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  Cat Tales 2: Eye of the Tiger

  Stormy Sommers

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  Copyright ©2007 Stormy Sommers

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  ISBN: 978-1-59596-787-9

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  Changeling Press LLC

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  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Chrissie Henderson

  Cover Artist: Karen Fox

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Cat Tales 2: Eye of the Tiger

  Stormy Sommers

  Captain Andrew Hunt, leader of the Recon team sent to explore Terrana III, is skeptical of Zheri’s claims that the planet is already inhabited -- that is, until he’s taken captive by a massive, shapeshifting tiger. Rav An’Shar, following the orders of the tiger goddess Sharra, brings Andrew to his all-male pack on the night of An’Sharrat -- the night of mating.

  Drawn to the powerful, feral Rav, Andrew cannot resist the lure of the massive An’Shar -- or the supernatural magnetism of Sharra when she appears to share the pack’s orgy. But where will Captain Hunt’s loyalties lie when the erotic night is over?

  Chapter One

  “I’ve got better things to do than hike in circles all day, doctor.” Captain Hunt’s voice carried back to Zheri as they entered a belt of short, stunted trees. He glanced at her, his icy-blue eyes piercing even in the moderate shade they provided. “I sure hope you know where we’re going.”

  The irony of his complaint was almost enough to make Zheri laugh -- it was the captain, after all, who’d pushed his way ahead of her almost as soon as they’d left the base camp. He’d stalked through the high, rustling grasses of the wide savanna as if he already owned the whole damn planet, only occasionally looking back with that same cool, annoyed expression, waiting for her to indicate what direction they should take.

  The truth was, she didn’t really know. Tal’s instructions had been maddeningly vague.

  Take him out into the grasslands.

  Great, she’d answered. How far? A mile? Two? Ten?

  You’ll know when you get there. When you see the devi, you’ll find the An’Shar.

  She’d been dubious. The image she’d picked up from Tal’s mind was of a truly ferocious creature -- larger than the extinct Earth tigers it resembled. Won’t they simply kill him? Can he talk to them?

  No and yes. No, they won’t kill him -- at least I don’t think so. And yes, he’ll be able to talk to them. Unlike the An’Rath, the An’Shar live in tribes. They don’t need to be life-mates to mind-speak with each other. But it must be tonight, he’d added, his amber eyes strangely intense as he’d glanced past her at Cen.

  Why? Why does it have to be tonight?

  Because tonight both moons are at the full. He’d grinned, and Cen had chuckled behind her as if the humor in the situation was just too rich.

  There’s nothing funny about this. How is taking Captain Hunt to the An’Shar going to help anything, anyway? Zheri had demanded. Despite the mind-bond she shared with her two An’Rath lovers, she hadn’t been able to penetrate Tal’s thoughts -- and had been left feeling like the only one in the room who didn’t get the joke.

  Just do it, Zheri, Tal had reassured her. Trust me. From what I can see of him in your mind, I think your Captain Hunt might like the An’Shar.

  Zheri had snorted, thinking the more immediate question was whether the An’Shar would like Captain Hunt. And she wasn’t at all convinced that the tall, grim-faced captain truly liked anybody.

  Typical alpha male hard-ass, she thought grumpily to herself, watching the swing of his broad, powerful shoulders as he moved deeper into the thicket of trees. He’d stripped off his khaki shirt some miles earlier, letting the sun beat on his smooth, amber skin as if he knew damn well exactly how impressive his physique was.

  Zheri had glared resentfully at his broad, muscled back for the last three hours. Personally, she didn’t really want him -- or anyone else in the landing crew -- to know about the massive shapeshifting cats which populated Terrana III. If she could, she’d have packed them all back into the Recon ship and sent them on their way back to Earth not one jot the wiser. She’d never been much of a history student, but it didn’t take more than a cursory glance at humankind’s past to know what invariably became of the natives when the conquistadors came to call. And that’s us, she thought.

