The Maverick Pride Tales - Chapter 94: Chapter 94

I love you.
Those three words echoed in Kylie’s mind for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality, was a mere moment.
The area behind the old diner and shifter run gas station was dusty and littered with debris and old boxes. She watched as some males, men of the Maverick Pride removed the offending items. Making the brutal pit they were creating cleaner, she supposed.
As if a dang milk crate mattered to two dueling Shifters! She sucked in a sharp breath, nearly passing out as she realized she had forgotten about the whole needing oxygen thing for a minute.
I love you.
He’d told her he loved her. Not for the first time, but it was the first time she had really heard him. At first, declarations of love seemed so easily mistaken for post-orgasmic euphoria. But this was not the time or place for that.
Michael had proclaimed his love after racing after her like her very own knight in shining armor, or in this case, an enormous van owned by the Maverick Pride. She could have laughed, but then again, not really.
The entire world seemed to slow as Michael left her embrace and headed towards the makeshift fighting pit. Kylie’s heart thudded in her chest.
She’d seen this too many times. Had felt it for herself what it meant to be surrounded by eyes that could only watch as you fought for your life.
“I will tear your head off! Then we will all see if the Healer can heal himself,” hissed Waylon as he removed his shirt and shoes and crouched down, running his claw-tipped hands along the gravel.
The stench from his body permeated the air and there wasn’t a single Shifter there who didn’t twitch his or her nose. That alone was like a bonus weapon or something. Had to be against the rules, she thought, and realized she was getting hysterical.
“I won’t allow this.” Elissa stomped her foot, arguing with her mate with one ever present hand on her protruding belly.
The Nari was admittedly upset and scared for one of her own, and Kylie had never loved the other woman as much as she did just then. Who knew a former human could be such a good leader? Certainly not anyone in her old Pride.
She drank the icy water Jessica held to her lips and watched from where she stood as Michael removed his own shirt and shoes. His wound still bled freely, and he seemed to slouch. Worry gnawed at her gut.
They had agreed to start the fight as men, but all bets were off once they were in a full on battle-lust. Shifting mid-fight was allowed, though most deemed it cowardly.
“No,” she whispered, as she watched Hunter walk to the middle of the circle.
“You all know our ways,” the Neta began. “This man entered our territory and attempted to kidnap our Healer’s mate, a crime that demands justice. The opponents will shake hands before the trial by combat begins.”
The statement was met with growls and hisses from the small gathering, but Kylie ignored them all. She was focused on Waylon. On that tiny smirk on the corner of his foul mouth.
Something was not right.
She watched as his hands played with the gravel. Lifting the loose, jagged rocks and dropping them again. Over and over. Biding his time. Like the spider who set the trap for the fly.
Kylie’s eyes narrowed.
He was going to cheat. She knew it before Hunter waved his hand and her Michael, her sweet honorable Michael turned to shake Waylon’s hand. The latter’s smirk grew wide and as he pretended to offer his hand. Instead, he wheeled it back and hurled a fistful of tiny sharp rocks right into Michael’s eyes.
Her mate roared in outrage and wiped at his face, only succeeding in digging the damn rocks further into his eyes. He was bleeding and growling, clutching his face. She knew he could do more damage if he tried to use his hands to clear the rocks.
“Waylon Pitt, you scumbag, you fucking cheated!” growled Brayden.
“I will have what I came for, Bear,” he snarled, “and your Neta has given me the right to trial by combat, now will your Healer get up, and rise to the challenge or not? Maybe I should just take my prize and go,” he sneered.
“He can’t do that, can he?” Elissa asked, and she was perspiring in her anxiety.
“No one else can fight him or we risk having to stand trial with the Council. It’s against our laws,” Hunter growled.
“What? That can’t be,” she cried.
“Aghhh!” Michael was kneeling, and Brayden was attempting to clear his eyes with water.
“Just give me a minute,” he growled, but she could tell he was in too much pain, and what’s more, he was temporarily blinded by the injuries.
“If he can’t fight me now, he forfeits, and I get Kylie,” snarled Waylon, his overconfident grin as disgusting as his smell. “Those are the rules. After I kill him, I take the girl.”
“No!” Kylie growled and stood up without Pamela’s and Jessica’s help.
