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"I have waited almost an entire day to taste you again," he says in my ear. "There should be some token, some prize, for that level of patience, when I've already waited so long for you. Searched everywhere. I've never been a big fan of fate. But now… How can I be angry when she got it so fucking right?"

He says it against the shell of my ear, his tongue tracing the curve, following it up and around and down to my earlobe, where he tugs at it and traces from it to the bone of my jaw. I tilt my head, giving him access, because oh God, I do not want him to stop.

His mouth comes to mine, and the kiss… I could almost tell myself that I had imagined how his kiss affected me, but the truth is, he was holding back. Oh yeah. He was holding back for sure. His mouth claims mine, his tongue taking over. I've been kissed by an alpha before, but I've never been kissed by my alpha. He doesn't even have to bite me to own me, and my heat hasn't even fully kicked in.

How am I standing? I sag against the wall, pulling him closer. So full in every way, and he's done nothing but invade my mouth.

A moan trembles from my lips, and I don't know if it's me or my cat, but he swallows it whole, taking every bit of it, giving me his soft, vibrating purr in return. Tigers are the most verbal of all felines. They have a whole language they communicate through: growls and chuffs and huffs and this vibrating noise. I don't know what he thinks he's saying, but all I hear is how much he wants me. And my cougar, my cat, is giving him the same in return.

He pulls away and licks along the side of my face, but it's not his tongue. It's the papery-velvet touch of a tiger's, crazy and soothing at the same time, and so wide and flat, and oh my God, this tongue will destroy me. I imagine it licking between my pussy lips. But not now. Now he licks up one side of my face, pointing his tongue to trace my hairline, coming down the other side of my face, tasting me, cleaning me.

His head goes to my neck, where he licks some more, and he rubs his head and neck over mine, over and over, massaging my head, rubbing himself along my shoulders. He spins me around, placing my hands on the wall, and I'm so glad I chose a short haircut, because it gives him total access to my neck, where he licks, nibbles, and rubs. Gliding his teeth over my jugular vein, testing his points against my shoulder bones.

There are two hundred and ten bones in the human body. I've studied them all. But not one of them, none of them, is supposed to turn to liquid.

He rubs against my body, opening my blouse, sliding it off me, unclasping my bra. I'm so liquid I can barely move my hands to cover my breasts, but he just whispers in my ear, "Shh, shush. I'm just marking you. Scent-marking you. I'm not taking you tonight, little one. Just let me do this."

And now I feel fur. Not a full shift—his body is still human against mine—but his face has changed enough that the side of his head is covered in thick tiger fur. Oh my God. Fur. He drags it up my spine like a velvet towel, slow enough that I feel every soft strand glide over my bare skin. How is fur so soft? It brushes between my shoulder blades, down and up again, warm and living, and the glide of it makes my whole back arch toward him. He rubs his face back and forth, licking and rubbing, his fur sliding over the curve of my neck, along my ribs, across the exposed skin above my skirt, and oh my God, my nipples tighten to points beneath my palms, stabbing into the centers.

"You like this," he growls against my skin, and the fur brushes my neck again, softer than hands, more possessive than hands. "You want this. Your body is telling me even when your mouth won't."

He turns me, and his fur glides over my shoulder, over the top of my breast, a sensual drag that leaves his scent in its wake. He rubs against my neck, but he is Ivan again, his mouth hot where the fur was warm.

"When I take you," he says, low and certain, nipping along my jaw, "When I finally claim you, will you moan for me, little kitty? Will you scream my name?"

My knees give out. Surrender. He catches me, holds me exactly where he wants me, and keeps marking me, mouth and skin and fur, until I am covered in him. He nips up to my jaw, the tip of my chin, takes it in his mouth, sucks it. Oh my God, can I get a hickey on my chin? He comes up to my lips, traces them again, owns them one more time.

And then he steps back, leaving me standing there, holding my breasts as if an offering. But he only watches me, all tiger eyes, and I stoop, my hand trembling, and reach for my blouse. His fists ball, and he shoves them into his pants, but not before I see how his cock strains against his pants; oh my God, is that his cock? Crazy. I see the print through his pant leg, and it dips close to his knee.

That is not possible. Impossible. It's an illusion.

My eyes jerk up to his, but he doesn't give me his arrogant smirk or cocky huff. No. His face is grave as he steps back again.

"You sleep upstairs. The first room on the right. Help yourself to whatever you want, there should be food waiting in the kitchen. The bed is clean." He turns and walks briskly toward the door. "You are safe. I won't touch you. I will not claim you before my brother has his surgery."

I move away from the wall. "Ivan? I thought this was your home. Where are you going?" I ask.

His back freezes. Then he looks at me over his shoulder, and all I see are his tiger eyes and fangs. But he says in a hoarse voice, "A run. I need to run."

And then he's gone, whipping the door shut behind him.

I stand, staring around me at this huge mansion. From the outside, with its steep roof and rustic timber, it almost looked like an oversized mountain lodge. But inside? No. I'm alone in the beast's home.

And now I need a very, very cold shower.

Chapter 4: Ivan

I set my fork down, and my conversation halts when I smell my mate hovering outside the formal dining room door. My brothers and I usually eat in the kitchen, but today is the first day my mate will join us, and they need a proper introduction. None of the other tigers or my men are here. That wouldn't be safe, not when I haven't fully claimed her. At least my scent covers her, and that gives me some satisfaction. My cock throbs thinking of her, of the way she melted into my arms. I ran for four hours, nowhere near exhausted despite running at full pace, flat out, uphill, downhill, chasing nothing, running away from her, away from this calling I can't escape.

Georgy and Konstantin are seated to my left. I had to cuff Georgy to make him move from his usual seat on my right side, but from now on, my mate will hold that seat forever.

I rise to meet her when she finally opens the door and steps inside. How does she grow more beautiful every day? Her lashes longer, her eyes wider, her cheekbones higher, her chocolate skin setting off the loveliest bronze undertone. Is she still in that skirt? She steps inside, undoubtedly directed to the room by our staff.

She freezes when she sees the three of us waiting for her. She gives a nervous smile, then reaches for her neck and takes a deep breath. She's so—

Wait.

What.