The Maverick Pride Tales - Chapter 146: Chapter 146

Falcons have amazing sight. Gyrfalcons even better than most other subspecies.
It was simply fact. Some people said falcons’ reactions were so perfect, so on point, it was almost as if the beasts were precognizant.
Not one to brag, but Hank sometimes wondered if he had that gift as well. Especially when he wore his feathers.
Larger than his wild Gyrfalcon cousins when he wore his feathers, Hank was a veritable speed demon. Hunting in his raptor’s skin gave him a high he’d never felt anywhere else.
Pun intended.
It was part of the reason he loved fast cars. He’d tried planes in his youth, but they were simply too constricting. Hank needed to feel the wind when he moved. As a Falcon whose wingspan was over nine feet of pure feathered muscle, he preferred to be the one in charge of his dips and dives when it came to air travel.
Driving gave him the same elusive rush he felt when he was in his Shifter skin. The debate was still on. Fast reflexes or precognition.
If only there was a definitive way to find out. But psychic abilities aside, Hank rarely knew what to expect when going out on a job.
True, he was very discerning when he chose his own assignments, but in this case, there had been no choice.
Clearly, Hank had pissed off Uncle Uzzi. Therefore, he’d invoked that special privilege only he could get away with. In other words, he owed the man so much he would never deny him anything.
So, when he’d given Hank that envelope with instructions to take care of his client, of course, he’d accepted it politely. And when Uzzi left him with the Lioness’ picture and phone number, he’d been ready if unwilling to perform his duty.
Anything to make amends to the man who had done so much for him. Uncle Uzzi was his rock when times were hard. The Witch’s unwavering belief in him helped the young Falcon Shifter get through his rebellious streak with aplomb and dignity. He’d pushed him to do better. To be better. And he’d succeeded.
But even at his best, he could never have foreseen what the Fates, or his wily uncle, had in store for him on this day.
Ffuuck.
Hank’s breath expelled from his lungs with a soft hiss. The woman was beautiful. There was no other word to suit the curvy goddess who stood in the glaring beams of his headlights, like she’d emerged from some ethereal mists for him and him alone.
Long legs, round hips, indented waist, full breasts, and soft, smooth-looking ivory skin. It shone as if she’d been bathed in moonlight, but maybe that was just a trick of the light?
The evening was still overcast and gray, and the headlights on his Phantom came on automatically. Swirling silver mists circled around her, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision.
He refocused, but nope, she was still there. Still gorgeous, and totally, inappropriately tempting. Her rich honey-colored hair was curled over one shoulder, and those eyes.
Fuck, they were beautiful.
They sparkled like golden discs in the low beams of the Rolls Royce, attracting his raptor and human sides with equal interest. Falcons did like shiny things, and Annabeth Golden was shiny. She was that and so much more.
Mine.
No.
Bad bird.
He wrestled with his inner beast, but the thing refused to listen. Fuck. This was impossible. She was not his. The female was a Lioness. Not a Gyrfalcon.
She. Was. Not. His.
This had to be some kind of trick. A test to prove his resolve to keep his promise to his father. Some sort of scrutiny or experiment set into motion by forces greater than himself for what? Hank did not know.
For a guy who held no particular beliefs aside from honor, integrity, and value, that was saying something.
Just a test. A cruel test. But a test nonetheless.
Picturing his purpose and intent in his mind, he pushed back his beast’s primal initiative, which was to seize the lovely creature and make her his. It was difficult, but he had to fight his urges.
No, he issued the command, tethering his raptor to his will.
Hank had made a vow. A sacred promise to his parents to carry on their line after they’d fallen ill, succumbing to a rare disease that only affected Shifters who were also birds of prey.
He was going to mate a Gyrfalcon and have hatchlings. That was his pledge. And yet, for one single moment, in the silence that came with the twilight, Hank stood there, frozen in the headlights staring at the gorgeous female, and his resolve wavered.
Fuck.
It did more than that. It experienced earthquake-sized tremors. His chest was heaving, and still, he could not get any air into his lungs. The way those amber eyes had glowed as she blinked up at him stirred something deep inside of his soul. He’d never expected to feel this way.
It was more than lust, more than need. It was an enthusiastic, marrow deep yearning for the beautiful creature. Hank tried to still his erratic heartbeat. Tried to hide the long, hard evidence of his arousal which stood up, much as his Falcon perched in his mind at the first sight of the gorgeous female.
The Lioness stirred every single one of his deepest, most secret, hidden longings. Threatened to bring them to the surface with a mere smile or bat of her ridiculously long eyelashes.
She could be his undoing, he realized suddenly. But for some reason, that did not scare him. Quite the opposite. He was intrigued. Curious even. But that was an emotion best left to cats.
Hank was a Falcon. Hunter. Predator. Lethal. Extremely fast. And deadly. Very, very deadly. But birds and cats did not get along, did they?
