When He's Ruthless (The Olympus Pride 4)

Her female pushed against Blair’s skin with an excited yip. The animal had spent lots of time here over the past six years, running and wrestling with Luke’s feline. She liked the space a lot and, knowing it was now her territory, she wanted to mark it as hers.

“Don’t shift yet,” said Luke.

Blair felt her brows dip. “Why not?”

“My cat wants to rub himself all over you—he’s not going to settle until he does,” said Luke, whipping off his tee. “I want a little time with your female, so I’m going to shift back once you let her out. Then I’ll give my cat supremacy and they can play together after that.”

More interested in the sleek skin and hard muscle he was revealing than what he was saying, Blair only nodded, drinking in the sight of him as he continued to strip. He was just so damn gorgeous and sexy and lickable. And all hers.

He shifted shape, morphing into a furry creature that, like all his kind, was downright adorable even with his splash of weird. The pupils of his large amber eyes were round rather than vertical. Taller than full-blooded pallas cats—more commonly called Pallas’ cats by humans—his body looked less stocky regardless of all that excessively long, thick gray fur. Nonetheless, there was no escaping that he resembled an overfilled plush toy.

She sat back on her haunches. “I’ve missed you.”

He came toward her, looking as fluid and graceful as any feline despite his generous coat. Having a somewhat cranky disposition, he wasn’t always in the mood to be petted. That clearly wasn’t the case today, because he leapt onto her lap.

“Well, hello.” She sank her fingers into his rich, soft fur, admiring the dark snow-leopard-like spots on his forehead and the little black lines across his cheeks that made her think of war paint stripes. “Such a pretty kitty.”

He bared a fang even as he rubbed against her chest to mark her with his scent. He might not understand the words, but he wouldn’t like the tone in which she’d delivered them.

“Sorry.” Knowing his weak spot, she scratched at the creamy white patch of fur on his chin that could also be seen on his throat and inner ears.

His eyes falling half-closed, he purred, all but melting against her.

Blair’s female yipped impatiently, wanting to surface and tussle with her mate. Soon, Blair promised as she continued to pet and scratch. His small tufty ears pricked up as she whispered compliments to him that Luke no doubt translated.

Finally, the cat climbed off her lap and stretched, gently batting her with his bushy black-tipped tail that was marked by dark rings. Bones then once more snapped and popped, and soon a very naked Luke was squatted in front of her.

He pressed a kiss to her mouth. “If my cat wasn’t so determined to have time with your animal, he’d have fallen asleep right there on your lap.”

“He was in a very snuggly mood.”

“Only because you were the one petting him. He takes a swipe at everyone else.” Luke’s cock stirred as she began to strip. There was nothing seductive about how she quickly and efficiently took off her clothes, but there was no way for him to remain unaffected by the vision of his mate naked.

She shifted impressively fast, and her female shook her reddish-brown fur as if to settle it. Eerily black eyes studied him for a long moment. She let out a low-pitched bark that was all demand.

“All right, all right,” he said, stroking a hand over her short fur.

She leaned against his thigh, going pliant with pleasure as he petted her. Unlike his cat, the female liked being stroked. She simply didn’t tolerate it from many people.

She was a cute little thing. Like Blair herself, she looked the opposite of fierce and dangerous. Everything about the bush dog was small—her ears, her legs, her tail, her webbed feet. Even her teeth and claws were short, though they were also razor sharp. A small nip or shallow scratch could bring tears to your eyes.

She flopped onto her back, hinting for a belly rub.

He snorted. “Do I look slow to you?”

She wrinkled her little black nose and barked.

“No, I’m not doing it. I like my fingers where they are.”

She let out another bark.

“No, I’m not falling for your little trick again.” The female was honestly a handful. In terms of behavior, bush dogs were like toddlers. They were mischievous, defiant, curious, playful, failed to think before they acted, and tried to eat anything they could put in their mouths—including poisonous snakes—yet they somehow lived to tell the tale.

Weirdly, they often did handstands and could even run backwards. Normal they were not. And there was really no “managing” them. But they were happy for you to try, because then they could play with your sanity by being a pain in your ass.