Page 1 of Mated to the Pride

Blake

Our pride’s workout routine was always punishing, but never more so than the few weeks before a big mission. Now that there were only ten days before we left for our latest engagement, I was holding nothing back. As alpha commander, senior both in our pride and our military actions, it was my responsibility to keep these men alive.

Of course, I did that in many different ways — but keeping them in peak physical condition definitely wouldn’t hurt.

I paced my breathing as I continued on the rowing machine, pushing hard to meet the same high bar I’d set for the others. Sure, we stuck to traditional pride hierarchy like any other group of shifters, but our work bound us together. I was their leader, but also their equal. I never asked them to do anything I wouldn’t do myself.

“You okay there, chief?”

I paused to look across at the speaker. If I wasn’t pushing my body so hard, Hale’s grin would be as infectious as always. Of the entire pride, it was Hale that had the most feline energy in this form. His dark, narrow eyes were intense and focused, playful as he was. Outsiders tended to find him intimidating and were surprised to learn that nobody in our group agreed — especially since Hale was also my second-in-command.

I shot him a look back. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t know. You got some heavy breathing going on over there.”

I shook my head. I was too focused to smile, but Hale knew me well enough to read it in my eyes. “Focus on yourself, smart-ass. You sure you haven’t turned down the resistance?”

“I just want everyone to know,” said Hale, turning around to face Stone and Preston, “that our fearless leader is accusing me of slacking off.”

“Uh-huh,” said Preston. He wasn’t much of a talker, but he didn’t have to be. The smirk he shot back at Hale did all the talking for him. Strangers tended to be confused by that. They hadn’t learned to pick up on his signals like we had and saw him as a mystery man. An enigma. The piercings in his upper ear and eyebrow likely helped that along — as well as his sleek wave of dark hair, dashed with a fleck of premature silver. Preston was only 28, and looked it. The little gray looked curious, and often had people joking that we put him through too much stress.

“If only he could accuse you of shutting up,” said Stone.

“Wow,” Hale shot back. “I resent that.”

Like Hale, Stone was never too tired to smile, and had a playful look even now as he pushed hard through the rowing motions. These youngest two members of our pride, Stone at 26 and Hale at 27, were always batting friendly insults back and forth between one another. At 30, I wasn’t much older, but I still didn’t know where they got their energy from.

Maybe my mind was just occupied with more serious things.

“How much time left?” Stone asked.

“One more minute,” I said. “Then we run.”

“Thank fuck.” Stone pressed on, lifting a hand to push back the bleach-blond sweep of his hair. Needless to say, that bleach-blond was the subject of a lot of Hale’s teasing, but nobody could deny that it suited him. As alpha of the pride, I kind of had to appreciate that at least one of us was sporting something like a mane in human form.

It wasn’t exactly the most practical haircut for paramilitary operations, but Stone was our medic. I figured I could cut him a little slack.

When the timer finally hit zero, the room gave a collective exhale. All the tension in our muscles faded away to sweat and heat, and there was a fizz of relief in the air as we headed outside.

“Good work today,” I said, pausing to pat Preston’s shoulder as he passed, and closing the door behind us. “I didn’t hear too many complaints. Everybody had good form. Shaping up pretty well for next week.”

“If we’re not exhausted,” said Hale, rolling his shoulders back. “Shit. I wish my lion wasn’t so ready to go right now. I want to fall down face-first into a snack.”

“You always do,” Stone teased. “C’mon. Let’s get this over with.”

As he reached the edge of the gravel path outside our home, he shifted in the blink of an eye. Where there had once been lithe limbs and tan skin, Stone was now all sand-colored fur — the well-shaped, muscular form of a lion’s body, paws pounding against the floor hard enough to leave imprints in the crumbly earth.

The rest of us followed close behind, keeping pace with our medic. Even your average human could probably spot the difference between us, but it was even easier for our pride. Stone’s blond hair seemed to be reflected in the lightness of his mane, and how it so closely mirrored the rest of his fur. Flecks of gray were peppered through Preston’s dark, near-black mane. Hale stood taller than the rest of us, and with a reddish sheen to him that was absent from his human form. As for me, I was a muddy gray with a mane that lightened at the edges, with muscular limbs that marked me out as leader.

Of course, human eyes wouldn’t catch all these details at first glance. For one thing, we were moving quick enough to be easily missed, dust whipping up around us in a storm. After working our human bodies so hard today, this felt like a treat. Like the best kind of cool-down stretch. We wouldn’t feel like ourselves if we had no time to do this. Our human forms were fine, but there was something pure and right about this form that we needed every once in a while. However the others experienced it, I could feel the earth pulsing through my paws, connected to me in a way that my other shape wasn’t.

We could communicate differently in this form, too. We didn’t need to speak to fall into formation, forming a chain that worked perfectly as we made our way through the undergrowth and the tightly-packed forest. We each took turns in the lead, fast and furious as we coursed over gulches and dips in the ground. It was seamless. Nobody had to snarl or roar to advertise their position; we were just aware of each other, as easily as we were aware of ourselves. We barely had to think about it.

This innate sense of flow and cooperation was why we worked so well together as a military unit. Maybe our commanding officer didn’t really understand what bonded us so closely. Our shifter status was highly classified information. Still, it was obvious to everyone who came into contact with us how useful our unspoken communication could be in any intense and difficult situation.

This was why we were trusted with such important missions. This was why we were being sent away in ten days. No amount of physical aptitude or training could compare to the kind of team that we had — and our physical skills were top-notch in any case.

It was a tough life. We worked hard, and had little time to ourselves, but the pride kept each other sane and happy. There’d be time for fun and settling down later in our lives.

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