Page 35 of Tiger Betrayal

“There’s a tree there that my dad carved he and my mom’s initials into. I want to find it and sketch it.”

“I can help,” he told her.

And she believed him. Nothing she had said had been strange to him, but now that she knew about his difficult dynamic with the ghost of his mother, it made sense. Any connection she kept with her mother, he would understand. He had done the same in his own ways with blue flowers on the grave of a mother he had never been able to let go.

“I’ll go with you to put blue flowers on the grave if you want,” she said softly. She would never respect his mother though. It wouldn’t be an act for the mother. It would be for Stellan.

He’d been watching his fingers trace her hair but lowered his gaze to her. “Saying it out loud might have put the urge to rest.” There was a growl to his voice. “It would be more fun to pay a tribute to the woman who raised you.”

Oh, her heart. It was so full, it ached in an unexplainable way. It was full of his understanding of why she was really here and hurt by what had happened to him. He had deserved so much better growing up.

He was such a tough, hard-outer-shell man, but his care was enormous. It was so much more than she had ever guessed, or that anyone would ever understand. He’d said it himself. He’d never talked about this stuff to anyone, not even his brothers.

They had touched each other’s bodies. Their chemistry couldn’t be denied, but this…lying here with her head in his lap as he stroked her hair, exposing their hearts to each other…

If Laramie were to start a journal of her love story, like her mother had done before her…on the first page, she would sketch this moment right here.

Chapter Fourteen

Laramie’s hands were shaking.

She clenched them at her side and forced herself to keep walking.

The ground was uneven here, and thick tree roots stretched across the thin deer trail that wound through these unfamiliar woods. Stellan had told her to keep walking, and that she would know when to stop. She had no concept of time right now. Had she been walking for minutes or hours? The sunlight trickled through the thick leaves above her and cast speckles of yellow across the forest floor. It was quiet now. All the birds had stopped chirping in the canopy, and the only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

The trees thinned here and the sound of the woods changed. There was a creek nearby and the soft shush, shush of running water tickled her senses.

Up ahead, she could see a drop off, and when she came to a stop in front of it, a small stream wound this way and that, at a three-foot drop in front of her. She caught her reflection in the clear water, and then a soft noise froze her in place.

She could tell he was there before she saw him.

Laramie looked up, across the stream, and there sat a tiger. He looked different than a wild one. He was orange, but his stripes were thick and close together, making him much darker than any she’d seen in a zoo or in a picture. His gold eyes burned into her soul.

He was enormous, much larger than she would’ve ever imagined a tiger could be.

He sat there in stillness, as if he was studying her, relaxed and unphased by her in his woods.

Laramie didn’t know what to do.

She’d heard him when he’d told her he was a Cat, and sure, she had read books about werewolves, but thinking she understood, and standing face to face with the animal were two completely different things.

Don’t run. That’s what he’d said the one rule was. Whatever she did, she shouldn’t run from him.

When he stood and bunched his muscles and leapt easily over the stream though, her heart rate kicked up even faster, and her hands shook harder.

The adrenaline dump to her system was making it hard to stand still.

His paws were huge and sank into the soft mud as he approached. Laramie blew out a shaking breath, but there was this little whimper at the end, and as he squared up to her, she closed her eyes tightly.

But…nothing happened. She eased one eye open and Stellan’s tiger had sat down again, just inches from her. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. Instead, he was staring at the stream in front of them.

She blew out another steady breath and reached out, brushing her fingertips against his fur. It was coarser than she’d expected it to be. He didn’t move, so she ran her fingertips down his fur again.

He twitched his head and perked up his ears, and the sudden movement startled her, so she flinched back.

He wasn’t looking at her though. He was staring deep into the woods, not moving a muscle.

Stellan stood smoothly and hunched down, moving so fluidly as he stalked down the stream. His ears stayed pointed directly ahead.