  She stopped to push her sweaty hair out of her face. The heat on the savanna was like an oven, the blazing afternoon sun baking down on mile after mile of empty, rolling grasslands with only a few meager bands of gnarled trees here and there to break up the monotony. She clung to the trunk of the one she was currently under, grateful for the thin shade it provided, and unscrewed the lid of her canteen.

  It was, she had to admit, a beautiful planet. It was exactly what they’d been sent to find -- a rich, fertile world with a healthy, highly developed ecology, amply capable of supporting human life.

  There was only one tiny problem -- it was already inhabited.

  None of the Recon team had known that when they’d landed, three days before. It wasn’t until Zheri, the team’s astrozoologist, had started making a survey of the nearby jungle fauna that she’d discovered the two shapeshifting panthers who had become her lovers. Her life-mates.

  Even now, she smiled at the memory.

  The large black jungle cats were reclusive by nature, spread thinly throughout the planet’s rainforests, all part of one clan but spending their lives in their separate triannas -- two male panthers, one female -- which made up the basic family unit of the An’Rath. Only Tal and Cen’s trianna partner had turned out, amazingly enough, to be her.

  Looking ahead at the unyielding line of Captain Hunt’s back, Zheri knew she would do anything to keep them safe. She would fight if she had to. She would even kill, if necessary.

  She wasn’t convinced the savage creature she’d seen in Tal’s mind wouldn’t simply rip them to pieces the moment they were spotted. That would certainly paralyze the Recon team -- and would likely devastate Jory Steiner, she thought with a grin, remembering the way the young nav tech’s gaze followed the tall, handsome captain wherever he went. But Captain Hunt had already transmitted the preliminary landing report, which meant it was far too late for something as simple as his death to keep the CEC from knowing there was a perfectly habitable, pristine planet awaiting some of the billions of humans trapped on a dying, poison-ridden Earth.

  If we ruin Terrana III the way we have Earth…

  Firmly, she pushed her thought aside. It wouldn’t come to that. She wouldn’t let it. Whatever it took to keep Terrana III safe, she’d do it.

  In the hours they’d been hiking, she hadn’t spotted a single devi, the graceful, gazelle-like beasts which roved the open savanna in herds. In fact, she hadn’t seen any animals at all. The entire plain was wrapped in a mid-afternoon somnolence in which only the buzzing of insects gave any indication of life. She was panting, reluctant to leave the meager shelter of the stunted trees -- while Captain Hunt, da
mn him, looked as fresh and poised as if they were merely out for a stroll.

  He looked more than poised, she realized, studying him. He looked downright eager, his back tense as he stared through the tangled branches.

  Curious, she moved up beside him. Ahead, the ground dropped into one of the many shallow declivities dotting the grasslands -- a sort of miniature valley, ringed all about by low, grass-covered slopes. And in that broad, open space she saw, not one, not a dozen, but hundreds of the graceful devi, all cropping peacefully at the grass. Their languorous motions made her think of tides, ebbing and flowing this way and that as they grazed their way slowly across the savanna.

  “I take it back,” Captain Hunt murmured. “This was worth the hike.”

  Zheri couldn’t help but agree. They were beautiful, with long, slender legs and gloriously curved horns. Their hides were faintly striped in bands of russet and tawny gold, and their narrow, triangular heads were almost delicate in appearance. She breathed a long, silent “Oh!” of appreciation, forgetting everything for a moment -- the heat, her fear for her life-mates, the still-unseen An’Shar.

  “Stay here,” the captain whispered, his keen blue eyes fixed on the beautiful, peaceful creatures. He sank to a crouch and started out onto the plain. Zheri watched him nervously. Sure, she wanted a closer look at them too, but…

  They belong to the An’Shar.

  Tal’s words rang again in her mind. “Captain,” she whispered, as loudly as she dared. “Captain, I don’t think that’s a good --”

  With a sharp wave, he cut her off, not even so much as looking around at her as he resumed working his way closer to one of the devi.