It was not easy. Her body felt sluggish from the effects of the poison. She couldn’t move as quickly or as confidently as she always had. Most disturbing of all was the fact that her she-Tiger seemed too quiet. The ever-present beast was a mere whisper in her mind’s eye. But it didn’t matter now, she had to do something.
Anything.
“Wait!” she said.
“Kylie, our laws are clear—” Hunter began.
“Yes, I know,” she said, walking to the center of the circle. “Our laws are very clear, Neta. I claim the right to avenge mine and my mate’s honor,” she announced proudly, standing straight before them.
“What?”
“She can’t!”
“Kylie!”
“No!”
Despite the cacophony of voices, her eyes narrowed in on Waylon’s. She registered his surprise, followed quickly by a rage so intense she almost shied from it. Next, she turned to Hunter.
“Hunter, it is my right,” she insisted.
“Kylie, are you sure?”
“No, you can’t let her do this,” Michael growled, and stumbled as he stood, his eyes ran with blood and Brayden held him back.
“Neta?” she asked again, ignoring her mate’s anguished protests and the rest of her Pride.
God, she loved them so, and any one of them would do the same thing. It was that knowledge that kept her back ramrod straight. Kylie had been running too long. It was time she faced her past. Even if it meant death. With one last look at Michael, who was shaking with rage and being held back by three of their own, Kylie took a fortifying breath.
“Okay,” Hunter said, “begin.”
Waylon came at her with the lazy confidence of a man who had no qualms about hitting women. She knew then that he’d been the one to kill her mother. It was obvious in the zeal he could not play off as something else, shining in his eyes, and the swagger in his stride that the creep did nothing to hide.
Kylie wished she could feel sorrow for her last living parent, but she did not. Nor did she hate him for killing her. There was no love lost between her and Corinne Connelly.
Kylie had a real family now. She had a mate, and she would do everything in her power to ensure no one would ever threaten either of them again.
“Y’all sure ya wanna do this, Kylie girl? You wanna take me on by yourself?” Waylon sneered at her, and she braced herself for the stench coming off him.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything, you foul-smelling sonovabitch,” she growled.
With moves faster than any normal could ever comprehend, Waylon attacked. Slicing through the air, he hurled his clawed fists at her from every which way.
Kylie was sluggish and hurt from the drugs he’d given her, but she’d been raised by the most brutal Pride she’d ever encountered. Even slow, she was able to move out of his way to avoid being hit. He was bigger and stronger, that was true, but she’d always been quick.
Being petite was something she’d hated her whole life, but now she was grateful. Kylie flitted from one end of the circle to the other, waiting for Waylon to tire himself. She heard Michael speak her name and lost focus for a second, that caused her to receive a sharp scratch down her left arm. Still, she was able to avoid his grasp with a pivot and a tumble.
“Dammit, girl, stay still,” he snapped.
As if.
Finally, she must’ve angered him to the point of no return with all her evasive techniques, because good ol’ boy that he was, Waylon, the smelly fucker, shifted. Kylie vaulted over his still changing shape and using all her strength, she called on her she-Tiger.
“Holy fuck! She’s shifting midair,” someone—maybe Jessica, or was it Elissa—hissed in the crowd.
She couldn’t say for sure, Kylie had to use all her focus on getting her she-Tiger’ ass in gear. She had one shot at this and the stakes were too high for her to fuck this up. With a resounding roar, she landed on her opponent’s back in her fur.
The massive Tiger could not dislodge her. He snarled and hissed, trying to reach around, but falling short of his mark. Kylie dug her claws into the fleshy bits of his neck, snarling loudly right before she pulled with all her might. The resounding crack of Waylon Pitt’s neck breaking echoed in her ears before she heard the celebratory roar of her Pride filling the air.
Huffing and panting, she snarled one more time at the now dead, and still stinking Tiger before she jumped off him and ran over to where her mate was still being held back by his Pride mates. Michael was squinting at her, and his eyes and the surrounding flesh, though still torn and bloody, were already on the mend.
“Kylie,” he said, practically exhaling her name.
He dropped to his knees and opened his arms wide. Without hesitation her she-Tiger moved forward, licking his face, and knocking him off his feet with her strength. She cleaned the blood off his face with the flat of her scratchy tongue, refusing to let up until laughter bubbled up inside his chest.
“I’m okay, mon petit chaton,” he said, and pressed his forehead to her feline one.
Kylie purred against him. In this form, her she-Tiger was absolutely certain of her feelings for the male. He was her fated mate, and she loved him more than words could ever say.
