The fur’s about to fly…
A Sexy Shifter story.
Ava Minor is done being the good girl.
As the smallest and weakest in a pride
of shape-shifting lions where size and
strength rule, she’s never had any choice
but to toe the line. Now, with sexy,
nomadic alpha Landon King winning
control of the pride, she grabs her one
chance to let her inner feline out to play.
Landon would rather focus on reforming
the antiquated traditions of his new pride
than taking a mate…until the rebellious
Ava crosses his path. All his noble
intentions go up in flames, incinerated by
the heat she exudes—especially when he
realizes she’s in heat.
Ava, knowing she isn’t mate material, is
determined to revel in one wild night
before she’s sent back to her place in the
pride pecking order.
Except Landon has no intention of letting
his daring, seductive lioness go…
Warning: This book contains sizzling
heat, adult language, no-holds-barred cat
fights, and hot shifter lovin’ with an
alpha male who takes inspired
leadership all the way to the bedroom.
eBooks are not transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given
away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The
names, characters, places, and incidents
are products of the writer’s imagination
or have been used fictitiously and are
not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to persons, living or dead,
actual events, locale or organizations is
entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Serengeti Heat
Copyright © 2009 by Vivi Andrews
ISBN: 978-1-60504-613-6
Edited by Angela James
Cover by Natalie Winters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this
book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written
permission, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles
and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: June 2009
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Serengeti Heat
Vivi Andrews
Dedication
For Kristan Andrews, aunt
extraordinaire, who keeps me in a
never-ending supply of books during my
starving artist phase. Thank you for
sharing your love of romance with me.
Chapter One
Ava Minor was looking for trouble and,
from the look of the Bar Nothing, trouble
was exactly what she was going to get.
She stood alone in the dusty parking lot
of the rundown honky-tonk, listening to the gravel spray as the taxi driver who’d
dumped her there took his slimy leer and
his smelly cab off to greener pastures.
She’d asked to be taken to the most
notorious pick-up bar in town. Now she
stood in the parking lot, paralyzed by an
attack of be-careful-what-you-wish-for
jitters. Ava Minor, the cowardly lioness.
Friday night. Even in this rural
backwater, the bar would be filled with
human men on a Friday night.
Men who wouldn’t see the smallest,
weakest lioness of her pride when they
looked at her. They’d see a petite, sexy
woman whose grace was just a little too
feline, but they’d never suspect she was
anything more than human.
More than human. That’s what she
wanted to be tonight. For once more than
human, instead of less than all the other shifters in her pride. Less strong. Less
fast. Less worthy.
Now or never.
Ava tossed her head, flipping her long,
white-blonde hair over her shoulder.
Her hair brushed her bare shoulder
blades, teasing at her sensitized skin.
Anticipation ran through her like
electricity, charging every more-than-
human sense.
She wasn’t in the habit of making
dramatic entrances, but when the heavy door slammed shut behind her and every
alcohol-blurred gaze in the place rolled
over her in blatant assessment, Ava
struck a pose, planting a hand on one hip
and arching her back.
The heat and smell hit her
simultaneously. Clearly ventilation was
not a top priority in the establishment
she’d selected for her first foray into the
dark side. The stench of stale beer and
sweat assaulted her nostrils, but beneath
it all, almost completely masked by the
eau-du-honky-tonk, was a subtle,
tantalizingly masculine aroma that had
her shivering in her high heels in spite of
the smothering heat. Her inner lioness
rolled over and purred.
Ava smoothed her hands over the denim
hugging her hips. She resisted the urge to
cross her arms in front of her bare
stomach or tug at her shirt. She didn’t
know if she would have tugged it up or
down; the crimson tube top stretched
tight over her breasts didn’t have much
room for maneuvering in either
direction.
Serengeti Heat
Her audience appeared to appreciate her
costume. Not a single gaze had veered
away from her since the door slammed
shut behind her.
A drink, she thought, eyeing the sparsely populated stools lined up against the
chipped imitation mahogany bar. A beer
or twelve would calm her jumpy nerves.
