Page 43 of Little Mate
“Make an enemy of one, and you’ve signed a death warrant.”
“Good to know.” Not that I don’t trust him. He and his sister have been by my side for years, always willing to help—make sure my instructions are carried to the letter—since I brought them to live with me. I might be an asshole, but something within the young shifters when I met them resonated with me.
Maybe it was the fact they were alone, that their parents died during an attack of their village.
Maybe it was the fact he asked for nothing more than food and shelter for his sister. Not him. He would’ve been content to sleep outside as long as Marcia was protected.
“Come. Let’s give him time to snap out of it,” Gabriella speaks lowly, her hand reaching for mine, fingers intertwining. “Show me what you want me to see. I’m ready.”
“Ready, or impatient?”
“Now who’s the brat?” At her sassy response, I throw my head back and laugh, a deep, from-the-gut roar that causes her to giggle. It also gives me the opening I need, and when she brings a hand to her face and wipes under her eyes, I toss the little witch over my shoulder.
At first she yelps, caught off guard by the sudden move, but that soon morphs into a more playful side of her.
Her tiny hand smacks my ass.
Not once. Not twice.
Gabriella Moore does not stop until we reach the wide-open space where I have three big cats, and each is a different species: a jaguar, a cougar, and a tiger. Once the gate is closed behind me, I lower her to the ground, making sure that her body rubs against my front, pausing when her pussy presses against my hard cock.
That, I enjoy with a slow punch of my hips, and I’m rewarded by the sounds of her whimper.
My pretty girl.
The cats come close to us from different directions; they’re picking up her scent and wanting to investigate. With my keen eyesight, I see the tiger first who’s crouched down and working his way over. His whiskers twitch and body drags along the high grass. He’s confused between wanting to pounce or run away.
I’m the larger predator.
You don’t bite the hand that feeds.
Turning her around, I place her back to my front while wrapping an arm around her waist. “Do you see him?”
“Which one?”
“Good girl.” She’s aware of her surroundings.
“Do you see—”
“I feel them. There’s three animals nearby, watching us.” A dainty hand points in the direction of the tiger before flicking to the right. “Two are close, but the third I’m having a hard time pinpointing.”
“That’s because you’re looking toward the group. Look up, pretty girl.” Gabby leans her head back against my chest while surveying the trees nearby. For the most part, these big cats don’t interact much, but curiosity—my presence—is pulling them in. My scent is one they know—I’ve raised them as a pastime—and as such come to wrestle and train.
Their bite and claws don’t affect me. Yet, they know better than to test that limit.
“Found it,” she exclaims after a few minutes, having noticed the jaguar up high and looking straight at her. He’s the smartest of the three, more cunning. “Male or female?”
“Male.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“That won’t do.” The tiger moves into striking position, but a sharp whistle makes him stop. They all do. “The heck?”
“You want me to get females for them?”
“Yes, but what was that?”