Trancing the Tiger (Chinese Zodiac Romance Series Book 1)

by Rachael Slate

  Neither opposed the other. The harmony inside her persisted.

  Not for the first time, she wished these spirits would speak to her, share their wisdom and, yet, they were but animals.

  “Why did you leave me?” The rumbling growl broke her meditation. Her eyes jolted open.

  Sheng glowered at her, his chest bare and his lower half clad in black pants. He crossed his arms and arched a brow, yet his scowl didn’t lessen.

  “I couldn’t sleep anymore. I’m sorry.”

  He sank beside her. “Meditating? What answers do you seek?”

  Her body swayed into his, drawn into his seductive embrace. He slipped an arm around her, coaxing her against his chest.

  “I’m worried about this Dragon thing. Also, I can’t remember our meeting with the Matchmaker.” She twisted her neck and peered at him, but his expression didn’t give anything away. He would make a damn good poker player.

  “She’ll contact us in a few days. Until then, you,” he tapped her nose, “leave the worrying to me, okay?”

  She bristled at his command. “I can’t help it. This is my body. My qì.” Easing out of his embrace, she rose. “I’m not sure what I should do with this…this Dragon.” She grimaced at the sudden rush of uselessness surging through her veins.

  He reclined. Brushing his long locks off his forehead, he craned his neck and grinned at her. “Not exactly the life you pictured, huh? What would you have been before the Red Death?”

  The question shocked the self-pity from her. The reminder, a sharp, needling sting in her heart. At times, it was easy to forget. In this paradise, the life she’d left behind drifted even farther than half a world away. Like to another galaxy.

  She shrugged and took a seat next to him. “A teacher. Kindergarten. I was in the middle of my practicum when the first quarantine was issued.”

  “Nice.” His head bobbed. “You would’ve made a great teacher.” The appraisal in his eyes alighted on her with approval, spreading warmth through her veins.

  Suddenly, the sultry air outside held no competition to the searing passion between her and Sheng, which his proximity served to amplify. Would this spark always exist between them? Was it an obsessive attraction or did he carry deeper emotions for her?

  Where did he stand in her heart?

  She shoved aside her musings. “What about you? You never speak of your past.”

  His gaze darted from hers. The flames flickering between them snuffed out. His past must be painful. A part of her regretted asking, but how would she ever truly know him if he never relinquished his control and shared himself with her?

  “Isn’t much to tell.” He hunched forward, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “I never met my father. The rest of my family died in a fire when I was eight. I grew up on the streets until the Matchmaker found me. I was sixteen. She recognized the Tiger within and insisted on showing me another way.”

  Lucy sat, stunned into silence as he recounted the events of his life in a dry monotone, shrugging off any emotion as though it didn’t exist. Oh, but it did. In the tensing of his shoulders, in the flat tone of his voice, and even in the depths of his eyes where he no doubt believed he’d wiped out any trace.

  She detected his pain, buried so deeply, concealed under layers of training, and honed beneath the edge of a concrete-chiseled control. Hidden, even, in every expression of indifference.

  Grief did that to some people. Her throat constricted as she pictured the young boy he’d been, losing his loved ones to unrelenting flames.

  “Who did you lose?” She extended her hand and rested it upon his arm. He might not acknowledge his pain, but she did.

  “Mother, grandfather, and…” He cleared his throat. “Baby sister.” His hand shot up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

  She averted her face because tears formed in his eyes, and he wasn’t the kind of man to shed them. “Why the streets? Why didn’t a relative or the government take you in?”

  “To do what?” Icy hatred laced his tone. “Become a burden to those who didn’t want me? I had no relatives. None who would vouch for me, at least. An old woman who probably knew my family suggested I run, so I did. I was old enough to fend for myself, to make my own way.”

  “You were just a boy! Why would she tell you to do such a thing?” Her hands clenched at her sides as righteous anger surged within her—at that old woman, at those who’d abandoned a child, and at Sheng, himself, for deeming he hadn’t been worthy of anyone’s care.

