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All at once, he slides down his fly and directs a stream of urine directly in front of her feet. The Colonel’s booming voice, even though it’s aided by a microphone, doesn’t drown the woman’s shocked and offended shriek.
“Forrest! You just earned yourself time out. That’s unacceptable.”
When two soldiers approach him and grab his upper arms, he shakes his head as if his thoughts are coming online. It seems he only now realizes what he just did.
“Sorry. Sorry.” He sounds genuinely contrite as he’s pulled from the room. The words, “just wanted,” and “mark my territory,” float to my ears.
I don’t have time to contemplate exactly what he meant by that, because I’m too consumed with watching the rest of the newcomers.
The other males have placed their backs against the far wall as if they, too, are fighting the impulse to slide into their beastly selves. I don’t even want to imagine the urges they’re contemplating.
It’s only now I get that prickly feeling that tells you someone is staring at you. I scan the males from left to right, trying to calm my racing pulse as I remind myself there are thirty armed soldiers here to protect me.
The males lined up against the wooden wall are chuffing, barking, and snapping their teeth at each other.
“Excuse their behavior,” the Colonel says, his jaw tight. He’s obviously disappointed, bordering on pissed. “We’ve been practicing for this, but these males have animal DNA. There are still moments when it takes over. Don’t be afraid. They just need to get used to you.”
“Yeah,” Riley whispers. “Get used to us, or develop atastefor us? I hope my door has a couple deadbolts that lock from the inside.”
I’m about to agree when I locate the source of that eerie feeling I’ve been experiencing. There’s a lion-guy to the right of the door. He’s not pretending to look around the room, nor is he making a pretense of assessing everyone here.
Nope. He’s focused directly on me.
Some of these males are quite human, with traces of animal in their carriage, or extra tufts of hair, or ears that are too high on their head. Other males are as animal as they can get and still walk on two feet.
The lion-guy’s face is fairly furless, but the rest of him, except for what’s hidden by the incongruous green-and-fuschia Hawaiian shirt and khakis he’s wearing, is covered in fur. He’s got rounded lion ears, a tail, and, if I’m not mistaken, whiskers.
His amber eyes are staring at me and his flat, feline nostrils widen on every sniff as he leans toward me and tries to catch my scent. I can tell the moment he smells me as his eyes widen. Then he slips his tongue between his lips and wags it, using it to taste me in the air.
He makes certain I’m looking at him when he mouths something to me. I should ignore him, but it’s sheer force of habit when I tip my head and ask, “What?”
When he repeats it, his mouth full of sharp teeth exaggerating the word, I can read his lips clear as day.
“Mine.”
Chapter Five
Jenna
What the hell? I’m awakened by reveille, a very loud version of it, piped in over speakers.
Shaking my head, I sit straight up in my bed, shocked I ever got to sleep last night. All the stress hormones flying through my veins must have finally faded and let me get some shuteye.
After the bizarre meet and greet, as the Colonel called it, we were shown to our dormitory as if we hadn’t just witnessed the most mind-boggling thing in the history of the universe. If there had been musical accompaniment, it would have been reminiscent of the cantina scene in Star Wars. At least none of those males resembled Jabba the Hutt.
Though the Town Hall was either constructed in the late 1800s or made to look that way, the barracks connected to the rear is modern. From the Town Hall’s rear exit, we walked through a large lounge that reminded me of something you’d find in a college dorm. It was dotted with couches, with a big screen TV on one wall, and a few small tables with chairs on the other side.
Off the lounge, one door exited to what staff informed us was the male dorm. We were escorted into the female side, which housed a women’s-only lounge that emptied onto a hallway with our dorm rooms.
We were assured the men’s hallway was locked and they wouldn’t have access to our private lounge or our rooms. I’m still going to keep my door double-locked.
The dorm seems brand new and is nicely appointed in happy shades of yellow and blue. They probably spent big bucks on a research project designed to discover what makes freaked-out women feel calm.
My room has a comfy double bed and a private bathroom stocked with all the sundries they inquired about during the vetting process. They even sprung for the fancy shampoo and conditioner I asked for.
“Rise and shine, ladies.” I know that voice. It sounds like my Alexa from home. “We’d appreciate your presence in the dining hall for breakfast in thirty minutes. Your closets are equipped with Hawaiian shirts and khaki pants. Research has shown that this casual attire is comfortable, pleasing to the eye, and projects a feeling of calm and optimism. Please wear the close-toed shoes we’ve stocked in your closets.”
A feeling of calm? No amount of fuchsia hibiscus flowers could enhance my calm when looking at the animal-guys’ fangs.
