Really Unusual Bad Boys. MaryJanice Davidson

twisted trees. Its tail—at least five feet long, and as thick around as her wrist—switched lazily back and forth. It seemed tame—it hadn’t killed her in her sleep, after all.

      She thought about standing up, rejected the idea, then reconsidered. After all, why was she being careful? She’d tried to commit suicide and now she was worried about a predator? What in God’s name for?

      She stood, slowly, never taking her eyes off the big cat. It was only when she was on her feet that she realized the last thing, the most shocking thing—her knee didn’t hurt. Not even a tiny bit.

      She flexed. She crouched. She jogged in place. Nothing, not a twinge, not a whimper.

      “It worked!” she cried, forgetting herself for a moment. “I’m dead and—and somewhere else.” Heaven? Hell? Some weird place in between? Who cared? She was out of pain for the first time in a long, long time. “I’m okay! I’m here and I’m okay! Do you hear? I made it and I’m okay!”

      The puma was strolling toward her. She was so elated she forgot to be afraid. “I’m better now,” she told it. “Isn’t that great?”

      “What was wrong with you?” the puma asked. Except it didn’t really speak—its jaws never moved. But she heard the question in her head.

      After the purple sky and the painless limb, nothing was going to faze her. “Plenty of things, believe you me,” she answered. “But I guess things are finally looking up.” She cleared her throat. The puma was standing no more than two feet away, looking up at her. “You’re—uh—not going to eat me, are you?”

      “I was thinking about it.” Something was wrong with the cat’s coat. It was shedding—no, its skin was rippling—no, it was sick—no, it was shrinking—no, it was growing—no, it was a man, a darkly tanned man with shoulder-length tawny blond hair and purple eyes. A man standing where the puma had just been. He grinned at her. His teeth were incredibly white and looked sharp. “Yes, I was definitely giving it some thought.”

      “Aaaaaaaaaa—”

      “Are you all right?”

      “—aaaaaaaaaaaggggggggg—”

      “My lady? What’s wrong?”

      “—gggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh—”

      “Um, well, I will just change back, then.”

      “—hhhhhhhhhhhhh—what? No, don’t do that. Just give me a minute.” Panting, Lois sat down before she fell down. The puma man, who was splendidly nude, sat down cross-legged across from her. He was tanned, with the sleek muscles she had noticed before. His stomach was a washboard, and his forehead was creased with concern.

      “Perhaps you need a healer,” he suggested.

      “Perhaps I need the department shrink, followed by several Budweisers. Um—what are you?”

      “I am—a man, as you are a woman.”

      She snorted. The world—this strange new place—had stopped tilting, that was something. For a black moment, she’d thought she was going to faint. And that would be just too damned embarrassing. “Sure. Just a run-of-the-mill fella. Who can turn back and forth into a puma—”

      “What is a poo-muh?”

      “—and walks around naked and is magically delicious, besides.”

      “I know no magic.”

      “Never mind.” She was trying not to stare, but couldn’t help it. He was probably the best-looking guy she’d ever seen. He was big, but not bulky—his muscles had the lean definition of a swimmer’s. His hair was gorgeous, tumbling around his shoulders, thick and wavy. His eyes were enormous, the palest lavender framed with darker purple lashes. His pubic hair, thank God, wasn’t purple, but rather two shades darker than the hair on his head. His shoulders, legs, and arms were lightly furred, and his nails were longer than hers. Since she was a nail-biter, that wasn’t much of a trick.

      When they spoke, it was simultaneously.

      “Where am I?”

      “How did you come to be here?”

      She laughed. “You first.”

      He smiled. She nearly flinched back, but restrained herself in time. His smile was much wider than a normal person’s. She figured he had, at rough count, about a thousand teeth. “As you wish. This is my home. It is the SandLands. And you just appeared. Between one breath and the next, you appeared. I stayed, as I was curious. You slept for a long time.”

      “Well, thanks for not chomping me in my sleep.”

      He looked offended. “I would never.”

      “Oh, take it easy, I was only joking. As for your question, I have no friggin’ idea how I came to be here. I tried—back at my house, I was drinking a lot and—never mind. Anyway, I passed out and the next thing I knew, I was here.”

      “You must be a sorceress of unimaginable power.”

      “Ah—no. No, don’t think so. I think being here was a big-ass accident. A good accident,” she said hastily when his forehead creased again. “But it was nothing I did on purpose. Um—what next?”

      “You will come with me to my home. I wish my father and brothers to meet you.”

      “Oh. Okay, then. Doesn’t exactly sound like a request, though,” she added in a mumble.

      He rose in one fluid movement while she gaped in admiration, then extended his hand. It was almost twice as big as hers, and she wasn’t exactly a shrimp.

      She put her hand in his and let him pull her to a standing position. She sensed that he could have tossed her thirty feet if he wanted to. She tried not to stare below his waist, but couldn’t resist peeking. He was long, thick, and semierect, which was flattering.

      As if reading her mind, he looked down into her face and said matter-of-factly, “You are extremely beautiful.”

      She laughed at him. She hadn’t meant to, but it was an absurd comment. She was built like a fire hydrant—dense and practical, but hardly the curvy, willowy blond specimen so popular in American society. She had no waist, and her legs were too long, and her tits were only so-so—she’d been a B cup for years. Plus, she had multiple scars from years of street scuffles—knife wounds, bullet wounds, even a permanent rope burn a junkie, high on acid and Jack Daniel’s, had given her. Her hair was the nicest thing about her, and it was too curly, too wild, too out of control in humidity, and the color of a tar pit.

      He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. Even through her shirt, she could feel the heat from his hands, and his erection brushing against her back. This was alarming, yet delightful. She was facing the sun—a small, white orb—and in the distance she could see a castle.

      “My home is there. May I keep you?” he asked, leaning down and speaking softly into her ear. She shivered and felt her entire left side erupt into goose bumps. She leaned back against him and felt him drop a kiss to the tip of her ear, then nuzzle the side of her neck. He was definitely an affectionate fellow, no doubt about that.

      “Ah—nope. But I’d sure like to see where you live.”

      “As you wish, my lady. And about the other, we shall see.” Before she could puzzle out what that was supposed to mean, his hands were abruptly gone, and when she turned to look at him, he was a puma again.

      Out of pure curiosity, she stretched out her hands. Even when she put her hands thumb to thumb and spread her fingers wide, his head was still wider. He was truly enormous, bigger than any cat she’d ever seen on her own world. Even the lions on her world were smaller.

      “My lady, what are you waiting for?” She could hear him laughing in her head. “Mount, if you please.”

      She blushed all the way down to her toes at the mental image that phrase conjured up,