Tropical Lion's Legacy

by Zoe Chant

  “Graham is a bighearted man. He doesn’t have a lot to say, but he’s clever and he’s kind. You should give him a chance.”

  It was eerily similar to what Scarlet had said. Alice gave up her pose and sat down with a thump. “I’m sure he’s a great guy,” she said, and she was alarmed at the longing she heard in her own voice. She cleared her throat. “But I have a job back home, and he has a job here, and I just don’t see a life where either one of us is willing to throw what we already have away.”

  Lydia looked at her thoughtfully. “Do you know a lot of mated couples?”

  Alice snorted. “Not one, until Mary brought hers home.”

  “When I met Wrench, I knew he was for me, but... I had this idea of what he ought to be that he wasn’t. I wasn’t disappointed, but it took some adjustment. I had to get past his rough exterior and street speech and swearing, and once I did I found this amazing man who I needed to spend the rest of my life with. It could be the same, for you. Don’t be put off by the fact that Graham was in jail, or that he can seem distant.”

  Was Wrench really a name? Alice wondered. Then the rest of Lydia’s soft-spoken statement caught up with her.

  “Graham was in jail?” Alice exclaimed. “For what?”

  For the first time, Lydia looked flustered. “Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed you knew. It’s not really a secret. But it’s not such a bad thing. My own mate was in jail for a while. And I was alarmed when I found out, too.”

  “What was he in jail for?” Alice repeated. “Graham, I mean.”

  Lydia hesitated, then said, “Manslaughter. None of us know the details, but manslaughter is usually just an accident.”

  “Huh,” Alice replied.

  “But Graham is more than his rapsheet,” Lydia was quick to say. “Just like Wrench is. And don’t be put off by fact that he is so cool and reserved. He’ll take patience to get through to, but he has a warm heart under that gruff exterior. It might take a long time to get him to open up, but he deserves that chance.”

  “Cool and reserved?” Alice scoffed. “Good god, the man declared his love for me before I found out his name.”

  Lydia blinked at her, but seemed to have reclaimed her calm. “Then why aren’t you with him?”

  “This isn’t the basis for a relationship,” Alice insisted. “I’m glad it worked out for you and... Wrench? Really? Okay... but I’m not looking for a man and I don’t have room in my life for one. And Graham wouldn’t be happy there anyway.”

  Lydia continued to gaze at her, not judgmentally, but patiently.

  “I’m six foot four and turn into a bear that could eat his face off,” Alice said desperately. “I live in a tiny apartment and have a high-stress job teaching ungrateful middle school students. I’m constantly traveling for sports events. I’m just... not girlfriend material.”

  “Graham doesn’t care about that,” Lydia assured her confidently. “Let’s end our session in five minutes of child’s pose, to lengthen our backs, open our hips, and ease our stress.”

  Alice obediently knelt and leaned her head forward onto the mat. She sighed into the stretch.

  Graham didn’t care about any of that, she thought achingly. She actually believed him when he said he loved her. He would go back to Minnesota with her in a hot minute, if she asked him to. He would give up his perfect life here, with his friends, doing something he enjoyed in paradise, and he would follow her to... what?

  To her hardscrabble life in a snowy state with strangers? He wouldn’t fit in her tiny apartment in Lakefield and she could barely afford it already. She couldn’t possibly put food on their table, and as far as she knew, jobs for landscaper felons were not available in any abundance. She couldn’t take care of Graham... she couldn’t even take care of the family she had.

  Before she could stop herself, tears leaked out of her eyes and she was glad that her forehead was down on the mat.

  She was trying so hard not to think about her family, because it only made her feel helpless and despairing.

  Why couldn’t her mate have been a billionaire, like Gizelle’s deaf musician? she wanted to wail... but the brief, ungrateful thought made her chest squeeze with guilt and regret. The sad fact was, Graham was everything she wanted in one sexy package, and the more she reluctantly learned about him, the more she wanted to comfort him, to pull him into her arms and kiss him and show him that she knew who he really was beneath that quiet facade and checkered past.

