Tiger Magic
Page 56
“You are beautiful,” he said. “My mate.”
When he said mate, a warmth grew in her heart until it almost hurt. At the same time the warmth brought a flush of happiness, the like of which Carly had never felt before.
Tiger smiled, which made his eyes heat. “Do you see it? The mate bond?”
He moved his fingers to her breastbone, directly over the warmth. When Carly looked at him in confusion, not knowing what he was talking about, his smile grew.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I can see it. Like silver threads that bind us, my heart to yours.” He traced the air between them. “It’s like the threads on Sean’s sword, and in Andrea when she heals. But better. The Fae is wrong. This is magic.”
Carly still didn’t know what in the hell he was talking about, but if Tiger meant he felt about her the way Carly felt about him, fine.
She pressed her hand to his chest, liking how his heart beat strong and hard beneath her fingertips. “How do Shifters pledge themselves to each other?” she asked. “Humans say ’til death do us part.”
Tiger growled. “I don’t want to talk about death. Shifters say under sun and moon, I claim you as mate. But we don’t need to say anything.”
“I want to. I like pledges. What is the Shifter woman supposed to say in return?”
“That she accepts the claim, under the Father God and Mother Goddess. But Shifters want the mate-claim to be witnessed.”
“I’ll witness it.” Carly smiled as she touched his face. “Tiger, I accept you as mate.”
Carly thought Tiger would growl again that they didn’t need to say anything—men were always embarrassed by rituals—but his smile spread.
“Yes,” he said, his look one of complete triumph. “Yes. My mate. My mate.”
Tiger dragged Carly up off the stool with him, kisses falling like fire on her neck, br**sts, over her heart. He licked his way to her nipple, tasting it, pulling the tip into a point.
Carly ran her hand through his hair, loving the rough silk feel of it. The black locks were smoother than the orange, she observed distractedly. The rest of her focused on the fire of his mouth, the sharp tug of his teeth. Sweet goodness.
Tiger’s breath was hot on her skin, his own body temperature hotter than a human’s. He was a strange and exotic man, touching her so skillfully as he nuzzled and licked until she was crazy from it.
“Upstairs,” she murmured. “We should go upstairs.”
“Not yet.”
Tiger lifted her as he stood up, sitting her on the counter. He placed his hands on either side of her, closing her in, his mouth everywhere on her exposed skin.
Two days ago, Carly hadn’t wanted to go near kitchen counters or even think about what could be done on them. Today, she wrapped her legs around Tiger, pulling him to her.
She pushed his flannel shirt from his shoulders—how he could stand wearing flannel in this heat, she didn’t know, but he was Tiger. The T-shirt next. Carly enjoyed herself pushing it upward over his tight torso, until he tore it off over his head in impatience.
He had a fine body. Firm, muscled, tanned, like liquid bronze over a sculpture of perfect proportions. Carly ran her hands over him, seeing that the bullet scars had lessened further in the course of the day. Soon his skin would be whole and tight again.
Unless the Shifter Bureau took him away, or the Shifters decided to kill him or make him wear that stupid Collar.
Idiots. If the Collar Tiger had been wearing was fake, and still he’d stopped himself from killing Walker and the assassin, not to mention Ethan, then obviously Tiger didn’t need the damn thing.
It wasn’t the Collar keeping Tiger careful when he held the cubs or careful with Carly. It was Tiger.
She ran her fingers around the healing line where the fake Collar had been. Tiger looked into Carly’s eyes, the wanting in him stark.
Carly popped the button of his jeans. Tiger growled low in his throat, bunched her dress in his hands, and skimmed it off over her head. Carly sped his zipper down, finding behind it silky red boxers with black hearts on them.
Carly pushed his jeans down his hips, laughing. “Where did you get those?”
“Glory. From Elizabeth’s store.” Tiger kissed her again, letting her laugh against his mouth. “Connor said it was a joke, but I didn’t have anything else to wear.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tiger loved her laughter. This woman could find the joy in anything. She shook delightfully as Tiger kissed her. “I’ll try to find you some with tiger stripes,” she said. “Or maybe paw prints.”
As she went on laughing, the warmth of the mate bond again filled Tiger’s heart.
At the same time, another pang of loss reached out and gripped him. Connor and Kim had laughed so hard when Glory brought Tiger the gift of the underwear, and even Dylan had looked amused. They’d included Tiger in their family, he realized, in their jokes, even if he didn’t understand them. For a fleeting moment, he’d belonged. Now he had to leave that behind, as well as Carly.
The mate of his heart. Tiger needed her more with every breath.
Maybe her crazy plan to run away with him would work. Maybe they could hole up together in a Mexican beach town and live out their lives.
But Tiger had seen the flash of sorrow in Carly’s eyes when he’d said Carly would have to leave her family behind. She loved them. She had ties here, in this house where she was so comfortable.
Tiger would have to say good-bye to her. But not now. Now he would feast on her, imbibing all she had to give so he could savor the memory when he was away. He’d leave her behind so she could be safe, but he’d leave something else as well. His cub, a part of himself, for her.
Tiger snaked his hand beneath the elastic of her panties and jerked them from her bottom, pushing them down her legs to fall on the floor. While Carly ran her hands down his bare back, nibbling his bottom lip, he pushed down his jeans and then the boxers, letting them pool around his ankles.
He still wore his motorcycle boots, but so what? He didn’t have time to sit down and pull everything off. Better traction on the floor anyway.
Tiger lifted Carly’s hips and settled her on the edge of the counter, winding her legs around him. Her eyes widened and she started to protest, her hands on his chest, but Tiger also knew he would never make it upstairs with her. Maybe to the kitchen table, maybe all the way to the stairs if they ran, but he needed Carly now.
