Tangling with the Tiger: Lone Pine Pride, Book 5

by Vivi Andrews

  He should be insulted that she thought he would be so easy to take down, but instead he felt…he felt…excited. Eager. Fucking thrilled at the idea that she might try to take him on. His blood ran hot just thinking of her. She’d fight like the cat she was.

  Footsteps on the path, crunching in the snow.

  Dominec shifted farther back onto the roof, the falling snow and night shadows making his pale yellow-and-midnight striped fur the perfect camouflage. He held himself still as a figure appeared on the path. Grace. Coming back.

  Excitement spiked hard and he nearly purred.

  She stopped at the exact spot where she’d paused before, tipping her face back, drawing in his scent. He didn’t even dare breathe, waiting to see if she would look up this time. Not that he was hiding from her, but it would ruin the game if he made it too easy for her. The stalk was a vital part of the hunt.

  He wasn’t entirely sure which of them was stalking the other.

  She’d made only the most cursory attempt to clean the blood off. There were still streaks of it along her neck and dark places where her pale hair was matted with it. She looked good, fresh from battle. It suited her. Or maybe it just suited him.

  Grace’s gaze lifted, her expression darkening in a way that told him without a single word that he’d been spotted. Then she snarled, “Dominec.”

  Now he did purr.

  He pushed himself up onto all fours, taking time to stretch every muscle and shake the snowflakes off his whiskers.

  He saw the exact moment she realized she wouldn’t be able to tear into him to her satisfaction while he was in animal form—and that he would be nude if she insisted he shift to talk to her.

  “My office. Five minutes,” she snapped. She pivoted on her heel and stalked away into the night, and he watched her go, admiring the tension anger had put into her stride.

  Only when she passed out of sight did he leap to the ground and pad quickly through the snow to his nearest bolt hole.

  Fatigues. Shirt. Boots.

  He shivered as the snow melted on his shoulders. Montana winters weren’t forgiving. His tiger form was built for cold winters, his fur thickening with each passing month, but even though shifters weren’t as susceptible to cold as humans, it still affected them. He would have to start stashing jackets with the rest of his clothes. Provided he stayed.

  The door to Grace’s office was closed to keep the cold out, but light shone through the windows and he could see her pacing inside as he climbed the steps to the porch. Since she’d demanded his presence, he didn’t bother knocking.

  She turned to face him when he walked in and shut the door behind him, but didn’t retreat behind her desk as he’d half expected. She planted her feet, standing amid the clusters of couches, and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him.

  “I suppose you’re pleased with yourself.”

  He kept his smile entirely internal—it wouldn’t do to let her know how much he was enjoying himself—and arched his eyebrows in an expression of insultingly fake innocence. “Oh? Did I do something impressive?”

  She answered the question with one of her own. “Did you have a good view of the massacre from up there?”

  “Actually I couldn’t see much. It was disappointing, really, that I missed out on the slaughter because I’m being such a good boy.”

  “How did you orchestrate it? What did you do?”

  “Nothing that can be proven.” He did smile then.

  “But you don’t deny it. I know you played a role.”

  “Would I do that? When I’m on probation and trying so hard to stay in your good graces?”

  Her blue-on-blue eyes narrowed. “The innocent act doesn’t suit you.”

  That didn’t surprise him. He hadn’t been innocent in a very long time. If ever.

  But whatever rebuttal he would have made was delayed by a shout and a rush of movement outside.

  “Grace!”

  The panicked voice accompanied a storm of footsteps up the stairs and then the door burst open again, only missing smacking Dominec because he had stepped out of the way, sliding over beside Grace’s desk to make room.

  The lion was missing his cowboy hat, but it was undeniably Kelly, his golden curls and the shoulders of his tan leather jacket dusted with snow as he rushed in.

  “Grace. Thank God you’re all right.” He closed the distance between them, his large, tanned hands framing her face as he bent to kiss her. When he lifted his head, he kept his face close to hers. “Dear God, look at you. You’re covered in blood.”

  Her eyebrows drew down in a sharp V over her eyes. “Kelly, what are you doing here?”

  “I just heard about the riots.” His thumbs stroked her cheekbones. “I was so worried about you. Grace, my God.”

  She brushed away his hands, stepping back. “I’m fine. I’m a lieutenant of this pride, Kelly. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know that, but I—”

  “The day I need a big strong lion to rush to my rescue is the day I give up my position,” she snapped, arms re-folding as she moved farther away, taking up a position to the left of her desk.

  “I wasn’t trying to imply…” Kelly trailed off, his gaze shifting to where Dominec stood. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were working.”

  Something about the way he said it made Dominec’s hackles rise, but he simply looked to Grace, his expression impassive.

  She could have used him as an excuse to throw Kelly out—but as he watched her thoughts pass transparently behind her eyes, he knew the precise moment she decided she wasn’t going to get anything useful out of Dominec if she continued to harangue him about the riot. He never would have given up so easily—but then he’d never been particularly good at picking his battles. Grace was more strategic.

  She met his gaze. “Dominec was just leaving.”

  Such an interesting way to phrase it. As if it was his choice.

