The Maverick Pride Tales - Chapter 78: Chapter 78

A relic of times long gone and forgotten. Times, that for the sake of the Sharp Claw Pride, should have been remembered. Sadly, their Pride Keeper had died before Kylie had even been born. With him went the legacies of their violent and gory past.
Born of the Sharp Claw Pride House’s bloody line, it was a wonder she was alive today and not legally insane. Vicious killings, miscarriages of justice, and brutality were what made up her lineage.
For fuck’s sake, her own mother had tried to have her killed. Leaving had been a necessity. There was nothing else she could have done.
Sometimes, blood was just blood, and bad blood was best left behind.
Kylie sometimes recalled the males and females of the Pride, who had been kind to her as a cub. Some were good Shifters, but they were still stuck under her mother’s rule.
Her heart hurt for them, and she prayed to the gods that they were okay more often than not. Kylie’s worst fear, though, was that she would end up like her mother, in some small and hateful way.
She worried that she was somehow broken or malfunctioning as a woman, as a she-Tiger. Of course, she’d only ever admit that to herself.
As it was, she didn’t tell anyone about the circumstances that had led to her leaving home, except for Hunter Maverick. As her new Neta, he had the right to know who and what he was inviting into his home.
It was not something she wanted to discuss with anyone else.
Like not ever.
The big bald man had simply looked at her with those piercing teal eyes of his. After a minute had passed—and Kylie had thought for sure that he had been about to kick her ass to the curb—he’d opened his lips and asked her one question.
“Do you wish to become part of our Pride? I ask you completely without pressure or expectation. You have leave to remain here as long as you want, under our protection either way,” he’d stated.
“Yes, Neta. I would like to become one of the Pride,” she’d responded, feeling like she belonged there for some unknown reason.
“Then, I welcome you, Kylie McNaughton, to the Maverick Pride. You are ours to protect, and you will guard in turn. We are not like your old Pride. I promise you that. Maverick Point is your home now and will remain a safe harbor for you always.”
“Thank you, Neta.”
It was only after he’d taken her forearm in his hand and pressed his head to hers that she’d felt the Pride bonds surround her in a way she had not experienced since the passing of her father.
Kylie missed the old man so much. He’d been kind and gentle. A loving man and nurturer, where her mother had lacked all maternal instinct.
She’d killed him before Kylie had her tenth birthday. Afterwards, she had known nothing but fear while she had lived under her mother’s roof. The woman who’d birthed her seemed to hate Kylie right from the start.
She’d punished her often as a child, and once she’d had her first shift, the real cruelty had begun. Often in the form of sneak attacks and brutal displays of strength waged against her by stronger males.
All of it done for the sole enjoyment of the cruel and hateful ruler of the small Southern Pride.
Her mother. The Sharp Claw Pride Nari.
Vicious and crazed, the she-Tiger was feared by everyone in her Pride. After having killed her latest mate—one of Kylie’s several stepfathers, in hand to hand combat—Corinne Connelly had tried to do the same thing to her own daughter.
That was the darkest secret of her past. Shivers ran down Kylie’s spine, and she ran her hand over the slight scar she still bore behind her left ear. A perpetual reminder of where she had come from. A story that had been told to Hunter and no other person in the Maverick Pride.
Especially not him.
Her inner Tiger chuffed as thoughts of the Pride Healer filled her mind. He was the only male who had ever made her truly hurt for wanting.
Michael Turner had dark hair and eyes, like molten chocolate and he was just as seductive as her favorite treat. Everyone called him Mikey, but for some reason, she didn’t like using his nickname. It made him seem flippant and youthful, bound to error, which he was not.
From what she knew of the doctor, he was well-educated and had a great love for his Pride. That sense of loyalty and honor that was innate in him attracted her every bit as much as his heavily muscled, bronze-skinned body and that Adonis face of his. Both lifted him to the level of unreachable.
He was a bona fide sex-god if the rumors were true. Not that she listened. Her she-Tiger had wanted to scratch the eyes out of the last woman she’d caught staring at him. Not that she could blame the younger she-Tigers in the Pride. After all, he looked like something out of a fantasy novel. She supposed he was really.
