Snaring a Snow Leopard
A Feline Shifter Mates novel
Chapter 1
Seattle, Washington
One year ago…
Mason stepped into the courtroom, and the scent of his enemy burned the fine hairs in his nose. He clenched his teeth, tamping down the urge to growl. One of Mason’s recent captures, Antoine, a lion shifter, sat in the courtroom’s witness box. His long blond hair, straggly at the ends, splayed over his bulging shoulders hidden underneath his three piece suit. He met Mason’s gaze. A cocky grin curled his lip. The suspected Slayer had murdered a young human female and her child.
A tic formed in Mason’s jaw, and he fisted his hand. As a Protector who defended humans, he couldn’t wait to see the asshole pay for his crime.
Packed with humans and shifters, the stifling temperature in the old building only added to his frustration, and a bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. He slipped into the back row, sitting next to an elderly man. Creases lined the man’s face, but his eyes were filled with wisdom. He gave Mason a quick nod.
Over the past few decades many shifters had moved from their homes, hidden by ancient magic in the surrounding forests, into the cities. Unbeknownst to the majority of humans, the shifters remained hidden in plain sight, working alongside their human neighbors without issue.
“This knife isn’t yours?” The female prosecutor’s voice echoed across the room.
The determination and animosity in her tone caught Mason’s attention, and he glanced at her.
She faced the podium, her back to him. Dark, silky hair cascaded around her shoulders, covering the top of her blouse. Her slim waist flared at her hips, accentuated by her tight pencil skirt. Long, shapely legs ended in a pair of red high-heeled shoes.
His inner cat roused, and he leaned forward in his seat.
“Nope, not mine.” Antoine smirked, his gaze focused on her.
She slapped her hand against the wooden pew. “Then, tell me, why are your fingerprints on the murder weapon?”
His face tightened. “You better watch your back.”
“That sounds like a threat. Are you one of Kylar’s boys?”
Gasps rose from the crowd.
His snarl was his only reply.
The female turned and Mason glanced upon her features for the first time. He held his breath and couldn’t look away. Her dark hair caressed her chin and accentuated her luscious lips, but her eyes, a beautiful shade of hazel, captured his interest. Self-confidence and spunk radiated from their depths. In the middle of her neck chain was a white stone. She was a snow leopard shifter, just like him. A spark of irritation flashed through her eyes, and she pursed her lips.
“Sit down.” The old man next to him pulled on Mason’s arm. “You can’t interrupt the proceedings like this.”
Mason tore his gaze from the female. Sure enough, he’d stood. The veiled threat had spurned his protective side. As a member of the elite Protector squad, he couldn’t help his natural reaction. The tic in his jaw tightened. He glanced at her once again and returned to his seat.
The proceedings continued, but he didn’t follow the questioning. He couldn’t pull his focus from the female prosecutor. Conviction lined her pursed lips and the fire in her eyes called to him. They had a common goal, a common passion to stop the Slayers from killing the remaining humans who’d survived the super bug immune to antibiotics. Respect for her burned inside.
He turned to the elderly man. “Do you know the prosecuting attorney?”
The old man’s gray eyebrows drew to a point over his eyes. “Sure, everyone knows Celia. She’s the best prosecutor in town.”
Celia, he’d heard of her. She had a reputation all right—cold as ice, strong-willed, and independent. A few of his co-workers had joked about trying to bed her, but they’d failed.
Mason thrust out his chin. Their failure wouldn’t stop him. His inner cat purred in agreement.
The loud bang of the judge’s gavel filled the courtroom, dragging Mason’s attention back to the activity.
“Recess! The court will reconvene in fifteen minutes.” As the old judge stood, he placed his hand on his back. A grimace crossed his grizzled features.
“All rise.” The bailiff’s voice broke through the silence.
Chair legs scraped against the wooden floor, and the sound of shuffling feet echoed around the chamber. All were quiet as the judge shuffled from the courtroom.The door to the judge’s chamber closed, and the spectators headed for the exit.
“Excuse me.” The man next to Mason gave him a quick smile and nudged toward the end of the pew. He was one of the few humans in the room. After the super bug wiped out two-thirds of the human population and the shifters outnumbered their counterparts, many more shifters came in from the wild, eager to live in the open without fear.
Mason stepped into the aisle and let the old man and the rest of the bystanders leave. When the row emptied, his focus returned to Celia.
Her male counterpart whispered in her ear. A tinge of jealousy Mason didn’t quite understand played along his nerves. The male pointed toward him, and Celia glanced his way.
Her penetrating gaze bore into him, and he straightened his spine. With his heightened senses he inhaled, trying to determine her scent among the diminishing crowd. She pushed through the small hinged gate that separated the courtroom from the pews and headed toward him.
“Are you Mason?” Her warm peaches fragrance invaded his senses, lighting up his nerves.