Ava strutted toward the bar, swiveling
her hips in what she hoped was a decent
parody of Marilyn Monroe. She felt the
weight of a dozen pairs of eyes tracking
her as she crossed the room, but being
the timid good girl was too deeply
ingrained and she couldn’t bring herself
to look around to bask in the attention.
She kept her eyes locked on her
destination, hoping her nerves came
across as haughty sex appeal.
The man at the end of the bar leered at
her as she approached. A regular Romeo
with three missing teeth. Ava kept walking, ignoring the kissy noise he
made in the direction of her ass as she
passed.
Three empty stools down, Bachelor
Number Two gave her a thorough once
over from her tits to her toes and back
again before making it all the way up to
her face and giving her a lazy, you-
know-you-want-it smile. It wasn’t a bad
smile. Cocky as all hell, but Ava was
used to cocky men. She could handle this
asshole. And he had all hi
s teeth. We
have a winner, ladies and gentlemen.
Ava hitched herself up onto the barstool
next to her lucky bachelor—the man
didn’t know how lucky he was about to get. She resisted the urge to yank on her
shirt when her Casanova’s eyes locked
on her braless breasts to enjoy the show
as she bounced up onto the stool.
“Buy a girl a drink?”
Casanova’s eyes dilated until they were
all pupil and Ava smiled, her confidence
getting a healthy boost. She may be a
good girl, but that didn’t mean she didn’t
have a voice like a phone sex operator.
Smoky, husky and low, her voice was
one of the many reasons her overbearing
brothers insisted she remain silent as
often as possible around the other men at
the ranch.
But she wasn’t on the ranch now…
Casanova waved the bartender over,
never taking his eyes off her. “What’s
your name, darlin’?”
He had a smooth Texas drawl and Ava’s
back arched a little at the sound of it.
The idea of hauling him outside and
having her way with him was starting to
gain momentum in her mind. She could
do this.
She could really be the bad girl for a
change.
“Ava. Yours?”
She didn’t care what his name was one
little bit. Her nerves felt electrified, like she was a car someone was trying to
hotwire. When the bartender plunked a
stool.
She leaned against the chipped wood of
the bar like a life raft as she downed half
the bottle in one long swallow.
“Chance.”
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7
Vivi Andrews
Chance? Oh, right. His name. Yippee.
Ava took another drink. Her hips pushed back of their own according, sticking her
ass out, almost as if her body expected
the mate it craved to rip off her jeans
and shove into her from behind at any
second.
Ava slammed the beer back onto the bar.
The alcohol was not helping.
She tossed her hair again and, again, the
slide against her sweat-slick skin had
her shivering.
Hopefully, Chance wasn’t looking for a
long heart-to-heart before she climbed
on top of him and took what she needed.
She didn’t think she could wait much
longer.
“So…” Chance drawled, clearly intent on starting a conversation she didn’t
want to have.
Ava wondered how he would react if
she put her tongue down his throat. He’d
probably stop talking pretty damn quick.
She started to turn toward her lucky
cowboy, when a distinctive scent hit her
nostrils, dark and hot, like midnight on
the savannah. Her body reacted to the
presence behind her with a rush of
moisture between her legs even before
her mind registered he was there. A
heavy hand landed on the back of her
neck, not shaking her by the scruff like
the errant child he probably thought she
was, but pressing warm and steady and
firm into her flesh like he could brand her with his palm.
Landon.
Ava didn’t need to look to know who
would be standing behind her, no doubt
glaring at her and her Cowboy Casanova
equally. She’d never reacted to another
man the way she did to Landon King,
simultaneously melting and tensing.
She pressed her thighs together to hold
back the flood of heat, praying he
wouldn’t smell her arousal, but knowing
he would. Why did it have to be him?
Anyone else would have been
preferable. She would have rather been
caught shaking her ass at strangers by
one of her over-protective brothers than the man who loomed behind her, the
Alpha of her damn pride.
