He was so much bigger than the Tigers she’d seen at the zoo. So much prettier too, something inside her whispered.
Her poor frazzled brain could hardly put together the facts. Dean Romero was a Tiger Shifter. A real, live Shifter. Like the ones she wrote about. Only better because, well, because he was real.
She winced as she felt his beast’s hot breath on her face, anticipating his next move with all the bravery of a B-Horror movie TSTL, that is too-stupid-to-live female main character.
Sigh. Okay, this was so not her proudest moment, but at least she didn’t scream when his hot, sandpapery tongue swiped her from chin to forehead.
"Ooh," she gasped and giggled instead as the Dean-cat proceeded to lick and sniff at her face.
“Okay,” she said when his massive paw reached out and pressed against her cheek as he licked and licked, “okay, that’s enough. Bad kitty!”
His Tiger chuffed loudly, but the beast allowed her to push him away from her face, choosing to bump her belly with his nose next. His head was enormous, and as he laid down, she realized she could probably ride him like a pony. Not that she would try.
Now it made sense, the size of the cabin. The extra wide hallways and huge couch and skylights. He probably did like to lie in the sunshine, like a big overgrown tabby.
Violet grinned, fascinated with the creature as she reached out a cautious hand to stroke his thick, rich fur. She’d always loved Tigers. Who didn’t? She thought as she proceeded to scratch him behind the ears and pet his gloriously thick coat.
“Such a big, boy. Such a pretty boy,” she murmured and laughed when he sniffed indignantly, “sorry I mean, what a handsome man.”
His Tiger seemed to preen at that, and the beast pressed closer to her, knocking her off her feet and purring loudly as he dipped his head to sniff the apex of her thighs.
“No, no! Naughty kitty!” she said and tapped him on the nose, “No sniffing my girly bits!” she scolded when he attempted to do so again.
She watched in awe as the air around his fur began to shimmer and glow as he swapped fur for skin, then suddenly, Violet found herself wrapped in the arms of a very handsome, very naked Dean Romero.
Sigh.
“Believe me now, mate?” he growled, his voice still thick with his Tiger as he dipped his head to inhale the skin at the base of her neck.
Shivers of anticipation raced through her at his nearness. She felt drunk with wanting him, her need spurred on by the possessive hold and the feeling of his long, hard thickness pressed against her soft belly.
At some point the robe had opened and she was wearing only the thin, silk pajama top. Moisture pooled between her legs and Violet knew without a doubt she was going to give in to this man, to this Tiger Shifter, before the night was through.
So, why wait? A voice inside her asked. Take what is already ours.
“Mine,” she said the word aloud and Dean’s hold tightened.
His teal eyes glowed with what she recognized was his beast and his nostrils flared as he breathed in deep and growled as if tasting her arousal in the air.
“Yes, yoursss,” he hissed the word with a little more of his Tiger showing in the sharpening of his features.
For some reason, that alone was ridiculously hot. She felt the rumbling growl that was building inside his chest through the thin silk and her own body like he was her own, personal vibrator and wasn’t that an interesting thought.
“Um, Dean?”
“What is it, little one?” he said and adjusted his hold, dropping hot, open mouthed kisses to her shoulder and neck.
“Fuck, that feels good,” she moaned.
“I can make it feel better,” he said and met her wide eyed stare with his smoldering seafoam gaze.
She saw the promise in them as clear as day and for once in her life, Violet was ready to take the plunge, to do something completely out of character,
“Then do it,” she raised her head and dropped the challenge, gasping when he lifted her off the floor and proceeded to carry her up the spiral staircase to the second floor loft that served as his bedroom.
Chapter Eight
Dean placed his mate carefully down on the thick quilt that covered the custom built Alaskan King bed inside his cabin.
Maybe the Fates had lent him some insight when he’d designed the thing. It was extravagant for one person, but for two, it was perfect. Like her.
She looked divine with her curls billowing out like a dark sail across the white bedding. He straddled her hips, grasping the edges of the pajama top she wore and meeting her eyes before tearing it clear off her body.
She gasped aloud, but her lust-filled gaze told him she was more than willing to go forward. Her own Tigress recognized him as her mate, and though his sweet Nari did not quite understand what that meant, her instincts told her to trust him and that was good enough for now.
Dean slid alongside of her, using his arms as purchase on the soft mattress, he looked into her eyes, seeking permission before capturing her lips with his own.
Violet arched her body off the bed, teasing him with her smooth, silky skin. Her hardened nipples bit into his chest and he growled at the thought of capturing them with his mouth and between his teeth.
Oh yes, she was a veritable feast. A banquet for his senses and he wanted every last morsel for himself. Even better, his sweet mate was no whimpering damsel, she was fierce and strong. Their tongues continued to war and dance together, battling for dominance as their exchange grew heated and more intense.
Dean stroked his hands down her face and neck, caressing her shoulders, and ribcage, those wide, perfect hips, to her plump, shapely thighs. She opened her legs for him instinctively and his hands found the skin there to be even smoother, softer than he’d ever imagined.
“Oh god,” she moaned and he caught the sound, sipping it from her lips.
Traveling down her chin, to her neck, and clavicle, then down to her berry-tipped breasts, Dean paid homage to her body the way a priest did to the gods.
Sucking on one perfectly rounded nubbin, then the other, he rolled her nipples between his teeth gently tugging the sensitive flesh until she was writhing beneath him.
His Violet was perfect in every way, and when she tried to shield herself, wrapping an arm around her middle, Dean simply tugged her hand away and kissed the soft flesh there, locking his gaze onto hers.
Society could go fuck itself for all he cared. He had no desire to make love with a stick figure and couldn’t fathom why the media chose to emulate one particular body type over all the others. To each his own, that was his motto, and he never wanted anyone like he wanted her.
Humans and supernaturals came in all shapes and sizes. Unfortunately, the world didn’t seem to celebrate all of them. Well, he would show her just how stunning she was to him, even if it took all night.
“Never hide from me, little one,” he growled, dipping his tongue into her belly button as he did so.
“I’m, uh, I’m overweight. My stomach is too flabby and I have cellulite on my thighs,” she confessed as if it were something bad, and he hissed at her shaking his head.
“No, you are just right. The perfect size and shape, exactly as a woman should be, and I never want to hear you talk badly about your body, my body, again, okay?”
“I, oh, oh, I, yes, uh huh,” she moaned as his fingers slid up her thighs and stroked the soft curls that hid her most secret flesh from his gaze.