  Then she saw him reach for his gun.

  The grasses rustled, tossed by a hot breeze, and Andrew Hunt paused, praying it wouldn’t veer and carry his scent to the velvety nostrils of the beast ahead.

  First law of ecology, Captain. Where there’s an abundance of anything, there’s something there to eat it.

  He grinned, remembering Zheri’s words. The good doctor had been right -- at least about that. He still didn’t put much stock in the vague cock-and-bull story she’d fed him about some native inhabitants. There hadn’t been the least sign of an intelligent population on Terrana III. If there had been, surely they’d have come to investigate the ship’s landing?

  But the grass-eaters were most decidedly real. Andrew felt saliva pool in his mouth as he watched the gold-striped beast ahead of him stomp a lazy hoof, shaking off the flies hovering above it. He was sick to the eyeteeth of the reconstituted proteins and stringy beef substitutes which were standard Earth fare, much less the powdered, freeze-dried, utterly tasteless ship’s rations.

  There was something about this planet, by God; something which made a man feel alive. Alive in a way he’d only dreamed of as a boy. It was as if the restlessness which had driven him into the service, and then into space, had finally found its culmination here -- as if Terrana III had been his destination all along.

  There was something almost sensual about the whole process of stalking, too, he was discovering. The way you sank low into the grasses, feeling them brush against your skin, moving cautiously closer to your quarry, every nerve in your body alert, thrumming with controlled excitement as the tension mounted and mounted…

  It was like foreplay, he thought, the whole slow, exploratory act of seduction -- drawing closer, waiting to see if your partner retreated, pausing, approaching, readying yourself for the penultimate act…

  Ahead of him, the beast tensed, raising its head sharply. Andrew froze. Silently, he slid one hand to the holster of his gun, thumbing off the safety strap with no more than the faintest snick. He drew it smoothly, his gaze fixed on the creature’s wide, apprehensive eyes. Moving as gracefully as a cat, he raised the weapon, aimed…

  “Captain! Captain, no!”

  He had half a heartbeat to experience the black fury roiling through him as the animal bounded away, scared off by Zheri’s shout -- then his rage was buried under the shock of seeing something hurtling toward him from his left, something huge and snarling. Springing with its claws extended, it flew at him as he fought to bring the gun around, and crashed into him like a freight train.

  The gun went flying, and Andrew was thrown backward, sparks exploding behind his eyeballs as his head connected heavily with the ground, and the beast landed on top of him. Dazed, he caught no more than a blurred flash of fangs and striped fur before Zheri screamed, and the creature roared above him. The weight pinning him to the ground suddenly disappeared, and Andrew rolled as he heard Zheri scream again. His head rang like a gong and black spots danced before his eyes, but he scrabbled frantically for his dropped gun as the beast raced toward the trees.

  Shit! His fingers encountered nothing, not even a rock to throw. Cursing, he tottered to his feet, knowing trying to stop the tiger was useless, but determined to try.

  But the massive striped beast checked at the trees, ramping back and forth before them, snarling murderously. Between the branches, Captain Hunt could see Zheri’s ashen face, and he shook his head, ignoring the lancing pain which shot through it as he shouted, “Go! Zheri, go!”

  Through the blackness hazing his sight, he saw Zheri back off, disappearing deeper into the trees. He sighed with relief even though his knees buckled under him, and slumped bonelessly to the ground. The cat-thing turned back toward him, a growl rumbling deep in its massive chest.

  At least she’s safe, he told himself as the tiger-like animal padded back toward him, its head slung low, its golden eyes narrowed.

  What are you?

  The words beat in his skull. He groaned, hardly able to move. His limbs didn’t seem to want to obey him. Concussion, he thought distantly. Must be a --

  Then his eyes widened as the beast seemed to ripple, its outline shifting like a sandcastle under the onslaught of a wave. A second later, the tiger was gone and a man, his stance coiled and deadly, stood in his place.