She’d been so careful to stay clear of
him. So careful to ensure he would never
know of her stupid infatuation, the
mindless lust he inspired in her. Landon
would never want her, that much was a
given, so she preserved her dignity by
making sure he would never know how
badly she wanted him. Now all of that
effort was about to go up in smoke. He
stood less than three feet behind her. He
was just as much of an animal as she
was. He would be able to smell it on
her. He would know.
Unless she could convince him that the
thick heat of her desire wasn’t for him.
Ava’s eyes locked desperately on her
Cowboy Casanova as he frowned up at
the big blond god who had come to fetch
her home.
“Can I help you with something,
mister?”
“Sure you can,” Landon growled. “You
can get lost.”
His growl hit her in the base of her
spine, streaking upward, arching her
back. She nearly came at just the sound
of his voice. Yeah, way to be calm, Ava.
8
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Serengeti Heat
The Cowboy Casanova glanced at Ava,
but she was too busy trying to get a hold
of her lust to send him covert signals
with her eyes. She wasn’t even sure
what signal she would have sent. If he
ran off and left her alone with Landon,
well, then she was alone with Landon.
But if Casanova didn’t vamoose, Landon
the cowboy’s arms from his body, and
Ava was afraid he just might do it.
The Alpha of her pride ripping the arms
off a cowboy in a local watering hole
had lynch mob written all over it. She
needed to get Landon out of here before his temper exploded.
“I don’t think I can do that, friend,” the
cowboy said, making “friend” sound a
lot like “asshole”. He straightened,
rising off his stool. He was a tall man,
but Landon still had a few inches on him.
And probably fifty pounds of solid
muscle. The cowboy was lean. Landon
was a tank. In any form.
“You don’t look like her daddy and she
ain’t wearing a wedding ring, so until
this little lady asks me to go, I’m staying
right where I am.”
Landon growled. Her Alpha still hadn’t
moved into her line of sight, but she
could feel his unnatural body heat radiating against her back. She didn’t
have to look at him to know he was
spoiling for a fight. In her experience
alphas of both genders tended to be
stupidly aggressive and the Alpha was
worse than most.
Of course, as one of the smallest betas in
the pride, aggression of any sort was
stupidity itself for Ava.
It was past time to diffuse the situation.
“I t
hink you should go, Chance,” she
said.
Landon’s hand tightened fractionally on
the back of her neck before easing and
stroking downward.
Was he actually petting her? A tremor rippled down Ava’s spine. She knew it
was too much to ask that he not suspect
what had caused it.
Chance eyed her. And the hand gripping
the back of her neck. “Now, see,” the
cowboy drawled, “I’m not sure I can just
walk away without some sort of
assurance that the little lady is okay. You
aren’t scared of this bully, are you,
Ava?”
Ava blinked in surprise. Either Chance
still thought he had a shot of getting laid
tonight, or he was a better man than she
had given him credit for after his tits-to-
toes inspection.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Landon
would never hurt me.” He was sworn to
protect her and the rest of his pride, but
Chance didn’t need to know that. Nor
did she think it was wise to point out that
if Landon decided to hurt her, there was
nothing Chance could do about it. In a
knock-down-drag-out, Chance wouldn’t
last five minutes against five-foot-
nothing Ava, let alone the hulking Alpha.
“You sure, darlin’?”
Landon made a noise that had never
come out of a human throat, snarling
wordlessly. He dropped his hand from
her neck and took a threatening step
toward Chance. His chest brushed against her shoulder and the contact
jolted her. Ava looked down, fighting
for control of her body, and saw his
hand crooked into a
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9
Vivi Andrews
claw, his fingernails extending and
retracting, sharpening into claws and
then flattening into healthy human nubs.
Landon was way too close to losing
control completely.
“She’s sure,” he growled.
Ava turned toward Landon, putting her
back against the bar, and raised her face
to him. As always, the sight of him hit
her low in her stomach, a blow to her
equilibrium.
Tall and broad, every inch tanned and
muscled, he could have stepped right off
the set of a gladiator movie, thrown on a
black knit shirt and jeans and wandered
into the bar. A man so large should
never seem graceful, but there was a
sense of the feline in Landon, even in his
human form. He kept his hair short
enough that it just fell over his brow, but
the mix of dark golds and browns still