Page 3 of Lion's Little Scamp

“How did you travel two hours with her scent filling your nostrils?”

Though it was probably his imagination, Harrigan swore he could smell the sweetly innocent scent he had picked up from her bag. But that was impossible since she was in the passenger area, and he was in the cockpit with the window closed between them.

“I had self-control. I strongly recommend you keep your mind on your job until we land because you are the only one onboard that knows how to fly this thing,” Lonergan said as he settled back and pulled out his tablet. “So, which one is it?”

“The little one that looked like she’d blow away in a stiff wind,” Harrigan answered, wondering what his boss was up to.

Lonergan had started Bratburg deep in the mountains as a sanctuary for shifters, and after gathering a dozen shifters and turning them into a working family of sorts, he used his money and vision to turn Bratburg into more. Humans sent their too wild, too sassy, or too out of control women to be “re-educated” into properly submissive women of society. Human society and changed over the past few years, now demanding women support their men, suppress any fresh ideas they might have, and fit in with their peers, almost as if they were children to be seen and not heard. Bratburg reminded them of this, but also taught them practical skills, and after their training, the women would be relocated to another city where they were given a fresh start at life.

The shifters of Bratburg Institute were all Daddy Doms, each on the lookout for their mates. The fact that not only Lonergan, but Kodiak Furr, their chief of security, and Diego Caroma, the institute’s head instructor, had found their mates, gave the rest of the shifters that called Bratburg home hope that with each new batch of girls, maybe another mate would be found.

Harrigan was stunned to know that today he had found his mate. And from the few minutes he had seen her, he could see she was too thin and too pale. Definitely in need of a Daddy to take care of her. She needed him.

“Her name is Irish McCullough. She’s twenty-two and has been on the streets off and on since she aged out of the foster care system at eighteen. David couldn’t find out much else about her, other than she was picked up last night when the police raided a homeless camp on the edge of the city. She was brought in with a stuffed lion, which I assume is in her backpack, so she might even be a Little. No matter what, you’ll need to go gentle with her, my friend. She’s probably a feral Little in need of a gentle Daddy.”

Harrigan nodded as he took the information in and filed it away. “You’ll see I’m assigned as her guardian?”

“If that’s what you want,” Lonergan said with a smirk.

“Asshole,” Harrigan snarled as he pushed the helicopter to go a little faster. All at once he was in a hurry to get back to the institute so he could meet his mate properly.

Chapter Three

“Miss McCullough, it’s time to wake up,” was the next thing Irish remembered.

When someone touched her shoulder and gently massaged it, she opened her eyes and gasped. She did not know where she was, but it certainly was not the cardboard box at the homeless encampment where she had been living for the past couple of weeks. A dark figure was bent over her. She tried to pull back from this stranger but could not move. There was nowhere to retreat to. A whimpering sound filled the silence of the space they were in.

The man reached toward her, but instead of smacking her upside the head, or trying to get into her pants, he unbuckled the straps holding her in place. “Shhhh, it’s all right, little one. Relax. You fell asleep on the helicopter. We’ve arrived in Bratburg and it’s time to get out and start your next life adventure.”

With his gentle words, the past twenty-four hours flooded back. That was also when she realized she was the one making sounds like a wounded animal.

Given her history, maybe she was. A wild animal who lived on the edge of society and survived anyway she could.

When the man straightened, she curled into herself, trying to make herself a small a target as she could. If she thought she could get away with it, she would try to slip under the seat beneath her. Though it had never worked before, Irish once again wished she had a different life, a different family, a different fate. Her life had been one giant fuck-up after another, and now she had been sent to Bratburg for ending up homeless and nearly without hope.

“Ready to get out of here and see Bratburg?” the big man stepped back before holding one hand out toward her palm up in invitation.

Now that he had moved back into the light, Irish recognized him as the golden god from the rooftop.

A warm shiver raced through her as her instincts told her it would be okay to trust this man. He radiated the same strong, yet gentle aura that Sailor had, though his eyes did not hold Sailor’s pain. Instead, she saw warmth, curiosity, and something in them that she could not put a name to.

After stretching her arms and back, she slowly laid her hand on his, palm to palm.

“Good girl,” he praised as his smile grew. Her pussy clenched at both his words and his expression.

“Will I get my backpack back now?” she asked as she stood up.

“In a little while,” he assured her as he led her out of the helicopter.

Once on the ground, he led her over to stand with the other two girls, who glared at her as if it were her fault they were here. A few yards away, several really big men stood, including the man who had been present at her hearing.

As soon as she was in line with the others, the golden god released her hand and walked over to join the other men wearing the black and tan uniform that was apparently the clothing of choice here.

Irish shifted her attention from him to the big man who introduced him as the director of Bratburg Institute. She listened intently to his welcoming speech and introduction to the other staff members they would have direct contact with. The man who had woken her and helped her from the helicopter was one of the few not introduced. After that, she and the other new arrivals retrieved their bags from where they sat in the grass behind the helicopter, and then followed the man identified as the head of security across the field to the largest building in sight.

Only when Irish had her backpack in her arms did she take a full, somewhat easy, breath. Slipping the zipper up a few inches, she poked two fingers inside and rubbed their tips against Fluffy’s fur. He was safe. As long as the lion stuffie was with her, she knew everything would be okay. Even if she had no idea what to expect from the next thirty days. She would be fine as long as she had Fluffy.

She followed right behind the chief guard to the building, not caring if the others followed or not. She sniffed as the scent of baked ham filled the air. Climbing the steps to the building’s front door, she licked her lips and used one hand to cover her rumbling stomach as her cheeks heated with embarrassment. It had been a long time since her last meal.

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