He nodded. “And you are Celia.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“The man next to me mentioned your name.” It’d been a while since he’d found himself attracted to a female. His Protector job kept him busy, leaving little room for much else.
“Jordan, my partner on this case, tells me you’re the one who captured Antoine and brought him in. I wanted to thank you.”
The weight on Mason’s chest lightened, and he gave her a quick smile. “Part of my job. I don’t normally watch the proceedings, but this case…” He fisted his hand.
Mason and those in the Progressive faction wanted to co-exist with the humans while the those in the Partisan faction wanted to relegate humans to slave status. With tension escalating, two radical groups had formed within each faction, Slayers and Protectors. Where the Slayers wanted to wipe out the humans from the face of the planet, the Protectors guarded them, often times with their lives.
The disparate goals had clashed, pushing the conflict to a boiling point, and the feline shifter wars started four years, eleven months, and twelve days ago. Fortunately, the Progressive faction had the upper hand, and Mason would do everything in his power to ensure that remained so. His tense shoulders loosened as he forced himself to relax.
“I’m going to nail that bastard to the wall for slaying that mother and child,” she hissed. Passion and determination radiated from her and rushed over him like a heatwave. His fingers twitched with his sudden desire to touch her, be a part of that passion. He held the urge in check, barely.
“The more Slayers we can pull off the streets, the safer for all of us.” He admired how her hazel eyes sparkled in the light. Her cheeks reddened, and she licked her bottom lip, moistening it.
Mason clamped his teeth together as a sudden rush of blood raced south.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, but not before he’d caught the slight rise at the corner of her mouth. “I have to go over my notes before the defense makes his final speech for the judge. Thank you, again.”
As she turned to go, he gripped her arm, stopping her retreat. Her warm skin lit up the sensitive pads on his fingers. His inner cat howled with delight. “Wait…”
She glanced from his fingers to his face. Tension lines formed around her eyes. “Yes?”
He let her go, and a rock formed in his gut. “Seems we have something in common, our disdain for Slayers. Would you meet up with me later for dinner?”
She blinked, but then her features hardened once again. “Sorry, I don’t think so.”
She turned on the ball of her foot and headed toward the prosecutor’s table. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from her behind swiveling back and forth as she walked. A seductive yet graceful movement. She was tough and ruthless, and lived up to her reputation, the Ice Queen. Indeed, but if he ever got the chance, he’d work on thawing her out.
Obtain your copy of Snaring a Snow Leopard <<here>>
Seattle, Washington
One year ago…
Mason stepped into the courtroom, and the scent of his enemy burned the fine hairs in his nose. He clenched his teeth, tamping down the urge to growl. One of Mason’s recent captures, Antoine, a lion shifter, sat in the courtroom’s witness box. His long blond hair, straggly at the ends, splayed over his bulging shoulders hidden underneath his three piece suit. He met Mason’s gaze. A cocky grin curled his lip. The suspected Slayer had murdered a young human female and her child.
A tic formed in Mason’s jaw, and he fisted his hand. As a Protector who defended humans, he couldn’t wait to see the asshole pay for his crime.
Packed with humans and shifters, the stifling temperature in the old building only added to his frustration, and a bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. He slipped into the back row, sitting next to an elderly man. Creases lined the man’s face, but his eyes were filled with wisdom. He gave Mason a quick nod.
Over the past few decades many shifters had moved from their homes, hidden by ancient magic in the surrounding forests, into the cities. Unbeknownst to the majority of humans, the shifters remained hidden in plain sight, working alongside their human neighbors without issue.
“This knife isn’t yours?” The female prosecutor’s voice echoed across the room.
The determination and animosity in her tone caught Mason’s attention, and he glanced at her.
She faced the podium, her back to him. Dark, silky hair cascaded around her shoulders, covering the top of her blouse. Her slim waist flared at her hips, accentuated by her tight pencil skirt. Long, shapely legs ended in a pair of red high-heeled shoes.
His inner cat roused, and he leaned forward in his seat.
“Nope, not mine.” Antoine smirked, his gaze focused on her.
She slapped her hand against the wooden pew. “Then, tell me, why are your fingerprints on the murder weapon?”
His face tightened. “You better watch your back.”
“That sounds like a threat. Are you one of Kylar’s boys?”
Gasps rose from the crowd.
His snarl was his only reply.
The female turned and Mason glanced upon her features for the first time. He held his breath and couldn’t look away. Her dark hair caressed her chin and accentuated her luscious lips, but her eyes, a beautiful shade of hazel, captured his interest. Self-confidence and spunk radiated from their depths. In the middle of her neck chain was a white stone. She was a snow leopard shifter, just like him. A spark of irritation flashed through her eyes, and she pursed her lips.
“Sit down.” The old man next to him pulled on Mason’s arm. “You can’t interrupt the proceedings like this.”
