Smart Browsing

9 Ratings (4.7)

Available Formats

Bitten by the Kitten (MM)

Ferocious Felines 1

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: SEXTREME
Word Count: 24,968
Available Formats

[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Romantic Suspense, shape-shifter, M/M, HEA]

Left for dead by his shifter clan, tabby shifter Steve Stone crawls into a stranger’s backyard to die. Steve doesn’t think he’ll survive the night but his unexpected savior comes in the form of recluse and ex-con werebear Damon.

Damon chose a life of seclusion for a reason. His bear’s gotten out of control but he can’t turn his back when an injured shifter collapses on his backyard. The last thing Damon expects is the inferno ignited between them.

Steve doesn't understand his instant attraction to the big burly werebear but never has he felt more safe or loved. However, accepting Damon’s mate mark might mean endearing his werebear.

If Steve thinks Damon will bolt at the first sign of trouble, then the little tabby shifter is in for a surprise, because Damon will fight for his mate until Steve is safe in his arms.



A Siren Erotic Romance

More From Ferocious Felines

Buy Complete Series





Steve drifted in and out of consciousness, his dreams strange, that of a burly but sexy werebear taking care of him. He stretched his body out, still not wanting to wake from the fantasy. Some part of his mind remembered he couldn’t afford to laze around. Steve forced himself awake, feeling sluggish, all the aches of the yesterday coming back to him.

Shit. It all came back to him now, how his family, his clan exiled him, nearly killed him but he’d taken shelter on a stranger’s porch. Still, the surface he’d laid on felt incredibly soft. He didn’t wake up shivering, either, and his wounds no longer hurt as much.

Then Steve opened his eyes, taken aback by his new surroundings, someone’s living room. The couch he was sprawled on looked battered, worn in. A wonderful male’s scent clung to him, a dominant shifter, he realized.

Wariness and fear replaced surprise. Steve forced himself on all four paws, only for a blanket to slip down his back. Someone had put him on a very fluffy pillow, too. He raised his head, spotting the sliding doors, which led to what must be the porch he’d decided to take refuge on last night.

Something was definitely very odd here. No, he thought, recalling a voice calling him in the dark, a man, a shifter telling Steve he wouldn’t hurt him and strong muscled arms which carried him back inside the house. So. That must be real.

Steve examined his paws, but the rake marks there looked weeks old. He raised his tail when there was a bang, followed by crash somewhere in the kitchen. A gruff voice snarled, and that one sound contained all he needed to know.

Dominant shifter, his cat identified. A second later, bear.

A werebear?

Tabby shifters stayed away from larger predators for a reason. All his brother’s horror stories came back to him about how dominant shifters would love nothing better than to take advantage of weaker ones. Except this stranger had taken him away from the cold and rain, patched him up, and even put a blanket on him.

Steve only knew of one way how he healed this fast. His savior had shared some of his life energy, something only mates or close family members would do. Well, Steve’s family would rather let him die, but what would have possessed this stranger to help him?

“You’re awake,” a deep growly voice remarked.

Steve raised his tail, ears twitching as he finally regarded the man. Correction, his savior was one hell of a sexy werebear. As huge as a titan, the werebear would probably tower above him if Steve changed back to human form, and every inch of him looked filled out with pure muscle.

The werebear wore a thin black tee, which seemed to stretch across his massive frame. Tattoos peeked under his collar and both arms were sleeved with ink. He had black hair cut short and startling, intense blue eyes flecked with amber, which he used to regard Steve.

Any sensible cat shifter would have backed away, quickly looked for the closest exits, because every inch of this werebear screamed dangerous. Too bad his cat rose up inside of him, curious, interested almost. This werebear had the most manly scent. That was the only way to describe it. The other shifter smelled of soap, clean sweat, pine, and cigarette smoke.

The werebear grunted. “Did no one ever tell you not to start a staring competition with a werebear, little cat?”

Little cat?

Where did that nickname come from? Steve hissed.

“I’m pretty sure you’re one of those elusive cat shifters, not just some stray who intended on dying on my damn porch. You know what kind of trouble that would bring me?”

Wow. This werebear seemed grumpy as hell. Forget his rough and sexy looks. Wait. Did that mean the werebear wanted him to leave? He should be happy, shouldn’t he? Steve could thank him, then walk away, except where would he go?

Steve didn’t have any clothes on him, no identification, either. He had some money in the bank from all the freelance graphic design work he’d been taking up over the past year, but it wouldn’t be enough.

If his family and clan learned Emmet and Brett didn’t finish the job, would they continue to go after him?

The werebear growled at him. “Conversations are supposed to be a two-way thing, little cat. I read that in a book.”

A book?

This werebear was seriously beginning to intrigue him on so many levels.

“Whatever. I made breakfast, if you don’t mind burnt toast and bacon.” The werebear turned his back.

Steve didn’t know what possessed him to shift, especially when remaining in cat form would have more advantages. Tabby cats might not possess impressive strength or fighting abilities, but Steve was fast and could reach places a bear probably couldn’t. The change was slow though, despite all the healing this werebear helped him with.

Fur receded, replaced by skin. Bones popped and organs rearranged themselves.

“Wait,” he blurted, voice hoarse and rough.

