Tamed by a Tiger

by Felicity Heaton

  Thorne had been generous enough to offer him an escort.

  It had felt like a kick in the balls at the time.

  Even Sable, the demon’s little queen and ex-Archangel hunter, had flinched at the offer, and had dished him out an apologetic glance.

  Grey had refused Thorne, because he had grown tired of being coddled by his brothers a long time ago, and wasn’t about to accept it from a male he barely knew.

  Looking back, he probably should have taken the demon up on his kind offer. The big guy had been nice enough to teleport him into Hell, had put him up for a few days at his castle, and had sent him off with some provisions and a crudely drawn map of Hell.

  Grey pulled the map out of the thigh pocket of his black combat trousers and stared at it.

  At how close the village was to dragons and the Devil.

  A few demonic travelling companions probably wouldn’t have been a bad thing.

  It wasn’t as if he knew Hell. He had come here without a plan, without any idea about what to expect, and that was dangerous.

  His family had raised him to be prepared.

  It had all gone out the window when Maya had left, and that feeling had kicked in, that need to walk and not stop walking, to put as much distance as he could between him and his pride.

  He pressed his hand flat against his chest, felt his heart thumping hard against his palm, and stared into the distance, not seeing the cragged mountains that speared the gold sky.

  What was it that had made him leave?

  He was mad at his older brother, the alpha of their pride, Byron, and needed some space and time to work through those feelings. Mostly because he wanted to punch Byron whenever he saw him.

  Was that the reason he had strayed this far from home?

  He didn’t want to do something he would regret?

  As much as he hated Byron right now, which the bastard deserved after everything that Maya had been through because of him, he still loved the son of a bitch. He was still Grey’s older brother.

  Grey started walking again, his hand drifting across his chest to adjust the straps of his backpack. He jammed his thumb through the strap and let his hand dangle there, his mind whirling as he thought about home and the gnawing feeling in the depths of his heart. Something had made him leave. Something other than his anger towards Byron.

  Had to be.

  Gods, maybe he was just messed up.

  More fucked up than he had thought possible.

  Or maybe there was nothing keeping him at the pride now.

  It was strange having his freedom after spending two centuries at the pride, devoted to the care and protection of his little sister. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been free to come and go as he pleased. It had been erased from his memories, replaced by the decades that had come after Byron had become alpha, a time when he had been locked away from the world because Byron had deemed it too dangerous for Maya to be allowed to go outside the pride village, and had charged him with being at her side always.

  Meaning the bastard had shut them both in a cage.

  Fuck, it was weird.

  Was that why he felt lost?

  Because he was free at last?

  He still hadn’t processed that, wasn’t sure he would for a long time yet. He had never really felt like a captive, because his family had been there, everyone he cared about at the village with him, but now that he was free to come and go as he pleased, he felt as if he had been a captive his entire life.

  The world beyond the one he had known was huge, endless, filled with incredible things and possibilities, and he had hurled himself headlong into that world.

  It was a little overwhelming.

  His senses sparked, warning of life nearby, and he tensed and stilled, stretching his focus to encompass the area. He slowed his breathing, becoming silent in the shadowy world. His vision brightened as he studied the dimly lit lands surrounding him, making it easier for him to pick out the rocks that could easily hide enemies, giving them ample chance to sneak up on him.

  He should have taken Thorne up on his offer.

  But the thought of having a demon escort had felt like another cage.

  He wanted to be free.

  He curled his lip and dragged air over his teeth, trying to scent the owner of that heartbeat.

  Another joined it as he risked a step closer, and then a third and a fourth.

  He peered ahead of him, into the darkness.

  Something was there.

  He risked another two steps.

  The shadowy shapes came into focus.

  Huts.

  The village Thorne had said was the one Archangel had named in their report.

  He must have walked further than he had realised while lost in his thoughts.

  Grey cautiously moved forwards, lowering his hands to his sides as he approached the village, his muscles twitching beneath his skin and an urge to shift settling over him. He kept it tamped down, tightening his hold on his control, refusing to let his tiger instincts rule him. He was only here to speak with the people and find out what they knew about the project, and what Archangel had wanted when they had come through this way.

  He wasn’t here to fight.

  The need to shift didn’t abate as he entered the village perimeter, marked by a rough stone wall that circled the few black huts and makeshift tents made of some sort of animal hide. If anything, it grew stronger in time with the scents of the people coming and going through the settlement.

  Some of them were powerful.

  Some smelled of the tinny scent of magic.

  A dark-haired male dressed in long black robes off to his right stopped hammering in a peg for his tent and looked up at Grey.

  A witch. Or did they prefer warlock? Wizard?

  What the hell did they like being called? He could hardly go and speak to the male if he wasn’t sure. The last thing he needed to do was insult someone who could flay him with nothing more than a few muttered words.

  Grey shuddered as he looked at the male’s hands.

  And realised the tent peg he had been hammering into the black ground wasn’t the sort bought in a store in the mortal world.