When he said mate, a warmth grew in her heart until it almost hurt. At the same time the warmth brought a flush of happiness, the like of which Carly had never felt before.
Tiger smiled, which made his eyes heat. “Do you see it? The mate bond?”
He moved his fingers to her breastbone, directly over the warmth. When Carly looked at him in confusion, not knowing what he was talking about, his smile grew.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I can see it. Like silver threads that bind us, my heart to yours.” He traced the air between them. “It’s like the threads on Sean’s sword, and in Andrea when she heals. But better. The Fae is wrong. This is magic.”
Carly still didn’t know what in the hell he was talking about, but if Tiger meant he felt about her the way Carly felt about him, fine.
She pressed her hand to his chest, liking how his heart beat strong and hard beneath her fingertips. “How do Shifters pledge themselves to each other?” she asked. “Humans say ’til death do us part.”
Tiger growled. “I don’t want to talk about death. Shifters say under sun and moon, I claim you as mate. But we don’t need to say anything.”
“I want to. I like pledges. What is the Shifter woman supposed to say in return?”
“That she accepts the claim, under the Father God and Mother Goddess. But Shifters want the mate-claim to be witnessed.”
“I’ll witness it.” Carly smiled as she touched his face. “Tiger, I accept you as mate.”
Carly thought Tiger would growl again that they didn’t need to say anything—men were always embarrassed by rituals—but his smile spread.
“Yes,” he said, his look one of complete triumph. “Yes. My mate. My mate.”
Tiger dragged Carly up off the stool with him, kisses falling like fire on her neck, br**sts, over her heart. He licked his way to her nipple, tasting it, pulling the tip into a point.
Carly ran her hand through his hair, loving the rough silk feel of it. The black locks were smoother than the orange, she observed distractedly. The rest of her focused on the fire of his mouth, the sharp tug of his teeth. Sweet goodness.
Tiger’s breath was hot on her skin, his own body temperature hotter than a human’s. He was a strange and exotic man, touching her so skillfully as he nuzzled and licked until she was crazy from it.
“Upstairs,” she murmured. “We should go upstairs.”
“Not yet.”
Tiger lifted her as he stood up, sitting her on the counter. He placed his hands on either side of her, closing her in, his mouth everywhere on her exposed skin.
Two days ago, Carly hadn’t wanted to go near kitchen counters or even think about what could be done on them. Today, she wrapped her legs around Tiger, pulling him to her.
She pushed his flannel shirt from his shoulders—how he could stand wearing flannel in this heat, she didn’t know, but he was Tiger. The T-shirt next. Carly enjoyed herself pushing it upward over his tight torso, until he tore it off over his head in impatience.
He had a fine body. Firm, muscled, tanned, like liquid bronze over a sculpture of perfect proportions. Carly ran her hands over him, seeing that the bullet scars had lessened further in the course of the day. Soon his skin would be whole and tight again.
Unless the Shifter Bureau took him away, or the Shifters decided to kill him or make him wear that stupid Collar.
Idiots. If the Collar Tiger had been wearing was fake, and still he’d stopped himself from killing Walker and the assassin, not to mention Ethan, then obviously Tiger didn’t need the damn thing.
It wasn’t the Collar keeping Tiger careful when he held the cubs or careful with Carly. It was Tiger.
She ran her fingers around the healing line where the fake Collar had been. Tiger looked into Carly’s eyes, the wanting in him stark.
Carly popped the button of his jeans. Tiger growled low in his throat, bunched her dress in his hands, and skimmed it off over her head. Carly sped his zipper down, finding behind it silky red boxers with black hearts on them.
Carly pushed his jeans down his hips, laughing. “Where did you get those?”
“Glory. From Elizabeth’s store.” Tiger kissed her again, letting her laugh against his mouth. “Connor said it was a joke, but I didn’t have anything else to wear.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tiger loved her laughter. This woman could find the joy in anything. She shook delightfully as Tiger kissed her. “I’ll try to find you some with tiger stripes,” she said. “Or maybe paw prints.”
As she went on laughing, the warmth of the mate bond again filled Tiger’s heart.
At the same time, another pang of loss reached out and gripped him. Connor and Kim had laughed so hard when Glory brought Tiger the gift of the underwear, and even Dylan had looked amused. They’d included Tiger in their family, he realized, in their jokes, even if he didn’t understand them. For a fleeting moment, he’d belonged. Now he had to leave that behind, as well as Carly.
The mate of his heart. Tiger needed her more with every breath.
Maybe her crazy plan to run away with him would work. Maybe they could hole up together in a Mexican beach town and live out their lives.
But Tiger had seen the flash of sorrow in Carly’s eyes when he’d said Carly would have to leave her family behind. She loved them. She had ties here, in this house where she was so comfortable.
Tiger would have to say good-bye to her. But not now. Now he would feast on her, imbibing all she had to give so he could savor the memory when he was away. He’d leave her behind so she could be safe, but he’d leave something else as well. His cub, a part of himself, for her.
Tiger snaked his hand beneath the elastic of her panties and jerked them from her bottom, pushing them down her legs to fall on the floor. While Carly ran her hands down his bare back, nibbling his bottom lip, he pushed down his jeans and then the boxers, letting them pool around his ankles.
He still wore his motorcycle boots, but so what? He didn’t have time to sit down and pull everything off. Better traction on the floor anyway.
Tiger lifted Carly’s hips and settled her on the edge of the counter, winding her legs around him. Her eyes widened and she started to protest, her hands on his chest, but Tiger also knew he would never make it upstairs with her. Maybe to the kitchen table, maybe all the way to the stairs if they ran, but he needed Carly now.
