An Unauthorized Field Guide to the Hunt by Kari Gregg Read Free Book Online Page A

for his backpack and pulled it into his nest of furs. The scent wafting from it stirred his abused dick, and before his fingers found the clasp of the bag’s zipper, he knew the cat had rooted through his things. The jumbled contents further reassured him.
    His cat had been curious. Very curious.
    The extra set of clothes supplied to all competitors was a pleasant surprise considering Shane’s cat had rapidly destroyed the shirt and pants he’d worn yesterday. Some cats hated clothing and stole the few items issued to competitors once the mating dance began in earnest. Not this one, apparently. Shane wouldn’t spend the rest of his time in the arena naked, at least. When he spotted his toothbrush stuffed in a pocket on the right now rather than the left, he snatched it. He shoved the brush into his mouth and scrubbed. His boots were missing, lost somewhere in the forest last night, but when he nudged his extra clothes aside, he spotted moccasins added to his backpack, which was another stroke of luck since the tread of regulation boots was easy to track.
    Wardens weren’t the only ones who had rewarded Shane. To be so generous the cat must have enjoyed last night’s chase enormously.
    Shane frowned around his toothbrush, pawing through his pack just to be sure. He ripped the brush from his mouth and set it aside to go through the backpack one stingy item at a time.
    His flatscreen was gone.
    The cat had confiscated Shane’s first-aid kit too.
    “You’ve been marked.”
    Heart shrieking shrill alarm, Shane jumped and scrambled backward in his furs.
    The blond who’d asked the Nambian for the contraband knife stared at him through dark, narrowed eyes from the surrounding trees. “Your shoulder,” the human said. “Congratulations.”
    Pulse skittering, muscles tensed for a speedy escape, Shane studied his competitor. A bruise colored the guy’s left temple, but he didn’t otherwise seem the worse for wear after his first night in the arena. Truthfully the man was in better condition than Shane, but that wasn’t a standard of success in the Hunt, was it? The blond hadn’t been medevaced out, though. He was still competing, which was no small achievement. Taller than Shane but doughy around the middle, the man was less fit. Soft. Shane hadn’t expected him to last despite gutting the Nambian. That Shane now recognized the ruse and knew him to be crafty instead didn’t make him any less dangerous. It made him a fiercer enemy. And a more attractive ally.
    “Thanks,” Shane said while he decided which the human would be. Since the cat had allowed the man perilously close, Shane grudgingly accepted his mate’s vote: ally. “Hurts like all hells.”
    “A bite that deep could scar even if treated immediately.” The stranger’s mouth quirked. “But the cat didn’t leave your first-aid kit in your bag.” He jerked his chin at the backpack still clutched in Shane’s hands. “Did he?”
    Belatedly following that same path of comforting logic, Shane stared. “Maybe.”
    “Then relax. You might be this cycle’s first victor.”
    Shane grimaced.
    The guy’s lips curved to a sympathetic bow. “The good news is your cat wouldn’t have let me near you if he believed I might damage his new toy.”
    The reminder clenched Shane’s gut. True, the cat was invested in the mating or he wouldn’t have marked Shane so thoroughly, but marking gave competitors only a temporary edge. Fear of reprisals discouraged most competitors from entering the territories of mating cats, and any who dared ventured carefully. Cats were fickle, their interest fleeting. The bite at his shoulder didn’t mean anything.
    Or it could mean everything.
    Too soon to tell. Regardless, Shane’s cat wouldn’t risk him unnecessarily, but the cat wasn’t gambling his own life or safety. He was betting Shane’s. The cat might have fucked Shane stupid last night, but that was no basis for relying on the cat’s judgment today. Shane scowled at