Want. Need. Lick. Bite.
What? No!
His human side warred with his animal one. Trench’s heart was beating a mile a minute, and he had no idea how to slow it down. Something was wrong.
This woman was a witch or something. It was the only thing that made sense. She was doing something to him, wasn’t she? But how? He did not scent magic, just vanilla and orange zest. Reminded him of that clementine cake he’d wanted for his tenth birthday.
Yummy.
What the hell? When did a big ass scary Enforcer start thinking words like that? Was his brain addled by that tiny altercation with those pups? Shit. HE was embarrassed for himself.
Trench never let a female get to him like this. Then again, he’d never been near one who smelled so mouthwateringly delicious, looking like a pinup model from the 50s with curves in all the right places.
Modern women tended to be too skinny for his tastes. Skin and bone with no meat to them. But she had nice wide hips, a heart shaped ass he’d love to nibble, and breasts that could fill even his hands quite nicely. Of course, he’d have to worry about the whole human thing.
Normals were frail, weak. He might hurt her if he ever tried to fuck her. That earned him a snarl from his beast. The Tiger was enraged at the thought of anyone hurting the beautiful female. Least of all him.
Never hurt. Claim. Mine.
What? Shit. When his Tiger started sending him messages in human speech, Trench knew he was in trouble. It happened very rarely. Only in times of extreme danger. So, why now? Then the beast replied, and the answer stunned Trench into swerving on the road. Thank fuck, no one else was around.
Mate, his beast growled.
Shit.
Fuck.
Fucking fuck.
Trench’s Tiger had lost his damned mind. He glanced at the adorable female, curled on her side, and softly snoring in the din of the Vette he’d borrowed from Alex, the Pride Beta. The man was gonna shit when he saw what McLeesh’s Wolves did to one of his cars.
Oh, well. Couldn’t be helped. Trench didn’t have another option, since his own new vehicle’s delivery was currently delayed. Damn shortage of employees everywhere, it seemed.
No matter. Alex Kensington, like himself and most of the Island Stripe Pride, received more than ample pay, not to mention stock options in their company, ISP Inc., the dividends of which were always more than healthy.
What they did exactly was anyone’s guess. ISP Inc. had several different interests, including an imports and exports operation which dealt in everything from food products to modern art and priceless antiques.
Living in the city was pricey, and a bit crowded for most Tigers. They worked in groups, but like large amounts of space between even Pride mates. Manhattan seemed a strange location for their headquarters, but like the jungles where their wild cousins roamed, the Big Apple was a concrete wilderness. It provided enough entertainment for even a big Cat to remain interested.
Not an easy feat, Trench knew from experience. New York had a lot of limelight and glitter, and beneath that was enough grime and dirt for the sometimes rough and tumble world of Shifters. But even the wildest of men and beasts needed something soft once in a while.
That was where the Fates came in. Some Shifters were content with lukewarm meetings and casual encounters. Others believed in something greater than themselves. He’d never thought about it much. Had considered he was for a life alone, after all, he was a killer. Trained in combat, he knew forty seven ways to kill someone before the target even knew what was happening.
Trench was quick to react. His physical prowess was his strength, and his dominant beast demanded he respond to all threats the same way. Kill or be killed. That was the life of an Enforcer. He was an elite warrior even among Shifters. How could he possibly have a mate?
True, the same was said for Dean Romero and Alex Kensington. But they were both now happily mated with cubs too. Trench had seen the changes in his Neta and their Pride Beta when both men, once the most eligible bachelors in the Pride, looked upon their mates.
He’d assumed having a mate would make a Shifter weak, forcing him to change focus. But their respective women had not hurt them in any way. In fact, they’d only served to make the two Tigers Trench admired the most ever fiercer.
He turned to steal a glance at Bria. She was sleeping peacefully, completely trusting in him, a total stranger, to care for her. Maybe she was crazy? He wondered. But again his Tiger growled. No one would speak ill of her in the animal’s presence. Not even him.
Mine.
The truth was hard to swallow. It had simply never occurred to Trench that he might have a mate. There were other ways to procreate, for sure. Tiger only, or interspecies, depending on one’s preference, dating services were available. There were also Pride or Pack mixers, where couples were invited to meet and copulate for the purpose of having cubs.
Straightforward and simple. The parents of any resulting offspring would work out visitation terms without having to deal with messy relationship entanglements, and the always eventual divorce. At least, that was what his mother said. His own parents had taken part in such an arrangement. They’d met at a retreat for adults looking for prospective partners to father/bear their young.
