She had momentarily been taken aback by the tingling and had chosen to ignore the commotion in her body. “Have you ever been on that bus? If you had, you may not think it’s safer.”
“You’ve heard about what happened to Little Red Riding Hood.”
His reference, accompanied by a haunting smile, had only made her more curious about some of the strange things she’d heard and seen around the forest’s edge since moving to Oregon to take a job as an academic advisor at the university.
“I’m not afraid of the big bad wolf.”
“You should be,” he’d said in an ominous tone, then vanished into the fog-covered woods he warned against.
Since then they’d talked at the mailbox a time or two, and Jericho even helped her plant some boxwoods, insistent he dig the holes and do the heavy lifting since he considered her too delicate to do “man’s work”. He may be a tad peculiar and old fashioned in his thinking, but looking at him now, he was the perfect picture of masculine beauty with his pale skin popping vividly against the contrast of his dark hair. Tatum supposed Jericho was probably more beautiful than any one man had the right to be, taking in that glossy ink-black mane as it flowed past his wide shoulders and ruffled in the mid-morning breeze. And then there were those strange, almost hypnotic icy-white irises that she recalled being ringed in black.
Entranced, Tatum scarcely noticed she’d been rinsing her cup for so long that the water from the faucet turned cool. She just continued to stare at Jericho. One long, jean clad leg stretched out before him with the other bent at the knee where his right forearm rested. He was making a fist then loosening it before he began to tap his fingers on the thigh of his outstretched leg. When he shifted, the white T-shirt he wore pulled tight and clung to his muscular build, showcasing his well developed pecs.
Gasping, Tatum watched with rounded eyes as her neighbor hopped up to his feet and started pacing the peak of his roof as if he were strolling on the sidewalk and not a shingled summit. How in the hell can he balance like that? Tatum started to ponder if she had ever seen anyone so agile and surefooted. She considered he might be some form of acrobatic circus performer who walked on tightropes.
When he ran down the slope of his roof then jumped, her heart stopped. She dropped her cup into the stainless steel sink where it shattered. She expected him to crumple into a ball of pain after he hit the ground in a wallop, but instead, he landed on both feet in a crouch as though what he did was easy. He had to be some sort of stuntman or daredevil to do what he did.
Mouth gaping, Tatum turned the water off. Outside, Jericho stood to his full height and methodically turned his head in Tatum’s direction. She panicked and immediately bent down into a squat, not wanting him to see her watching him. Tatum realized her reaction was silly, acting as if she were a peeping tom, especially since she was inside her house at her sink, but she wasn’t able to stop herself from hiding like a coward. It was like being caught with her hand in the cookie jar, only she didn’t really know why she felt that way. And what was even more ridiculous, she was crawling on her hands and knees into her living room.
I’m such an idiot.
As soon as her hands hit the Berber area rug, she stood, straightened her shirt and chuckled to herself. Eeerrrrk!
She froze. Someone had opened her screen door.
“Tatum. This is Jericho.” Even through the door she could almost feel the deep timbre of his voice. “Your neighbor,” he added as if she could ever forget who he was.
Tatum hesitated a moment before going to the door and finally opening it.
“Hi,” she said in an unnaturally upbeat voice.
“Hey,” he said, eyeing her. “I thought I heard a crash. Are you okay?”
Tatum felt her cheeks catch fire. “Oh. Um, yeah. It wasn’t a crash. I’m clumsy sometimes and dropped—”
Tatum stilled midsentence and morphed into the perfect rendition of a mannequin before she stared at Jericho with a perplexed expression.
“What?” he asked.
“I dropped a mug.”
“Ah,” he muttered.
One of Tatum’s thin brows rose.
Jericho tilted his head in a catlike gesture. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I know I need to upgrade my windows to something more energy efficient, but I guess my house has thin walls and requires more insulation.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I must have substandard construction. How else did you hear my coffee mug breaking?”
Jericho shrugged nonchalantly. “Excellent hearing,” he said as if that explained everything perfectly.
“That’s an understatement,” she muttered before propping the door open a bit more. “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Would you like to come in?”
“Thanks, but I have some things to do today, and I’m already running late. Perhaps another time?”
“Oh, sure. Another time then.”
“I’m glad you didn’t cut yourself,” he said.
Tatum had lost herself in the cool white of his eyes, so she wasn’t quite sure what he said. “Hmm?”
“The cup? When you dropped it in the sink. I’m glad you didn’t cut your hand.”
“The sink?”
For a moment Tatum couldn’t decide if she should be spooked or embarrassed. She was pretty sure he hadn’t actually seen her.
“You were standing at your sink when I heard the crash, so I assume you dropped your coffee cup into the basin and that’s how it broke.”
“Uh….”
Embarrassment was overriding the spooked feeling. He did notice her. Tatum blinked rapidly.
“See you around the neighborhood,” Jericho said with a slight grin before he turned and walked off the front stoop of Tatum’s house with a fluidity that almost took Tatum’s breath.
****
Jericho gritted his teeth as he left Tatum standing in the front door of her home, gawking at him. She had braided her hair into two long pig-tails that made her look like a naughty school girl in need of a spanking instead of the twenty-something professional she was. And those pink shorts with that tiny pink cotton shirt she wore drove him crazy. Not only did her choice in weekend attire do a superb job of highlighting her braless state and pebble-hard nipples, it also showed her midriff and her bellybutton, which he wanted to play with. Perhaps he should have taken her up on her offer to go inside, but he didn’t quite know what he was going to do about her, yet. Oh, he knew what he wanted to do with her, like strip her naked and lick his way down her shapely body until he came to the liquid cream between her pretty pink folds where he would lap at her sex and experience her quiver on his tongue. He just didn’t know how to broach the subject of taking her completely without her screaming in fear and running from him. And she would run from him if he didn’t do things right, because Jericho wasn’t exactly human.
Panthera tigris tigris, the scientific name for the white tiger breed, have always been considered rare in nature, and even rarer in the preternatural world of the were-beasts and shifters Jericho was born into. The elder tiger shifters held the belief that a white tiger gained its magical traits due to their ties to the ancient gods as protectors. According to the elders, those gods favored the white tigers above all others, thus bestowing magical powers upon them that white tigers still retained until this day. Others believed Jericho’s kind to be a mistake of nature. A mutant species with dark links to the underworld and the one called Hates. Jericho himself tended to disbelieve either speculation. He knew nothing of any ancient gods or dark demons, and didn’t care why he possessed traits that many other shifter species didn’t have. The truth was, as a rarity in his world, Jericho rather enjoyed the fact he was feared by many and revered by some, not only for his magical abilities to literally vanish from sight as if he were a ghost, but to hear the thoughts of man, animal, and shifters alike. He was also an alpha and apex predator, and therefore he possessed one more coveted ability—the capability to turn a life ma
te. That was something he’d never fully considered a gift, until recently.
Jericho made his way to the big Harley Davidson parked in his driveway, actually conflicted about leaving Tatum behind, but he had told her he was running late for something so he thought it best to let her see him leave. He’d circle the neighborhood, park his bike by the north recreational area, and scout the woods for any signs of trouble.
Straddling his bike, Jericho took one last glance toward Tatum’s house and sighed. He had always relished being an outsider, even within his own group, and liked the fact he was alone in this world of man that surrounded him, that is, until Jericho had met his mate in the most of unlikely places. Jericho had all but given up on the possibility of finding a mate, but when Tatum Neill moved in next door, and he realized her thoughts were silent to him, she immediately turned his world upside down. Since the day he pulled her from the edge of the woods, he’d been protecting her from the werewolves that caught her delectable scent, and had been trying to figure out how to actually claim her. It wasn’t as if he could say, “So you’re a Pisces. Good news. I’m a Tiger.” And he couldn’t even begin to imagine dating. He briefly conjured up the scene. There he was, dressed in an itchy suit, fidgeting with the noose humans called ties, which would be too tight around his neck. They’d be sitting at a candle lit table for two, attempting to chit-chat after he wolfed down a super rare steak and she finished a garden salad. He’d take her hand, tell her how stunningly beautiful she was, then ask her if she wanted to go back to his place where he would casually utter, “Let me change into something a little more comfortable,” right before he transformed into a massive white tiger. Watching him shift would probably put a huge damper on the rest of their evening.
Jericho grimaced. The list of things he constantly thought about since meeting her wasn’t a long one, nonetheless it did consume him.
#1. Protect Tatum Neill.
He could do that. He was never one to back down from a good fight.
#2. Keep her from being taken and forcibly claimed against her will by another.
He would do that. There was no choice in the matter.
#3. Claim her fully as his willing life mate.
That was the one thing on his list he was still working on, because revealing the truth about himself and her accepting him would more than likely be a little bit tricky.
Hell. How did one such as he tell a human about his kind, or explain life mates? For the most part, humans were fairly oblivious to the world that went on right under their noses. They chalked up strange happenings to hauntings, alien abductions, swamp gas, and even creatures like Bigfoot, yet weres and shifters didn’t seem to make human radar, being the things of fairytales and myths. Jericho pondered that for a moment. Tatum could probably accept his existence much easier if he were a ghost rather than a tiger. Maybe I don’t have to tell her. He supposed he didn’t really have to disclose everything about himself. I could leave out the part about being a tiger, seduce her, bed her and bite her, then when I changed… no. He shook his head. He wouldn’t do that. Jericho wanted his life mate to be his willingly, not tricked and tied to a shifter she could never fully accept or love.
When the bike roared to life, Jericho attempted to let the deep rumble drown out the screams in his head that he knew would come from Tatum when he marked her. However, it wasn’t working.
Imagine her screams if you don’t take her, and she’s claimed by another.
Jericho growled at the thought, revving his bike even louder.
Chapter Two
Tatum came out of her house, fumbling with her briefcase, purse, and keys, only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw Jericho leaning up against a shiny red Ferrari that was parked on the street in front of her house.
Trying not to look like a gawking fool, she threw her keys into her purse, placed the strap on her shoulder, straightened, and gave her best high heeled sashay down the sidewalk.
