Turned by a Tiger (Eternal Mates Paranormal Romance Series Book 12) Page 6

  Talon squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could shut out the pain as easily.

  He opened his eyes and looked down at the female resting against his chest, forced himself to see how different she was to Jayna. He was just hurting from reliving what had happened in vivid detail, seeing similarities between them that weren’t really there because he wanted to cling to the idea Jayna wasn’t gone, and that he wasn’t going to be in the deepest sort of shit when he got back to the pride.

  This human was small, but fierce. Brave. Strong.

  Jayna had been more gentle, delicate in a way that had grated at times, subservient to the end. She had sacrificed herself so he could have a shot at living, obeying the rules and traditions of their kind.

  Something told him that the woman in his arms would tell him to go to Hell if he told her to end her life so he could go on living because he was stronger than her, better able to survive and go on to expand their pride. She would laugh if he told her what an honour it was, and that as a female she was meant to do as she was told.

  Gods, she would be right to do that too.

  Maybe he had believed in traditions when he had been a kid, starry-eyed and awed by everything his parents and teachers had told him, had hammered into his tiny skull until he had thought tigers were the best species in the world and everyone else was below them, because they didn’t have such wonderful, and powerful traditions.

  He had thought those traditions noble once.

  Now they just seemed backwards and stupid, dreamed up by males in a position of power who didn’t want to die, so they decreed that the weak should sacrifice themselves for the sake of the strong if it ever came down to it.

  Stupid.

  Talon brushed her golden hair behind her shoulder and barely resisted teasing the nape of her neck with his fingertips. His heart thudded hard, drumming against her cheek, beating for her.

  It was the duty of the strong to protect the weak.

  It was his duty to fight until he had no more fight left in him, and then keep going, until he was spent.

  Until he could die with honour, because he had done his best.

  He didn’t want people sacrificing themselves for him. He wanted to be the one who did that for others, wanted to use his strength to shield others and save them.

  The entire pride would laugh at him if they heard that.

  Or be horrified.

  He didn’t give a fuck though. The gods had made him strong, a warrior, and he would use that strength for the sake of others.

  He wouldn’t fail anyone again. If Jayna’s sacrifice had done anything for him, it had awoken him to his true purpose. He had allowed her to die, and he would never allow that to happen to another, not when he had the power left in his body to protect them.

  His tiger side settled again, contented by the feel of the human in his arms and his resolve to be true to his nature and screw the rules.

  He would start by heading back to Archangel. His stomach twisted at the thought of dishonouring Jayna’s sacrifice by returning there and placing himself in danger again, but some part of his soul whispered that she would understand. He would use her sacrifice to save not only himself.

  He would save the others too.

  He carefully eased the human down onto the bed and slipped out from under her. Gods, that was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He wanted to stay close to her, but he needed to keep his distance too.

  It was for the best.

  He rolled from the bed and groaned as he stretched and the wound above his left hip burned. Dammit. A little longer. He just needed to be patient a little longer and then he would be strong enough.

  Talon looked back over his shoulder at the sleeping female and slowly turned towards her. Her nose wrinkled again and then she sighed softly. He cleared the towels she had spread across the mattress, hoping to fuck that he hadn’t bled everywhere, and grimaced when he noticed the slashes in her dark crimson bedclothes.

  Oops.

  He would have to buy her new ones.

  Inside he purred at that, at the thought he could see her again, could watch her face light up when he presented her with a gift.

  Maybe she would even throw herself into his arms.

  He huffed, tamped down that stupid desire, and pressed one knee into the mattress and leaned over the bed. He carefully scooped her up into his arms, set her down in the middle of the bed, and covered her.

  She burrowed into the pillows, rubbing her face against the one he had been sleeping on.

  The one covered with his scent.

  Talon groaned, and it became a low growl as he thought about how he wanted her covered with his scent. He wanted every male shifter who came near her to smell him on her.

  To know that she was his.

  “Shit,” he muttered and raked a hand over his black hair.

  He needed to get these urges under control before he did something reckless and foolish, something that might place his entire pride in danger.

  Talon backed off one step and then another, forcing himself away from the temptation sleeping before him. He had to do something to get his mind off her.

  He looked down at his body, at the bandages that littered it, and smiled. Enthusiastic about her work? There was no way any of the wounds he’d had, with the exception of the gash across his stomach, had needed this amount of attention, but he wasn’t about to complain. He viewed the myriad of bandages and sticking plasters as a mark of her affection. A purr rumbled in his chest. His female cared about him already.

  Talon cleared his throat.

  Not his female.

  He had to stop thinking like that.

  What he really needed to do was get clean, but he couldn’t shift. It wasn’t the injuries stopping him. It was damned tradition, one he couldn’t quite bring himself to break with. The laws of his species required him to remain in his mortal form for the first three nights of grieving. He had barely known Jayna a few months, but she deserved this from him.

  So he wouldn’t shift and clean himself.

  He would do it the mortal way.

