“Holy cow,” Bria whispered reverently.
Trench had to admit his chest swelled with pride at the way she was looking at his cabin. After all, he had built the damn thing with his own hands. On nights and weekends over the course of the last two years.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, just to make sure.
“Better than okay, Trench. This is beautiful,” she replied.
Trench watched the unusual female walk around his cabin. He found himself watching her reactions, saving them for later investigation in the vault that was his mind.
Her impossibly dark brown eyes widened as she ran her soft, warm hands across his furniture, marveling at every little thing. He knew her hands were both soft and warm because she’d touched him only moments ago and he still felt the heat of them on his cheeks. They felt really good on his skin.
Grrr.
His Tiger chuffed, the animal thrilled that his mate had willingly touched him. He had to admit he was shocked, and not much surprised him anymore. Trench had seen and done things that would cause the hair to go white on even the most stouthearted of Shifters. Most people gave him a wide berth, but not her. This tiny normal had announced that she trusted him after he pretty much kidnapped her from outside her apartment after kicking some Werewolves’ asses.
Just about every positive emotion he’d ever heard, most a foreign experience for him, flitted through him as he studied the lovely female. She was like a curious kitten, he thought as pride, passion, protective instincts, possession, and a deep and undeniable warmth filled him.
Along with the need to keep her safe, his desire for her rose with every passing minute. How did the Fates know she would be the one for him? They couldn’t be more different, but damn, how she called out to him. His soul ached to be near her, and he wondered if she felt any attraction on some level for him as well.
The way her gaze kept coming back to him told him she did. But he wasn’t sure. And the uncertainty was killing him.
Bria was asking him questions about the cabin. But Trench had been so busy staring at her delectable bottom as she bent over to stare at the details on the carved mantel- the one he’d built himself, he’d missed her inquiry.
“I said, is this the work of a local artist?”
“Huh? Oh, um, sort of,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.
“Name?”
“Uh, Trench Tora?” he replied, but it came out more question than statement.
“You did not!”
“Yes, I did.”
“Wow, you really are an artist, then. But how did you make it, so it was part of the wall?”
“Well, I did that intentionally when I built that side---”
“Shut the fuck up, you did not build this cabin!” she screeched, and now he was really confused.
Should he answer? Deny? What?
“Well?” she asked.
Her brown eyes were bright with what he determined to be happiness. Thank fuck. Otherwise, he never would have answered her.
“Yeah. This is my cabin. I built it from the ground up.”
“Omg, marry me?” she teased.
Or at least, he assumed she was teasing. Deep down, though, he wanted to scream YES. Was it too soon? Probably. Fuck.
“How long did it take? Was it just you?”
“About two years, cause of work, and I had a few friends help with some of it,” he explained.
Trench wasn’t one to brag, and he hated the spotlight. Unlike Lion males, Tigers were innately solitary beasts. He never sought out attention for any reason. But he liked hers. Liked that she appreciated the things he could do with his hands. And there was so much more he could do other than carve things.
Want to show her, his beast pushed the thought into his head, and he struggled for control.
It was highly unusual for Trench to lose control of his inner Tiger. Too dangerous for anyone near him, truth be told. He’d learned to master his beast when he’d been little more than a cub. Something his mother had insisted on.
His father had been keen to have offspring, but the old man was never around much during those formative years. When it became evident his son was powerful, he’d shipped him off to military school. Trench enrolled in the service and was soon scooped up by a top secret Shifter ops team. After his stint in the military, he’d messed around with security firms, then he came back home to New York as an Enforcer for the Pride.
Mother was proud, but he couldn’t help but think he’d disappointed her. She was an academic, a guest lecturer at Columbia University. Cela Trench had always been a firm believer in brain over brawn. Not that her son was an idiot. He held advanced degrees in science and mathematics.
“Oh my, look at all these books!”
Bria grinned at him, and his heart slammed against his ribs. She was astonishingly adorable. Especially when that dimple next to her mouth peeked out.
“Have you read all these?”
Unable to speak yet, Trench nodded. Fuck. All his experience and education were useless to him in the face of the prettiest damn woman he’d ever seen. In all his years, he’d never been flummoxed by a smile. But this wasn’t any smile. This was his future mate’s smile.
But was he worthy? Frowning, Trench set about locking the door, securing the windows, and setting the advanced alarm system before he started the fireplace.
“Oh, that’s nice,” she said, moving closer to the flames. “You have been so awesome, and I hate to ask this, but---”
Just then, her stomach rumbled, and Trench could have kicked himself. What kind of prospective mate was he if he didn’t remember to feed his mate?
“Shit. You’re hungry. Right, I’m on it,” he replied, and practically tripped over himself getting to the kitchen.
Uh oh. He really needed to go shopping. Mostly, Trench kept freeze dried military rations around. It made sense, after all, he’d usually just hunt in his fur if he wanted fresh meat. But he didn’t think she would appreciate him turning into his half ton Tiger in the living room. Even if it was built specifically with that in mind.
Trench was still digging through the cabinets when Bria joined him. He didn’t have to hear her to know she was there. Her warm vanilla and citrus fragrance had already reached his nostrils, making him dizzy with hunger. And not for anything he had in his cabinets.
“Don’t go out of your way,” she said, breaking the silence. “I think I have a granola bar in my bag.”
The Tiger in him chuffed. But her observation at least had his boner going back to half-mast. He doubted he would ever be completely flaccid in her presence. And there it went back to hard again. Fuck.
“Um, well, let’s see,” he mumbled. He really needed to stop thinking about his dick around her. “I have a box of spaghetti, some sea salt, a can of plum shaped tomatoes, peas, a jar of minced garlic, and a bottle of olive oil.”
