by Andie Devaux
He cupped her face gently, and she fought not to lean into the soft touch. His lips moved close to hers and she braced herself for the kiss, her whole body suddenly flush again with renewed need.
If he kissed her, she didn’t think she’d even try to stop him.
But his mouth slid past hers, and his cheek brushed her own. Lips against her ear, his voice was low, for her ears alone. “This isn’t over. I will to have you. Soon.”
He inhaled deeply—was he sniffing her hair?—but before she could move an inch, Erick headed for the door. It slammed shut behind him, no longer entirely closing since he’d broken the frame to get in.
Energy filled the room—Erick’s energy. Even though he’d gone, his promise remained. Goosebumps prickled on her skin, and she was still rubbing them away when Owen returned.
“That was weird,” she said, after a moment of silence passed between them. After she reined in her heat enough to speak without risking she’d ask Owen to go after Erick. She wasn’t sure how to feel about Owen now, either. He’d been willing to share her…
Would that have really been so bad?
She shook off the random thought. It was the heat, not her. She had no desire to delve under the rock-hard surface of his clan’s prime to see what was beneath. Nope.
“What did he want?”
For some reason, Erick’s promise—threat?—wouldn’t come to her lips. The moment between them felt private. Ridiculous. If she were going to have any private moments, they wouldn’t be with Erick. “Nothing interesting.”
Owen turned to her, his mouth twisted in a grim line, but his eyes danced with mischief despite the bruises and scrapes on his skin. “You don’t have to tell me, but we do need to talk about what you did—stopping that fight.”
Her stomach clenched and she could feel the heat rising within her. She shifted, suddenly wet and achy.
“Get in the bedroom, kitten. And we’ll discuss weretiger protocols.”
“I can think of better things to do in the bedroom,” she said, and her voice came out breathless. Crap. She was supposed to be mad at him—scratch that, she was mad at him. But the need…the need was greater than her anger.
“Don’t worry. I’m just sure you’ll love your punishment for breaking at least three of our laws.” He stepped close and she leaned toward him, taking in his masculine scent, which now intermingled with the slight smell of blood and sweat. “Maybe I should spank you.”
It shouldn’t turn her on, she knew that. But between his scent and the adrenaline coursing through her after watching him fight for her, she almost dropped to her knees and offered herself to him. Letting go would feel so good. So perfect to have him pushing inside of her, his teeth digging into her neck. Taking what was his.
It took every bit of her fraying self-control to stay on her feet.
“I’m never going to be the kind of woman who sits by idly while you fight battles,” she said. He had to know that. No matter how much she wanted him, he had to want her, love her, for who she was.
His voice was low when he spoke, and his words sent a shot of need straight between her legs.
“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Chapter Five
“You keep talking like that and you just might get laid.” She grinned at him, and Owen’s heart swelled in his chest. He’d been afraid she’d never forgive him after he suggested sharing her with Erick. She’d probably think even worse of him if he told her the whole truth. If he told her that she wouldn’t be the first woman they’d shared, not by a long shot.
But she would be the only one who really mattered, so he was going to keep that little fact to himself.
Besides, he’d smelled the change in her scent when she’d mentioned his dates. His nose wasn’t as good as a werewolf’s, but her anger had been strong enough, deep enough, for him to identify it easily. Why bring up women he’d shared with Erick when it would only hurt her?
Closing the distance between them, he took a deep breath, and the smell of her—amplified and enhanced by the heat—filled his lungs. He tucked a tuft of her hair behind her ear. “We should leave this place.”
“Now?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and desire, then she frowned. “I’m still mad at you, you know.”
“For being willing to share you?”
“I—“ She swallowed hard, and the shine of tears twisted his gut. “It makes me feel like you don’t really want me.”
“That’s not it at all,” he said, fiercely. The fact she could think that… “You’re incredible. Beautiful and sexy and smart. Your kindness shines through even when you’re mad at me.”
“Then why?”
“Our people don’t have the same view of matings as humans.”
“So, what?” she said, fire back in her voice, even as the smell of her arousal permeated the air, bringing his cock near full attention. “You guys don’t care about cheating? Because that’s going to be a problem for me. A big one.”
“That’s not it—we’re loyal to our mates. I don’t know if it’s the animal instinct inside of us, or some kind of difference of genetics, but among mated pairs—committed to being together, not just fucking—cheating is practically unheard of. But we don’t always limit our pairings to traditional sets.”
She blinked. “You’re polyamorous?”
His lip twitched, but he managed not to smile at her very human way of looking at things. “That’s a good way to describe it. Females are much rarer than males, and our people rarely breed with nonhumans—not for anything other than, than…” He almost said the occasional fuck, but stopped himself in time.
A single brow rose. “One night stands?”
“Yes.” That was a nicer way to put it.
“But, that wasn’t exactly what Erick was proposing. Didn’t sound like it, anyway.”