  Talon spotted the open door to the bathroom and padded across the room to it, rounding the foot of the double bed and diligently keeping his eyes away from the female sleeping in it. He stepped into the bright room and curled his lip at the fact the cookie cutter appearance of her home continued there, in the form of a plain white suite, cream walls and pale tiles.

  Still, he wasn’t going to complain.

  It had a shower, a gift from the gods themselves.

  He had hated the days of wooden tubs and boiling water over a fire. By the time the tub had been filled, the damned water had always been tepid at best.

  Talon stripped off his loose black cotton trousers and kicked them onto the pile of her clothes near the shower cubicle. He didn’t bother to close the bathroom door. It wasn’t because he wanted her to wake and see him naked. It really wasn’t. It was because he wanted to hear if she stirred.

  Honestly, it was.

  He kept telling himself that as he reached into the double shower and twisted the knob to start the flow of water. When it had reached temperature, he stepped inside and slid the door closed behind him.

  And groaned.

  Gods, the hot water felt good. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been warmed by water rather than chilled to the bone. When was the last time he’d had a shower because he had wanted one?

  It was bliss.

  A beautiful departure from the pelting with a freezing cold hose that Archangel had delivered every week or so, whenever he got too bloodstained and dirty for them.

  Couldn’t think about that.

  He closed his eyes and ducked his head under the water, pressed his hands to the tiles beyond the jet and stayed there, letting the heat wash over him and carry away those memories. He wasn’t there now. He was somewhere quite the opposite to that wretched place.

  He was safe.

  Thanks to the female sleep
ing just a few feet from him.

  Dammit, what had the jaguar called her?

  He recalled him speaking her name, but the pain had been so intense at times that everything had been garbled in his ears, fragmented and distorted. He frowned at his feet, watching the water swirling down the drain.

  Shifted his gaze to the plasters and bandages covering him.

  He drew his right hand away from the wall and picked at one low on his stomach, trying not to think about how she had put it there, had touched his body and taken care of him. His cock wasn’t listening, rose hard and fast to attention, and he groaned as his thoughts took him down dangerous paths, making him imagine her hands on him, her whispered words of reassurance as she tended to him, and how her stunning blue eyes would look filled with desire, longing caused by her touching him, seeing his bare chest and imagining naughty things herself.

  Talon palmed his length, shuddered and bit back a low groan as fire shot down his cock to his balls and they tingled.

  Fuck.

  He dragged his hand away and planted it against the tiles, because he was damned if he was going to jack off in the shower like some damned teen who had no control over his body.

  His cock twitched, jerking and getting his attention again.

  No.

  He ripped another plaster off his chest, grimaced as it tore hairs with it and stung like a bitch. He tackled another, and then a third, using the pain to divert his thoughts away from the female sleeping in the other room and all the wicked things he wanted to do with her.

  She was beautiful.

  And strong.

  Both of heart and of body.

  He figured she worked for the jaguar, which explained why she had guts and could handle herself. She was beautiful. Beautiful. Damn near bewitching with it. Beauty could be a curse though. Another sticking plaster and bandage combo joined the rest in the shower tray at his feet.

  She probably had to deal with her fair share of rowdy males because she was beautiful.

  More than beautiful.

  Sherry.

  He frowned at his feet.

  Her name was Sherry.

  The jaguar had called her that.

  How the hell did a human come to work for a jaguar shifter in a club that reeked of fae, shifters and demons anyway?

  He looked over his shoulder at the door to the bedroom.

  He wanted to know.

  He wanted to know her story.

  Because he wanted to know her. He wanted to be closer to her.

  That bastard little voice murmured that it was dangerous, that she was mortal.

  Why couldn’t she have been any other species?

  Any other one and he could have given in to the desires building within him, the fierce need that seized him from time to time and tried to overpower him.

  The hunger to sink his fangs into that sweet nape of hers and mark her.

  If he lost himself in the moment like that with any other species, it wouldn’t mean a thing, would be nothing more than rough love play that would bind them as mates.

  If he bit Sherry.

  Talon shook that tempting thought away, because it was too dangerous to even think about it. For both of them. For his pride. If anyone learned his family’s secret, their name would be worth nothing, their banner torn down from the lofty heights of tiger society and trampled into the dirt.

  It was never going to happen.

  He kept telling himself that as he switched off the shower, stepped out and dried off. He told himself it as he slung a towel around his waist and tied it. Told himself it as he washed his black trousers in the sink and hung them to dry over the heated towel rail. Told himself it as he used her razor and a pair of scissors to shave his beard and trim his hair, making himself more presentable—for her.

  Kept telling himself it but he couldn’t seem to drum it into his head or his heart, and he found himself standing beside the bed again, watching her as she slept.

  Sherry was his.

  Talon knew that in his blood, had felt it the second he had set eyes on her.

  He could claim her, could do it in secret and keep her away from the pride, and no one would discover his family’s secret. She could be his. He would claim her.

  He stilled.