  What the fuck?

  Andrew gaped -- then he saw the glint of sun on metal. There. Off to his left. With a last, Herculean effort, he flung himself toward it, but the inexplicable stranger reached it first, scooping his gun up and thrusting it nearly in his face.

  What are you? that hard, insistent voice demanded. A strong hand clamped on his shoulder, digging painfully into the rolling muscle. What is this?

  His head whirled. Spots danced before his eyes. “Gun,” he croaked.

  What does it do?

  The man’s eyes were like molten gold, burning into his. Andrew tried to twist away, but agony tore along his nerves like wildfire, and his stomach heaved. Ah, fuck it. Glowering up at his captor, he gritted, “It kills.”

  A cold silence. Then that strange, disembodied voice again, harsh with fury. No one may hunt the devi without permission.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly see anyone around to ask,” Andrew replied caustically, knowing even before he said them that he’d regret his words.

  Sure enough, he saw a quick flicker of rage in those alien eyes, and white agony burst inside his skull as the man brought the butt of his gun down sharply, clipping the back of his head.

  Chapter Two

  At first, he was aware of nothing but the god-awful ache in his skull. It reminded him vaguely of a hangover he’d had once, the product of a pointless three-day bender. His gut churned, and he swallowed convulsively in a throat which ached with thirst. Yup. Definitely concussion. Fan-fucking-tastic. If the fall hadn’t done it, the blow to his head surely had.

  But why did his wrists ache? And the nausea wasn’t just concussion, he realized -- it was movement. He opened his eyes, and shut them quickly as the earth tilted and the sky heaved like the deck of a storm-tossed ship above him.

  What the fuck?

  More cautiously, he opened his eyes again, and understood the burning agony in his hands. He was suspended upside down, his wrists and knees lashed to a pole. His body swayed slightly as he was carried, trussed li
ke an animal, by two men whose bronzed shoulders looked as broad as a bull’s.

  Jesus Christ.

  The good doctor was right again, it seemed. He’d been skeptical when Zheri had shown back up at the base camp that morning, babbling incomprehensibly about the planet being inhabited. By what? Sentient tree-sloths? he’d thought sarcastically, both amused and annoyed by the fact that she couldn’t -- or wouldn’t -- provide any tangible details.

  Now it looked suspiciously like he was going to get a real close look at the sloth-men. Possibly from inside their bellies.

  Except they weren’t sloth-men. Hard as he tried, Captain Hunt couldn’t erase the memory of the Terrana tiger lunging toward him, all teeth and claws and primal fury. Lunging, and then changing into a man. He’d seen it. Cracked skull or no, he’d seen it.

  Slitting his eyes, he gazed upward, studying the man above him. It wasn’t the same one who’d confronted him earlier, he realized -- this man’s build was shorter, stockier. He could see the taut, rippling muscle of abs, the swell of the man’s powerful pecs, a hard, chiseled jaw above the column of his neck. His captor glanced down, and Andrew found himself staring into eyes which were the same, impossible amber.

  Holy shit. Toto, we definitely ain’t in Kansas anymore.

  The fact that Kansas as such had long since ceased to exist was utterly irrelevant.

  Closing his eyes again, Andrew fought the whirling in his head, forcing down his nausea mainly by strength of will. The god-awful heat had receded a bit, that was something -- the sky above those enormous bronzed shoulders had been washed with tangerine and lavender. It must be nearing sunset. How long had he been out?

  Long enough, he thought mordantly. Long enough to be trussed up like a pig for the slaughter.

  Cautiously, he pulled against the thongs holding him. Some kind of leather -- pulling was no good. His bodyweight had already dragged the knots cruelly tight. And how many of them were there? They made almost no noise in walking, only the rustle of the tall grass swaying as they passed, but Andrew had the sense there were a number of them, both ahead and behind. Four? Five? Were they all as big as the two that carried him?