  “I made it, didn’t I?” His low growl carried a warning. This might be the sorest point for him. Instead of pushing back, she relented. The child he’d been had grown up and, indeed, he had flourished, for the man beside her was unlike any other she’d ever met.

  “I didn’t mean to pity you.” She softened her voice. “I miss my parents so much and I know how that feels. To wonder if anyone will ever love me as unconditionally as they did.” She drifted off, grimacing for steering their conversation in the direction of love. She refused to be the kind of woman who demanded those words from her lover.

  Sharing Sheng’s bed didn’t equate to sharing their hearts.

  “So, ah,” she corrected the course of their chat, “the Matchmaker?” The viper of jealousy slithered inside her chest. Ridiculous of her to resent any of his past lovers, but this particular one irked her. Perhaps because the Matchmaker held Lucy’s fate in her manicured hands?

  If you never ask…

  Here goes nothing. “Did you two ever…” She twirled her fingers through the air.

  A low chuckle answered her. “No.” Yet, his tone hedged her question.

  “Really? Because it doesn’t seem that way to me.”

  “Okay, fine.” Resting back on his elbows, he relented. “There may have been a moment when we considered sleeping together—we almost did—but it passed.”

  Her lips parted in an “oh.” Not the response she’d been expecting, if it even counted as an answer.

  ***

  Sheng grinned at Lucy’s shocked expression. Confusion flickered across her features and her little nose twitched.

  Her jealousy wasn’t merely cute. It pleased him, meant she claimed a form of possession over him, and he found himself wanting that. “Does there have to be more?”

  She arched a brow. “Why didn’t you follow through?”

  Damn, she was too perceptive. He sighed and decided it wouldn’t hurt to elaborate. “We never made it that far. I was young. Inexperienced and really horny. You do the math.”

  She hid bright red engulfed cheeks behind a shield of downy curls. Funny, he ought to be the one embarrassed, yet confessing anything to her didn’t carry the taint of judgment.

  Unlike so many others he’d encountered, her scrutiny never once passed over him in disapproval or superiority. She didn’t consider them equals, she lived it. In her every action. She was the one person he’d never had to prove himself to, not that his instinct to do so lessened because of her acceptance. It was nice, to be judged for himself and not where he came from, not which spirit he’d been paired with.

  He leaned in and tucked the wall of hair behind her ear.

  Her finely shaped brows arched. “She’s the reason you’ve studied control so hard.”

  He chuckled. “She made it pretty clear I had a lot to learn if I ever hoped to impress any woman in bed. If it helps, I doubt she actually intended to sleep with me. More like, she hoped to gain fodder to hold over my head for the rest of my life,” he added, catching the shift of her mood. She was jealous…and concerned.

  He got it. The Matchmaker was gorgeous, and a bitch.

  “She’s set me up dozens of times.”

  Lucy reared back even farther at that declaration. Hell, he should’ve kept his mouth shut.

  “It’s her job. Plus, it drives her crazy each time I, ah, well.” He scratched at the back of his neck, cursing himself for this continued urge to spill his guts to Lucy. None of his explanations helped. Clarifying tha
t he fucked—and dumped each match—after one night, probably wouldn’t erase the apprehension marking her face.

  “You’re a man-whore.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  He scowled, his mind scrambling for a way to dig out of this shithole he’d landed in. “Maybe I’ve been searching for a connection.” Bending to her, he ran his thumb across her full bottom lip. “Like the one I have with you.”

  Dammit, she had to sense it too. He scanned her expression, waiting for a sign she did.

  Stubbornly, his Lucy wielded her poker face. “What kind of connection?”

  His lips curved at her breathy question. Playful, was she?

  “This.” He swept forward and feathered his lips across hers. As she moaned and leaned into the kiss, he pulled back, directing his mouth along her collarbone instead. “And this.”

  Shivers rippled across her skin at his contact, pacifying Tiger. Every claim Sheng made on Lucy appeased the beast.