He was relieved she didn’t ask why their women tended to number less than their men; he didn’t need to go into the gory details with her yet. The details about Erick would be difficult enough for a woman raised among humans to understand. “You have to understand. Erick was raised from birth to lead our people. He has always had that weight on his shoulders. His…priorities and the way he reacts to things, it’s all driven by that responsibility.” At her frown, he tried again. “We aren’t humans. Nor are we beasts. We’re something different. Our normal is your straight-up weird.”
“I don’t feel different.” She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “Well, I didn’t until this thing hit.”
“You may not have seen it because you didn’t know to look for it, but you are different.” He pulled her close and she wiggled against him, obviously wanting to do far more than talk. “We’ll speak of this later. For now…I can smell how much you need me.” When her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened, he added, “And I need you, too.” He took her wrist, and placed her hand on his fully erect cock. “Badly.”
“Oh,” she said. “I see.” The smell of her arousal deepened, and he lost his last thread of control.
He reached for her, but her arm came out, blocking him. A growl of frustration cut out of him, but he swallowed the sound.
“Will there be more changes? In me, I mean. I’d like to know what to expect.”
“Yes. But we have time. I will prepare you for them. Just not right this second.”
Her brows drew together, scrunched in confusion.
“I have to have you. Now.”
“Oh.” Her mouth dropped open. “This heat thing…it doesn’t just affect how I feel, does it?”
“No. It makes the men around you possessive. Makes them desire you. It kicks our instincts into even higher gear when we feel some sort of attachment. Getting near a mated pair when the female is in heat…well, men have lost their lives for simple misunderstandings. But it ensures our women are safe when they are at their most vulnerable.”
For some reason that didn’t seem to please her, and a frown creased her lips. But he wasn’t eager to chat a
bout weretiger biology anymore. She’d been given enough information to absorb in one night. And he had to taste her. Touch her. Take her.
“Can we be done talking?” His voice was a growl, but he couldn’t help that. The scent of her arousal drowned him, and his cock was hard enough to break through his pants. Every instinct in his body thrummed with the desire to take.
Under his intense gaze, she softened. “God, yes.”
That was all he needed to hear. Without another word, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
* * *
There was nothing soft in the way Owen took possession of her mouth, the way his hands roamed over her body, touching and squeezing and rubbing. She mewled when his hand moved between her legs and cupped her mound.
Then he was lowering her to the floor, muttering that the bedroom was too far. He pushed his pants just far enough down to free his cock.
With care she no longer had the brainpower to appreciate, he slid into her. Slick with desire, her body welcomed him, offering no resistance.
“So good,” he ground out against her neck. “Hot. So hot and tight.” Again with care, he began moving.
Her body automatically matched his careful rhythm. But she didn’t want careful. For some reason, Erick’s face flashed in her mind. His hard, almost cruel features, and the way his gaze had raked over her. Pure lust.
No, Erick wouldn’t fuck her slow. He’d fuck her hard and fast, leaving her no option but to take what he’d give her. Dominant to a fault, he’d take her forcefully, just to show her who was in control. And she’d love every minute of it—she knew it, even if she could barely admit it to herself.
“Harder,” she cried, her sex clenching around him as her orgasm touched the edge of her senses. She dug her fingers into his ass, demanding he take her the way she suddenly needed to be fucked.
Owen bit her neck—not hard, he took care to not puncture her skin again, but hard enough to push her over the edge. The orgasm crashed into her, even as he thrust into her with abandon.
“Owen!” His name was wrenched from her lips. He cried out, body shuddering over hers, even as she felt his cock twitching inside of her as he came.
Owen stayed above her, cradling her body with his for a long moment. Then he kissed her damp forehead softly and rolled to the side. Before she could grasp that he’d moved, he’d pulled her into the crook of his arm.
“Should I get ready to go?” He’d said they needed to go, hadn’t he? Stupid, heat-fuzzied memory. The prospect of moving wasn’t likely, but she’d do it if she had to. In a bit. A while. Maybe in an hour or so her limbs would respond to her commands. Maybe.
“Later,” he mumbled.
She grinned against his shoulder. “Tuckered you out, did I?”
“Quiet now, woman. Resting.”
A small laugh escaped her, and she managed to prop herself up on one elbow to look at his face. Eyes closed and satisfaction radiating from every pore, he didn’t look like he’d be moving anytime soon.
But a sudden surge of energy hit her, and she managed to get up to her wobbly feet. Was the worst of the heat over? She certainly felt better, more like herself—but different. She grinned, and she took a step toward the bathroom. Only to be stopped by a hand closing around her ankle. She looked down at Owen, but his eyes were still closed.
“Where you goin’?” he said, sounding half asleep.
“Shower, big guy. You take a nap in case this heat thing comes back. I’ll need you at full energy.”
He cracked a smile, but didn’t open his eyes. Instead, he rolled over onto his side, and a small snore came from his throat.
She shoved a fist over her mouth to keep from laughing at the poor man. Not fair. He’d done most of the work, after all. Not to mention the fight with Erick. Wasn’t fighting supposed to be one of the most exhausting things a person could do? Figured that would even wear out a weretiger.
She turned the shower on and stepped under the warm stream, reveling in the heat.
A weretiger. She wasn’t even human, if Owen was to be believed, and she did believe him. Something inside of her had believed him even before he’d flashed his second face.