  Yoga, she decided, let her think too much. Once Lydia finally released her from this torture, she was going to go find the workout room that Neal and Tony had talked about and do something that would distract her more thoroughly. Maybe they had a punching bag, because she really felt like hitting something.

  Chapter 16

  “You’ll hurt yourself, hitting the bag that way,” Graham had to say.

  He didn’t want to say anything, he wanted to slink out of the staff gym before Alice noticed him. But he couldn’t let her continue to batter at the bag that way, couldn’t bear to think of her in pain if he could do anything to stop it.

  Alice was panting and sweaty, and the strong, gorgeous lines of her long body were fierce and graceful. “I suppose you’re some kind of fighter?” she said angrily, giving the heavy bag another furious, flawed hit.

  Some kind of fighter, Graham thought.

  “You’ll fracture your wrist,” he growled. “Hold it straight, like this, and step back a little, so the force goes all the way up to your shoulder when you make the hit. Those are the big muscles that can take it. Wrists are weak.”

  He’d broken enough of them to know, he thought regretfully.

  Alice gave the bag another hit, a better hit, and the bag shuddered on its chain. “Hot damn,” she said, pleased. “Thanks.”

  Graham turned to go, but Alice stopped him with a word, “Wait...”

  Graham stared at the door jamb.

  “We’re grownups,” Alice said. “If you want to use the workout room at the same time, we... should be able to do that. If you want to lift, I can spot you. Or, whatever.”

  Bench presses, with her curves above him, shining with sweat? Graham wasn’t that stupid.

  But the only excuse he could think of to retreat from his workout involved admitting that he didn’t think he’d be able to concentrate with the distraction of having her in the same room. And that sounded weak.

  He grunted and went to do sit-ups on the inclined bench.

  Predictably, he lost count, listening to Alice continue to punch at the bag, and then start arm curls. After he guessed he’d done a few hundred, he realized in a panic that he should probably switch, or it would look like he was incapable of doing anything else.

  Pull-ups on the bars would have been his next stop, but Graham became aware that he probably should only do things that involved sitting; he was irresistibly aroused, and it was going to be obvious if he wasn’t careful.

  He made the mistake of glancing over at her, and she was looking away swiftly. Her color was high, but Graham told himself that might have been due to exertion. The day was hot, and the fan in the workout room was not helping much.

  What he really wanted to do was punch something, and the heavy bag was tempting. If he put his back to her... Graham was moving before he could reconsider, wrapping his hands with efficient motions to save his knuckles.

  Crack.

  The hit was always satisfying, and the chains groaned. If Travis hadn’t reinforced the equipment—the whole room—to shifter specifications, it probably would have fallen.

  The bag swung back and Graham met it with all of his frustration and a fist; not as hard as the first time, because that kind of hit was sloppy. No opponent would wait around for a fighter to regain their balance after committing all their energy into a punch that way.

  He lay into the bag with all of his focus he could muster, dancing on the balls of his feet, feinting, hitting. But he couldn’t shake his awareness of Alice behind him.

 
She was this tantalizing presence, like a source of heat, like magnetic north to his compass. It took all of his willpower to keep his attention on the bag before him.

  Did he draw her that same way? Or did her bear have the same indifference to him that she seemed to? Graham reminded himself that her cool practicality really was the best practice. He didn’t have anything to offer a mate.

  A fist slipped, and only shifter reflexes kept Graham from taking the heavy bag in the face. He lowered his hands, forcing his fingers to relax, and only then felt the sweat he’d worked up. The bag slowed in its pendulum motion, and as the creak of the chains and the support beam stilled, he became aware that Alice was silent behind him.