Mate, his mammoth-sized bird screeched inside of his mind’s eye.
Hank cleared his throat, uncertain of how to proceed. He knew she was not a bird of prey. Understood she was a she-Cat. Furry and gold, with sharp claws and teeth, though not as sharp as his talons and beak, he’d wager.
Let’s find out, his animal pressed.
We could fly and run together. Through a field or in the city. I could watch her from the skies. See her cut through the meadows like a streak of gold in all her glory.
No! Shut up. She is not ours. We want feathers, not fur.
Hank insisted, trying to keep his inner animal restrained to more sane, safer thoughts than these. But who was he kidding? The woman was perfect.
Mine.
No.
Yes.
No, birdbrain. Think feathers, not fur.
Don’t want another flighty female. Want her.
She is not ours.
She is.
No, he admonished quickly. But Hank sounded unsure even to himself.
Kak-kak-kak! His Gyrfalcon screeched angrily.
We don’t have to worry about this now. We can discuss it later. Much later, he crooned to the bird, trying to soothe the furious fowl.
Of course, the hardness in his pants was pretty damn adamant the woman was something to him. It was bound to throw the whole mate possibility into question. Then it happened.
Literally.
The vexed female launched herself at him. And true to form, with no more than a grunt of surprise—he was a man, not a mouse after all—Hank caught the tasty little tidbit.
Thank the gods for his super-fast reflexes.
He’d barely had time to react verbally when she flung herself at him. Afterwards, his brain could only register that the enthusiastic bundle was warm and soft. Very soft. His grip was firmly secure to the glorious globes of her ass through the silky shorts she wore, and his dick grew even harder.
Holy fuck.
She felt good in his arms. Warm, soft, womanly, and so damn perfect. Her core practically singed his abdomen. Yes, she felt good there.
Purrfect, he thought and squeezed her ass involuntarily.
Soooooo good.
He dipped his head and took a deep breath against her neck. Her pulse was racing, and it was all he could do not to nip her flesh with his teeth. He should release her. Like now. But his stubborn inner bird was not ready to let her go.
Not yet. Maybe not ever. The lovely Lioness purred up against his chest. The feline female was also doing some sniffing of her own. That sexy rumble had his length longing to be freed and buried to the hilt between the thighs currently encircling his waist.
Sweet heaven, she was all curves and long limbs. He knew this because her fantastic body was currently wrapped around him. She clung to his solid form with all the tenacity of a giant boa constrictor. The kind he liked to eat when in his feathers.
Want to eat her, his raptor hissed unhelpfully.
Shhh!
Hank growled at his inner fowl. He needed to get a grip.
We have one. And it feels fantastic, the horny bird retorted, and again, Hank found himself suddenly squeezing her rounded bottom, grinding her against his cock.
“Stop,” he growled.
He could hardly think with her warmth and scent surrounding him. The Lioness gave a deep sigh, nuzzling his neck with soft lips and warm breath in her exuberance. Any lesser man would’ve keeled over, not from her weight, slight as she was, but from her sheer strength.
But not him. Hank could more than handle her. The thought filled him with smug pride. He was no slouch. He was a predator, just as fierce and powerful as any Cat. He had everything this sexy little kitten needed.
Kak kak kak!
The closer she snuggled, the higher up her loose-fitting shorts rode. Her thighs were thick and smooth, and he realized with a groan his hands had worked their way beneath the silky fabric. Hank was now cupping her silky smooth, and uncovered skin, of her perfect ass.
Fuck.
If Hank could feel all that delicious flesh, that meant others could see it.
Grrr. Fuck no, his raptor screeched angrily.
He allowed her to slide down his body, ignoring the confused look on her face as he straightened her shorts. With firm hands on her deliciously dipped in waist, Hank put the female away from him.
“What are you doing? Should we go upstairs? I mean, I have to go to the convention, but we can do this, um, first—” she said breathlessly, her cheeks taking on a delightful pink tone as she spoke.
Fuck, she was cute. Adorable. And maybe more bashful than her exuberance said.
“I am sorry, but there seems to be some confusion.”
“There’s no confusion,” she said disarmingly. “You said it already on the phone, lover. I’m yours. And you, you’re my mate.”
Her smile was bright, infectious, and totally sexy. What he wouldn’t give to see those plump lips wrapped around his cock, cheeks hallowed in from taking his incredible girth and length from root to tip. Could she take all of him? Fuck, he hoped so.
Shit. Fuck.
He really had to stop all the pornographic images racing through his brain. Driving with a hard on was zero fucking fun. As it was, this trip was going to be downright uncomfortable.
“I am not your mate,” Hank said firmly, trying to ignore the sudden pang that seized his heart when her lips dipped into a frown.
She should be smiling. Always. Someone should make sure she was happy and protected, safe and cherished. Some very lucky fucker should make certain every single inch of her was loved and properly worshipped.
