Tiger's Claim Read online

  “Yes!” Stella waved it in the air. “Now back off. All of you. Or I’ll blow this place sky high.” Nobody moved. “I mean it.” She shook the bomb again. “Seriously.”

  “Ooh, Birch, she means it,” Ethan drawled, not a bit concerned she could kill them with the press of a button.

  “Are we supposed to be scared?” That rasp sounded just as emotionless as Ethan. “I didn’t study drama, but if chicks can fake an orgasm, I can handle this.” Pike cleared his throat. “Oh no. Stay calm. Think about what you’re doing. Have you thought about what this will do to your soul?”

  That was followed by a deep sigh and a low grumble from Birch. “Pike, why did I think adding you to the team was a good idea?”

  “Because he’s an upstanding citizen?” That one was Declan.

  Birch just grunted. “Cole, you about done being a pussy?”

  Stella snorted. He was a pussy acting like a pussy. She shoulda stayed quiet though because that small snort had everyone staring at her. Again.

  “There are more bombs where this one came from.” She waved her arm again. Which was a lie, but she wasn’t above bluffing.

  Their attention dropped to her chest, and more than one set of eyes darkened. Now pure, masculine appreciation filled their expressions.

  Well, except one. Declan or Pike—she wasn’t sure—but that man’s stare was on the ceiling and not on her tits. Ah, right. He had to be the one who’d mentioned Abby.

  “And why are there more bombs? Why do you have bombs at all?” Birch’s tone was mild.

  “Uh…” Her mind spun, trying to come up with a way out of her situation without revealing anything about herself.

  “My presence at James Walters’s home isn’t up for discussion, and I don’t care why Cole was at the mansion. I don’t care who you six are.” She sought out Cole with her gaze. “I’m really sorry I messed up your little…whatever.”

  Ethan snickered “Little whatever.” A smartphone cradled in his hands, he tapped and swiped the screen, his gaze not straying from the device. “I’m telling everyone a chick said you were little.”

  Stella ignored him. “I’d like to go home.”

  So she could plot and plan another way to get to James.

  No one said a word, but that didn’t mean they were stationary. Cole—still as sexy and seductive despite her attack—moved through the group until he crouched in front of her. Blue eyes with a hint of tiger’s gold collided with hers—intent, determined…seductive? Her jaguar purred and padded forward, anxious to rub against the big cat.

  Nope, nope, Nope-ville in the land of Not Happening.

  “Let me break this down for you.” Cole ran a finger along her jaw, the touch gentle despite his dark stare. “We’ve been working on this for a long time and wrapping the operation hinges on this weekend. You want Walters dead. We want Walters dead—eventually—but we need something from him first. I was supposed to go in alone, but now James thinks we’re together, which means you’re tagging along. We’re going to get the data we need while on Serene Isle, and you’re going to help us. No negotiation. It’s done.”

  “Us?” she whispered, barely able to push the question past her dry lips.

  The low murmur from behind raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “Shifter Operations Command.”

  Chapter Seven

  Stella was gorgeous even when she glared at him with those narrowed golden eyes, pursed lips, and furrowed brow. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes flashed with her inner cat’s fury, and her body was stiff, with her back ramrod straight. “Shifter Operations Command?”

  “Yes,” Cole confirmed. “Welcome to the team.”

  The guys were quiet while he and Stella had their little stare-off, their silence a fucking miracle in and of itself. He held out his hand, palm-up, and waited for her to take it so he could help her off the ground. She’d fallen in a heap of sequins and shiny material, and he didn’t imagine she’d manage to climb to her feet too well. Not with all that fabric tangling around her legs.

  Stella’s glare remained while she placed her palm in his and he helped her to stand. The glittering dress slid over her curves. The woman was made to be worshipped, and he was more than ready to apply for the job.

  He’d start with her lips and gradually work his way down, lingering here and there—tasting every part of her he could reach.

  When she was steady on two feet, she snatched her hand from his and turned that penetrating glare on the rest of the group. “I appreciate the invitation, but I already have a job.”

