“His name’s Walker Danielson,” Carly answered. “From the Shifter Bureau, apparently.”

Dylan’s smile vanished. “Shite, woman. And you thought it was a good idea to haul him here wrapped in duct tape?”

Connor remained a lion, slowly blinking and looking as innocent as a youthful male lion possibly could.

“He threatened Carly,” Tiger said, fury in his voice.

“So you beat him down,” Dylan said. “Whose idea was the duct tape?”

“Mine,” Carly said quickly. Connor was too young to have this dangerous-looking man angry at him. Dylan might not be in charge anymore, but his stance said that he hadn’t stopped expecting everyone to obey him. “I didn’t know what to do with him, and I didn’t want him to go to the police, so I thought Shifters would know what to do.” Carly gave Dylan her most charming smile, one that disarmed even the pickiest of gallery customers.

“She’s lying,” Tiger said.

“I know,” Dylan answered. “I can smell it. Let’s get him inside.”

Not inside his own house, the one he’d come out of—Dylan heaved Walker up over his shoulder as though the man weighed nothing and carried him into the house next door.

No one was there. This bungalow was airy, with a gigantic kitchen and an equally large living room with a dining area fixed in one corner. A staircase rose from the middle wall of the living room, disappearing upward.

“Who lives here?” Carly asked.

“My son Liam.” Dylan deposited Walker on the floor, walked unhurriedly into the kitchen, and returned with another roll of duct tape.

“And me.” Connor came inside, human again, his shirt and jeans ripped from his change. “And Liam’s mate, Kim. And Tiger.”

Tiger stood above Walker, staring at the blood on the man’s face, his fists clenched. Fighting himself again.

“Tiger,” Carly said. “Come on over here with me.”

Tiger’s glance at her showed rigid anger and pain so deep it cut her from all the way across the room. He didn’t want to look away from Walker, the potential threat, but at the same time, he was pulled to Carly.

Tiger closed his eyes, blotting out the flash of anger, but his face was fixed, the pain obvious.

Carly walked to him and took his hand. Tiger opened his eyes and looked down at her, this time fully.

Carly wanted to both run away and stay under his mesmerizing gaze. As a very small child she’d gone to a zoo where the animals had roamed freely, and the humans walked past them in caged walkways. She remembered a mountain lion that had followed her on the other side of the grille, its golden eyes directly on her. Even now, Carly had no idea whether it had been curious about her or had thought a small child would make a good midmorning snack. She’d cried in terror, and her mother had carried her out.

The feeling, buried deep in her past, flooded out again. Tiger was a wild animal, never mind that he currently had a human body and wore normal clothes and a Collar. The wildness was in his eyes, a creature untamed.

Tiger’s gaze held her in place as though she were the small animal that couldn’t run away. The predator had her, his prey.

He touched her face. Carly shuddered with reaction, his caress a gentle contrast to the obvious strength in him.

Tiger bent to her, as though drawn by her, everything around them forgotten. He nuzzled her as he had in her yard, and Carly caught his face in her hands, rose on tiptoe, and kissed his lips.

* * *

Tiger’s world stopped. The press of Carly’s lips against his cut through his jangled confusion, the need to kill falling away.

Her lips were a place of warmth, satin smooth, the softest sensation he’d ever felt. The touch of her mouth was light, yet he felt it in every part of his body. Every part—especially his cock, which was becoming tight.

Carly’s lips formed a slight pucker, pressing moisture to his mouth. The gentle pressure was both featherlight and firm at the same time.

She brushed her lips over his, moving across them, ending at the corner of his mouth. Her movements were so slight, and yet Tiger thought this was the most important thing that had ever happened to him.

Carly touched her lips to the corner of his mouth again, then she lifted away, her brows drawn down over her gray green eyes.

Her scent had changed, ever so slightly, but Tiger sensed it. She’d been nervous, worried, angry, confused. Now into the mix came wanting. She desired Tiger. That fact spun around and settled in a hot point deep inside him.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, her puzzlement rising again. Carly touched his face with light fingertips, then she gave him a surprised smile. “Haven’t you ever kissed anyone before?”

“No.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

Tiger had had a mate, the female ripped away from him after he’d impregnated her, but they’d never kissed. It had been animalistic, that mating, though he’d become fervently attached to her, had come apart in grief when she’d died. What Carly had just done was different from anything he’d ever experienced.

“Wow.” Carly skimmed her fingertips across his lips, drawing fire. “I don’t think I’ve met a man who was a virgin.”

“I had a mate. She had a cub.”

“Ah. Then not a virgin. But you’ve never kissed?”

“No.”

“That’s weird. Wait, you had a mate?” Carly asked, her smile going away. “Where is she now? And your kid?”

“They died.”

The words came out flat and didn’t say everything he needed them to. Words couldn’t. Ever.

Carly’s look became shocked, her scent tinged with compassion. “Oh, Tiger, I’m so sorry.” She ran her hands over his shoulders, as though trying to soothe the tension there. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you.”

“Their deaths were not your fault.” Again the words fell flat. Tiger couldn’t explain, couldn’t make her understand why he wanted her to feel better.

“I mean, I’m sorry for you. That she died. That the child died. That must have been awful.”

“Yes.”

Carly’s voice softened. She exuded sympathy, even more than had Iona, or any other Shifter. “There’s more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there?” she asked.