  It was a broken bone.

  Definitely not talking to him.

  It had nothing to do with the male’s creepy, dangerous, air and everything to do with the fact he was obviously a traveller.

  Grey needed to speak with a resident if he was going to find out what Archangel had been doing here.

  He scoured the small village, trying to spot a local. A few people stopped to stare on their way past. Nothing new there. Grey was used to people staring at him.

  He ignored them and continued his search. On the opposite side of the village, two males and a female exited one of the huts, laughing with each other, a glow to their cheeks. He breathed deep to catch their scent. Smiled. Alcohol.

  Was the hut a sort of tavern?

  He crossed the village to it, pretending not to notice the way more people stared at him, their eyes tracking his progress. He didn’t care. He really didn’t.

  He bared his fangs at one male, a reaction he hadn’t been able to hold back. The male bared fangs right back at him, his pupils turning elliptical in the centre of his red irises.

  A vampire.

  Grey supposed Hell was probably fabulous in their eyes. No sunshine to make them go crispy. Just endless night.

  He flashed fangs at the male again, and stood a little taller as the male turned away and walked in the opposite direction to him. Easy win. Which was strange. Normally vampires liked to fight to claim top spot, to prove themselves the most powerful things with fangs out there. Which was utter bullshit.

  Dragons had to be the most powerful things with fangs.

  Maybe demons cut a close second, possibly a joint placing with the elves. Grey had heard all manner of things about elves, some of which made them sound dangerous and not as magical and wonderful as he had believed as a kid.

 
; Hellcats slotted in below them.

  Vampires barely ranked above the other feline shifters.

  Still, it was odd of the male to leave without a fight.

  Grey slowed his steps and watched the male walking away. He didn’t stop at the perimeter of the village. He kept walking, heading into the darkness, going south-east.

  High, bubbling laughter broke the silence.

  He shook off his curiosity about the male and returned his focus to his mission, shifting his gaze back to the hut that was possibly a tavern.

  Another female toppled out of it, a male following close behind her.

  “Excuse me.” Grey raised his hand to snag their attention.

  Both of them stared blankly at him.

  They looked at each other.

  Spoke.

  In a language he didn’t know.

  The female was rather animated as she prattled on, tossing her blonde hair over her bare shoulders, revealing a small top that was more strapless bra than corset. Matching black leather hugged her long legs. She was pretty too, a bright glow around her pupils that might have fooled him into believing her a shifter like him.

  Only she smelled of sex and sin.

  A succubus.

  Her partner stood behind her, giving Grey a death glare turned up to the max.

  Succubus sidled towards him, a wicked sway to her curvy hips and a smile tugging at her cherry red lips.

  Crimson bled into the male’s eyes, his pupils stretching thin in their centres.

  Another vampire.

  And this one looked as if he might fight to prove who was stronger.

  Grey held his hands up again and shook his head. “My mistake.”

  He hurried past the male, ducking into the hut. It was cramped inside and he had to remain bent over to avoid banging his head. With all the demons, dragons and elves in Hell, he would have thought someone would have had the foresight to build the walls higher so the roof trusses didn’t pose a risk of injury. He was barely pushing six-five and it was a struggle to reach the bar without knocking a few braincells out, or himself out with them. He didn’t want to see a demon pushing seven foot trying to move around in the cramped suffocating space.

  He found a spot at the bar, squatted there and tried to get the attention of the female serving. A very ample female. Her long black corset pressed her curves inwards, and upwards, and tan leather encased powerful thighs. Her eyes glowed as she spoke with a customer, a pretty shade of blue with violet hints.

  Another succubus.

  Was this entire village made up of them?

  She brushed her fingers across the male’s jaw, and he visibly shuddered and sagged a little, his cheeks turning deep pink as he stared dazedly at her.

  Another beautiful and buxom female came to him and ushered him away, out of the door and into the darkness.

  The bartender finally noticed him.

  Her smile lit up the room and her eyes glowed a little brighter.

  Grey cleared his throat and schooled his features, his lips setting in a firm line and his silver eyebrows meeting hard above his blue eyes.

  “I just want information.”

  She looked disappointed.

  Possibly confused.

  The escorts Thorne had offered were looking more and more like they would have been a fantastic idea.

  The brunette blinked and leaned against the bar, her breasts threatening to spill out of her tight corset. She reached for him.

  He shook his head. “Just information.”

  He wasn’t interested in anything else. He shut out the mocking voices in his head. It was his choice. He was the one uninterested in her, not the other way around.

  “Infor… mace…” A little wrinkle formed between her brightly coloured eyes.

  “Information.” He pulled his pack off his back, unzipped the main compartment and pulled out the papers he had brought with him. He set them down on the stone bar and pointed to the name of the village. “Is this here?”

  She stared at the word.

  Dammit. Thorne had warned him that the ragtag groups that called this area their home had probably never left Hell so were unlikely to know the mortal tongues.

