She's changing this place just by being here, marking it in ways that will linger long after she's gone.
My phone buzzes. Rafe's name lights up the screen.
Brotherhood's mobilizing. Sending you intel on the syndicate. Review it and we'll strategize tomorrow. You good?
I send a quick response.
Cottage secure. She's adjusting.
His reply comes immediately.
Your tiger's riding you hard. I can sense it in your words. Be careful, brother. Mates complicate everything.
He's not wrong. My tiger wants to claim, to mark, to bind her to me in ways that would horrify her human sensibilities. My rational mind understands why that's impossible.
She's human, law enforcement, dedicated to justice in forms that conflict with everything I've become. Even if she accepts what I am, I’m not sure she could truly accept all that I've done.
Setting the phone aside, I stare into the fire, watching flames consume wood the way attraction threatens to consume control.
This is temporary. The brotherhood will dismantle the syndicate, eliminate the threat, and Catriona will go back to her life as a cop. We'll work together until it's done, then go our separate ways. I'll return to smuggling and exile, to the careful balance I've maintained between survival and damnation.
The mate bond my tiger insists exists will fade without the claiming, becoming just another regret in a life full of roads not taken.
But sitting here in the darkness, surrounded by her presence, knowing she's sleeping merely a few feet away from me, that truth rings hollow. It's the lie I'm telling myself to survive the night.
Sprawled on the couch, laptop open, I review the latest intelligence Rafe sent about syndicate operations in Scotland.
The network's larger than we suspected. The syndicate runs trafficking routes through Aberdeen, Glasgow, Edinburgh. Supernatural artifacts move through customs using legitimate art dealers as fronts. Human slaves disappear into black markets that cater to predators with twisted appetites.
The brotherhood's been fighting this cancer for years, cutting away cells only to watch them regenerate elsewhere.
But Catriona's evidence changes the game. She's documented the human side of the operation with the precision of someone who understands how to build cases that stick. She has financial records, shipping manifests, witness statements, surveillance footage. She has everything needed to dismantle the infrastructure while the brotherhood handles supernatural elements, if she survives long enough to testify, if the Russians don't find her first. My tiger snarls at the thought, possessive and violent. Anyone who tries to harm her dies screaming, torn apart by claws designed to kill efficiently.
The bedroom door opens. Closing the laptop, my senses sharpen as Catriona emerges wearing sleep clothes that cover her from neck to ankle but somehow emphasize curves my hands remember from catching her when she fell. Her hair's loose, falling past her shoulders in waves that catch the dim light.
She looks younger without the armor of her uniform, more vulnerable, though her stance remains alert and ready.
"Can't sleep?" I keep my voice low, non-threatening, though the beast pushes against my control, wanting to go to her.
"Too much adrenaline." She moves to the kitchen, comfortable in darkness that would blind most humans. She's worked night shifts in places where darkness means danger. "Also questions. So many questions I don't even know where to start asking them."
"Start anywhere." Uncurling from the couch, I give her space while positioning myself where I can watch her reactions. "You've earned the right to ask and expect an answer."
She fills a glass with water from the tap, drinks deeply, then turns to face me. The counter creates a barrier between us, physical and psychological.
"Tell me about shifters. How this works. What I'm dealing with."
She needs to understand the world she's entered if she's going to survive it.
"We're born, not made." I keep it casual despite tension humming through my frame. "Every shifter clan has different animals, different rules, different politics. Tigers have clans, not packs. We're solitary by nature, coming together only for mating or territorial disputes."
She's already fitting pieces together, her mind working through the implications.
"The brotherhood here is unusual, predators who shouldn't cooperate but do because Declan built something worth protecting."
"The others I met tonight. Wolf, bear, panther. Different clans?"
"Different species, different origins. Declan's his pack's alpha, which means wolves follow his authority naturally. Grayson's a bear from an ancient line that guards sacred places. Rafe's a panther with shadow magic he doesn't talk about. Jax is a wolf who barely stays in his skin and is Declan's second in command. Finn's something older, dragon blood that makes even other shifters nervous."