Steve didn’t know why he strode up to the werebear and grabbed one rock-hard bicep. He widened his eyes. Ooh, did this guy have arms of steel or something? Steve bet he could bench press an impressive number. Plus, he really smelled good, the scent enticing to his cat, which was no longer curious, but attracted. Shit. What the hell was wrong with him?




“Please, may I come?”

Damon gave his shaft a few more pumps, before pinching his tip. He gasped, clawing at the table as he came, spilling his jizz into Damon’s waiting hand. His vision blurred as his mind floated. Steve forgot about the incident earlier that afternoon. All that mattered was this moment. He sharpened his vision to see Damon’s erection still hidden in his jeans.

“You haven’t taken me yet,” he said, voice sounding lazy.

Damon stroked his softening prick. “I won’t fuck you here. Upstairs. I’ll clean up here and join you.”

He nodded, letting Damon help him to his feet. Recalling the other piece of clothing he ordered online and came in time this afternoon, he practically bolted upstairs. He knew where Damon’s bedroom was, it was right next to the guest bedroom where he slept in. Steve made a quick stop to his room and grabbed the package he opened earlier. He slipped out of his shirt, cleaned himself up before sliding the men’s g-string over his hips.

Steve then headed to Damon’s room and plopped on the massive bed. He was still debating how to position himself in the most erotic manner when what sounded like a growl of appreciation filled the room. He settled for lying on his side, so Damon could see his little surprise.

“What is that?” Damon asked, voice barely human.

“My second surprise for the evening. I was supposed to put it on first, but I didn’t expect you to you know, um. Do that.” Most of the time, submissive shifters were expected to give, not receive in the bedroom, so it stunned him when Damon went down on him. God, but he enjoyed it though.

It seemed to work, because Damon chucked off his shirt. He gave an appreciative whistle, seeing all that hard muscle exposed. Damon proceeded to take his bottoms off. His mouth hung open a couple of seconds. Steve couldn’t help it, because damn. Damon was hung. He hadn’t seen plenty of real cocks, only those on the internet, but his mate was sure impressive.

“Don’t be daunted, little cat,” Damon said, stroking his prick. His own dick twitched to life. That was the one good thing about both of them being shifters. They recovered fast. “I’ll be gentle with you the first time, but fuck, that little number you’re wearing is making me rock-hard this soon.”

“You like it?” he asked, squeaking when Damon joined him in bed. The werebear crawled on top of him, pinning his wrists above his head. He decided he liked the illusion of restraint, illusion because he knew Damon would never hurt him, not in a million years.

“Very much.” Damon claimed his mouth, the kiss demanding and rough. Damon tasted of mouthwash and the werebear’s distinct masculine scent of pine and bear musk. Just like his inner animal, he wanted to scent mark his dominant bear, just to make sure no other shifters would come close.

“What are you thinking about?” Damon asked after withdrawing his mouth from his.

He told his werebear. Damon chuckled. “Only a fool would think to approach you. Any bastard who comes sniffing at what’s mine, I’ll rip his arm out as a warning.”

He believed his mate, Steve realized.

“You don’t look scared,” Damon said.

“Why would I be, when I’m yours and you’re mine?” Steve returned, smiling.

Damon then planted more kisses down the side of his neck, closing his mouth over the intimate spot between his shoulder and neck. He shuddered, all too aware that was the spot dominant shifters would place their mate mark. Damon let out a snarl, went lower, licked at his left nipple. He moaned as the werebear took it into his mouth, sucked hard, before biting down.

He gasped, only for Damon to transfer one hand over his wrists to play with his dick again. His prick began to harden as Damon began to move his hand over his cock back and forth.

“Damon,” he blurted. “If you keep doing that, I’ll come again.”

“You won’t, not yet and not without my permission.”

“Possessive werebear.”

“Sharp-tongued, little cat.”

Steve liked their nicknames to each other. Damon released his wrists, then flipped him on his hands and knees. His heart thudded as Damon pried his legs open, ripped the g-string away, exposing his hole, balls, and prick. The werebear stroked his privates, making him shudder. Who knew a dominant werebear like Damon had the patience for this much foreplay?

The books he read on shifter dating always mentioned that few dominant males were considerate enough to give pleasure to their submissive mates. Damon got off the bed, patted his ass.

“I’ll be right back.”

Damon returned moments later, placing a towel on the bed, and carrying lube with him. “This is what will happen. I’ll loosen your hole with my fingers first, before using my cock. Okay?”

“Okay.” Steve liked how Damon wanted to prepare him mentally, ease him into their love-making.

Damon retuned behind him. Moments later, he heard the lube being uncapped and felt Damon’s slick fingers prying his asshole open. He moaned when Damon slipped one finger in, before adding in a second. The werebear began stretching him for access, and it felt so good, he found himself thrusting his ass at Damon.

The werebear gave his left ass cheek a smack, making him jump. Steve was surprised by how that little gesture made him so aroused. He moaned when Damon did it again.

“Please,” he uttered.

Damon finally replaced his digits with his cock. He let out a frustrated sound when Damon rubbed his leaking cockhead into his hole. Finally, the werebear gripped his hips and pushed in. He gasped at the burn. It felt like Damon completely stretched him wide.

People Also Bought: