by Celia Kyle
“You know, I can’t separate many scents with my kitty sniffer, but I know what lust smells like.” Zoe grinned. “If you won’t talk about what happened today,” a hint of sadness filled her best friend’s eyes for a moment and then Zoe brushed it aside, “why don’t you tell me about getting all hot and stinky for a certain tiger?”
“Stinky? Really?” Ronnie glared. “I’m not saying I have feelings that affect my pink taco, but I’m telling you my lady garden smells like rose petals and rainbows.”
Zoe wrinkled her nose. “Seriously? No.” She shook her head. “Lady garden? Pink taco? I don’t even… Anyway, nothing about your ‘lady garden’ is rose petals and rainbows.” Her friend’s eyes suddenly twinkled. “As proved by the aforementioned Bobby because in eleventh grade you farted on him while he was downtow—”
Ronnie didn’t think, she just pounced, launching herself across the counter with a growl. “Oh my god, you bitch! You were supposed to take that to the grave!”
Zoe screeched, Ronnie growled, Zoe laughed as they rolled across the kitchen floor and Ronnie chuckled with pure joy. The mug crashed to the ground, shattering and sending coffee spraying into the air. A stool toppled, the donuts went flying (such a travesty) and she was pretty sure she broke a nail. She was so telling her daddy about that one. The pussy’s ass was grass.
Okay, none of that really mattered because she was laughing and giggling and she managed to tickle Zoe’s stomach and pull her hair at the same time while Zoe…
“No touching my goodies! The lady garden only gets one set of non-Ronnie girl hands and that’s the wax chick. It doesn’t belong to you anymore.”
Zoe laughed so hard she actually spit on Ronnie. “You’ll always be mine, you crazy bitch.”
And they kept rolling until Zoe ended up on top, Ronnie flat on her back, the two of them halfway in the hall.
The low clearing of a throat had them both focusing on the newcomer—Zoe lifting her head while Ronnie tilted hers back. Ronnie’s gaze went right to Braden, his amber eyes locking with hers. And Ronnie… melted. Right then, right there, she melted. Her wolf nudged her, pushing forward the fantasies she’d had about Braden. Not just naked ones, either. More like forever ones. She stomped on those thoughts, pounding them before they grew too large. No sense in pretending there was a future between them.
Ever.
Instead of lingering on those ideas, she smiled at Braden. “Hi.”
His lips quirked up in a small, teasing smile. “Hi.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Ares growled low at Ronnie, which triggered Braden’s defensive growl.
Then the two males focused on each other, ignoring the two women. The fangs came out, teeth bared, and they both released long, threatening hisses. The men were apparently more concerned about fang measuring than what she and Zoe were doing on the floor.
With a sigh, she pulled her attention from the angry tigers and looked to Zoe. “Do you think hitting them with a rolled up newspaper would work? Though you guys aren’t wolves. Do you have a spray bottle filled with water? Don’t cat owners use water for behavioral training? I know you gotta have something, right?”
When Zoe did nothing but cackle and fall to the side, Ronnie huffed and stared up at the two men once more. God, she so needed this. She could shatter a little more later. In private. With no one around to see her turn into a blubbering mess.
For now, she yelled at the two powerful tigers. “Hey! Pussy patrol. Bad kitties.”
Neither man gave a damn so she decided to try her hand at hissing. She opened her mouth and bared her fangs, releasing her air in a slow… wheeze. Apparently wolves didn’t hiss very well.
Hey, that did get their attention.
“What the fuck was that?” Ares wrinkled his nose.
The nose thing was kinda cute, in an ‘I don’t want to fuck you, but you can still be adorable’ way.
“Don’t look at her like that.” Oh, Braden was back to snarling.
“Excuse me?” Ares's voice was low and tinged with a threat.
Annnd… they were back to hissing at each other.
Ronnie rolled her head to the side and met Zoe’s stare once more. “How have you not killed one of them yet?”
Zoe shrugged. “He’s packed pretty well in the package department.”
She glared at her friend. Ronnie didn’t want Zoe thinking about Braden that way. “You better be talking about Ares.”
“You better be talking about me,” Ares echoed her.
“You better not be thinking about his package,” Braden growled.
“Oh my god, no one is thinking about anyone’s package, no one is talking about the lack of college experimentation and no one is talking about farting in guys’ mouths.” Darcy stomped into the kitchen from the other side of the room. “And you know what else no one is talking about?” Steam practically came from the woman’s ears. “The dead guys, the unconscious guy, and Claire’s mate—the screaming guy in the upstairs guest room.”
Ronnie focused on Zoe and tried to keep her voice light. She wasn’t ready to think about the three humans. “You guys really did a good job with sound proofing. Good call.”
That got her a frustrated growl from Darcy, and the feline even stomped her foot before she spun and fled the room. The second she was gone, Ronnie tilted her head back and met Braden’s gaze. “Hi.”
They were back where they started once more.
Chapter Six
Braden hunted Veronica through the house, capturing her scent in the kitchen and then following it through the large home. He’d been forced by Ares and Darcy to leave her in Zoe’s care, once more, while they continued to deal with the airport mess. Video of the fight, the males’ deaths, and the bloodied human Murphy carried from the woods played on a loop on the TV. Wilden was filled with even more media now though they at least stayed off their mountain. The news stations wanted the story but were too frightened to draw nearer to the tigers.
Good. The situation had terrified Veronica, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be fearful again. That shit was unacceptable.
He continued his search, her flavors calling to him as he moved from room to room.
It wasn’t until he paused by the back door, peeking through one of the small windows, that he realized he should have stopped here first. Like any other shifter, she loved nature. Trees. The breeze. Connecting with her wolf as she raced through the forest.
Recent events kept her confined to the house, but it looked like she’d sought solitude and comfort on the back porch. With the pride den perched on the mountain, the patio looked over the town below, its lights twinkling and drawing his eyes. They glittered in the night, each glowing dot representing a family snug in their homes.
Snug and safe.
Unlike them.
Oh, they were tucked away, but safety… safety was still something that wavered on a thin blade that separated security and harm. Nothing threatened right that second, but who knew what tomorrow would bring?
Braden scanned the tree line with his gaze, spying Daniel—one of the more unstable sentinels—skulking in the shadows. He’d volunteered for the duty, the promise of vengeance for a female was too much of a temptation for the tiger and knowing Daniel’s history, Braden agreed with the assignment.
Daniel, for all his crazy behavior, was extremely protective of females—Veronica included even if she wasn’t a tiger. The pride had failed Claire and then Veronica. The pride would not fail a third time.
The sentinels were all ordered to stick close to the den to keep an eye on the home and ensure they remained protected. Chances couldn’t be taken. Not after humans dared to attack the national wolf alpha’s daughter while under tiger care.
Braden silently turned the doorknob and quietly nudged the door open, careful to remain near noiseless as he stepped onto the porch. He knew Veronica heard him, her head tilting ever so slightly as she caught the sound. He wasn’t trying to be undetected. He merely di
dn’t want to break the soothing peace outside.
He approached her, steps soft on the worn wood, and he didn’t stop until less than an inch separated them. He stood at her back, letting her warmth sink into him, his tiger absorbing the heat. The animal purred and then nosed him, urging him to close the distance between their bodies.
Not now. Not yet.
So much lingered between them, hovering in that short distance. So many feelings, so many uncertainties and worries. His. Hers. Theirs.
They hadn’t really spoken of any of it, but they would. At some point.
The branches creaked, leaves rustling and swaying with the soft breeze. Light reflected off the nearby sentinel’s eyes and Braden tipped his head in a wordless dismissal. He didn’t want to be left completely—Daniel wouldn’t allow it even if Braden had issued the order—but he at least wanted the appearance of privacy.
“Veronica?” He kept his voice low, the night lulling them.
With a soft sigh, she leaned back, resting against him and he reveled in the closeness. It’d been too long since he’d held her close. Okay, it’d only been a few hours, but a few minutes were too long.
“Braden,” she whispered his name—an encouragement and plea in one.
He knew that tone, the way her breath hitched and her body shuddered when his name left her lips. He’d heard it enough when she was last in Wilden, when her yearning was voiced in single words and not full sentences. When she’d whimper and whine without begging.
Alpha daughters didn’t beg.
Second tigers didn’t either.
But they took. They both took—what they wanted, what they desired above all.
Braden wondered if he could take a little more from her. Demand more from his lush mate. She was his and he was hers, and neither had said a word about their situation.
Until now. He wasn’t leaving the porch until they spoke about it—until they said something about the situation.
Braden rested his hands on the wide flare of her hips and enjoyed the softness beneath his palms. She was curved and smooth, a perfect contrast to his carved muscles and firm body. Veronica was so unlike others of their kind, pliant where others were hard and muscled. After having his mate beneath his hands, he realized he preferred the lushness to the strength.
“Tell me.” Her words were nearly lost in the wind. Nearly, but not quite.
“Tell you what?” He knew what he wanted to talk about. And yet, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the question of their mating.
“Anything. Everything.”
Braden took the chicken’s way out and started with the injured male rather than what really filled his heart.
“You know the survivor was flown to the trauma center,” he murmured. “Mark couldn’t handle caring for all his injuries. The hospital’s ICU confirmed receipt of our prisoner and they have him under guard until we can render judgement. He’ll face tiger justice.”
“Tiger justice?”
Braden leaned down, burying his nose in her hair and took a deep breath. He used her scent to calm him, to push the beast back until it was under control. Even now, remembering the scent of her blood had his fangs threatening to burst free. Only the knowledge that she was safe and whole in his arms kept him from chasing after the male and finishing what Murphy started. He was glad the human still lived, they needed to question him, but the cat was furious at the fact.
The beast wanted to tear into the male, rip him to shreds and then present his mate with the dead body as a gift.
He never said his cat was fully sane where Veronica was concerned.
“Tiger justice,” he confirmed and then lifted his head, drawing in one final breath of her fresh scent. He tightened his hold ever so slightly and encouraged her to turn and face him. He didn’t speak until their gazes collided. She needed to know him, his tiger’s fierceness. “We have to see if he’ll survive and then he’ll be questioned before he falls beneath my claws for daring to lay his hands on you.”
Veronica brought her fingers to his chest and softly stroked him, easing some of his animal’s rising fury. Memories of her fear, her utter terror, surged forward with their discussion.
“And you don’t think he should suffer wolf justice? That my father…”
Braden couldn’t suppress his growl, but he did manage to swallow it before it stained the air. He swallowed hard and stared into Veronica’s eyes, meeting her serious gaze with his own. “You know that after we met, after we scented each other, that anyone who touched you would face me. Not your father, not your family, not the wolves.” He brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Just me.”
Her heart fluttered, the rapid beat forcing a vein in her neck to pulse. The scent of her fear and worry soon followed, and his tiger raged at Braden. It was furious he’d taken their mate from sweet and soft to tense and terrorized.
Veronica licked her lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would you think that?”
“Are you going to make me say it?” Because he would. He’d bare his throat for her when it came to this. Braden wasn’t sure what type of future they’d have—could have—but he wouldn’t deny she belonged to him.
“Braden, I…”
He released her and cupped her cheeks, ensuring he had her full focus. “You’re my mate. It’s fucked up and confusing and I don’t know what the hell we’re gonna do, but you belong to me. Somehow, some way, you’re mine.”
Her denial was immediate and he admitted it tore at his chest. His tiger whimpered with the rejection.
Braden didn’t become the national second by giving up.
“We both feel it.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes.” He rubbed her cheek. “We spent hours together. Just you and me. You can’t tell me you didn’t feel the pull. You can’t tell me your wolf didn’t mourn when you left.”
Her pain stung his nose and he hated that the situation hurt her. “No.”
“Yes.” He wouldn’t let her overlook this, them. “We both ignored it when you were here last, but you came back and my tiger…”
His tiger didn’t want to let her go. Ever.
“I don’t have a mate, Braden.” She jerked back and he let her go, let her retreat a few steps, but didn’t allow her to stray far. “I won’t have a mate.” Her hand sliced through the air and then she crossed her arms over her stomach. “Ever.”
Veronica’s tone was final, but he saw the agony on her features, saw the wolf peeking through her human eyes and silently begging him to call her on the lie.
So he did.
“Liar.”
Chapter Seven
Liar.
The word echoed in the night, lingering in the air, surrounding her with the accusation.
She was a liar.
She couldn’t tell him he was right, though. Because admitting the lie would bring more questions. More memories. More tears.
She was cried out. She had to be. It’d happened over ten years ago. She couldn’t cry about that death any longer.
But then her eyes stung and she realized maybe she could cry a little more.
“You can say whatever you like.” She blinked, fluttering her lashes as she tried to banish the gathering moisture. “But it doesn’t change the fact I won’t ever be mated.”
Saying she didn’t have a mate was a mistake. She had one, she was staring at him, after all. She just wasn’t going to claim him.
Or allow him to claim her.
It was a recipe for disaster… death.
“Veronica…” There was a deep warning in his tone and it annoyed her wolf.
“Don’t Veronica me because you’re disappointed,” she snapped and forced her tongue to work, to push the next words out of her mouth. “We had fun together but—”
Braden growled and stalked forward, lips curled to expose his lengthening fangs. Veronica retreated, shuffling backward in an attempt to put space between them. “Braden—”
&
nbsp; “Fun?” he snarled.
She kept backing away, moving faster and farther until she hit the railing at the corner of the house. She was trapped, essentially cornered unless she wanted to vault over the edge. Which, really, Veronica was not a jumping kind of gal when she was on two legs.
Braden towered over her and she clutched the railing as she leaned away from him.
“Fun?” he snarled, eyes blazing yellow, and her body responded to his nearness.
Like so many times before, heat pulsed inside her, pussy growing damp as her nipples pebbled into hard nubs within her bra. Her wolf chuffed and nuzzled, assuring they were where they were meant to be—with their mate.
Apparently the animal had selective memory. It didn’t recall the last time they’d been in this situation, but Ronnie did. In startling, multi-colored clarity. Though, really, the predominant color was red—blood.
“Braden,” she whispered.
“No,” he snapped. “It was more than only fun.”
“It was…” It was more than fun. So much more.
“Say it. Don’t lie. Don’t hide. Say it.”
“What do you want me to say?” She lifted her hands and shoved, cursing when he didn’t budge an inch.
“I want you to say our time together was more than playing around.” He bared his fangs and her wolf practically purred in appreciation. Strong mate. Fierce mate. “I want you to say you hated being separated as much as I did.” He grabbed her roughly, wrapping his arms around her waist and hauling her closer. She shuddered with the increased contact, pussy tightening and clenching. “I want you to say that above all, I’m your mate.”
She wanted to say the words, wanted to admit the truth. But what would he expect if she did? Whatever it was, the price would be too high.
“I,” she gritted her teeth and pressed against his chest. She dug her fingers into him, not breaking skin but squeezing his pecs. “Don’t have a mate.”