“Tiger, honey, I have to go.” Carly rubbed his forearm, then rubbed it again, liking the feel of tight skin over steel. “I’m sorry I dragged you into my problems, and that you suffered for them.”
Tiger stared down at her as though her words were meaningless to him. The stare was intense, unnerving.
“I’ll come see how you’re doing tomorrow, all right?” Carly said.
“Stay with me.” The words were a statement, not a request.
“I can’t. I have to go home. Look at me, I’m a mess. Then I have to find Armand and explain to him why I left him in the lurch today of all days. If I’m lucky, he’ll be sympathetic and give me a few dollars severance pay when he fires me.”
Again, Tiger’s eyes didn’t register the gist of her words, only that she was speaking. When she finished, he tilted his head, like a cat examining its prey. “I will take you.”
“No, you won’t.” Carly tapped his chest gently, avoiding the bandages under the shirt. “You’ll go home and rest, like the nurses said, and take your medication. If you run around the city, you’ll open the wounds again and need another clean shirt. I said I’d come see how you were doing, and I’m not lying. Least I can do.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, tasting the bristle of whiskers. “I like you, Tiger.”
Tiger’s eyes softened as he looked down at her. Carly was aware of the others listening, poised, amazingly still. No human being could stand that still.
Tiger touched his cheek where Carly had kissed him, then he touched her cheek. His fingers were featherlight, though she’d seen him break apart the bed in the hospital as though it were paper.
“Connor,” Tiger said, the deep rumble in his voice again. “Go with her.”
“I said I’d take her home,” Liam broke in.
“No.” Tiger’s word was harsh. “Not you. Not anyone but Connor.”
Liam studied Tiger a moment, then switched his gaze to Connor, who was trying his best to look innocent and neutral. Finally Liam nodded. “All right. Connor.”
“Keep her safe,” Tiger said sternly.
Connor relaxed from his watchful stance. “You got it, big guy,” he said to Tiger. “This means I get to take your bike, right, Sean?”
Sean got in on the growling, looking annoyed, but he pulled out his keys and tossed them to Connor. “Not a scratch, not a speck of dirt.”“Would I let you down, Uncle Sean? Come on, Carly, it’s a sweet ride.”
They expected her to go home on the back of a motorcycle? In this dress? Well, it was a day for the bizarre.
Tiger didn’t let Carly go that easily. He pulled her close, leaned into her, and buried his face in her hair again. She thought maybe he’d try to kiss her, right there in the parking lot, and wondered what she’d do if he did. Being kissed by Tiger would be . . .
She had no idea, but her body went hot and shivery at the same time. He was strong, powerful, and a little bit crazy.
Tiger straightened up. He didn’t kiss her, but he traced her cheek, staring down into her eyes again before he finally lifted his hand away.
Connor took that as a cue to walk toward the row of motorcycles parked in front of the clinic, gesturing for Carly to follow him.
“See you, Tiger,” Carly said, then walked off after Connor. Her shoes were killing her, so she paused to take them off and sling them from her fingers. She’d be more comfortable riding without them.
When she looked back over her shoulder, she saw Tiger’s gaze still fixed on her; he stood motionless while the others made moves to go. Carly gave him a little wave and turned to follow Connor again, but she felt Tiger’s stare on her back the whole way.
* * *
“Why did Tiger want you to bring me home, and not Liam?” Carly asked as she let Connor into her house.
She tried not to look at the suitcases she’d pulled out of the closet so she could pack to move in with Ethan. Good thing she hadn’t had time to start moving her stuff into storage, even though she’d already put a lot into boxes. Ethan had encouraged her to hang on to her house and rent it out—it wouldn’t be as good as owning a commercial property, but it would bring her some real income, he’d said. He didn’t consider being an art gallery assistant a viable or long-lasting occupation.
“Hmm?” Connor asked. He contemplated the few small paintings on the living room wall that artists had given Carly as gifts. “Why me? Because I’m a cub. Not a threat.”
“A cub?” Carly looked him up and down. “You said that before. You can’t be much younger than I am.”
“Just turned twenty-two. That’s cub age for a Shifter. When I hit about twenty-eight, or maybe later, I’ll start my Transition, which I’m so not looking forward to, trust me. But after that, I’ll be full grown, ready to find my own mate. That part I’m looking forward to.”
Carly saw a young man, college-aged, lanky but tough, as tall as his uncles if not as bulked. When he was twenty-eight and looking for his mate, women were going to line up for him. She was surprised they weren’t following him around now, drooling.
“But I’m not a Shifter,” she said. “Why should you have to wait six years before you go out with a human woman?’
“I don’t. But I’m not in a hurry. Not having reached my Transition means I don’t have the mating frenzy yet. So, sure, I could go out with you, or whatever human girl took my fancy, and we could kiss and cuddle, and even have sex. But I wouldn’t feel the need to scent-mark you, hide you from all other males, and have sex with you until we both couldn’t walk, or until you started a cub. Whichever came first.”