“Good morning,” she said with a demure smile.
Jericho bobbed his stubble covered chin. “Morning. I was headed into town and thought you might want a ride to work instead of—”
“That would be great,” Tatum said, cutting Jericho off. She blushed when she realized what she had done.
“Well then, my lady. Your chariot awaits,” he said with a wide toothy-white grin as he stepped forward and held out a proffered hand for her.
Holy smokes. Terrific teeth.
“Thank you,” Tatum said, placing her much smaller hand into his large one. “Who does your teeth?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your teeth. They are so white I assumed you have them professionally whitened.”
“No. Sorry. What you see is all me. No professional behind it.”
“Wow. You’ve never had any work of any kind? Not even braces as a child?”
“Nope.”
Tatum swiped her tongue over her own teeth, wishing she had been so genetically blessed. Her straight pearly whites came from braces when she was younger and a dental professional who kept them white.
Jericho opened the passenger door. Tatum silently noted Jericho’s manners as he helped her in, then shut the door once she was seated. She also watched his ass as he crossed in front of the car to get to the driver’s side door, and noted how fabulous it was encased in denim.
“Ready,” Jericho asked as he placed his hand to the key in the ignition.
“Totally,” she said.
He chuckled. It sent a chill over her skin.
“This is a really nice car,” she said then buckled her seatbelt.
“A body tends to acquire things over time. This has been in my garage for so long it’s probably considered vintage now.”
“You make it sound as if you’re ancient. You can’t be much over thirty.”
Jericho let out a deep, what sounded like a self deprecating, chortle. “Not much over,” he said.
There was something about the way he laughed that made Tatum study his face while he drove, but she returned her attention to the road when she didn’t spot a single laugh line or even any crinkles around his eyes. He wasn’t old. He was a man in his prime who had to be the most devastatingly gorgeous man she had ever seen, with thick black lashes, high cheekbones, and sexy lips.
“Did you enjoy the weekend?” he asked.
“I did. Did you?”
Jericho smirked. “Parts of it.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I was thinking about grilling a few steaks tonight. I’ll put one on the grill for you if you would like to come over around seven.”
Tatum looked at him. He stared at her out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t eat meat, but I’d be happy to bring a soy burger for the grill and hang out with you.”
“Soy burgers? Really?”
Tatum nodded. “Yeah. Have you ever tried one?”
Jericho snarled. “No.”
“I’ll bring a couple of them, and you can taste what you’ve been missing.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll stick to my red meat.”
“Ah, you’re one of those manly carnivores.”
“Something like that,” he said.
“All right. I’ll bring a soy burger for me, a pasta salad for us to share, and some cookies I baked last night for dessert. You bring the red meat, and wine, and we’ll call it a dinner date. Um … I didn’t mean an actual date. Not that I wouldn’t like that, but…. Well, crap. I should just shut up now.”
“I want you to say whatever you feel like saying. I hope you never censor when you talk with me.”
“You do?”
“I do. So, it’s a dinner date.”
“A dinner date. Oh!” She pointed. “If you take this exit then make a left that will take us right to my building on campus.”
“Got it,” he said, taking the exit ramp at quite a good speed before slowing down.
“I really appreciate the ride, Jericho. It was sweet of you to think of me, and it was sweet to invite me over to
night for dinner.”
Jericho pulled to a stop in front of Tatum’s building, put the car into park, and turned to give her his full attention. She sucked in her breath as his piercing eyes met her.
“I’m not sure sweet would be the word to describe me, but thanks for the compliment.”
****
Tatum had tried on everything in her closet, and she couldn’t decide what to wear for her dinner date/cookout with her hunky, hot neighbor. She needed to look nice, but casual. Sexy, yet not skanky. Eye catching, but she didn’t want to wear anything too revealing. After staring at herself in the mirror, she tore off the jeans and blue-green blouse she’d bought on clearance from Kohl’s the week before last, and put on the flouncy green dress she’d tried on first.
With her mind made up, she sat down at her vanity, combed through her long blonde hair, then applied some Eternal Blossom gloss to her lips. “It will have to do,” she mumbled under her breath as she powdered her nose.
Noticing the time, she dropped everything to rush into the kitchen. Tatum grabbed the pasta salad she’d prepared after she got home from work out of the refrigerator, and the soy burgers from the freezer, stacking the package of burgers on top of the covered salad dish. Twirling on her heel, she grabbed a plate of cookies, and placed that as a topper onto her already stacked items then scurried out her back door and across her lawn.
Tatum watched as Jericho came out of his house. He was in a dark blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the bottom un-tucked. The shirt looked as if it had been ironed and hung over faded blue jeans. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, and his hair was wet so she assumed he had just showered. He looked delicious.
Jericho walked up to her, took her items, and placed them on a small utility table with wheels. When he turned back to give her his full attention, he took her hand.
“You are stunning,” he said.
“Thank you. You’re pretty stunning yourself.”
Jericho chuckled. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ve been called worse.”
The backyard was groomed to perfection.
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