  Pushed away from that tempting thought as he looked at her where she slept soundly, unaware of his thoughts, of what he wanted to do to her.

  Archangel had taken away his free will, had forced him into their world of pain and terror.

  He couldn’t take away her right to choose.

  He couldn’t be like them.

  Maybe he would have once, would have pursued her until she had given in to him, until she had given him what he wanted even if it hadn’t been what she truly desired.

  He chuckled at that, but it was mirthless and cold.

  Archangel had beaten the shit out of him, tortured and tried to break him, all in an effort to learn about him. Turned out they were the ones who had taught him something.

  They had taught him that free will was precious, and that everyone should have a choice, even if their decision was one that he didn’t want.

  All he could do was show Sherry what he could be for her, that he would do all in his power to protect and cherish her if she gave him a chance, and he would place her on a pedestal and give her everything she desired if she only asked it of him.

  If she stepped into his world.

  That day was a long way off though.

  He knew a little about humans and how they worked, and he was going to have to start with the basics and be patient, even when it went against his nature, when he was already screaming with need of her, need to have her and make her his mate.

  He blew out his breath.

  The basics.

  Getting to know her.

  Letting her know him.

  Or at least some of him. He needed to keep some things from her, because he was a betting male and he bet she knew a few things about shifters.

  He stifled a yawn and followed the smell of stale coffee into the living room and through it to the small kitchen. He was beat, needed at least another thirty to forty hours of sleep to fully heal, or maybe he just wanted to sleep through the mourning period.

  With Sherry.

  He couldn’t sleep though, so he poured the remnants of the coffee jug into a mug and drank it down. Sleeping meant letting the nightmares back in, and they only made him feel more tired. He wouldn’t find the rest he needed if he slept now.

  There was another reason he needed to stay awake too.

  He found the filters and the coffee grounds, and set about brewing a fresh pot.

  He needed to repay Sherry by protecting her while she slept.

  He wasn’t convinced that Archangel wouldn’t find him here, and he was damned if they were going to catch him napping.

  He wouldn’t let Archangel do to her what they had done to Jayna.

  When there was enough coffee in the bottom of the jug, he poured himself another mug. Never had been patient. It was going to be a tough journey to winning Sherry over if he couldn’t learn to have a little patience though. Good things came to those who waited.

  He paused on the threshold of the living room.

  When had he resolved to risk everything for her?

  It hit him that he had made that decision the moment he had set eyes on her and all the struggle and doubts since then had been redundant, all the fear of exposing his family and the noble desire to place them before himself and let Sherry go had been a lie.

  Because he wanted her.

  Talon slumped onto the dark purple couch, picked up the remote from the wooden coffee table and flicked channels. He pulled down a deep breath, catching her scent of honey and vanilla among the aroma of the coffee in his hand, and closed his eyes, savouring it.

  He wanted her.

  But would she want him if she knew the truth about him?

  CHAPTER 7

  Sherry had been having the mos
t delicious dream about a black-haired warrior and a desert island somewhere in the tropics. He had been a vision as he had waded out of crystal turquoise waters towards her where she sat on white sands, water rolling down his bare ripped body.

  Looking for all the world like some decadent sea god.

  She rubbed sleep from her eyes and rested her hand across her face, a contented sigh slipping from her lips as she held on to the dream, wanting to experience it a little longer.

  Bliss.

  Sheer Heaven.

  Or it would have been if she hadn’t woken just when it had been getting really good.

  She shivered, warmed from head to toe from the memory of the fantasy and how his hands had felt as they had traversed her, and how very wickedly good his skilled tongue had felt when he had delved between her thighs.

  A moan bubbled up her throat.

  She quickly swallowed it down when the sound coming from the other room suddenly changed from a low murmured conversation to a blasting rock anthem.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Awareness hit her like a bucket of icy water, swiftly followed by a flash of wildfire that burned up her blood as she remembered she hadn’t come home all by herself last night.

  Tiger had come with her.

  She shot onto her knees in the middle of the double bed and stared into the other room.

  The delicious black-haired warrior was sitting on her plum couch.

  Her hands darted to her head, felt the mass of bed hair, and she grimaced. Damn. She hurried from the bed, her legs tangling in the burgundy sheets and almost sending her sprawling face first onto the hard floor. She saved herself at the last second, kicking her foot free, and hopped into the bathroom as she fought for balance.

  It took her record time to fix her appearance, brushing her hair and tying it in a neat ponytail. When she went to tackle her teeth, her eyes widened, her right hand freezing on her toothbrush in the beige faux-stone pot. Black hairs covered the white porcelain sink. She glanced over her right shoulder, her eyebrows shooting up when she spotted the dressings left all over the shower tray.

  He had used her shower?

  He had shaved?

  A tremor went through her, a ripple of heat that stirred naughty thoughts as she tried to imagine how he would look without the beard. The length of the hairs in the sink said it wasn’t only his beard he had dealt with—he had cut his hair too.