  He could refuse. He could dig in his heels and insist on staying. He wasn’t sure why the idea of doing just that was so appealing. To piss off Kelly? To piss off Grace? To chaperone them?

  He went. Without a fuss or a fight. But he didn’t go far.

  The roof of the bungalow opposite had a convenient gutter—easy to jump up and hook his fingers over, pulling himself up until he could hook an elbow onto the roof and swing his lower body up. It wasn’t as smooth as when he was in his feline form—but nothing in life was as smooth as it was in his feline form.

  He lay, belly down, on the roof and watched through the windows of Grace’s office. The lion was trying to touch her, his voice low and soothing, though Dominec couldn’t make out the words. Grace’s tone was sharper, her body-language definitive as she shoved Kelly away.

  What sort of fool was Kelly? Couldn’t he see that Grace was uninjured? Did he really think she couldn’t handle a little riot? Had he met her?

  Dominec watched until the cold seeped into his skin and made his teeth chatter. Then he stripped out of his clothes, shifted and lay down to watch some more.

  He didn’t like this. Seeing her with him. It was wrong. And not just because Kelly didn’t seem to know who he was talking to. Grace needed someone strong. Someone who recognized her strength.

  The sight of her with Kelly offended him on an intrinsic level.

  Dominec lurked on the rooftop, watching. They didn’t stay in her office long. Grace grabbed her jacket and the two of them headed in the direction of the cowboy’s bungalow. They weren’t touching—which was the only thing that made the sight bearable.

  It was wrong for her to be with Kelly. Wrong.

  Dominec lay on the roof with his fur inexplicably ruffled, and growled.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kelly was a consummate gentleman. He opened doors. He took her arm when they walked through a potentially ic
y part of the path. He rested his hand solicitously on the small of her back. He was everything courteous and protective.

  And she hated every second of it.

  By the time they got to his bungalow, Grace was barely restraining the urge to smack his hands away from her. She wasn’t a dainty little flower, damn it. And the last thing she wanted was a man who treated her like one.

  When he took her coat, she almost decked him.

  Before he started trying to court her, Kelly had seemed as comfortable with her independence as she was. When she’d bristled and mouthed off at him, his tanned face would split into a heart-stopping grin and he would laugh, holding up his hands in surrender. But he wasn’t surrendering now. He wanted more from her and that more included letting him coddle her—which just made her want to throw things at his head. He’d ruined everything.

  His bungalow was nicer than hers. Someone—undoubtedly a woman—had feng shuied the hell out the place and subdivided the large open space into three distinct areas. The color scheme was all rich golds, reds and yellows—undoubtedly picked to complement Kelly’s golden boy coloring. A Japanese screen painted with roaring lions matched the hand-painted headboard and wardrobe and gave the bed a sense of seclusion.

  A broad L-shaped desk and matching cherry wood filing cabinet sectioned off another part of the room—the décor there ranch classic, more in keeping with Kelly’s cowboy persona. The computer on the desk looked state of the art—to Grace’s untrained eye—not surprising given how he made his living.

  He may play dress-up as a cowboy, but cows didn’t usually react well to wranglers who smelled like predators, and in the lion communities everyone lent a hand—whether through financial aid if they worked off site or through labor on the pride lands themselves. Kelly occasionally filled in as a guard when they were short staffed, but that was more a hobby than a vocation. Beneath his Stetsons and shit-kickers he was a sought-after graphic designer—when he could be bothered to work rather than making it his business to bother her.

  Grace ignored the “bedroom” and “office” and headed straight for the sitting area to the left of the door—two overstuffed chairs with a matching ottoman and sofa were arranged in a comfortably conversational manner, while all maintaining clear views of the cabinet on the wall that Grace knew slid back to reveal a flat screen television.

  She flopped onto one of the chairs and glowered up at Kelly as he hung their coats. “I don’t like this dating thing.”

  “You haven’t exactly given it a fair shot. You’ve been avoiding me for the last week.” Kelly sat on the edge of the couch opposite her and leaned forward, his forearms braced on his spread knees. “What’s wrong, Grace? What did I do? You never used to avoid me like I might explode at any moment.”

  “Yeah, well, I never thought you were going to explode with unwanted emotion before. You changed the rules, Kelly.”

  “And you’re the only one who’s allowed to change them?”

  “You made me feel guilty about using you for sex.”

  His eyes crinkled with a wicked grin. “Hey, I like being used for sex. And the fact that you feel guilty is a sign that you feel something for me. Maybe more than you want to, but it’s there.”

  “I feel lots of things for you. Pity. Irritation. Frustration.”

  “Grace.” Her name was a reprimand.

  In a way he was right. It would be so much easier if she felt nothing for him, but… “I like you. I’m not denying that. And if I wanted someone then I couldn’t find a better guy than you. I just don’t want the things you seem to want me to want.”

  “What things?”

  “A mate. Kids. Everything my mother has been trying to force on me since I was seventeen.”

  “I’m not asking you to become June Cleaver. I wouldn’t want that even if it was possible. I just want you to let me in. Let me be your support system.”

  “What if I don’t want a support system? I’m good at doing things on my own. That’s how I like it.”

