Maybe the beast was right. The cabin was awesome. Having had a place on the property before only made it easier to have it knocked down and his own cabin rebuilt in its stead.
Of course, he’d done a major plumbing and electrical upgrade. But that wasn’t why his beast had been so excited upon arrival. It was the sheer majesty of the woods.
Cooped up in the city, his Tiger had to make do with rooftop gardens and the occasional run through Central Park, but that was always very dangerous. Being spotted often led to all kinds of cleanup and he didn’t want to have to worry about that right then.
No, out here, he was alone. Nothing but man, Tiger, and nature. There was even a stream nearby, and not a single neighbor for twenty miles on any given side. The snow covered trees and grounds, the glacial blue sky, and the golden glow of the fireplace made the whole thing take on a Rockwellian aspect.
Perfect.
He’d loved the idea of a rustic hunting lodge, but because of his lifestyle, Dean had required a bit more than the average cabin offered. In the end, it had been better to simply tear down the old structure and build a new one, though he had re-purposed a lot of the old, seasoned wood inside his new extreme log cabin.
Extreme in the sense that it was powered by a large, environmentally safe generator, solar panels, and even a small wind turbine. He’d wanted plenty of light and had floor to ceiling one-way windows installed throughout, as well as skylights. There was a huge wraparound porch which housed a hot tub and outdoor entertainment area and firepit.
While inside, there was an enormous fireplace in the living room, a gourmet’s dream of a kitchen, a master bedroom in the loft with an enormous Alaskan king bed, and a luxurious bathroom with a sunken tub and separate shower stall.
There was an enormous ninety-inch television flatscreen, and plenty of movies saved to a hard drive, a sound system, and a large bookshelf that housed some of his favorites, including some classics, various biographies, thrillers, and a few mysteries.
Dean exhaled as he wandered from room to room. It smelled clean and perfect, the company his assistant hired to care for the property had obviously done a superb job. But even better than anything else was the one simple fact that this cabin was his.
This place was not for the Pride. Not like his penthouse in the city, which was often overrun with Tigers as was customary in most Shifter groups. There was no open door policy here.
This space was his alone. And he looked forward to his time there.
Mate, his Tiger pushed the thought at him, but Dean grumbled and swatted the word away. He wouldn’t be finding his mate this holiday. Not alone in the woods. Maybe when he got back to the city he would call his mother and arrange for some meetings. Shifters in his position often employed something along the lines of a trusted matchmaker to help locate suitable mates. He hoped the idea would settle his Tiger and allow him to enjoy his first Christmas off in a long, long while.
After unpacking the car and stocking the fridge with the delectable goodies he’d arranged for himself, Dean opened the sliding door to the patio and sucked in a deep breath of refreshing forest air.
It was cold and snow had begun to fall heavily, but he found the clean air refreshing. His inner beast scratched at his skin, begging to be let out and he hesitated one moment before he began to disrobe.
In fact, his Big Cat had been pining for a run the second he’d seen the glorious white snowflakes falling from the skies. You just couldn’t get snow like that in the city, not without a blizzard, and it was Christmas Eve after all. Why shouldn’t he indulge his Tiger?
Dean stripped off his suit and tie, tossing his very expensive, tailor made silk shirt and gold cufflinks carelessly on the table as he stepped onto the deck, fully nude, and called upon his magnificent beast.
Fuck yeah, his Tiger growled inside of him. True, he was king of his Pride and while Lions might claim themselves King of the Jungle, there was no doubt in his mind, that Dean Romero was the Tiger King of New York City.
He was much larger than his wild cousins, over a thousand pounds of pure muscle, speed, and agility. His coat was thick and shiny, his fangs sharper than the sharpest knives, and his claws cruel when they came in contact with his prey.
He was a hunter, a master, the Neta of the Island Stripe Pride, and his beast was more than aware of his prowess. He lived and breathed duty and took his position very seriously. He was fair and just, and he commanded obedience and loyalty.
Dean’s skin hummed as little electrical bolts of energy danced along its surface. The familiar magic that accompanied his change pulsed and caressed his limbs, while at the same time urging his bones to snap and muscles to tear, re-knitting and shaping themselves into his beast.
He and his Tiger shared a soul, and yes, he was still very much in charge when in his fur, but his instincts were purer and the animal was louder when he wore his fur.
Dean tossed his great, feline head back and opened his mouth tasting the air around him before taking off in a single leap with which he cleared the fence that closed off his porch to the elements and wild animals that roamed the land.
He could already scent the dears, black bears, and occasional coyote that had crossed his domain. Not to mention the faint odors of the other Shifters in the area.
None had dared come too close to the Tiger King’s property, and he growled in acknowledgement of the respect they’d paid him in absentia. Decorum would dictate they seek permission first, and he appreciated it even more as he understood he was the guest here.
The true boss of the Pine Barrens was a mystical creature, something of a local legend that was known as the Jersey Devil. Of course, he was seen as a myth, but he was as real as Dean was. A fun guy, truth be told, even though he recently mated.
His Tiger chuffed and stretched, slightly jealous perhaps of his boyhood school chum finding his mate. But Dean pushed that envy away. He rolled his big shoulders before pouncing over the next drift of snow.
It felt wonderful, racing around with no destination or time limit on his fun. He climbed trees, went for a swim in the near frozen water of the stream and ran until ice glistened on his fur.
How his mother would’ve scolded him in his youth for such a trick! He chuffed again and rolled in a pile of snow just because he could, racing a branch as it floated downstream in the water, and loving his sudden, brief freedom before the sound of something loud reached his sensitive ears and brought his head up.
Screeeeeeeeech! It sounded as if someone’s car had lost control, and that was of course, followed by a loud crash.
What the hell was that? His rational mind had guessed the cause of the noise, and his Tiger snarled. The beast was annoyed for a moment that his fun would have to stop.
Grrr.
There was no way around it. He was alone out there for miles and miles and the snow was falling even harder now. Dean would have to check to see if anyone was hurt, even if the idea was not tempting in the least.
He used his supernaturally enhanced senses as he raced through the frozen wonderland to where he’d initially heard the crash. There was something wrong, he thought as he listened for the sounds of humans exiting their vehicle and calling for help.
It was oddly quiet, too quiet, and that didn’t bode well for the people in the accident. Probably a family on their way to some relative’s home for the holiday, he thought and growled softly. Should’ve known better than to drive in this.
In New York, the snow would’ve melted as it hit the pavement. There was so much going on underground it hardly ever stuck in his experience, but out in the woods there were no underground grids and subways to melt the heavy, frozen white stuff. Driving in it was far too dangerous.