Mason tore his gaze from the female. Sure enough, he’d stood. The veiled threat had spurned his protective side. As a member of the elite Protector squad, he couldn’t help his natural reaction. The tic in his jaw tightened. He glanced at her once again and returned to his seat.
The proceedings continued, but he didn’t follow the questioning. He couldn’t pull his focus from the female prosecutor. Conviction lined her pursed lips and the fire in her eyes called to him. They had a common goal, a common passion to stop the Slayers from killing the remaining humans who’d survived the super bug immune to antibiotics. Respect for her burned inside.
He turned to the elderly man. “Do you know the prosecuting attorney?”
The old man’s gray eyebrows drew to a point over his eyes. “Sure, everyone knows Celia. She’s the best prosecutor in town.”
Celia, he’d heard of her. She had a reputation all right—cold as ice, strong-willed, and independent. A few of his co-workers had joked about trying to bed her, but they’d failed.
Mason thrust out his chin. Their failure wouldn’t stop him. His inner cat purred in agreement.
The loud bang of the judge’s gavel filled the courtroom, dragging Mason’s attention back to the activity.
“Recess! The court will reconvene in fifteen minutes.” As the old judge stood, he placed his hand on his back. A grimace crossed his grizzled features.
“All rise.” The bailiff’s voice broke through the silence.
Chair legs scraped against the wooden floor, and the sound of shuffling feet echoed around the chamber. All were quiet as the judge shuffled from the courtroom.The door to the judge’s chamber closed, and the spectators headed for the exit.
“Excuse me.” The man next to Mason gave him a quick smile and nudged toward the end of the pew. He was one of the few humans in the room. After the super bug wiped out two-thirds of the human population and the shifters outnumbered their counterparts, many more shifters came in from the wild, eager to live in the open without fear.
Mason stepped into the aisle and let the old man and the rest of the bystanders leave. When the row emptied, his focus returned to Celia.
Her male counterpart whispered in her ear. A tinge of jealousy Mason didn’t quite understand played along his nerves. The male pointed toward him, and Celia glanced his way.
Her penetrating gaze bore into him, and he straightened his spine. With his heightened senses he inhaled, trying to determine her scent among the diminishing crowd. She pushed through the small hinged gate that separated the courtroom from the pews and headed toward him.
“Are you Mason?” Her warm peaches fragrance invaded his senses, lighting up his nerves.
He nodded. “And you are Celia.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“The man next to me mentioned your name.” It’d been a while since he’d found himself attracted to a female. His Protector job kept him busy, leaving little room for much else.
“Jordan, my partner on this case, tells me you’re the one who captured Antoine and brought him in. I wanted to thank you.”
The weight on Mason’s chest lightened, and he gave her a quick smile. “Part of my job. I don’t normally watch the proceedings, but this case…” He fisted his hand.
Mason and those in the Progressive faction wanted to co-exist with the humans while the those in the Partisan faction wanted to relegate humans to slave status. With tension escalating, two radical groups had formed within each faction, Slayers and Protectors. Where the Slayers wanted to wipe out the humans from the face of the planet, the Protectors guarded them, often times with their lives.
The disparate goals had clashed, pushing the conflict to a boiling point, and the feline shifter wars started four years, eleven months, and twelve days ago. Fortunately, the Progressive faction had the upper hand, and Mason would do everything in his power to ensure that remained so. His tense shoulders loosened as he forced himself to relax.
“I’m going to nail that bastard to the wall for slaying that mother and child,” she hissed. Passion and determination radiated from her and rushed over him like a heatwave. His fingers twitched with his sudden desire to touch her, be a part of that passion. He held the urge in check, barely.
“The more Slayers we can pull off the streets, the safer for all of us.” He admired how her hazel eyes sparkled in the light. Her cheeks reddened, and she licked her bottom lip, moistening it.
Mason clamped his teeth together as a sudden rush of blood raced south.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, but not before he’d caught the slight rise at the corner of her mouth. “I have to go over my notes before the defense makes his final speech for the judge. Thank you, again.”
As she turned to go, he gripped her arm, stopping her retreat. Her warm skin lit up the sensitive pads on his fingers. His inner cat howled with delight. “Wait…”
She glanced from his fingers to his face. Tension lines formed around her eyes. “Yes?”
He let her go, and a rock formed in his gut. “Seems we have something in common, our disdain for Slayers. Would you meet up with me later for dinner?”
She blinked, but then her features hardened once again. “Sorry, I don’t think so.”
She turned on the ball of her foot and headed toward the prosecutor’s table. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from her behind swiveling back and forth as she walked. A seductive yet graceful movement. She was tough and ruthless, and lived up to her reputation, the Ice Queen. Indeed, but if he ever got the chance, he’d work on thawing her out.
Obtain your copy of Snaring a Snow Leopard <<here>>