Trench waved the half used bottle and tried to not be embarrassed. Fuck, he never recalled feeling so absolutely useless in front of a woman. Couldn’t he just kill something for her? That would be easier.
“I can work with that,” Bria grinned, grabbing the goods and moving to the stove.
He was so stunned, he let her. In fact, he stood like an idiot while Bria rummaged for a pot in the cabinets. She handed one to him with that sexy little grin on her face, the one that brought out her dimple, and fuck, there he went again.
Boing!
“Here,” she said. “Fill this with water and add some sea salt. Do you have a saucepan?”
“Sure. What else do you need?”
“How about a knife, can opener, and cutting board?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” he muttered, and dug through his kitchen for everything she might need.
Together, they chopped, sauteed, boiled, and eventually had the makings of a pretty damn decent meal. One of the best he’d ever had, truth be told.
“I never had peas in my pasta before,” he said around a mouthful of the most amazing spaghetti ever known to human or Shifter.
“No? My dad’s family is Southern Italian. He’d put peas in everything if he could,” Bria explained with laughter in her voice.
He loved that about her. She found the best in every situation and was always laughing or smiling. But not because she was an idiot. Far from it.
Trench thought most people were idiots. Their voices and laughter grated on his nerves. But he liked the noises she made, and the sound of her chatter. Even those tiny little snorts at the end of her laugh. Cute as fuck, each one of them.
Surprise filled him as the minutes ticked by. Not only was he blown away by how delicious the food tasted, but by the fact he was truly enjoying her company. Bria Grotto was an unknown element. She was so different from everyone he knew, certainly the women in his life.
Female Shifters were even meaner than the males, in his experience. His mother, God love her, was always good to him, but she was never very openly affectionate. Not even with her only son.
Those he dated were much the same. Using sex to scratch a biological itch, without any emotional entanglements. It had worked for him in the past, but he’d never felt anything after wards. It was always just as clinical and necessary as washing his hands before eating or brushing his teeth.
One look at Bria, especially with that tiny speck of sauce on her chin, and he just knew that sex with her would be soul-crushingly deep and life-altering. For the first time in his life, Trench was scared.
Did he really deserve a mate? Was he good enough for this sweet normal who blindly put her life in his hands but only after she tested him with her inner alarm test thingy?
Crazy, beautiful, maddening little kitten.
Yessss. Ourssss, the Tiger hissed, pushing the man towards the woman.
“I’ll get the dishes.” Trench stood up once they’d finished everything in the pot along with the half a bag of chocolate chips he’d had in the cupboard for dessert.
“Mind if I explore?” Bria asked.
“Knock yourself out,” he replied easily.
He needed a minute to compose himself and gather his thoughts. Once the dishwasher was loaded and everything was wiped down, he returned to the living room. Bria was on the floor with the bag he’d carried inside the cabin with her just a little while ago. She had her laptop open and was frowning at the screen.
“You won’t get any internet out here,” he commented.
“I know. But I thought you should see why tonight happened.”
Trench nodded and moved closer to her. He was curious what she was going to say, but unhappy that it was causing her stress. He could tell she was struggling with something.
“I received an email the other day with a video clip proving something I had been searching for my whole life,” she started.
“Bria, you don’t have to,” he told her.
“I know, but I think I need to. Now, this is going to sound dumb, and you might even think I’m crazy,” Bria continued, raising a hand when he would have interrupted.
“You see, I run a vlog, Lost and Found: Proof of the Supernatural in the City. And well, I have been looking for proof of paranormal activity. I think this is it,” she said quietly, turning the screen towards him.
Trench watched the video, careful to hide his reactions. It was grainy, true. But it was also footage of an actual Wolf Shifter changing into his animal form in an alley behind the popular Stripe Club which was owned and operated by one of the few Tigers not affiliated with any Pride in the Big Apple.
“I also know based on the altercation you had with the three goons who attacked me outside my apartment building that you are one of them. Now, I am not going to hurt you, Trench, but I have to know. Am I right?”
Trench wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. Was this sweet innocent telling him she had proof of the supernatural and was she also admitting she believed he was one of them? A fucking dog? His Tiger was mildly insulted. But that was beside the fucking point.
His Pride leader was temporarily in charge of the SCNYC, and that meant he was working for them. Trench had been on these kinds of missions before, where he had to investigate a normal who knew too much. He knew what happened if said normal was unrelated, as in not mated, to a Shifter.
Keeping the Shifter secret was imperative to their survival as a species. As an Enforcer, it was his job to guard and protect it. But as a man, as a Tiger male sitting with his potential mate, Trench was at an impasse.
One look into her big brown, trusting eyes, and he knew he could not lie. He wouldn’t. Never to her.
“Yes,” he said, gauging her reaction.
Surprisingly, the female seemed unmoved. She just slid the computer back towards her and closed it, placing it back inside her bag. A minute passed, then another. He just sat there, waiting for her to find her voice. Trench was not what he would call particularly patient, but he’d been known to sit unmoving and wait for his prey for hours, sometimes days, while on a mission.
This was pretty much the same. Only this time, Trench was emotionally invested in the outcome. Whatever happened, he wanted Bria safe and happy. Wasn’t that odd? Certainly was unusual for him anyway.
“When you were fighting those guys, your eyes,” she said, clearing her throat. “They changed. That’s how I knew. So, um, can I see it.”
“What?” he asked, certain he’d misheard her.
“Your Wolf?”
“I am not a Wolf!” he practically shouted.
“But you said---”
“I think we need to clear some things up.” He began, standing up and pacing.
Fuck. Was he really going to do this?
“Trench, just be honest with me.”
“I am, Bria. But promise you won’t scream?”
She waited a beat. Then Bria nodded, and Trench took her for her word. His Tiger burst forth, shredding his clothing, and roared into existence as he had a thousand times before.
“Holy shit! T-TIGER!”