“Scared me to death, kitten. Don’t you ever do that again,” he growled, and she felt his worry, and hurt through their ever stronger matebond. “Change back, let me make sure you are fine, mate.”
Kylie didn’t hesitate. She felt the familiar hum of magic fill her body until her very bones vibrated with it. Shifting could be painful if one fought it, but she’d been born to this. Kylie’s shift was fluid, graceful. One breath she was an eight-hundred pound beast, and with the next she was her usual curvy self.
“Mate,” she said, and allowed her male to embrace her, wrapping her in his shirt at the same time.
“Kylie,” he breathed, and locked his lips with hers.
The kiss was deep, needed, and so damn arousing that she felt moisture pool between her legs. She wanted him right then, right there, but of course they had an audience. A tap on Kylie’s shoulder reminded her of that teensy fact, and she brought her head up to see the pained blue eyes of her Nari.
“Hey girl,” Elissa said, smiling through tears. “So, yeah, I am like super glad you two are all good, and everything, but I kinda need my Healer. Like RIGHT FUCKING NOW. AHHHHHHHHH!” Elissa Phoenix Maverick roared, clasping her belly as a rush of fluid flowed between her legs just before she collapsed onto her knees on the floor of the graveled parking lot.
A few things happened then, and all in rapid succession. Kylie and Michael both caught their Nari before any more of her fell to the ground. They helped her stand one on each side. Pamela tossed Kylie a pair of sweatpants and took her place by Elissa’s side so she could pull them on to stop her mate’s anxious growling.
Brayden took Waylon’s limp body and tossed it into the back of his pickup truck, covering it with a tarp and some tree branches and leaves. He and Jessica placed Waylon’s second, the young asshole who shot Michael, under arrest and drove the truck back to the Pride House, where he would wait until the Council arrived to take him into their custody.
“Hank! Bring the van here. Don’t worry, Elissa, you are going to be just fine. Hunter, don’t you pussy out on your wife now,” the old Witch yelled. “Hold her hand, damn it, now move!” Uncle Uzzi called out instructions, and started shouting orders, which everyone was only too happy to follow.
After piling into the van, Hank took the wheel while anyone not involved with the immediate care of the Nari was in the back row. Hunter cradled Elissa’s head on his lap, and they took over the first bench of the van.
“I need light!”
Michael squinted as he took the waistband of Elissa’s pants in his hands. Hunter snarled at him, but Michael met his Neta’s angry glare. He had work to do, dang it.
“Hunter, dammit, I need to see how far she’s progressed,” he snarled right back.
“For the love of Christ, move! I will undress her.”
Kylie stepped forward and took the elastic pants from her mate’s hands, calming their Neta at once.
“Really, Kylie, you ought to b-buy me dinner-r firrrssstt,” Elissa’s grunted reply soon turned to a groan, and she turned her head in Hunter’s lap. “Hurts so much.”
“I’m so sorry, love,” Hunter whispered, looking scared to death as he cradled her head.
“How sorry? Like sorry enough to do something for me?”
“Anything,” Hunter vowed.
“I want you to SIIINGGG-OWWWWIE!”.
“Now? Sing now?” Hunter asked, like an idiot.
“Not now. On Whine Wednesday,” she said, sucking air in and puffing it back out in rapid succession.
“It will be okay, Elissa. And yes, I am a witness, Hunter will sing for you on the next karaoke slam session. Right now, though, you just focus, and listen to Michael, okay? You are strong, and you can do this,” encouraged Kylie.
“That’s right, you were made for this Elissa,” seconded Uncle Uzzi from the back.
Hank drove like the wind as Michael did his examination. It was difficult in the confines of the van, but they were back at the Pride House sooner than expected.
“Hank has his ways,” Uncle Uzzi explained as the Alpha couple were ushered into the one operating room inside the Pride clinic.
“Will she be okay?”
Hunter’s teal gaze froze Kylie in her tracks as she moved to get Michael some more light.
“Yes. Michael is an excellent Healer, and more than qualified doctor. The Nari will be fine,” she replied and looked her Neta dead in the face for longer than ever before.
She nodded encouragingly. After all, she spoke the truth. She had every faith in Michael’s abilities as a Healer. Of course, she knew the stories. Shifter births were never easy on anyone. But she had to believe for all their sake’s that things would go well.
The future of the Pride depended on it.