  Someone peered over his shoulder.

  A black clawed finger landed on the piece of paper in front of him, close to his. “Here.”

  Grey jumped and growled at the male beside him. The warlock. Wizard. Whatever the hell he wanted to be called. He reeked of magic and death.

  Even the succubus backed off, her usual bright smile and sultry air turning cold and dark. She said something, and the male said something back at her, a bite in his tone.

  “You speak English?” Grey didn’t want to talk to the male, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere speaking with the bartender or anyone else in the joint.

  The male didn’t nod.

  Not a good sign.

  “This is here?” He pointed to the name on the piece of paper again.

  The male nodded and looked around. “Here.”

  It was a start.

  “You speak her tongue?” Grey pointed towards the bartender. “Speak. Her.”

  The male frowned, his icy green eyes darkening a shade, and looked at the female, and then back at him. “Yes.”

  Getting there.

  But the male didn’t really understand him. He couldn’t ask complicated questions and have him relay them to the bartender for her to answer, and the male wouldn’t know the answer to them himself since he was clearly just passing through and using the village as a rest stop.

  He needed to boil it down into something the male might understand.

  “Mortals. Humans.” It was worth a shot. He pointed to himself. “I’m looking for mortals.”

  The male’s eyes lit up. He pointed east. “Mortals.”

  Grey looked in that direction. East. The dragon realm and the Devil’s lands were east of here. He slid his blue gaze back to the male, his hackles rising and his animal side growing restless, prowling beneath his skin.

  Was the male telling him the truth?

  “Mortals?” Grey pointed east, along the length of the bar.

  The male nodded and attempted a smile. It came off twisted and disturbing rather than reassuring.

  “Definitely?” Because he was starting to get the feeling that the male was trying to get him killed. “Because dragons are that way.”

  The male shook his head. “No dragons. Mortals.”

  Grey pulled the map out of his trouser pocket, spread it across the bar top and jammed a finger against the area Sable had labelled as ‘here be dragons’ and had drawn what he imagined was meant to be a dragon, but it looked more like a snake fighting a spider.

  “Dragons.”

  The warlock shook his head again, his eyes darkening another shade and his thin lips flattening. He jabbed a black claw against a spot west of the dragons, and east of their current location.

  “Mortals. There.”

  So close?

  Was it possible?

  “Here?” Grey pointed to the map.

  The male looked as if he was going to kill him if he asked again, an inky sort of darkness growing around his pupils to devour the pale green of his irises.

  “Okay. Here it is. Got it. Thanks.” He bundled up his papers and his backpack in his arms and left before the male could even think about muttering a spell to flay his fur off his body.

  He breathed deep as he hit the village square again, shaking off his nerves and the sensation that the male was trying to get him killed. He just smelled of death, that was all it was. It had put Grey on edge.

  He looked back at the tavern. Even the succubi had avoided the male. He turned away from the village and headed east, glancing at the male’s tent as he passed it. It was set up a good distance from the rest of the tents and from the huts, placed right against the perimeter wall of the village.

  That struck a chord in him.

  The warlock had come to the village, but had separate
d himself from them, was keeping his distance even though he obviously wanted to be around others.

  The male had been helpful, but because he had looked different to the others, Grey had found it difficult to trust him. He had judged him on his appearance, and had believed he wanted to kill him because of that. He was no better than the others.

  He should have been.

  Experience should have taught him something, should have made him react differently to the male, but he had treated him with suspicion, just like the rest.

  Just like his pride had treated him.

  All because he was different to them.

  Gods, he was no better than them.

  He hated that.

  It weighed him down as he trekked east, following the lead the male had given him.

  It took him across the valley basin to the foot of a low mountain range.

  He looked along it in both directions, and then at his map. By his calculations, the quickest route would be over the mountains, because the range stretched in both directions for miles. If he tried to go around, it would take him at least another day to reach the destination the warlock had marked for him.

  By then, Archangel might have moved on.

  He adjusted his pack on his shoulders, huffed and started forwards, picking a path up the gently sloping side of the mountain. He crossed a trail around two hundred metres up and followed it as it wound through the sharp towering rocks and up through tall crevasses that sliced into the black mountain. The trail grew narrow near the top, heading towards a sweeping curve between two peaks.

  He brought his pack around to his front and pressed his back against the black rock as he edged sideways along the path, his eyes on the steep drop to jagged rocks below and his heart hammering against his ribs. No damn way he was going to fall. He breathed through the fear, refusing to let it get to him, and looked to his right, focusing on the path instead.

  It opened up a short distance ahead.

  Relief was quick to sweep through him when his boots hit the wider path and the trail led away from the edge, over the ridge.

  Gods, he was tired.

  He pulled a cloth from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow, and ran his other hand over his silver hair. He would rest on the other side. He unhooked the canteen from his pack, took a swig of the tepid water, and capped it and put it back again. He was getting low.