Books, Writing

Three Days

His savior held him nestled safely in his arms, the man and sometimes puma leaping up the four wooden stairs. The front door rolled open with just a light tap and Michael was pulled into this strange world. It wasn’t that the house was strange, it bore a pleasant farmhouse quality that fit in well with the wide front yard. No, it was the circumstances and placement that kept Michael’s eyes wide and his jaw shut.

“Sorry about the mess,” the man said while weaving around a place picked clean of anything that’d be considered clutter. “Here you go,” he announced upon arriving at a couch with a gingham check pattern. Those strong, warm to the point of indecently hot arms lowered Michael to the cushions.

The moment his ass that’d been dragged over gravel hit, the pain struck him at once. A shudder climbed up his body, his hand clenching into a fist to try and find any way to alleviate the pain.

All the while, the cougar-man circled around, his long limbs twitching as if he couldn’t stand still. Michael glanced up into the long face, made all the leaner by the sandy blonde hair pulled back into a short ponytail. “Who are you?” he muttered through the jaw-clenching pain.

“Ah, introductions. Of course. Sorry, it’s been quite a while since I had to do as such. I’m Lev.”

“And you’re a cougar,” Michael repeated to make certain he didn’t hit his head really hard and imagine all of that. “A were-cougar.”

The man who was beautiful the way an ice storm could be darted those striking yellow eyes down upon him. A hint of his canine appeared below those thin, pale lips. “I prefer were-puma or mountain lion. Cougar has rather…unfortunate connotations now.”

“So every full moon you don’t turn into a fifty-something socialite who paws the pool boy?” Michael said, clinging to the absurd in the face of the impossible.

Lev cracked another grin, but this one carried across his face. “Paws in a literal sense, perhaps. Well, depends on what the pool boy looks like.”