But not him. Nope. That wasn’t his job. He told himself that repeatedly, though unconvincingly.
Maybe if I say it to myself enough times, I’ll believe it.
Fucking hell.
That’s what this trip was going to be. Absolute and utter hell. He shook his head.
“I think if you just wait a second, you will recognize what we are to each other,” she tried again, ever hopeful.
Mine, growled his beast once more.
There went Hank’s hope that all of this was just a big misunderstanding. Both his Gyrfalcon and the lovely Lioness claimed they were mates.
Shit.
This mess had his uncle’s signature all over it. Uncle Uzzi had bamboozled him. But this time he’d gone too far. His machinations got this sweet creature involved. She was still waiting on him to tell her it was a joke or something, but the words got caught in his throat.
Remember your vow.
His father’s moue of distaste flashed in his brain. The man had worn that expression almost constantly in Hank’s presence. Whenever he brought a friend home from school. When he’d told his dad about his love for cars. Whenever he’d talked about anything he liked.
Shit.
This would be another way of disappointing the old man, and he made a promise. What kind of man would he be if he did not keep his word?
Liar. Loser.
Every fiber of Hank’s being was screaming at him to claim the luscious tidbit, but he would not give into his baser instincts. He couldn’t.
“We are not mates.”
“We are.”
“Not,” he insisted, realizing he sounded positively infantile.
The Lioness narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, causing her fabulous breasts to push against the constrictive fabric of her blouse.
Should help her out of that, his randy raptor suggested.
Tight bras and shirts are rather uncomfortable, he agreed.
Perhaps both should be removed? Then he could caress and kiss the marvelous swells and see if anything else needed his attention.
No! Bad. Not ours.
Yesssssss.
“I am sorry, Miss Golden. There has been a mistake, you see, I’m engaged.”
“You have a fiancée?”
“No,” he said and ran a hand over his neck and tried to steady his breathing.
Of course, that only meant he got another whiff of her sweet strawberry scent, and fuck, it nearly brought him to his knees. She smelled like fur and candy and arousal and Hank was going to come in his pants if he kept breathing her in.
“I am engaged to be engaged,” he told her in a rush. “That is, I have an appointment with the North American Tower to find my mate. That’s like a Pride, but for Birds of Prey⁠—”
“Don’t talk down to me,” she snapped, and he had to admit her spunk kind of turned him on. “I happen to be the regional manager for Eat Well Live Proud, and I conduct business with the Tower regularly.”
“My apologies,” he said, biting back his grin.
“I’ll have you know that EWLP provides top quality meat and fish for the Tower’s annual shin dig. That’s where you’re going, I take it, and why you are driving me to the food con? Both are in South Jersey this year. Makes sense,” she replied and expelled a harsh breath.
Hank nodded. That was one reason he’d agreed. Of course, he could call someone else to replace him as her driver. In fact, he probably should. Carter for instance.
Grrrrr.
His raptor was not having that. His Gyrfalcon was all kinds of pissed with him for denying them the feel of her in his arms. Damn, she was beautiful. But she was more than that too.
Annabeth Golden was full of surprises. Regional manager, huh? So, she was a hottie, quick with a smile, but also smart and feisty. All things he admired. But it didn’t matter. They were not mates.
Keep telling yourself that, pal.
His raptor cried aloud inside the metaphysical plane where he rested and waited for Hank to call him. The powerful sound had him wincing, but he needed to stay focused.
“The point is this here,” he said and gestured between them, “is a misunderstanding. I am all set to meet up with NAT’s matchmaking department to find a suitable Gyrfalconess to ensure the propagation of our almost-endangered species. Surely, you can understand why we simply cannot happen.”
“I see,” Annabeth replied and narrowed her brilliant golden eyes at him.
For a moment, Hank wondered if she would cry. Fucking hell. He hated it when females cried. How could he soothe her and not touch her? And if he touched her, then it would all be over. Not that he would admit that out loud.
He waited a beat and watched a myriad of expressions flit across her face. Finally, determination won out, spreading across her features as she turned towards him. Damn, if he wasn’t disappointed at being denied the chance to hold her once more.
“I understand,” she said in a calm, professional voice.
“You do?”
“I said so, didn’t I? Look, it’s no problem. Let’s get going. I would like to make it to the hotel early,” she said.
“Are you sure you don’t want another driver?” he offered.
Hank stood frozen, waiting for her to reply and his Gyrfalcon had a hissy fit at the thought. Too bad, he was not a monster. Hank had to give her the chance to get away from him after what was surely a terrible blow. Rejection hurt even if she was too proud to admit it.
Arrogant much? Maybe.
But he couldn’t say his decision to mate a Gyrfalconess wasn’t hurting him at this point either. His stomach lurched, chest tightened, and he couldn’t swallow.
Fuck.