  He flicked his tongue and sampled her taste, floral and sweet. Her breasts rose and fell with her deepening breaths, bringing them in supplication before him, begging for his attention. He cupped both of them, massaging their firm plushness in his hands. His cock stiffened, rasping against the fabric of his pants. His mouth watered to taste her. Everywhere.

  Lucy stopped him by pressing her palm to his chest. “Is that what this is?”

  The blood had long ago abandoned his brain and, for the life of him, he couldn’t put two and two together to deduce her meaning.

  He stared at her, blankly.

  Scowling, she wrenched from his grasp, not an easy task since he pawed every inch of her. His mind was so blown with passion, it left no room for reason. Clearly, he’d said the wrong thing. But which wrong thing? That crap about the Matchmaker? His past?

  Fuck. He scraped his hand across his jaw, his cock throbbing as she deserted him, her hips swaying while she fumed back up the path and into the main cabin.

  The door slammed a second later.

  He couldn’t help how badly he craved her, how no amount of sex with Lucy quenched his thirst or eased his hunger. What if she didn’t reciprocate? He considered himself bloody brilliant in bed, but there was bound to be another exception.

  Fucking Matchmaker.

  He whipped his head back and forth in frustration until his neck snapped in a painful crack. If one truth held the power to gut him, it would be Lucy’s indifference.

  Why the hell didn’t she get that?

  He shot to his feet and stalked to the cabin. This wasn’t over yet.

  ***

  Lucy frowned as Sheng stormed into the living room, the edges of Tiger cloaking him.

  “What the fuck did I do wrong?” His menacing growl prickled the hair on her skin. She’d never witnessed him this pissed off. The fierce set of his strong jaw left no doubt in her mind.

  He was furious.

  “Maybe…” She crossed her arms and stood firmly in her place across the room from him, “I refuse to be another of your failed pairings by the Matchmaker.”

  His admission had stung, the wound swelling like a bee sting to her heart. It made sense now. Why Sheng had tucked her under his wing. Why he’d fought against ever sleeping with her in the first place.

  He’d been hedging another set-up.

  He didn’t deny it as he gawked at her. Had he never expected her to connect the dots?

  Bastard.

  Her heart seized inside her chest, and even the Rabbit and Dragon paced their cages, their despair mingling with hers.

  She didn’t even swoon over the compliment of being the connection he’d searched for because having sex with her meant nothing more to him than a conquest. Still, it wasn’t right to blame Sheng for her misinterpretations. Her missed expectations.

  The harsh daggers of truth carved into her soul. Every vision she had of the future warped, the images unclear. The two people who carried her fate in their hands, Sheng and the Matchmaker, just might have orchestrated everything.

  Without her.

  He must love how the Matchmaker lined up conquests for him, taking advantage of each one. Hell, they probably were in on it together.

  A sadistic form of foreplay.

  “That’s what you think this is?” His brows drew together and a tic worked his jaw. Harsh emotions cut across his features, but gloating triumph wasn’t among them.

  Bummed she’d figured him out? A touch too late. She squeezed her thighs together at the memory of him ravishing her. Her virginity was gone, but her pride, her dignity, remained intact, if not a little blindsided.

  “That’s what you think of me?” The tenor of his feral voice switched off, but his tone remained low.

  This time, she swore she caught a flicker of hurt in his eyes.

  She stiffened. “Should I draw another conclusion? All you ever do is kiss me, rub your hands all over me…” Her breath hitched. Why did she complain about that? Goodness. No one ever made her feel as desirable as Sheng.

  Which summed it up. No one had ever claimed her heart so wholly, either. If the two didn’t go hand in hand, she would be gutted.

  Yet it appeared this was the truth. Sheng had virility in spades and he’d finally met someone who matched his libido. It was unfair to judge him, but she hadn’t slept with him for the same reasons as he’d had sex with her and that hurt.

  “You’re mocking Tiger?” Sheng cast her a glower of disbelief. “You’re a piece of work, you know that? And here I assumed you were different. I don’t just touch anyone and you know that. You know what touching you means to Tiger.”