  Cole quirked a brow. “If your ‘job’ is to destroy James Walters and the rest of his merry band of psychos, I’d say you’re failing.”

  “Only because you interrupted me,” she snapped back at him, and he grinned.

  “Feisty. I like it,” Pike commented, and Cole fought the urge to punch the wolf. Just a quick jab and Pike would be a crumpled heap on the ground.

  Punching Pike was tempting. Very, very tempting.

  Stella’s snarl redirected to Pike for a split second before returning to Cole. He liked it better when she hated on one of the others instead of him.

  Cole resumed criticizing her. “I caught you because you’re a piss-poor—”

  Birch clapped his hands, grabbing their attention and silencing them at the same time. “Enough arguing. It’s time for bed.” Birch pointed at Cole and Stella. “You two have an early flight.” Then he pointed at Grant. “And you have to get set up on the island before they arrive.”

  Grant grunted. The wolf wasn’t one for early mornings.

  Stella tried speaking up again. “I didn’t agree—”

  Birch focused on Stella, bear peeking out past the man’s eyes. “They’ve tried to play nice”—their team leader gestured at their group of unrepentant psychopaths—“but I’m telling you that helping us is your only option. The situation is bigger than you—one person wanting revenge. You’ll get what you want, but not before we get what we want.”

  The scent of Stella’s trepidation, laced with hints of fear, teased Cole’s nose, and his tiger didn’t like that one bit. He opened his mouth to tell Birch to back the fuck off, but a sharp glance from the grizzly had him snapping his teeth together. Sure, Cole Turner was a highly skilled SHOC operative who knew more than a hundred ways to kill a man, but he also wasn’t an idiot. He had no intention of tangling with a grizzly, and that’d be the only outcome if he objected to Birch’s actions.

  Cole slipped his arm around Stella’s waist, secretly pleased when she didn’t attempt to jerk out of his hold. “C’mon. I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

  In my bed. Though he doubted Stella would let him join her. Not that he could blame the she-cat—they were strangers—but that didn’t mean a guy couldn’t dream.

  There were enough beds in the place for the team to double bunk, and Cole had the master bedroom. It was his money paying the mortgage, after all. But there were only enough beds for the team.

  He pretended not to see the smirks the team tossed his way. Group of high school assholes. If Birch wasn’t around to make them behave, they would already be teasing him about sharing a room with Stella. Not that she knew they were sharing a room. He figured they could argue about that privately.

  “Cole and Stella sitting in a tree…” one of the dicks singsonged after them.

  Teenage punks. Though when 90 percent of their time was spent hunting, maiming, and killing, they had to blow off steam some way. Their team just happened to enjoy acting out like a bunch of immature teens.

  Stella remained quiet while he urged her to turn and head down the hallway to their left. They strode past Ethan, the tech-obsessed lion not glancing at them while he tapped at his cell phone. Cole always wondered if the lion was working or playing Farmville. With the kind of men on their team, it was a toss-up.

  He and Stella left the guys behind, turning a corner at the end of the hallway and walking another handful of feet before pausing just outside t
he master bedroom, the door ajar. He nudged it open and let her move past him into the space he’d claimed as his own. His tiger paused long enough to enjoy the view of Stella in their space—their temporary den.

  He followed, closing the door behind him and locking it with a soft click. The low sound had her whirling, dress flaring with the rapid spin.

  “Why’d you lock the door?”

  He huffed out a chuckle. “I’m not big on midnight visitors. I wouldn’t put it past one of the guys to think pranking me—us—is a good idea.” He strode past her, fingers going to his bow tie, and he tugged on the choking bit of fabric. He hated this kind of clothing, necessity or not. “And I don’t feel like searching for you if you disappear in the middle of the night.” Still fumbling with the tie, he tipped his head toward the door. “I’m a light sleeper and that lock is loud. You try escaping and I’ll hear you before you take one step out of the room.”

