A Lion's Heart by Kracken Page A

was alone and, even when he returned to the Savanna, he would still be alone. They were kindred spirits now. Shakra almost thought, brothers , but something inside of him balked at that.
    The candles burned low and the fire sank into coals. The warmth and the low light were too irresistible. Shakra fell asleep, listening to the rumble of Tamarind's breath and his strong heartbeat.
    Shakra opened his eyes when morning came and found himself nose to nose with Tamarind. The silver eyes were open and regarding him calmly. That stopped Shakra's instant urge to recoil. He twitched, his tail bristled, and his ears lowered submissively.
    “You won't... disembowel me, will you?” Shakra asked softly, a bare whisper.
    The werelion twitched an ear and actually smiled. “Not if you feed me, Prince,” he replied, just as softly, as if they were sharing a secret. “Besides,” he added, “You make a good sleeping rug.”
    Shakra snorted, but then retorted, “So do you; a soft one.”
    Insults out of the way, Shakra was the first to roll away and come to his feet. He stretched, shook himself, and then went to call for breakfast. When he'd sent a servant scurrying, he turned back and saw that the werelion hadn't moved. In fact, he looked as if he'd gone back to sleep. Shakra returned to his warm spot, but not quite nose to nose. The werelion's tail flicked and Shakra had a feeling it was a warning.
    “Are you well?” Shakra wondered.
    One eye opened again. The werelion made a delicate yawn and then rolled onto his back, furry legs splayed and hands stretched above his head. His ribs stuck out as he elongated his body and then relaxed. Shakra found himself searching quickly between Tamarind's legs for proof that the long haired were was as other male weres. He could smell male musk, but something instinctive made him very curious about that place.
    “If you stick your nose there, I will take it off,” Tamarind growled and rolled onto his stomach, claws raking the floor.
    Shakra blushed. “I was curious....” was all that he could find to say.
    Tamarind looked him over. He frowned and Shakra could see that he had questions as well. “Are you... like a dog?” Tamarind asked hesitantly.
    Shakra's ruff rose and he snarled, “No!”
    Tamarind wasn't put off by his sharp reply. “You look like one...”
    “Are you like a lion, because you look like one?” Shakra demanded in revenge.
    Tamarind flushed. “No.”
    They stared at each other below the waist. Very slowly, Shakra rolled onto his side and raised his leg. After a moment's hesitation, Tamarind echoed his move. They both looked, and then they both lowered their legs at the same time and were suddenly moving to opposite ends of the room, embarrassed.
    “Satisfied that I am NOT a dog?” Shakra demanded in a choked voice.
    A pause and then Tamarind replied, “Yes. Do you see that I'm not a lion?”
    Shakra thought of the very masculine parts that he had seen beneath the thick fur and nodded shakily, his face burning.
    A servant knocked on the door. Shakra scrambled to answer and to get them out of that difficult situation. What had possessed them, he wasn't sure, but decided to curse his instincts and the need it gave him to assess every male around him. It wasn't anything more than that, he told himself, but couldn't stop the heat from traveling from his face down to a very uncomfortable part of his anatomy.
    The servant entered with a tray of food. There was one plate heaped with raw meat that looked sickeningly fresh. Tamarind was up at once and taking it from the frightened servant's tray. Tamarind retreated to a corner with it and began eating with more neatness than Shakra believed possible with his very large, clawed hands. Shakra took his own meal and dismissed the servant, who was happy to flee.
    Shakra had cooked pheasant, cooked eggs, and a mug of clean well water. He sat on a low divan and ate slowly, watching his companion from under his unruly bangs. Before he