“
He groaned.
She groaned.
They both groaned as he played with the nipple.
There were no words exchanged between them, nothing but soft pants and moans of pleasure.
And the splash as something hit the water.
Then another something.
The faint echo of a gunshot froze him. Shit. Someone was fucking shooting at them.
“Take a deep breath,” was the only warning he gave before yanking Arabella underwater where they’d prove a more difficult target.
Wide eyes met his under the surface.
Kind of hard to explain. Only his great-uncle Clive had ever inherited the famous Johnson gills. Hayder got great hair. Since he couldn’t explain why it appeared he wanted to drown her, he kicked off.
With her in tow, he scissor-kicked to the deep end of the pool by the waterfall. Having explored this place many a time when working off some energy, he knew the perfect spot to shelter while he figured out where the shooter was.
And then we’ll catch ’em and eat ’em.
It seemed Hayder wasn’t the only one peeved at the interruption. But still…
We don’t eat people.
Such a disappointed kitty.
But catch the hunter and we’ll order the biggest rare steak they have in stock.
With the red sauce stuff?
A double order of the red wine reduction, he promised.
Lungs burning, Hayder dragged them to the surface, behind the filtering screen of water cascading from above. The little hidden grotto made a great hiding spot.
The shooter would have a hard time targeting them, and the water would also slow the bullet and throw off its aim. He knew they were more or less safe for the moment, but she didn’t. Soaked and scentless didn’t mean Hayder couldn’t sense the fear coming off Arabella.
She remained tucked close to him, for once not sneezing. Small blessing because one of her ginoromous achoos might have caused quite the amplified echo.
“Was someone shooting at us?” she whispered in his ear.
Kind of funny since nothing could be heard above the falling splash of water
“Yes. Someone was trying to get us.”
Which meant heads would roll with whoever was on duty for security today.
Exactly how had someone made it on to pride land with a loaded weapon? What kind of cowards hunted shifters with bullets? The kind who thought it was okay to beat a woman.
Grrrr>/I>.
Man, not lion, made the sound.
It was also the man who made sure to tuck Arabella as deep as he could into the pocket, using himself as a body shield just in case the gunman got a lucky shot.
The crashing of water, not to mention the echoes created by the recess, made it impossible to gauge what happened outside their watery grotto.
Did the shooter approach?
Did he know where they’d gone?
Would he stick around long enough for Hayder to hunt him down and slap him silly?
Only one way to find out.
”
”