  Cole ignored yet another glare tossed his way. He also ignored her mumbled “Escape implies I’m a prisoner” comment. He was too busy fighting with the damned piece-of-shit bow tie to care if he angered her further. He toed off his shoes to the right of the door and padded across the carpeted floor to the nearby dresser with attached mirror. He leaned forward, intent on his reflection while he pulled and tugged.

  Stella sighed and grumbled, the swish of her skirts the only hint that she was in motion. She soon came into sight, and he met her gaze in the mirror’s reflection. The harsh edge of her anger had softened a little.

  “Turn to face me.” She sighed, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. “You’ll just keep making it worse.”

  Cole angled his body toward hers, standing still while those delicate fingers went to work on the silk. This close, he was able to see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the various shades of red in her hair. It wasn’t a single color, but made up of strands that ranged from the deepest maroon to an almost pale blond. Her hair color was as varied as the facets of her personality.

  “Had a lot of practice with bow ties?”

  Stella smirked, a single brow rising with that tiny grin. “Enough.”

  Cole grunted. He didn’t like that she’d had “enough” familiarity with men’s clothing. He also didn’t like that he didn’t like it.

  “My father has”—she coughed and cleared her throat, falling silent for a moment before speaking again—“had a hard time with them. While my mother got ready, I’d help him.” She tugged one last time, and then silk slipped against cotton as she pulled the tie from around his neck. “There you go.” She patted his chest with the hand still clutching the silk. He imagined the heat of her skin sank through his dress shirt, her warmth causing the frozen shell of his heart to thaw. Just a little. “You’re free of the big bad bow tie.”

  The weight of her touch lessened as she withdrew, fingertips trailing over fabric. Cole snatched her wrist before she could retreat, engulfing the fine bones in his grip. He stroked her pulse point with his thumb, the rapid flutter of her heartbeat telling him even more about the jaguar shifter. She put on a brave front, hissing and spitting at him while maintaining that glare, but it was a front.

  Stella was scared.

  His tiger told him that was unacceptable. Well, shit. It wasn’t like Cole’s human mind reveled in her fear. But it was his human mind that’d have to deal with soothing her. They had to work together, and being at odds wouldn’t help their cover story.

  “Had?” Cole rubbed small circles over her silken skin. Her breath caught. From his question or his touch?

  “It’s not…” Stella licked her lips, pink tongue making a quick appearance, and he swallowed the growl rising inside him. He wanted to follow her tongue with his own once again, explore her hidden depths. The kiss they’d shared in that study hadn’t been nearly enough. “There’s no reason to share life stories.”

  And didn’t that stab him in the gut. It felt like a knee to the balls and a swift uppercut to his chin. Stella whooped his ass with those few words, telling him exactly what she thought of him—them.

  He mentally shook his head, trying to banish the pain that came with her denial. Why the hell should he be hurt? She was no one. Nothing. A woman who’d help him get a job done. Right.

  Besides, he wasn’t a “sharing” kind of guy. Pouring out secrets was a chick thing, and Cole was anything but a chick. They didn’t need to get to know each other to complete the mission. They didn’t need to braid each other’s hair or paint each other’s nails—chick shit—to dig up the dirt before the end of the weekend.

  His tiger snorted, tail flicking in agitation. Yeah, he didn’t believe himself, either.

  Then the AC kicked on and he was assaulted by a new wave of flavors. He drew in a deep breath and sorted through them, ignoring those from his team. He singled out Stella’s emotions. He found her anger and frustration, but there was something hidden just a little deeper.

  Pain. Not physical pain. This was emotional pain.

  Cole didn’t release her, choosing to continue stroking her in small circles in what he hoped was a soothing motion. “We need to share some things. No one will believe you’re my lover if we know nothing about each other.”

  It was an underhanded way to learn more about her, but he didn’t care.

  Stella’s breath hitched when he said “lover.” That was followed by an increase in her pulse and a change in her scent. He caught a hint of musky sweetness—the beginnings of arousal shoving aside her emotional pain. His tiger purred, encouraged by the subtle change. It wanted to hunt for more of that aroma. Hunt it to its source and lap up every drop.

