Magic and Alphas: A Paranormal Romance Collection, page 120
When she arrived at the University of Montana in Billings and began classes, her eyes were opened. Everyone had always assumed that she would marry like her friends and start producing kittens—but now, she was suddenly faced with a new vision of what her life could be. After only a couple of months of collegial dorm freedom—interspersed with dangerous runs in the forest near the campus—she determined that settling down into home life was not for her. Now, four years later, she was almost free.
Well, as free as any super-territorial tiger-shifter could be.
Her father thought he was so smart, using the landline at the Pinesdale Recorder to suggest her appointment to the Paxton Historical Committee. When Lana had spoken with the chairperson, Mrs. Whitley from Missoula, she could sense that bringing Lana onto the team had not been the chairwoman’s idea. Lana knew her father had some agenda in seeing that she traveled to the Seeley Lake tigers’ territory. Trying to cover his tracks, he had fawned over her as she prepared to leave, pretending to worry about her safety, even insisting she share a cup of herbal tea and some biscuits so she wouldn’t get weak on the trip.
So out of character, she thought as she entered the parking lot of Walmart cautiously and parked at the far end where she was to meet the Missoula streak’s emissary. She would keep all her senses on high alert for the remainder of the afternoon.
Putting the transmission in park, she watched an off-road Ford pickup, half-covered in mud, race across the lot toward her.
Of course he’s driving a pickup. How perfectly stereotypical.
* * *
Pulling in beside the Camry, Ian jumped from the truck as a young woman opened the small car’s driver door. “Hi. I’m here to take you to the Camp.”
“I assumed.” Lana’s smile took away any sting from the words. She leaned back into the car to drag a briefcase and an overnight bag across the seat, exiting backside first, then rose up on one foot on the Ford’s running board and opened the small door to the crew cab back seat. Thrusting her bags in, she slammed the back door and opened the passenger door. Holding the handle, balanced on one foot, calf muscles flexing, she looked down at Ian with raised eyebrows. He was still watching her, not sure what to say. She took away the option.
“Let’s roll, cowboy.”
Ian hurried around to his own door and climbed in, starting the truck without a word or a look in the girl’s direction. He was used to being in charge of things, but something about this woman had thrown him off right from the moment she thrust her ass out of the Camry door. She was lovely. He felt off-balance and it irritated him.
As they left the center of Missoula and traveled toward the Highway 200 turnoff, they both remained silent. Ian kept his eyes on the road, stopping at a red light. He took the opportunity to peek at his passenger as she read something on her phone.
Wow. Those cargo shorts with all the pockets scream ‘Look at me, I’m an archeologist’. But the calves are nice. Tanned. Always liked bare feet in sandals. And that white-blonde hair. Wonder if she has some Scandinavian background. Wonder what her fur looks like?
Suddenly he realized he’d been staring while the light had turned green. He popped the clutch, stalled out, making her look up and glance over at him with what seemed like disdain. He felt off. Damn it, this was his territory. She was the interloper. He was in control. Not to mention he was the male. He sped up, determined to keep his attention on the road and get her to the camp as quickly as possible.
The longer they drove in silence, the more confusing his feelings became, both mental and physical.
Hands sweating, tight on the wheel, he sped right through Seeley Lake on his way to the marina. Maybe once he got in the boat, his head would clear.
Suddenly they were entering the marina. He drove to the side of a white clapboard building and slammed on the brakes, rolling down his window. He was sweating, breathing heavily.
Finally she noticed he was in some kind of distress and spoke urgently. “What’s wrong? Do you need a doctor?”
Opening the door and climbing out onto the running board he looked in at her and barked a laugh. “I am a doctor.”
He peered at her closely, his sudden realization sparking through him. “My God, you are in heat. Are you people crazy? I could have shifted while driving and killed us both.”
“I’m not in heat. Not even close.” She shook her head, frowning. “But I feel weird too.”
But Ian was already running for the marina boathouse. Two humans were across a roadway pumping gas into an old farm truck, talking while smoking. He could hear everything too clearly. One was asking about how cold the beer was. Lana jumped from the truck and followed him.
By the time she caught up, Ian was in the boathouse, panting. As they had been entering the marina, and even though he had never mated, Ian recognized what was happening. He’d had a large dose of pheromones from his passenger. It demanded he shift. If he remained human, he would attack her aggressively, overpowered by his animal instincts. It was difficult to balance humanity with beast instinct, keeping emotion under control when it came to mating.
Lana came bursting through the door. It slammed behind her and he heard a lock click. Before he could even will it, Ian was in his animal form, a 500-pound tiger, eleven and a half feet long—almost twice Lana’s tiger size. A slow growl came from deep in his throat. His khaki pants and polo shirt lay behind him where he’d abandoned them in his haste to strip them off.
Through his cat’s eyes she looked full of blood, teeming with life, exuding sexuality. He began to move toward her, his feline body responding.
The two full-grown tigers circled each other in the cool of the boathouse, sniffing and touching noses. Little of their human selves remained.