  “You can’t keep trying to carry the world on your shoulders. Eventually you’ll buckle. I just want to be the one to catch you when you do.”

  “And I want to be with someone who believes I will never buckle.”

  “Everyone buckles at some point. You don’t have to be Wonder Woman. No one would think any less of you if you were mortal.”

  What if I want to be Wonder Woman? She nearly growled at him. “I’m not going to be weak just so you can feel necessary.”

  The first flicker of irritation passed across Kelly’s easygoing expression, like a cloud across the sun. “That’s not what I’m asking for.”

  “No. It’s just how you’re acting.”

  “Because I was worried about you when I heard you were outnumbered ten-to-one at a riot today?”

  “It was more like five-to-one, but that’s not the point. The point is that you assumed I needed your big strong manly arms around me so I could fall apart after I did my job and kicked some fucking ass today. You should be giving me a fucking high five, not treating me like a damsel in distress.”

  “I wasn’t.” Now his irritation seemed to match hers.

  Great. She’d succeeded in pissing off the most affable lion in the pride. Well done, Grace. “This is getting us nowhere. I’m going to go.” She shoved to her feet and Kelly sprang up, blocking the path to the door.

  “Would you just talk to me?” he growled.

  She sighed. Planting her feet, she folded her arms. “What do you see when you look at me, Kelly?”

  He didn’t hesitate a beat. “Someone smart and strong and capable and sexy as hell.”

  Warmth crept up her neck. “Okay, good answer. But are you sure that’s what you want? Are you sure you don’t want the girl who will run into your arms when she’s had a rough day? Are you sure you aren’t hoping to be the one person who flashes through my mind when my life is in danger? Because I’m going to be honest with you, there is no flashing. All I’m thinking of is how I can get my ass out of trouble and that’s all I want to be thinking of.”

  His expression turned mulish. “Just because you don’t feel anything epic and earth-shattering for me now doesn’t mean you won’t. You aren’t even giving us a chance.”

  “Because I don’t want to, Kelly. I liked things the way we had them before and I’m mad at you for trying to change the rules. Now I have to find a new fuck buddy because I don’t want a mate.”

  “I know you’re afraid of letting yourself care about me, but I would never hurt you, Grace. And I’m not giving up,” he insisted.

  She sighed. Fucking lions. They never knew when to quit. “You will. I’m more stubborn than you are.”

  He didn’t say anything, doggedly holding her gaze. She hadn’t gotten through to him. He was that certain she was going to change her mind and throw herself into his arms. It would have been romantic if it hadn’t been so freaking annoying.

  “See ya ’round, Kelly,” she said, gathering her coat—which, thank God, he didn’t try to help her into. Though he did hold the door when she left. She could feel his gaze pressing against her shoulder blades as she tromped off into the falling snow, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of looking back. The last thing he needed was encouragement.

  The snow was beginning to accumulate on the paths and it creaked under her feet as she made her way to her own bungalow. It wasn’t far; she and Kelly lived in the same quadrant of the main compound—which she’d always thought was wonderfully convenient when they were using one another to scratch a sexual itch. Now she almost wished it was farther so she could walk out some of her frustration.

  She was at her own door too soon. It was one of the few bungalows that didn’t have a porch—popular among the lions for lazing in the sun in the summer. She wasn’t sure what made her pause with her hand on the latch. A whisper of sound, a trace of a
scent, or maybe just that awareness of someone watching her that shivered across her nerve endings.

  She turned, hand still on the latch, and looked up. She didn’t see him, but instinct overruled her senses and told her he was there.

  “Spying is rude, you perv,” she called—pitching her voice softly so she wouldn’t wake her closest neighbors if they were already sleeping.

  Nothing. But the certainty that he was up there didn’t diminish.

  “Dominec.” Sharper this time. A smidge louder. “Get your ass down here. I know you’re there.”

  The scrape of a claw against shingles. A heavy body shifting above her head.

  She was so prepared to see the pale yellow tiger leap to the ground beside her, she stumbled back a step when Dominec dropped to a crouch beside her in human form. His hands were partially shifted to give himself a better grip, but his clothes were damp from the snow, proving he’d been up there in human form for a while.

  Dumbass. It would serve him right if he got hypothermia.

  The wet cloth clung to the muscles of his shoulders and chest, accentuating the sculpted strength of his human form. His hair was damp as well, the jet-black locks curling more with the moisture, lending him a false air of boyishness. The night shadows did nothing to hide his scars—if anything making them even more ghoulish—but she’d long since stopped being distracted by the marks. Instead she found herself captivated by the heated intensity in his black eyes. Dominec was unsettling on the best of days, but today she found herself unsettled in an entirely different way.

  “What are you lurking up there for?” she demanded, her voice sharper than she’d intended, but she didn’t want him to see how he’d rattled her. “Are you stalking me?”

  Dominec tipped his head to the side. She wasn’t surprised when he ignored the questions. “Is Kelly your mate?” he asked.

  “What? No. Who told you that?” Shit. Was that the rumor going around the pride? Had Kelly started it? Just what she needed. For it to get back to her mother that she and Kelly were official.

  Dominec’s expression darkened further. “You’re in love with the Hawk?”