The liger was in some kind of mood.
Zai didn’t know what to make of it.
The Beast’s behavior over the past few days could only be termed as getting increasinglypossessive.
He still slunk off as they started each day, doing his own thing. But when they retired after a long, exhausting night, having covered a great distance, he reappeared with fresh kills for their supper, which he tossed at Zai’s feet with proud disdain.
Here, lowly Dark One,his arrogant feline expression seemed to say.
You do not deserve it, but I killed this animal for you. Now eat it and be thankful.
And repay me later with your body in a different kind of feast.
Zai always pointedly ignored him.
He was a Dark Hunter, and a Master Hunter at that. He could take care of his own supper. No one asked the Beast to provide for them. If he went to the trouble, Zai wouldn’t reject his offering.
But just so they were clear—Zai didn’t need him to do it.
Zai didn’t need Sin, period.
Every time they settled for a rest, the liger would crowd Zai into a corner, in a hidden grove or behind obscuring trees and boulders. He would circle their perimeter and mark it with urine before coming back to Zai and rubbing his scent glands all over him.
In the beginning, Zai pushed him away or knocked him in his hard skull with a fist when he didn’t take the hint.
But the liger was stubbornly persistent. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Even when Zai tried to walk off to sleep by himself, as he did this night, out of sight and hearing from the human boy and his pet, the Beast would always follow.
If not at first, then later, when Zai had nodded off to sleep. He would suddenly find a furry furnace at his back in the middle of the day or night, or heavy, muscled arms and legs wrapped around his body.
He would never admit it, even to himself, (most especially to himself), but he was starting to get used to being around the Beast. Especially when his guard was down in slumber.
He was becoming addicted to Sin’s smell, the shape, heat and hardness of him, the sounds of his low purrs and lazy growls.
And the way he splayed out on his back with his paws in the air, furry belly on display, head cocked to the side looking playfully at Zai, yellow eyes glinting mischievously, long fluffy lashes batting, and a bunch of wilted, long-stemmed irises caught between his teeth…
Well…
Zai didn’t know what to do with him.
They must be close to the Tiger King’s hidden enclave by now, Zai surmised.
He saw telltale signs of other large predators’ passing, though the tracks were expertly disguised. His Hunter instincts warned him that danger was near, that their group might be watched even though he couldn’t see the eyes watching them.
And, too, through the strange mind link he shared with the liger, he could almost hear the Tiger King’s call. It was a subtle but inexorable pull. Perhaps because the Beast no longer resisted it.
If Zai left the others now and went on his own way, Goya’s clan would undoubtedly find them.
They would be in no danger from the Tiger King, for Goya was first and foremost a protector. He didn’t have many rules, but the most sacred of them was to never harm an innocent. Humans, for the most part, were considered weak and innocent.
Ben would be fine.
As for Sin, he would no doubt be embraced by his feline brethren.
Zai could feel his increasing curiosity and anticipation the closer to Goya’s enclave they traveled. He knew from hearing Sin’s thoughts (no matter that he tried his best not to), that this would be the first time the liger would meet the Great White Tiger. He was fascinated and a little in awe of the ancient being, almost as old as the first Beast of Earth, Byakko, Goya’s sire—
The Beast who had fallen in love with, and died, for one of the Twin Goddesses, triggering their punishment, and the ensuing War of the Gods.