* * *
Lana jerked awake, her heart beating. She could still feel the effects of the dream-memory, the onset of her mating heat induced by some herb in the tea her father had made for her, she was sure of it. Ian had believed so, too—he’d shared his experiences from that day with her so often that now she even dreamed his part of the story.
She’d never seen a more beautiful tiger than Ian. The thought of him still brought tears to her eyes. Blowing out a breath, she swiped them away roughly.
I’m not in Missoula anymore. Not an archaeologist. Not in falling love with Ian Dattner—and definitely not about to mate with him.
Time to get up and face my new life.
Time to be Lana Sparks, waitress in San Antonio, Texas.
Time to remember that I’m on the run, and will never be that other woman again.
Chapter 1
Roman Velazquez stood alone in the dark Hall of Alphas. Although he was in the center, his attention focused on the images of the two alphas on either end: Garcia, the first and most long-lived alpha of their streak, and Antonio, the most recent, now-deceased, alpha of their streak of tigers.
Garcia, with his long, silver hair, was the founder of the first San Antonio tiger streak. His reputation was as a fierce warrior and a wise leader, the standard all the streaks’ later alphas strived to emulate. Antonio had been charismatic, and had died far too young. The Incas, from the southwest part of town, had waged an unprovoked war against his streak and too many shifters had died, on both sides—including Antonio.
Although Roman’s streak had eventually won, it was at great cost to both sides. Now, he stood in this room dedicated to his streak’s history and remembered that day, at the beginning of the war, when he was ambushed by some of the largest Incas, and kidnapped, held for leverage.
He’d been taken in the middle of a battle in the early hours of the morning, deep in Inca territory. He had been subdued in his hybrid form, as a tiger who walked on two feet, like a man—but he’d been forced to shift and tortured as a human. When he woke up, everything around him was hazy. He’d screamed only once, not when they’d hacked off his arm, but when he realized that the drugs they gave him were designed to keep him from shifting and repairing the damage.
Two years, Roman said to himself now. That’s how long they’d fought the savage streak so determined to take over their territory. When he’d finally escaped, he’d tracked down Jackson, Antonio’s second-in-command, at the small diner the other tiger-shifter owned.
Jackson’s eyes had rounded as he took in Roman’s battered form. “We thought you were dead.”
Roman snorted without any real amusement. “So did I.”
The alpha’s lieutenant glanced behind him into the kitchen. “We should get to the hotel. Come on. I’ll take you.”
As he and Jackson traveled to their streak’s intact home, Jackson caught him up on the fighting. “We lost too many of our own. But there are so few Incas left, that we’re having trouble finding any.” Jackson relished the new information that Roman had killed five more of them on his way out. “Perhaps that was the last?” Jackson added hopefully.
Roman’s noncommittal grunt seemed answer enough, and the two men made their way through the San Antonio streets back to the building most of the streak called home.
The hotel hadn’t been discovered to be theirs before the Incas were wiped out, Roman was glad to learn. But when he and Jackson arrived, there weren’t many tiger-shifters left in residence, either. But the war was over now, and his streak had won. For all that it mattered. The battles over their territory had taken so many from them—and almost all the females of their streak had been killed in the fighting. Or worse, captured. And those who’d survived to be rescued bore psychological scars so intense that Roman had arranged to send them to another streak in upstate New York, a stable territory where they might eventually recover. He’d issued a general pardon to the remaining Incas, but so far none had responded.
We’ll be lucky if enough tiger-shifters remain in the city to support a complete streak.
Roman stood in human form, staring at the framed photographs of the alphas in a room with a name far too grand for the photos it held.
I’m not ready to be alpha—not even interim alpha.
His missing arm burned, phantom nerve impulses sending shooting pains up to his shoulder.
I’m half a man. Half a tiger. Not enough.
And suddenly he couldn’t stay here any longer.
He’d entered the Hall of the Alphas hoping some of the former alphas’ wisdom would be imparted to him. When that wisdom wasn’t forthcoming, he couldn’t take it any longer.
“I’m going to for a walk,” he told Jackson. “A long walk.”
“Should one of us go with you?” the other shifter—now his own second-in-command—asked.
“No. I’ll stay on the River Walk—I promise I’ll stick with the crowds.” With any luck, among the many businesses along the tourist-ridden San Antonio River Walk, his favorite restaurant would still be open for the night.
* * *
With a strained smile, Lana accepted the check folder from the last customers in her section.
As soon as they’re out the door, I’m grabbing a glass of water and getting off my feet. I don’t care what Phil said.
The assistant manager was a dick, though—he’d probably report her to the head manager. And she couldn’t afford to lose this job. She wasn’t ready to leave San Antonio.
Not yet.
She could stand next to the windows open to outside seating without setting Phil off, though, and catch the air blowing into the building from the River Walk. Closing her eyes, she let the breeze flow over her.
The wind outside shifted, and a scent caught her attention. Human words didn’t exist to describe it.
Spicy? A little. Definitely familiar. Tempting.
It had been a long time since she’d smelled it.
Another tiger.
Terrifying.
