The sound of Grayson's truck fading down the coast road leaves silence in its wake. I stand in the clearing where the dead tiger's blood has already started to soak into the earth, covered in gore from the fight and sex and everything that happened between.
The cottage door hangs open behind me. Her scent still clings to my skin, mixed with mine. The urge to claim her claws at my control.
"You're losing control." Rafe's voice comes from the shadows near the trees. "Your tiger wanted to claim her. He still wants to claim her."
"I didn't do it."
"This time." He moves into the clearing, studies the dead enforcer with clinical detachment. "What about next time? When she's under you again and instinct decides to take what it thinks it owns?"
"There won't be a next time." The lie tastes like ash even as I speak it.
Rafe makes a sound that might be a laugh. "You really believe that? You just fucked her against the cottage wall while coveredin another shifter's blood, and you think you can walk that back?"
I face him. "What do you want, Rafe? A confession? Fine. My tiger wants her. Now can we focus on the fact that the drop just got moved up and we have three hours to intercept it?"
"That's exactly why we're having this conversation." He doesn't back down. "This halfway shit where you take her to bed but don't complete the bond? It's going to get someone killed when you're distracted at the wrong moment."
"I'm not distracted."
"You're so distracted you nearly claimed her against a wall while covered in blood." Rafe crosses his arms. "Either finish what you started or walk away. Because right now, you're a liability."
The words hit like a fist. "She doesn't know what claiming means. She doesn't understand what she'd be giving up."
"Then tell her. Or don't. But stop pretending you have control over this when we both know your tiger is going to override you eventually." Rafe pulls out his phone. "I'm calling Declan. Get the brotherhood here for emergency planning. Take a shower before they arrive—you smell like a murder scene and a brothel had a collision."
The observation is accurate. I head inside while Rafe makes the call, stepping into the cottage that carries the scent of sex and violence.
The shower runs hot enough to burn. I scrub the blood away, watch it spiral down the drain in rusty streams. The dead enforcer's blood mixed with mine. The water turns pink, then clear.
The water does nothing for the urge to claim her. It does nothing for the way my tiger prowls restless beneath my skin, furious that our mate left with Grayson. She is mine and should be with me.
I twist the tap to ice cold. The shock of it hits like a fist, stealing my breath. My tiger snarls at the discomfort, but the distraction works. Barely.
She's not our mate yet, I remind the beast. She hasn't chosen this. She hasn't agreed to what claiming would mean.
The tiger doesn't care about human concepts like choice or consent. He knows what he wants, what he needs. The rest is just noise.
I turn off the water. Stand dripping in the small bathroom, staring at my reflection in the fogged mirror. The mark on my shoulder from where she bit me during sex hasn't healed yet. Won't heal for hours. Physical proof of what happened between us.
My tiger wants more than that. Wants his teeth in the nape of her neck where the claiming bite belongs. Permanent. Binding.
I wipe the mirror clean, meet my own eyes. The beast stares back, wanting what it wants. Not yet. Not until she understands what she's choosing—if she ever chooses it at all.
I'm dressed and the cottage is mostly cleaned when I hear vehicles approaching. The brotherhood arrives in two cars, and the presence of four alphas in my small cottage makes the air thick.
Declan enters first. "Rafe says the Oban handoff's been moved up. How certain is the intel?"
"Certain enough that the Russians want their artifacts three hours earlier." I move to the kitchen table, spread out the rough map Rafe sketched during his call. "Which means we need to move the selkies before then. They won't survive another delay."
Declan studies the map. "We're using your handoff with the Russians as cover to relocate the selkies. The timeline's tight."
"Too tight." Finn leans against the counter, his dragon gleaming in his stare. "If the Russians suspect anything, if they notice the brotherhood moving cargo during your transaction?—"
"They won't." I don't flinch from his stare. "I'll keep them focused on the artifacts. You move the selkies while they're distracted."
"Three selkies," Rafe says. "Probably traumatized from what they went through. They're weak. We'll need to be careful moving them."
"Catriona's gathering intel on warehouse security." The words come out before I think about how they'll sound. "Schedules, patrol routes, camera locations. Everything we need to move them while staying invisible."
