Castle Glamorgan

Six Months Later…

She was going to kill him. The rat bastard she was going to marry later today—she was going to kill him. Whatever had possessed him to decide that as it was bad luck to see your bride on your wedding day, he would leave her bed a few minutes before midnight? Oh, she might have handled that better had he not left her aroused, wet, and needy. Was this his idea of funny? Sometimes Braden’s sense of humor left a lot to be desired.

Carys was standing out on their balcony, trying to decide the best way to do it. She could shoot him—messy but effective. He’d taught her to use a gun so there was some poetic justice to that. He’d told her put a bullet in each lung and one between the eyes. That didn’t sound nearly painful enough. How about one to the heart and one to his genitals? Now, that had a kind of symmetry she liked.

Poison? Effective and depending on which kind was used, it could be a particularly gruesome way to die. Radiation Isotope? Hard to get your hands on and not easily administered without dosing oneself. Strangulation? Difficult to accomplish—he had a thick neck, and she wasn’t nearly strong enough. She’d probably end up with a well-spanked ass and pissed off husband for her trouble. Arsenic? Too slow. Severed jugular—that one had some real possibilities and so many ways to accomplish it. The two most easily done were with a knife drawn across his neck or shifting and dragging her paw with its claws extended. Of course, she could always shift and attack him, using her razor-sharp fangs to rip him apart. Again, messy but effective.

There was a knock on the door and her soon to be sister-in-law Gwen stuck her head inside.

“Oooh, that is not a good face. You look like you’re plotting my idiot brother’s demise.”

“Do you know where he slept last night?” asked Carys. “I’ll give you a hint—not with me. That bastard plans a romantic drink out on the balcony with lots of kissing and fondling. Then lifts me up and carries me back to our bed, goes down on me and then… nothing. Tells me it’s almost midnight and it’s bad luck to see his bride on his wedding day, and leaves. He just up and fucking leaves.”

“Yeah, he was pretty proud of himself. For what it’s worth, I told him he was an asshole and Dafydd told him he might want to watch his back where you’re concerned. But hey, I come bearing gifts that might help.” Gwen entered the bedroom carrying a tray with a wine chiller and a bottle of vintage champagne, a pitcher of orange juice, and two champagne flutes.

“Unless it’s a hard cock attached to some hunky guy who knows how to use it, nothing is going to help.”

Gwen laughed. “No, but I do have the makings for mimosas. What were you thinking about when I came in?”

“All the various ways I could murder him. Problem is, they were either too slow or too messy.”

Joining her out on the balcony, Gwen popped open some champagne and added it to the two flutes of orange juice she had with her. “You could always tell him you want to take a cruise for your honeymoon, wait until you’re in the middle of the ocean and push him over the railing. No fuss, no muss. If you want, you could chum the water and the sharks could tear him apart.”

“He’d give them indigestion. In fact, they probably wouldn’t eat him—professional courtesy.”

“And here I was thinking the highlight of the day would be seeing you come down the aisle and watching that dress knock his socks off,” Gwen said handing her a mimosa.

Carys downed it in one gulp and then grinned. “Yes, not quite the modest dress he had picked out for me.”

“Hardly.”

Carys extended her glass to Gwen, who obligingly downed her own mimosa and made them two more. They clinked glasses, threw back the drinks and Gwen made more.

“So, I told Dafydd he was in charge of the boys. It’s your day and my brother’s a jerk. What do you want to do?”

“Did the others arrive last night?” asked Carys.

Gwen nodded. “Shortly after my wicked brother whisked you off to enjoy himself, as I’m assuming that aborted bullshit was round two…”

Carys grinned. “Actually three…”

“Greedy girl! But yes, the Drummonds and the O’Neills arrived within an hour of each other. Peyton Knight—she wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“Not at all. Braden says she keeps Knight on his toes. I should remind him at least the dead people I’m interested in don’t generally try to shoot me.”

“Because they’ve been dead for thousands of years.”

“But she did look like she might be up for a good time.”

“She did, indeed. Dafydd said she’s a real spitfire.”

“Then why don’t you be a good sister-in-law and see if they’re awake. Tell them the Mistress of the Sabretooth Clan requests their presence.”

“You want it all hoity-toity like that?”

“Only if they aren’t alone. If they are, tell them we’re going to go get up to no good.”

Gwen left her and returned with Peyton and three more glasses. “I found this one on her way downstairs, the other two say they’ll be here shortly.”

“Carys, thank you for inviting us. Joshua said that the four of them used to get together up at Drummond’s club at least once a year, but the last several years have been difficult. Have you met the others?” said Peyton Knight.

“Only electronically. How about you?”

“I met Katy when she and Con came down to London to play at Baker Street.”

“She met him doing undercover work, right?” asked Carys who turned as she heard the door open.

“I did. Sort of backfired. I ended up selling out one of his competitors, making sure he was safe and then killing myself… until I needed his help saving my sister—the crusading nun.”