  Ouch. She winced at the sting of his words, but he was right. Her accusation had been totally unfair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Rabbit was special to Tiger, but so was Dragon. Which led to the heart of the turmoil inside her chest. Was Sheng enamored with her or the notion of her being the Dragon? She let out a shaky sigh and braced herself, preparing to speak the suspicion she was certain he didn’t want to consider. “What if I’m not supposed to be Dragon’s host?”

  Sheng gaped at Lucy. Not supposed to host the Dragon? What the fuck did she mean? “Of course you are.” He winced as the old wound of rejection split back open. Dragon could not be doing this to him and Tiger. Not again.

  “I had a dream…or a memory, I guess. My dad gave me the Dragon, but I don’t think he intended for me to keep it.”

  Eyeing her, Sheng paced the length of the room. He didn’t want to believe it, any of it. Lucy had to be the Dragon.

  “Your father? Wait.” He cleared his throat as the pieces joined in his mind. “Your father hosted the Dragon. Ah, hell.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  He scraped a hand across his jaw. “Well, that makes bloody sense.”

  “What does?”

  “Lucy, I met your father.” Sheng rammed his head into his hands. Fuck, he should have made these connections.

  Desperation lit Lucy’s emerald-rimmed golden eyes. “Tell me.”

  “Once, quite a few years ago, I met him, the Dragon’s host. He caught me scuffing it up with a few demons in an alley, dragged me from them, and told me to focus on bigger things. I begged him to stay, to join with me, but he claimed it wasn’t his destiny.” He stalked across the room to Lucy. “He said, someday, the Dragon would be back, in a different body. Like your father fucking guessed he’d be giving the spirit to you, Lucy. He told me to watch over this new Chosen. Then, your father vanished.”

  “He didn’t vanish. He came back home, to us,” she whispered.

  “I was so angry and hurt at Dragon’s abandonment of Tiger and me, but now I get why.” He enveloped her in his arms and dropped a kiss on her head. “I had no clue your father was talking about his daughter. About you, Lucy.” He brushed a stray tear off her cheek, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “See? The Dragon has to be yours.”

  She licked her lips. “Maybe.”

  He cinched his arm tighter around her. Did any of it matter if
he’d really fallen for her? Everything about her, from her shy mannerisms, to her curiosity, to her gentle spirit, had coaxed down the defensive walls around his heart.

  He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, calming into a state of meditation. Tiger prowled its cage, restless and uneasy about this turn of events.

  Sheng had craved the Dragon so damn badly, he’d never anticipated his reaction to it not being Lucy’s.

  Because Lucy not being the Dragon hadn’t been a possibility before.

  Dammit, no. His concentration shattered. Tiger had waited so long for its ally. Sheng didn’t know if the spirit could handle another rejection. Tiger had wanted the Dragon to be Lucy. Yet, setting aside his emotions was a skill Sheng was a fucking master in, and he’d wield his expertise. He’d shove down Tiger’s disappointment and focus on ensuring Lucy’s safety.

  As he released Lucy, Tiger lurched forward.

  Menace rolled through Sheng’s veins, the hairs on the back of his neck stiffened, and his senses heightened. They were not alone. The low hum of a helicopter’s propellers brushed overhead. Shit.

  They’d come for Lucy.

  The secret of her hosting the Dragon was out, and not everyone would want her…alive. Fuck. No time to waste.

  Whoever had deployed mercenaries to his house must belong to the world of the Jade Emperor—one of the Eight Immortals, or another Chosen, or a leader on the Council. Hell, even a god or demon.

  The lights in the house snapped off, coating them in blinding darkness.

  “Sheng?” Lucy whispered in the dark.

  He slapped a hand over her mouth. Hoping she got the idea of silence, he seized her hand and dragged her into the hall. Kicking aside a bamboo mat, he cracked open a latch in the floor. Together, they slipped into the cellar.

  Shadows enveloped them with no moonlight to light their path, but he didn’t require any aid. Tiger’s night vision illuminated the way. The thud of footsteps thundered overhead. The intruders were in the house.