felt for Victor Romanov to the back of her mind. She couldn’t have him. And no one else had ever come close to capturing her interest. She’d wanted him for years, but they weren’t meant to be. That made forgoing the Run easy.
She forced herself to focus on her anger and those stupid fucks stalking through her land. Being distracted now would only get her hurt. A cool autumn breeze brought her the rich smells the surrounding woods, the moist dirt, the sweet, pungent detritus, the earthy mix of beech, maple, and a hint of pine bark, the faint tang of the few small mammals brave enough to frequent her territory…and the sharp bite of male tiger musk.
Her lip curled.
When she sensed them nearing, she let her growl carry into the trees, a warning and a challenge. Two of the five answered with soft chuffing noises. Frowning, she studied the darkness. Five. But she was sure there were six. Where was he now?
She let her senses stretch, trying to find that sixth, but the appearance of the others divided her attention. Three Siberian tigers and two Bengals stepped from the woods, forming a semi-circle around the front of her home. She narrowed her eyes and let their scent-signatures come to her, trying to identify them. Each had a unique combination of feline musk and the complex weave of pheromones that were impossible to put into human words. If pushed, she’d describe them as a kind of individualized spice mixture, but some of the “spices” didn’t actually exist.
She knew two of the invaders.
One Siberian, Nick Jameson, was a fellow Tracker and until this moment she would have considered him a friend of sorts. At the least, a respected colleague. She was more than a little surprised he was a part of all this, as he’d never shown any particular interest in her—not any more interest than he showed any other female.
The second, a Bengal named Dev Gupta, was another story. He’d been pestering her for the last two years. Despite her rebukes, he’d continued hitting on her, once getting so aggressive she’d had to dislocate his shoulder to make her point clear. He hadn’t been nearly as forward since, but she wasn’t shocked to see him.
She studied the other three and thought she might recognize another of the Siberians. He seemed vaguely familiar. She encountered a lot of tigers during the course of her job, especially at the elders’ U.S. compound in West Virginia. As the seat of her people’s government here in the States, the compound saw a steady stream of tigers in and out for audiences with the elders or to deal with political and legal issues. She could have met him there at some point, but she couldn’t put a human face or a name to him.
The remaining two were strangers to her, so she made sure to memorize their unique scent-signatures. She held each of their gazes in turn, letting them see her anger, her irritation, her complete lack of fear. She let another soft growl fill the air.
The woods fell silent. The air went still and cold. Alexis matched the quiet of her surroundings—a dangerous predator waiting for her opponent to blink first.
Finally, Nick stepped forward and shifted. She kept her attention on the group as she waited for him to finish. The process took only a few minutes, which was a sign of a strong male. She made note, filing the fact away for use in the fight she knew was coming.
“Alex,” Nick said when he straightened to his full height.
He was over six feet tall with shaggy brown hair and dark blue eyes. He was muscular, a trained fighter, not a tiger to be taken lightly.
“Nick. You have some explaining to do.” As soon as she said the words, a silly part of her wanted to say the line again with a strong Cuban accent, an imitation of Desi Arnaz’s oft-repeated line in I Love Lucy , but she resisted the impulse. This wasn’t a moment for her odd humor.
“You know why we’re here,” Nick said.
“You know I don’t run.”
“You’ve had your little
She forced herself to focus on her anger and those stupid fucks stalking through her land. Being distracted now would only get her hurt. A cool autumn breeze brought her the rich smells the surrounding woods, the moist dirt, the sweet, pungent detritus, the earthy mix of beech, maple, and a hint of pine bark, the faint tang of the few small mammals brave enough to frequent her territory…and the sharp bite of male tiger musk.
Her lip curled.
When she sensed them nearing, she let her growl carry into the trees, a warning and a challenge. Two of the five answered with soft chuffing noises. Frowning, she studied the darkness. Five. But she was sure there were six. Where was he now?
She let her senses stretch, trying to find that sixth, but the appearance of the others divided her attention. Three Siberian tigers and two Bengals stepped from the woods, forming a semi-circle around the front of her home. She narrowed her eyes and let their scent-signatures come to her, trying to identify them. Each had a unique combination of feline musk and the complex weave of pheromones that were impossible to put into human words. If pushed, she’d describe them as a kind of individualized spice mixture, but some of the “spices” didn’t actually exist.
She knew two of the invaders.
One Siberian, Nick Jameson, was a fellow Tracker and until this moment she would have considered him a friend of sorts. At the least, a respected colleague. She was more than a little surprised he was a part of all this, as he’d never shown any particular interest in her—not any more interest than he showed any other female.
The second, a Bengal named Dev Gupta, was another story. He’d been pestering her for the last two years. Despite her rebukes, he’d continued hitting on her, once getting so aggressive she’d had to dislocate his shoulder to make her point clear. He hadn’t been nearly as forward since, but she wasn’t shocked to see him.
She studied the other three and thought she might recognize another of the Siberians. He seemed vaguely familiar. She encountered a lot of tigers during the course of her job, especially at the elders’ U.S. compound in West Virginia. As the seat of her people’s government here in the States, the compound saw a steady stream of tigers in and out for audiences with the elders or to deal with political and legal issues. She could have met him there at some point, but she couldn’t put a human face or a name to him.
The remaining two were strangers to her, so she made sure to memorize their unique scent-signatures. She held each of their gazes in turn, letting them see her anger, her irritation, her complete lack of fear. She let another soft growl fill the air.
The woods fell silent. The air went still and cold. Alexis matched the quiet of her surroundings—a dangerous predator waiting for her opponent to blink first.
Finally, Nick stepped forward and shifted. She kept her attention on the group as she waited for him to finish. The process took only a few minutes, which was a sign of a strong male. She made note, filing the fact away for use in the fight she knew was coming.
“Alex,” Nick said when he straightened to his full height.
He was over six feet tall with shaggy brown hair and dark blue eyes. He was muscular, a trained fighter, not a tiger to be taken lightly.
“Nick. You have some explaining to do.” As soon as she said the words, a silly part of her wanted to say the line again with a strong Cuban accent, an imitation of Desi Arnaz’s oft-repeated line in I Love Lucy , but she resisted the impulse. This wasn’t a moment for her odd humor.
“You know why we’re here,” Nick said.
“You know I don’t run.”
“You’ve had your little
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