Frowning at the thought, she lathered up, pretending her breasts hadn’t just pebbled at the smallest touch of her own hands. Worrying over the heat thing could wait. She was intent on thinking through the weretiger thing while she still had half a brain working for her.
She’d never felt like she had a beast living inside of her, or anything like that. The urge to hiss at someone had never hit her, and to her recollection, she’d always been a dog person.
So why was she so sure he was telling the truth?
Maybe it was as simple as the fact that she’d never fit in. Her life had been spent trying her best to be who she thought she was supposed to be, but she’d always felt like an imposter—an impersonator.
The only parents she’d ever known were no exception. They loved her and she loved them. And for the most part, they’d never had any real issues. Bob and Carol Clark were standup people, with nine-to-five jobs. They went to church every Sunday and had urged Daniella to go to school for business or law. Her desire to pursue art had been almost unfathomable to them. They’d forced smiles and supported her decision, but it had always been obvious to all of them that she wasn’t quite a perfect fit for their family.
Once, she would have readily blamed that on being adopted. But now…now she had a tiger with a crazier, but maybe more fitting, explanation.
And what a tiger.
Owen was everything she’d dreamed of—or he had been until he’d started acting like a jerk. Kind, intelligent, gorgeous. And with incredible taste in movies. Sure, he hadn’t struck Daniella as her type when they’d first met because he’d been so physically imposing, but she was more than a little aware she’d resisted any kind of attraction because she thought he was so far out of her league that he might as well be a dream.
She blinked into the shower spray, a sudden dread hitting her. Firmly, she pinched her own shoulder, hard.
“Ow,” she hissed softly. Okay, whew. Not a dream, then. But it was no wonder she was worried. Ending up with a man like Owen lusting after her was pretty unbelievable, but to have two men of that caliber fighting to have her…well, that just didn’t happen. Heck, such things probably didn’t even happen to super models all that often, let alone girls like herself.
The curtain flew open, and she screeched.
Wild-eyed, Owen stared at her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine! Holy crap, give a girl a heart attack, why don’t you?” She threw the washcloth at his head, but he ducked and dodged it easily, sending it to splat against his bathroom wall.
“I heard you. You were in pain.”
She just stared, until realization hit. Heat traveled up her neck to her face, and she turned to face the shower spray. “I’m fine.”
“Did I hurt you?” The fear in his voice drew her attention back to him.
“God, no. Why would you think that?”
“I was…rough with you. And you haven’t even changed, come into your power. You’re nearly as weak as a human right now.”
“Thanks, I guess. I’m fine.” No way was she admitting she’d pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. That kind of thing could give a man a big head. “Really, Owen. I’m okay.”
He searched her face for a moment before nodding. “Then please, scoot over.”
“No way. You’ll totally hog the water,” she protested, but she scooted.
“I would never.”
“On your honor?” she teased.
He nodded gravely and stepped into the shower.
It took all of thirty seconds before she realized he’d lied. But by then, she didn’t care.
Chapter Six
Daylight had peeked through the curtains by the time they’d settled into bed—and Daniella suspected the sun had been out for a couple of hours already. She was dead tired, and
after agreeing with Owen that sleeping in his apartment—now un-lockable, thanks to his prime—wasn’t the best idea, they wandered over to her place to pass out. Even though her bed was queen-sized, Owen seemed to take up all the space. Luckily, he was more than willing to hold her—keeping her tucked against his body while they slept.
But when she woke, the bed beside her was empty. Still slightly warm to the touch, but empty. And night had fallen.
She blinked, searching the darkness for him. For half a second she thought it might have all been a strangely vivid dream, and her stomach dropped. Then she sat up to get a better view of the room, and her whole body ached with a mostly-pleasant pain. Her breasts were heavy and sore. And while she was a tiny bit sore between her legs—it had been a long time since she’d had sex, and never with a man as well-endowed as Owen—she could feel a different ache there as well.
The heat had calmed, but it wasn’t gone.
“Owen,” she called, keeping her voice pitched low for a reason she couldn’t name. Instinct, maybe. Or heck, likely just unreasonable fear. Her world had changed, shifted in ways she still didn’t understand, and it was no wonder she didn’t have her feet back under her yet.
“Owen?” she tried again, shoving the covers off. She hurried to her dresser and pulled on a pair of loose, cotton shorts she used to sleep in, and a black camisole. Even the soft cotton and loose material teased her nipples, brushed her most unsatisfyingly between her legs.
She sighed. Maybe Owen would be up for another round. A nice, slow, gentle round. Just as soon as she found him.
Just the thought of the man who had been her friend, then her enemy, and finally her lover made her press her thighs together to try to relieve the sudden ache. He was so gentle with her, so loving. Yet, all man. All tiger—not that she was ready to consider that fact too closely quite yet.
The kitchen was quiet as well, and no lights had been turned on in the apartment. Of course, that wasn’t exactly unusual given the amount of light that seeped through her curtains even when they were closed. Even now, when it was dark out, because of the streetlights surrounding the building.