in his past and vulnerable driving him to react.

  But no one was near him.

  He stared at the wooden door that separated him from the human.

  She shifted on his sharp senses, rolled over and moaned as she settled again.

  He had been a fucking idiot for picking his cabin as her cage, but what choice had he had? The other cabins belonged to males, and some to females, and he didn’t know who was due to return for the gathering that would happen this year, one where eligible males were coming to service the needs of the females of the pride who were in heat.

  Gods, he wouldn’t say no to a slice of that. He needed a good fuck. No strings attached. Just the way he loved it.

  He pushed out thoughts of screwing, because it was just his hormones messing with him, the season rousing the need in him even when he couldn’t participate. His family were responsible for maintaining order during the gathering, and as much as he hated that, wanting to fuck like the next male, he relished it in a way.

  Because he got to do the other thing he loved.

  Fighting.

  Plenty of males lost their heads during the gathering, jacked up on hormones and pushed to the edge by them. Storm was allowed to beat the crap out of them if they kicked off a fight that wasn’t over the right to mate with a female, which meant he got to fight at least once a day. Not gentle warm-up type fights either. He got to really let loose.

  Just as he had when Alexander had landed that damned chopper on their land and tried to fuck with his family.

  Storm slid his gaze back towards the door.

  Towards Gabriella.

  She groaned and moved again, and this time, it sounded more like a whimper. He focused. Her heartrate was off the scale too. Having a nightmare?

  He didn’t give a damn if she was.

  Really didn’t.

  Storm scrubbed a hand over his mouth. Fuck, it had been a mistake to set up his cabin as her cage. Sure, it had been the right thing, because it would keep her safe from the other males coming to the area and it was easier for him to keep an eye on her in his own home.

  But the whole place smelled of her already.

  Her scent was embedded in everything, felt as if it was seared right into his soul.

  Sunshine, sand and surf, with a hint of
something tropical.

  He snagged the red comforter from the couch, brought it to his nose and inhaled, and muttered a ripe curse as it smelled of her.

  And damn, she smelled good.

  Had his instincts as a male firing on all cylinders.

  He growled and hurled it away from him as he stalked to the front door of the cabin, intent on leaving.

  He froze there, his senses immediately locking on her.

  Gabriella.

  What had happened to Rath was her fault.

  That refused to stick and he wanted to growl again, a need to blame her so he could direct some of the anger burning inside him at her twisting him into knots inside. He didn’t feel it though, not when it came to her.

  He thought about Alexander, and sure enough, the blame stuck to him like super glue, had his anger flaring hot in his veins all over again.

  He tried blaming her for what had happened to his parents, and to him, all those decades ago. It refused to stick too.

  “Fuck,” Storm muttered and strode to the small white refrigerator beneath the kitchen counter, one that was rapidly warming now the power was out.

  He yanked it open, grabbed a beer and slammed it shut again.

  He cracked the brown bottle open, chugged the contents so fast he almost choked on them as he glared at the darkening world outside through the window, and didn’t flinch as he tossed the empty in the sink and it smashed.

  Gabriella gasped.

  Her fear shot through him.

  Storm looked at the broken glass in the metal sink, and then over his left shoulder at the bedroom door.

  He huffed as he strode to the main door of the cabin, tugged it open and slammed it behind him. He stepped off the raised covered deck that surrounded three sides of his single-storey cabin, and stormed along the worn path towards the clearing to his right. His fingers curled into fists and then flexed, his anger getting the better of him as he took long strides towards the river, the fading warmth of day washing over his bare chest.

  He breathed hard, each one laboured as the need to burn off some energy returned, had him wound tight and his cougar side agitated, almost to the point of frenzied.

  Two males came out of the thick woods to his right, stepping into the clearing, and he bared fangs at them and growled, hungry for a fight.

  The younger males gave him a wide berth though, so all he could do was pace the stony bank of the river as the sun began to set.

  He wasn’t sure how long he strode back and forth across the grass, his eyes on it as he fought to quell the urge to shift and start a fight.

  When he felt eyes on him, it was darker, but his vision adjusted the second he lifted his head and fixed his gaze on the male approaching him.

  Rath.

  His oldest brother raked fingers through his thick brown hair, his grey eyes guarded.

  “What are you doing pacing the riverbank?” Rath’s deep voice rolled over him, as smooth and calm as the water that raced over the rocks behind Storm.

  He flashed fangs at Rath. “Pacing. What the fuck does it look like I’m doing? You have a problem with me pacing?”

  “I have a problem when it leads to you being aggressive towards others.”

  “Aggressive?” Storm snorted and took a hard step towards his brother, getting in his face. “You haven’t seen me aggressive.”

  “I have.” Rath’s calm tone grated, had Storm wanting to grab him and do something. Rattle him. Shake him until he bit. “I take it things aren’t going well with Gabriella?”

  Storm bared his teeth again at the mention of her name. “Little Bird will sing.”

  Rath arched a dark eyebrow at that, but didn’t pick him up on the nickname he had given her. “Maybe you need to go back to your cabin and cool off.”

  “Maybe you need to get the fuck out of my face?” Storm took another hard step forwards, bringing himself chest to chest with his brother.

  Rath just sighed. “I’m not going to fight you, so quit trying to make it happen.”

  Storm felt like a dick as Rath took a casual step backwards, placing some distance between them. Threatening his brother when he was injured? What the fuck was wrong with him?

  He stared at Rath’s right shoulder, seeing beyond the dark fleece he wore to the wound beneath.

  An injury her brother had given him.

  He growled and looked towards his cabin, seething with a need to return to her and do something to make her talk.

  “She hasn’t said anything at all?” Rath’s measured tone, so calm and even, soothed him and he clawed back some control over his mood, enough that he could progress from merely growling and snapping at his brother to having a conversation.

  “She asked about your condition, and she wants to see Ivy.” Storm didn’t take his eyes off his cabin.

  “Ivy mentioned that Gabriella was the one who secured her initial funding from her brother, and they get along.”

  So Little Bird hadn’t been lying about that then.

  Rath continued, “Maybe it’s a good idea that Ivy speaks with her. I’ll go with her.”

  Storm growled at that, a low vicious one that echoed around the forest and had a few birds flying their roosts.

  Because no damned way he was letting Rath take over things with his Little Bird.

  If she was going to sing for anyone, it was going to be for him.

  He pushed past his brother, his words a dark snarl in the fading light, filled with purpose and determination.

  “I’ll get her talking.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Gabriella shook off sleep, feeling more tired than she had when she had fallen asleep on the bed. She hadn’t meant to doze off, but when she had sat on the mattress, it had been so soft and warm, and the darkness had been strangely comforting. She had dropped off before she had even noticed she was sleepy.

  She pushed up on the bed and stared through bleary eyes at the door and the slim shaft of light that came through the keyhole. It was brighter now.

  Either the man had fixed the electricity problem, or it was daylight.

  She shuffled to the edge of the bed, her grey skirt riding up her thighs, and pushed onto her bare feet. She tugged her skirt back down and warily reached for the handle. When she turned it this time, the door moved and surprise flashed through her. She hadn’t told him anything, but he had unlocked the door anyway.

  Heart in her mouth, she eased it open.

  Her captor stood just feet on the other side of it, a towel slung over his bare shoulder and his sandy hair tousled and wet, a few shades darker than before. His grey eyes darkened as they landed on her, and then he turned away, picked up a pair of black jeans from the back of the brown leather couch and bent over.

  She tried not to look as he slipped his feet into them and she realised he was naked, but her eyes refused to cooperate as he tugged them up and over a seriously delectable ass. He didn’t bother to button them as he moved around the small cabin, scrubbing the towel over his hair, causing it to lighten as he dried it.

  A matching trail of hair started just above his navel and travelled downwards, filled the open V of his jeans and led her eyes in that direction.

  He startled her by buttoning them, and she looked away, but her gaze caught on his right hip and a vicious scar that cut through the muscle that arched over it, distorting it.

  He growled at her, the sound pure cougar, and her eyes leaped to the wooden floor.

  Gabi made a mental note not to stare at the scar if she saw it again, because he didn’t like it.

  He tugged on a black t-shirt, covering himself, and then followed it with a thick black woollen jumper that hugged his broad chest.

  “Ready to sing yet?” His gruff voice filled the tense silence.

  When she didn’t answer, he huffed, jammed his feet into his boots, and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

  Gabi looked at it, through the glass to him where he stood on the deck, speckled sunlight dancing over his sh
oulders and damp hair, and did her best not to recall how magnificent he had looked in nothing.

  He was a pig, and a brute. She had cabin fever or something, was suffering some sort of mental breakdown because of the stress of her situation. That was the only reason she was eyeing him up as if he was a feast and she wanted to devour him.

  Her stomach grumbled.

  Or maybe she was just hungry.

  She forced her eyes away from him and frowned as they landed on a plate on the kitchen counter.

  One filled with a very rustic looking bread roll, butter and jam, and a smattering of fruit.

  For her?

  She drifted towards the kitchen, and sure enough, there was a dirty plate in the sink, together with a glass bowl. She inspected that closer, brushed her fingers over the light dusting of white on the side of it and lifted them, rubbing the residue between them.

  Flour?

  She refused to believe the pig had baked bread.

  It wasn’t possible.

  She looked for him, but he was gone.

  He couldn’t possibly have some refined edges, could he?

  God, even she couldn’t bake. That was probably for lack of trying though. Her school had attempted to teach her how to cook, but what was the point when her family had a chef?

  Gabi snatched the plate and did her best not to scoff down the food but her stomach ached so badly that she needed something in it and it wasn’t as if anyone could see her stuffing her face.

  A woman with blonde hair that looked more natural than Gabi’s own dyed locks wandered past, tossing her a black look in the process, one Gabi doubted was about her eating habits and was all about her relationship to Alexander and the reason for her presence in the cabin.

  She moved to her left, so she could see out of the window. There were more people in the area. She spotted two men she didn’t recognise crossing the narrow slice of green she could see, and there was a black-haired woman too. That woman had been here when she had arrived with Alexander in the helicopter though. Gabi remembered seeing her looking out of the window of a cabin near the river.

  The pig crossed the grass too, heading back towards her, so she quickly finished off her food and hurried to the couch, arranging herself on it in her usual position.