  “You’re good,” she said into the quiet, as if she felt compelled to fill it. “I teach wrestling, but it’s a really different sport, of course. All about holds and takedowns and grapples, not so much on the hitting.” She laughed nervously. “You don’t want to teach middle school students how to hit. At that age, all they want to do is strike out already. They’re swimming in a sea of puberty and haven’t quite figured out how not to be self-centered jerks enslaved by their hormones.”

  Graham couldn’t speak, too busy picturing what grappling Alice would be like. Those long limbs, that beautiful neck, strong fingers twined with his...

  He grunted, unwrapping his hands.

  “Graham...” The bench that Alice had been sitting on gave a creak as she stood.

  He ought to turn and face her. It would be polite. He willed himself under control, and failed.

  She was standing too close; he could feel her right behind him.

  “Graham,” she said again.

  Graham gritted his teeth and turned. If she wanted to see what she was doing to him, then fine.

  “No kissing,” she said, and for a moment, Graham didn’t understand. Then she was tugging his shirt up, and when he helped her get it over his head and throw it across the room, everything was clear and uncomplicated. He bent to her neck... not to kiss, but to bite, gently, then harder as she made a noise that was no part pain.

  Chapter 17

  Alice had no delusions that she was any part Pretty Woman or Julia Roberts, but keeping kissing out of things seemed a sensible way to remind herself that this wasn’t about romance or love.

  So Graham did not kiss her.

  He bit and nibbled, and dragged his teeth along her skin, and licked and growled. His hands were gentle and strong, and his chest—that glorious chest—was even more beautiful than she remembered. He effortlessly raised her to a fever-pitch of need and hunger.

  Her clothing followed his, and they were both touching and growling in desire. His cock was hard in her hand, his fingers were wet in her folds and played her clit like an instrument, until she was crying and begging for him.

  They tried the workout bench—too narrow, the wrong height, too awkward for more than a few desperate strokes. They tried up against the wall, nearly knocking over the weights rack, then finally he was bending her over on the floor itself and entering her from behind, spreading her and biting at her neck until she gave a cry of release and he was joining her in the ecstasy with a roar of his own.

  She shuddered through aftershocks, as he slowed his thrusts and fell through the pulses of pleasure with her.

  They collapsed to the floor and for a blissful moment, Graham cradled her in his strong arms, holding her close as their heartbeats returned to normal.

  Finally he rolled away to lie beside her, and Alice had to fight down her own instinct to snuggle back into his sweaty embrace.

  “Where’d you learn to fight?” Alice asked, when she could form words again. “I didn’t recognize your style.” Mostly his style had been ‘destroy the bag,’ but the control and skill had been unmistakable.

  The answer surprised her. “Prep school in England.”

  “Bullshit,” Alice said, rolling her head to look at him. That was always a mistake, and he was still naked. “You did not go to prep school. And I thought you were American.” She sat up, looking for her clothing instead of staring.

  “Not bloody likely,” Graham answered in a breath-taking accent, reaching for his own shirt. “Or at least, not always.” His American accent was good, but now that Alice knew what she was listening for, she could hear the British beneath it.

  “Well, that didn’t look like proper British boxing,” Alice said, in her own terrible ‘I’ve watched a little BBC’ accent as they dressed.

  “It’s not.” That was a more Graham-like growl, too clipped to reveal any dialect. But to her surprise, he went on. “I... when I was eleven, my father died and it turned out he was badly in debt. I went from king of the school to charity case in a week, and there were a lot of kids—older kids—who were desperate to remind me what an ass I’d been and how far I’d fallen. I got good at hitting back.”

  Alice looked at him again, really looked at him, and when he accidentally looked up and met her gaze, he flinched but didn’t look away.

  It was a confession, hard-given. Alice blinked in surprise, guessing that Graham had probably never told anyone that.

  I love you, he’d told her. And now, more than that, he was telling her he trusted her.

  His blue eyes were so full of longing and regret. Alice wanted to reach out, to brush back the mane of his hair and feel his jaw in the palm of her hand.

  But that was as dangerous as kissing, and Alice could feel her defenses crumbling already.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked quietly.