  She jerked against his hold, but he held fast. He wasn’t ready to release her. He enjoyed the feel of her skin too much.

  “I’m meant to be your little trophy this weekend. Since when do rich assholes know anything about their trophies?” Stella quirked a brow.

  He gasped and pressed his free hand to his chest. “You wound me. I’m not just a rich asshole. I’m an obscenely rich asshole.”

  He gave her a teasing smirk, one that usually made women whimper and swoon. He lifted her hand and brought it to his mouth. Then he gave her wrist one last caress with his thumb before replacing it with his lips.

  “I would never call a woman a trophy. A gift, perhaps, but never a trophy.” He spoke softly, his lips brushing her wrist. “Women aren’t meant to be fought and won. They aren’t meant to be purchased like a toy. They should be seduced.”

  Stella’s lips parted ever so slightly, her chest expanding as she drew in a deep lungful of air. He knew what her jaguar would find in the myriad scents surrounding them—his desire for her.

  “Is that what you’re doing? Seducing me?” She had been trying for snark, but the words came out as a breathy whisper.

  “Yes, but if you have to ask, I must be doing it wrong.” He flashed her a teasing grin and winked, releasing the building tension in the room, more out of self-preservation than anything. His cock was hard enough to hammer nails, and his tiger wouldn’t cease its unending roars of encouragement. It was ready to pounce. “Why don’t you let me try again?”

  Stella shook her head, silken curls swaying and sliding over her exposed shoulders. Hints of her natural scent drifted from her, spurring his tiger’s wants to a fever pitch. The asshole urged him to throw Stella over his shoulder and haul her to bed. It didn’t care about the possibility of her still being angry over the whole kidnapping and recruiting her for SHOC thing.

  “Let’s not and say we did. How about that?” She gave him a smile, though it was more like she bared her teeth, lips only slightly curled at the corners, while she glared.

  “It could be fun.” He slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a quick tug. She fell against him, free hand coming to rest on his chest and body flush with his. “I can show you all the wicked things I can do to your body.”

  “Just my body?” She quirked a brow. “You don’t want anything to do with my mind?”<
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  “Hmm…” He pretended to think on her question, but what he really did was draw in more of her addictive scent. He didn’t want to delve back into asking her questions about herself. He’d finally gotten rid of the stink of her pain. He didn’t want it coming back. “That’s something we’ll have to discuss. At length. In intimate detail. I want to know everything about you—body and mind.”

  Stella rolled her eyes and shook her head once more while a change in her scent filled his nose. She wasn’t enjoying his game any longer.

  “Not happening.” She pulled away, and this time he let her go. There was no pleasure in playing with a woman who didn’t enjoy the game. Except hadn’t he just told her it wasn’t a game? “This weekend isn’t happening, either.”

  Cole huffed out a laugh. “We’re back to this argument again? Really?”

  “You can’t just kidnap—”

  “You need to understand that I can. I did.” He sighed and stepped away from her, putting distance between them while he continued to undress. He worked on his cuff links next, dropping the bits of diamonds and platinum in the shallow bowl on the dresser. “We just went over this. The situation is bigger than you.” Then came his dress shirt. Damn the tiny buttons down the front. He tugged and pulled, his thick, blunt fingers having trouble with the small things. He growled, attention on his chest while he continued talking. “It’s bigger than me and my team. This is about our kind.”

  Stella sighed and came to him, the rustle of her dress marking her approach. “Bow ties are one thing, but you can’t even undress yourself?”

  Cole dropped his hands and shrugged. “I never wear a tux. I can’t even remember the last time I wore a business suit.” He stared at the top of her head, her red hair looking like fire in the room’s soft light. “I’m a soldier. You’ll find me in camouflage and war paint before you’ll see me in a tailored suit.”

  She slipped the last button free and moved away once more, gaze pointedly not on his body. Though her scent told him she’d like to stay close. “Even though you’re obscenely rich?”