YazminaLion Are
Authors: Lizzie Lynn Lee
YAZMINA’S LION
LIONS OF THE SERENGETI
by Lizzie Lynn Lee
Yazmina Al-Rahad, the daughter of a wealthy sheikh, is running away from an arranged marriage by stowing away on an international cargo ship. Her destination, the port of New York, sounds like a desert girl’s dream. After all, America, the Land of the Free, is where she needs to be. Unfortunately, the ship’s captain catches Yazmina and throws her in with the secret cargo the ship is carrying—a lion cage. Yazmina thinks she’s dead meat… until she witnesses the big, hungry lion turn into a gorgeous man before her eyes.
Arcan Rarh, a part-time businessman and full-time lion shifter, is in Dubai to close a deal. He usually doesn’t let his business partners talk him into celebratory drinking, considering the nature of
his
beast. When he wakes up in a daze in a filthy cage, with a curvy, voluptuous Arabian goddess watching his every move in fear, Arcan thinks fate has a plan for him—to save her and set her free from the strict patriarchal chain.
But then she makes him an offer no sane man can refuse…
Special thanks to my friend Azhar Kasim for the Arabic translation.
Yazmina’s Lion
©Copyright Lizzie Lynn Lee 2015
Cover Art by (Lizzie Lynn Lee) ©Copyright (April/2015)
Edited by Chris Stout
Line Edit by Mark Hooper
Proofread by Pat Sager
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author.
Also available:
Lions of the Serengeti
Anna’s Lion (Coming Soon)
Eva’s Lion (Coming Soon)
Chapter One
Yazmina Al-Rahad tried to remember how a lion ate. Did he rip the belly of his victim first, or did he maul random body parts that appealed to him? She twisted her fingers until her knuckles went white. Either way, it was going to be painful. She tried to tame her galloping heart and pretend everything was going to be all right.
She couldn’t.
The beast—hundreds of pounds of muscles, fur and claws—lay only three meters from her. At the moment, the lion was fast asleep, but when he woke up…
She clutched her chest, taking a lungful of air. It didn’t help. Anytime now, she was going to faint.
Her gaze was transfixed on the male lion lying before her. He was huge, bigger than any zoo lion she’d ever seen. His sinewy body was covered in glossy tawny fur. His mane was golden and lush. And his paws and claws…
Yazmina gulped hard.
He’d tear her to pieces, starting with her limbs. And he’d break her neck. And then he’d sink his sharp teeth into her stomach and disembowel her with all his might, feasting on her innards.
God, no.
That was too horrible to imagine.
She didn’t want to die this way.
Why? Why did she have to get caught? If she’d stayed silent in her container, she wouldn’t have been discovered. She’d have been safe until this ship carried her to the port of New York. To America.
But then she was thirsty. She didn’t think anyone would be near her hiding place at that time. As she rummaged through her bag in search of bottled water, she tripped and fell spectacularly, and the captain of the ship noticed he had a stowaway. With a steel cutter, he cut the padlock and stormed into the cargo container. He caught her. She thought he’d take her below deck to punish her. Instead, he’d dragged her to a tarp-covered cage and unceremoniously shoved her in to become food for this beast.
Yazmina lamented her fate.
She’d run away from a dreaded arranged marriage to an old Bedouin chief, wife number four for him, and gone straight into a lion’s den—quite literally. She couldn’t bear the thought of marrying someone who was forty years older than her, someone she didn’t love, and spending the rest of her life in the desert.
But her father was indebted to the Bedouin chief.
Five years ago, her father had coveted a fine stallion that belonged to the chief. He gave it to her father in exchange for a favor. The stallion won many races and brought her father good fortune. Six months ago, the Bedouin chief had called in the favor. He wanted Yazmina as his bride. As shocked as he was, her father couldn’t refuse the chief’s request.
A deal was a deal, and her father was a man of principle.
So, there she was, her freedom sold for a horse. Yazmina felt betrayed. She couldn’t believe what her father had done. She was his only daughter. No matter how much she’d begged him, the deal remained. She was to be delivered to the chief’s hand before this month’s end.
A week before her wedding, her cousin Fatima had come up with a plan. She bought a large shipping container and equipped it with supplies. She was going to ship the container to her family in America with Yazmina inside it. It was the only way to freedom that Fatima could come up with on such short notice.
Yazmina didn’t know people who could forge a passport. Her father had connections with the authorities in Dubai. When he noticed she was missing, he’d alerted them and begun a manhunt. Airports would be the first place they’d look. Not a cargo ship. Yazmina thought the plan was brilliant until she got caught and was forced to face the most ferocious beast from Africa.
She blinked back tears.
She tried to be brave, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t raised to be brave. She was raised to obey. The female members of her family didn’t have a say in any decision-making, nor did they have freedom. While her three brothers were granted the privilege of studying abroad, her father confined her at home with private tutors. Her maids and guards watched her every move. She was a bird in gilded cage. If it weren’t for her cousin Fatima, who was also her best friend, visiting her often, she’d have been cut off from the world.
The lion stirred.
Yazmina scooted further towards the corner of the cage, as far away from the beast as she could. Still, he was closer than she wanted.
The lion opened his eyes and sniffed. The primal yellow gaze skittered toward her.
Yazmina froze in terror. Every fiber of her being was petrified.
Anytime now…
Chapter Two
Arcan Rarh had one hell of a bitch of a hangover. A vicious headache pounded in his head, and his parched throat hurt. God, he needed coffee. Good coffee. Black and strong with plenty of sugar. He opened his eyes.