  “I want...” he paused, and Alice could see him wrestling with the words. He wanted her, she knew with bone-deep certainty. He wanted more than he could ask. “I want to be honest.”

  We should be honest, she’d told him. Her own words, thrust back at her.

  But she was afraid of honest. Honest terrified her.

  Honest meant admitting she was falling in love with him.

  Chapter 18

  Graham wasn’t sure what made him tell Alice about school, about losing his father. He hadn’t intended to, not really.

  He was just... so tired of trying to hide it all.

  Her hazel eyes were a safe place, a haven forever.

  Even if she said she didn’t want forever.

  They gazed at each other a long moment, and Alice looked down first. Graham waited for her to make an excuse and flee, and was surprised when she didn’t. She sat backwards on a beat-up chair and Graham settled opposite from her on a workout bench.

  “My brother and I went to public school,” Alice said quietly. “But kids are kids, and they can be pretty cruel. No one messed with me, but I had to bloody a few noses for my brother. I never learned... real fighting. Just a little schoolyard scrapping. But I was bigger and stronger than other kids, even before I could shift, and I didn’t have to do it much.”

  Graham wondered if this the was the place normal people made conversational noises and was glad when Alice went on without prompting.

  “My brother, Andy... he’s not a shifter. If he had been...” Alice’s face was complicated.

  Everything about Alice was complicated, however hard she tried to deny it.

  After a moment, she lifted her chin. “We’re being honest. My brother is sick. Really sick. He hasn’t been able to work, doesn’t have insurance to cover treatment, doesn’t want my parents to know, even if they had any money. My parents are about to lose their house. And they don’t want Andy to know. So... I’m stuck in the middle and a teacher’s salary barely covers my food and the rent for my crappy apartment, so there’s nothing I can do to help either of them.”

  Graham wasn’t sure what the right response was, but “Shit,” seemed as appropriate as anything.

  “Sorry,” she said, blinking hard to pretend she wasn’t crying. “That’s probably a little too much honesty for what we have. I just... haven’t had anyone I could tell.”

  “Can I... help?” Graham had to ask, resisting the desire to pull her into his arms
without asking.

  Alice’s mouth quirked into a wry smile; even crying, she was impossibly good looking, her face all proud planes and sun-kissed skin.

  “I don’t suppose you know what Scarlet’s shift is?” she said, clearly expecting him to take it as a joke.

  It wasn’t a joke. Graham knew he was scowling, and hoped he had gotten the expression in place before Alice saw the underlying surprise and fear.

  “How would that help?” he asked curtly, forcing his body to stay relaxed.

  Alice didn’t seem to notice the effect of her unexpected words, busy wiping her face and pulling herself back together. “It’s crazy. Right before I left to come here, this... guy came to see me. Some big shot in an amazing suit. Mob, maybe? I don’t know. No Godfather accent or anything. He gave me a business card with a number and a name, nothing else. He knew every tiny detail of my life and he offered to pay me fifty million to find out what Scarlet was. And craziest of all, I actually believe he would.” She gave a wry chuckle. “Not that I have a chance in hell of cracking that egg. It’s been dead-end after dead-end, and Scarlet probably thinks I’m stalking her. Or maybe flirting with her. It’s been awkward.”

  Graham gave a gruff laugh a little too late to sound completely natural.

  He was alarmed.

  Deeply alarmed.

  He needed to warn Scarlet...

  “Don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s not the kind of thing I really want to explain.”

  Graham felt his stomach churn as his loyalties clashed. He couldn’t refuse his mate’s request; the weight of his lion’s insistence that they honor her trust was like having the heavy bag on his shoulders, but with claws. But Scarlet should know... he owed her, and that weight felt equal, but with claws of guilt.

  Alice was looking at him again, that way that she got, that Graham sometimes felt in his own face, like she couldn’t help looking at him, like she wanted to look away but couldn’t.