But that scent was the whole reason she took a job at the restaurant with the enormous windows in the first place. Being able to smell anyone—or anything—approaching from quite some distance away was the best way she knew to stay safe.
I ought to leave. Now.
Oddly enough, though, the scent didn’t send chills up her spine, as it had in the past. Even though she’d been in hiding for some time, relocating e so often to avoid detection, this particular scent had a calming effect on her. A sense of almost relief washed across her. Might that mean that the nearby tiger was someone loyal to her father? Would that maybe make them loyal to me?
At the thought of her father, her stomach clenched. God, I miss him. Even if he and Ian’s father had manipulated the two of them into falling in love with one another. Within a few weeks, how they’d gotten together hadn’t mattered.
Sometimes she missed her father as much as she missed Ian.
Her father, the alpha of their streak, had treated her like a princess. As a result, the entire streak treated her like a princess. Her childhood was a happy one, spent in a streak that was not only prosperous, but at peace. There were no warring factions within, and most of the streak members her age were great friends.
When she was twenty, he’d set her up with Ian, and pretty soon, life seemed perfect.
Then Trevor Cawyer staged a coup in the streak.
Lana never knew how Trevor accomplished it, but the entire Inner Guard had been immobilized. Lana saw it happen like a blur, right before her eyes—she and Ian had been having dinner with her father when Trevor and his cadre attacked.
She and Ian had leapt to his defense, but four large male tigers had grabbed her, held her back as she fought to reach her mate and her alpha. They made her watch as Trevor, in tiger form, slashed her father’s throat, crushed his chest and removed his heart, and tore out his entrails.
Then he turned his attention to Ian.
She heard her own screams as if they came from outside of her, from a long way away. By the time Trevor turned to her, drenched in the blood of the two men she loved most, he’d shifted to a half-tiger form and wore a smile. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction and lust.
“Cage her. Keep her for me,” he ordered the four tigers who held her.
From inside the cage, Lana watched Trevor transform to fully human. She’d never liked him—she knew her father had turned him down for a position in the Inner Guard—and she knew he was reckless and generally lacked discipline. But she’d never thought of him as evil. Not until he killed her mate and her father.
And then things got worse.
Shaking off the memory, she took the last drink from her glass of water in La Encanto. Almost time for her short, surreptitious break to end. She moved away from the window, thanking whatever gods might exist that she’d had the shaman in Arizona work with her to help her mask her own tiger scent. She allowed herself the luxury of feeling that she was safe, undetectable, even though she could no longer tell what became of the tiger’s scent from a few minutes ago.
Time to get back to work. Behind her, a chair slid across the floor. From one of her tables, a handsome, rugged man smiled at her, and unexpectedly, a rush of heat flashed through her. It’s the first time since Ian’s death—almost two years ago, now—that she’d reacted to anyone that way and for an instant, she didn’t know if she was glad or angry that this man had chosen her section.
But then the scent of the tiger returned—a scent that came from him—and fear took precedence over anything else.
Chapter 2
Oh, no. She froze, checking out the quickest routes to the exits. Still… I don’t sense any danger.
“I’m hoping I sat down at a table in your section,” he said, winking at her.
Oh, that smile is so sexy. This has to be a coincidence.
But the smarter part of her instincts told her what she already knew: there aren’t enough tiger-shifters in the world for any kind of coincidence.
“Yes, sir, you have,” she answered, working to keep her waitress voice on. And she couldn’t help but smile back. She was close enough to him that she didn’t even have to walk up to the table to be heard. “Would you like some water?”
“Yes, please. And two frozen margaritas. With salt.”
“Sure.” For an instant, she actually had to fight a tinge of disappointment in her voice.
What the hell is wrong with me? I should be running as fast as I can—not flirting.
“After all,” the handsome man continued, “you can’t expect me to drink alone, can you?” He paused, his dark brown eyes sparkling up at her. “Will you have a drink with me?”
“Oh.” She blinked, more flustered than she had any right to be—it wasn’t like he was the first man who’d asked her to have a drink with him. “Actually, I can’t drink with customers while I’m on the job, as much as I would love to. But I’ll get yours right away.”
“Well, then, how about when you’re not on the job?” She couldn’t decide if that counted as adorably persistent or if her knowledge that he was a tiger-shifter was skewing her perceptions.
Instead of answering, she half-smiled and headed over to the bar to get his drinks. The bartender, Carla, gave her a look. “Why do you always get all the hotties? Why couldn’t he have come to the bar, if he’s eating alone?”
Lana glanced back over her shoulder. “He is gorgeous, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, a little bit. Best-looking man so far tonight. And he’s staring right at you.”
“And he told me he wanted two margaritas so I could share one with him.”
“Wow, he doesn’t waste any time, does he?”
“So, what do I do? Bring both, or just the one?”
Carla laughed aloud. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this interested in anyone who’s come in here.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at Lana. “Play along, I think. Take two. See what he says. Sounds like he might a sense of humor.”
“Okay, do it. Frozen. With salt. And a glass of ice water.”