Good lord, where was he?
The last thing he remembered, he was in a VIP room in a fancy nightclub that was licensed to serve alcohol. He and his business partner, Jackson, had been drinking in celebration of successfully closing a deal. Arcan ran a construction company in Canberra with his cousin Cole, and he’d traveled to Dubai to meet a new client. After a few drinks, Arcan needed to go to the bathroom, and things got hazy from there. He couldn’t remember what he’d done afterward. He was wasted for sure. He cursed silently. This would be the last time he let Jackson talk him into drinking. He was a lightweight when it came to booze. A couple beers were enough to make him tipsy. The few scotches on the rocks he’d had last night was far more than he usually allowed himself.
He squinted.
Where the hell was he? He looked at his hand—no, paw. Great, he’d gone lion. A few drinks, and he reverted into his beast. He lifted his head and sniffed. He was in some kind of cage. The floor was covered with straw. The air smelled like sawdust, animal musk and … a woman?
Hello, what do we have here?
Curled in the corner of the cage was a young woman staring at him with terror in her eyes. Arcan’s interest piqued. She was very pretty, and she couldn’t be more than twenty years of age. She was exotic. Olive skinned. Large oval eyes fanned with long dark lashes. Sensuous lips. Dark wavy hair that went past her elbows.
And her body… voluptuous.
She was wrapped in a simple white polo shirt and brown pants. Her sneakers and socks were white. Even though she was wrapped tight in her clothing, beneath all that, Arcan could see she was curvy in all the right places. Her face was angelic, but she had the body of a seductive temptress. She looked delicious from head to toe. Now, if only she didn’t look so frightened…
Arcan did a quick mental head-slap. Duh. Of course she was scared. He was in his lion form. He was quite intimidating when he was a human; his hulking six-foot-eleven figure made him a giant among regular people. And as a lion, he was the biggest in the pride, even though he wasn’t the alpha—his cousin Cyeon was, simply because he was the oldest.
Arcan got up. The pretty woman shrank into her corner. He couldn’t resist sniffing her. Damn, she smelled so good. He didn’t know why, but her scent drove him nuts. All he could think now was that he wanted her. He wanted her so very fucking much. Maybe it was the allure of her femininity; she was a goddess personified in mortal flesh. But her scent! No female human had ever driven him crazy like this before. All of a sudden, his headache and lingering hangover evaporated, replaced by an insane urge to mate.
This was crazy. He paused to clear his head. Who was this woman? What was she doing here in the cage?
He sat and whipped out his tail. She started sobbing. God, she must be really frightened. Guilt surged into his heart. He should shift into his human form, he really should, but would that spook her even more?
He pondered this for long seconds. He couldn’t stand to see the woman crying. His protective instinct nagged at him. He should comfort her. He had to.
Arcan shifted.
She widened her eyes and squealed in horror. She ranted in Arabic, which Arcan only caught words of. “God,” “impossible,” and “devil”
were among them. Clearly, she’d never seen a shifter before. But then again, he hadn’t expected that she had. Shifters were rare. And werelions were even rarer.
“
Marhaban la takhafi lan odiyaki. Hello. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you
,” Arcan said in broken Arabic.
She stared at him in disbelief and breathed hard. The girl looked as if she might faint at any second.
“
Hal tatakalami al engliziya ma ismoki?
Do you speak English? What’s your name
?”
Her mouth opened and closed. Then, she shook her head. “Impossible. You were a lion. And now you are a man.”
She spoke in lightly accented English, but her pronunciation was clear. She must have had a native speaker as an English teacher.
Arcan offered a smile, which he hoped would make him appear less scary. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
“Are you a
djinn
?
Djinn
like to trick and offer false promises.”
“No. I’m not a
djinn
, whatever that is.”
She didn’t relax her guard as she scrutinized him from head to toe. “
Djinns
are demons born from fire. They are tricksters and take pleasure from human misery.”
Arcan couldn’t help but laugh. The girl looked perplexed. He quickly collected himself. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not a demon. I’m only a human who happens to have, let’s say, a special power. I can transform into a lion. All male relatives in my family can do the same thing. It’s a gift, or a curse, depending on how you see it.”
“There are more of you out there?” Her eyes widened.
“Sure thing. We may look scary, but we don’t harm people. We eat regular human food.”
She didn’t take her eyes off him as she digested the information. Apparently, she believed what he’d said. She relaxed, but her fascination toward him was palpable. Arcan found her very gullible, too easily trusting of a stranger. Not that he wanted her to be terrified of him. He didn’t have any ulterior motives with her, but an unscrupulous individual would have easily taken advantage of her.
“Where are we anyway?” he asked.
She made a tiny gesture. “On a ship. To New York.”
“A ship?” Arcan frowned.
God.
That must have been one hell of a blackout he had, because he didn’t remember any of this. He ran a hand through his hair. “How the hell did I get here?”
“You don’t remember?” she asked.
Arcan shook his head. “I had a little too much to drink. When I woke up, I was here.”
“I read that a circus is performing in town. Perhaps they mistook you for a runaway lion and caught you to be sold as part of a personal collection. There are some wealthy people who keep exotic animals as pets. My father’s friend owns a pair of Bengals. He keeps them mostly for his amusement and as a status symbol. Lions and tigers fetch exorbitant prices on the black market.”