“We were two consenting adults who wanted to have a cub without the mess,” was how his father had always described it.
Trench never thought it was weird until now. Sitting in the small vehicle, windows rolled up in deference to her humanity and the chilly night air, he couldn’t help but breathe in her fragrance. The beast wanted to roll around in it, but since he had to drive, Trench decided to sort through each nuance of her scent.
The activity calmed him, gave him something to look forward to. From where he sat, his supernaturally enhanced olfactory senses picked up on the subtle notes of vanilla orchids, sweet citrus bursts, and heady musk that made his Tiger want to purr. Images of the curvy beauty in the middle of his king sized bed filled his brain at the same time she moaned softly in her sleep. The sound so intoxicatingly tempting, Trench almost swerved right into a ditch.
Fuck.
He needed to get a hold of himself. But how was he supposed to do that? His inner Cat scratched against his skin, wanting him to claim the slumbering female, but his human mind knew better. No woman would appreciate being bitten in the middle of a car ride.
Duh.
For one thing, it would hurt. For another, there was a little something called consent. Now, call him crazy, but Trench would really like to have that before he sunk his teeth, or any other part of him for that matter, into the gorgeous creature.
Yeah, there was that, he mused.
Then again, maybe his Tiger’s way wasn’t all that bad. The animal part of his dual nature had suggested Trench pull over, then he could start licking the lovely little human until she woke up.
Then maybe, just maybe, he would get to keep on licking her, and licking her, until she submitted to him. Her vanilla citrus scent already had his mouth watering. He could hardly wait to learn if she tasted just as sweet.
Kiss, lick, nibble. Oooh, yes.
He was drooling just thinking about making her come on his tongue, and his fingers, then his cock. Driving with a hard on in the close confines of the Corvette was worth it if just so he could fantasize about her. Fuck, but would it ever happen? Would Trench be able to lay his claim on the sweet female?
Grrr. Fuck yes, his animal insisted.
We could do that, his human side agreed.
But only after she says yes.
Fine. Convince her then, the Tiger conceded with a hungry growl.
Concentrate, he scolded himself. Bad enough he was horny like a teenager just being near her. His fucking, or not fucking to put it more accurately, cock was already threatening to punch straight through the thick denim jeans he wore. But he ignored it. He had to. She was a normal, and she was in trouble from his kind.
Grrr.
His Tiger did not like the reminder. Regardless of whatever actions got her into this, no human deserved to be targeted by a Pack of disloyal Werewolves. He would protect her now. No matter the cost.
Trench Tora was very good at his job. Before he became an Enforcer for the Island Stripe Pride, he was a soldier. Trained to kill, and really fucking good at it, he’d been recruited to a special ops team made up of mainly Shifters. His reputation preceded him. Reaching the ears of Dean Romero himself. The Neta had welcomed the prodigal Tiger home with open arms and a shiny new position in the Pride. As an Enforcer, Trench’s job was to protect the Pride.
He was sanctioned by both Neta and Nari, the Neta’s mate, to perform his duties by any means necessary. Trench was really good at that part. So yeah, he would protect the female at any costs.
Maybe, if he were lucky, Trench could convince the sweet-smelling woman that she was made for him. Of course, any impending mating needed to wait until he settled this thing with the Wolves and the Council. In the meantime, he’d carry her back to his den, er, hunting cabin in the woods to lie low for a bit.
Maybe the forced time together would be good. He could wax poetic on his good points. Like he could tell her about how he broke all the company records for stealth, speed, and most lethal hand to hand combat. Hmm. Or maybe she’d be fucking scared shitless of him if he told her that shit.
Trench’s brows furrowed. What else was there? He wasn’t what he’d call a very deep person. He liked peace and quiet. Sometimes, he liked to climb to a sturdy branch and take naps in the morning sun. Oooh, and he liked stalking his prey. But he never toyed with them. Well, not too much, anyway.
Fuck.
This was so not helping. He’d never doubted himself before. How could one woman make him so damn unsure of himself?
It did not matter. Now that she was in his sights, there was only one thing to do. The Tiger was going to claim his mate. There was no other option for him if he wanted to go on living, and Trench had no desire to end his time on the earth. Not yet anyway.
Not when he’d finally found her. Yep. No ifs, ands or buts about it. Trench Tora needed Bria Grotto to be his.
Rooaaarrrrr!