“Hmm. This would make a great story if only Knight would let me write it. An undercover agent that falls in love with her mark, an archeologist who runs away from her mafia don lover…”

“A reporter trying to run down a story and a scotch distiller whose grandfather set her up,” said the woman who could only be Blaise Drummond as she entered the room. “We’re a sorry lot. Four beautiful, intelligent, headstrong women brought low by four gangsters. How the hell did that happen?”

Blaise was followed by Katy O’Neill. “At least none of you came back from the dead. Please tell me you called us to do something obnoxious that will piss them off.” Gwen went to hand her a drink. “I need mine with no booze. I’m pregnant and Con has now become even worse about ensuring I’m safe. He’s driving me batshit crazy, so I could use a little bit of naughty.”

“I thought we could all shift and go for a run. I also thought it might be fun to disappear into the tunnels,” said Carys.

“But how are we going to get out without the men involving themselves in our run?” asked Peyton.

“Easy,” replied Carys. “There’s an escape door out of our room… we can shift up here and head out that way. The little pointed-head darlings will never know.”

Katy walked over to the door leading out in the hallway and quietly eased the bolt home. “If they come looking for us, that locked door ought to really piss them off.”

Carys looked at the eager faces of those around her and lifted her glass. “Ladies, here’s to the start of a beautiful friendship.”

They all took a sip out of their champagne flutes and began undressing.

“Is it just me,” said Carys, “or does it ever seem weird to you that it’s totally normal to get naked around other women?”

Blaise laughed. “Braden hasn’t taken you to Baker Street yet, has he?”

“Joshua and Braden are planning to do a double date up in London,” said Peyton.

Carys nodded. “Brae talked about a weekend trip up to the Savoy.”

“Yes, and then I think the plan is to introduce you to Baker Street,” Peyton said, removing her shirt.

“It’s a gorgeous lifestyle club in London. Con and I try to do what you’re talking about… a getaway weekend to London. We always stay at the Savoy and do at least one night at the club.”

“I’m a member there,” said Blaise. “My granda was a member at Gavan’s club so I went elsewhere.”

They all laughed.

“Dafydd and I went once, and I thought it was great fun. He got a bit stuffy about men he didn’t know well seeing me in a corset and thong,” said Gwen a bit wistfully.

“Even though this is a good-sized room, why don’t we shift and head down to the main tunnels in a group. Blaise and Peyton come with me and Katy, you and Gwen can follow.”

They all agreed and in no time at all, each of the five women had shifted and headed down into the maze of tunnels below.

There was something about running free in her shifted form that appealed to Carys. It seemed as though she was so much more in tune with her body when she was a sabretooth. She and Braden ran several times a week. Gwen had said she’d never known Brae to shift and run as often as he did with Carys. She often wondered if she loved it so much because she hadn’t been doing it all her life.

The group took a quick run out onto the beach and splashed among the waves. Carys knew they needed to be mindful of the time as they were having a sunset ceremony and she would need to shower and dress. When they returned to the castle, instead of heading straight up to the room she shared with Braden, Carys led her small troupe of she-cats to the billiards room, as she figured the men might well be there playing pool, having a beer, and smoking a cigar. There were two places cigar smoking was allowed in the castle—the billiards room, which had a separate air exchange system, and her and Brae’s balcony.

Gathering the women close to her, she flung open the secret door into the room and bounded in, followed by her she-cat cohorts in crime. Carys leapt up on the pool table, swatting aside the cue ball that had been struck and was headed for her.

“Ok, that’s a do-over,” said a man with a thick Irish brogue—a man who could only be Con O’Neill. “I’m sure there’s something in the rules covering interference by a sabretooth.”

“Carys,” Brae growled.

Carys faced him and snarled. She knew that he knew they normally ended their runs having sex and, therefore, he didn’t like it when she shifted and went running without him. She jumped off the table and rubbed up against him, paying special attention to brushing along his groin and producing precisely the reaction she wanted before bowling him over and galloping back out into the tunnels, her chuffing laughter drifting back over her shoulder. Her ‘posse,’ consisting of another sabretooth, a black lioness, a black tigress, and a black she-panther, followed close behind her.

Her girls must have done some damage, as she heard plenty of crashing and cursing as they left the area. She took the most direct route back to the tunnel leading to their room as she figured locking themselves inside was probably not a bad idea.

Once they had all shifted and returned to the room, Carys closed and locked the escape door. She didn’t think the men would actually come after them, but on the other hand, they were four organized crime bosses—men who were not accustomed to being made the butt of a joke.

But all four women knew the men with whom they shared their lives weren’t your typical mafia don—they were four extraordinary men whose ancestors long ago had taken on the mantle of protection for an entire kingdom. A responsibility neither they nor those who had come before them had shirked.

The one thing they could depend upon where their mates were concerned was retribution.