A gorgeous specimen of man and beast. Even his Tiger was huge and handsome. She’d noticed that on the last Pride run. Where the others wanted to show off and preen in front of the females, Michael’s Tiger had stayed dutifully and steadily behind. He’d been guarding the Pride from the back and made sure none of the younger ones strayed too far.
Always courteous and kind, she’d heard his patients praise him. They flocked to the newly renovated Pride clinic that had been funded solely by the Neta and Maverick Development. The small office was attached to a much larger Colonial-style house where he lived.
It was located on Pride lands in a lot just a half mile down the road from the main house. He’d lived there as a cub with his grandmother, the old Pride Healer. Of course, this was all secondhand knowledge. She hadn’t dared ask him anything about himself.
If Michael was her absolute ideal man now, then speaking to him would ruin her for life. How could she be ready to leave in an instant if she got her head turned by that dangerously sexy Tiger?
She always scoffed when he was referred to as Mikey, or even little Mikey, like he was some harmless kid. The Shifter was anything but. He was a dangerous predator hiding behind that smart and funny façade. Yes, he was kind and patient, but he was also fierce and wise with a heart of gold and a spine of steel.
Michael Turner was too good to be true. Certainly too good for the likes of her. That was why Kylie had to stay away from him. It was, for both their sakes.
She knew better than to let herself get caught in the webs that were hope, dreams, and possibilities. Michael Turner was the answer to every fervently whispered prayer and secret fantasy she had ever had, but there was no way on God’s green earth she was telling him.
No way. Kylie knew predators. Once he had her in his grasp, that man would hold on like a dog with a bone. But she refused to be a possession.
There was only one way she could remain quietly in Maverick Point, and off her old Pride’s radar, and that was to live alone. She needed to keep her head down, work hard, and ignore everything else. Her younger self would have understood that.
This Kylie had perhaps grown a little too comfortable, complacent even. As a young woman she had survived by the skin of her teeth. Having crawled out of her mother’s fight pit, broken and bloody, young Kylie had run as fast as she could to her beat up, old hatchback. It was not luck that had her starting the engine and zooming out of there.
Oh no, she never had any of that.
Kylie had gotten into the habit of leaving a spare set of keys under the front tire flap.
Thank fuck.
She had grabbed them with her bloodied left hand since her right one had been useless at the time. It had been broken and mangled by her mother’s jaws during their gory battle.
It was good to remember, she told herself. In fact, she should never forget the danger that quite possibly still hunted her.
Kylie closed her eyes as the memories threatened to overwhelm her. She’d been so young, so scared, but no one had stopped it or intervened. They hadn’t dared to, and she’d locked herself inside her car, hoping to catch her breath before taking off.
But no luck Kylie had been given no reprieve. She’d barely closed her eyes when she’d heard her mother’s roar. That cry had been deliberate. It had signaled to her Queen’s Guard to hunt and kill her only daughter.
So, she did what she had to. Kylie had sucked in a painful breath and started the engine. She’d burnt rubber to get out of those South Carolina woods, driving far, far away from the old plantation home where she’d been born. Making it thus far, and Kylie had never looked back.
Three years had passed since that fateful night. Sometimes, she woke up in a cold sweat thinking her mother’s Guard had found her, but then, after she’d realized she was safe, she’d relax.
She was no longer alone. Kylie was part of the Maverick Pride now, and as such, she had nothing to fear. As long as she never ever let her guard down.
And she wouldn’t. Not for him. Not for anyone.
Kylie would never be caught unaware again.
Her phone rang, and she looked down to see a text from Gretchen. Frowning, she read it before a smile broke out across her face.
By the way, our Nari insists we do a little karaoke for her party, so don’t give me any of your shy shit. Your song has been chosen!
“Crazy heifers,” Kylie muttered, shaking her head, but she was giggling all the same.
Life was good in Maverick Point. She only hoped it would last.