“You didn’t mention Carly,” Spike said as they sped down the 35, past downtown and Reunion Arena, and into the southern reaches of the city. “Or that he was shagging her most of the night last night.”

“Shite, are all the rooms in my house bugged?”

“The windows were open. Tiger’s kind of loud. I didn’t hear, but Deni did. She told me. So did her cubs. And Ellison. And Connor—his bedroom’s right under Tiger’s. Glory mentioned it too.”

“Gobshite,” Liam muttered. “If it’s all over Shiftertown already, Bowman must know. Or he will soon. I didn’t say anything about Carly because I don’t want the other leaders too worried about Tiger taking a mate. At the same time, Carly’s the only person I’ve met who can calm him down. Connor can, sometimes, but not like Carly. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“If she has his cub . . .” Spike veered around a slow truck and car. “Bowman might want to kill it too.”

“I know.” Neither Liam nor Spike wanted to think about that, both men having cubs they loved. “Or at least Bowman might want to pen it up and watch it. Goddess, they’re worse than the humans.”

“They don’t want Tiger’s existence to make humans decide it’s too dangerous to let Shifters live.”

Spike never talked much—but when he did talk, he proved he was more than muscle, more than a stupid fighting Shifter, as too many Shifters thought him. Even Liam had made that mistake once.

Spike had distilled the entire meeting into that one sentence.

“I know,” Liam said again. He let out a breath. “If Tiger has to die, it’s going to be me who kills him. I’m not giving him to Bowman or anyone else in that room, not even Eric. I owe Tiger that much, at least.”

* * *

Tiger trailed his hand down the sweet softness of Carly’s belly. Early-morning sunshine had strengthened and poured into his bedroom, the summer heat coming with it.

Carly opened her eyes a crack, looked at him, and let out a little moan. “Oh, no way I can do it again. Not yet.”

Tiger glided fingertips around her navel. Inside, tiny in her abdomen, new life would be stirring. He sensed it already, and the thought filled him with both a joy and a fear.

“No,” Tiger said. “Now is for resting. And pancakes.”

“Thank God for that.” Carly rolled onto her side, facing him, snuggled against his chest. “I’ve never had that much sex in my life. Not in one night. Wait, I think not ever.”

Tiger traced her cheekbone. He couldn’t stop touching her. “I like front to front.”

Carly laughed, shaking delightfully. “I figured that out. So do I.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Then, after pancakes . . . ?”

Carly’s laugh started up again. She rubbed a hand across Tiger’s healed side, and the caress both tickled and warmed him. “You have superstrength. I’m an ordinary human woman. You have to give me a little bit of a break, to recover. After that, we can talk.”

Tiger cupped his hand around her arm. “I’d never hurt you, Carly.”

He spoke nothing but the truth. Carly lifted her head and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I know.”

Tiger lost himself in kissing her for a moment. Why hadn’t anyone told him that the strange practice of pressing lips was this satisfying? No, not satisfying. More than that. He needed to learn new words from Connor. Hot. Sensual. Wonderful.

After a long time, Carly lifted her head and drew a breath. “Being with you is . . . I don’t know. Amazing.” She sounded like she was having trouble finding words too. “Now, what about those pancakes? You making them?”

Tiger laughed. He hadn’t laughed out loud since . . . Had he ever? Once or twice with Connor, but never like this. The laugh filled his stomach, then his lungs, then came out between his lips, his smile stretching his face.

A new sensation. Another miracle from Carly.

“Liam cooks,” he said. “Or Sean comes over. Sean’s better. They won’t let me near the stove. Or knives.”

“You don’t need knives. You have those really sharp claws I saw when you turned into a tiger.”

She stopped and shivered, and Tiger’s laughter dissolved. He hadn’t given Carly time to process that she was with a man who could become a beast. He didn’t want her to have time—time was what he didn’t have. Tiger didn’t know how he knew that, but he did.

They finally left the bed and pulled on clothes, Carly gasping and pressing her hands to her face when she saw herself in the mirror over his dresser. Tiger had no idea why she thought she looked awful, as she said. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He took her down to the second floor and to the house’s one bathroom, where Carly shut him out while she ran water and kept up a conversation through the door that he couldn’t make out. Didn’t matter; he just liked hearing her voice.

Carly came out, her hair damp and combed, her face clean of makeup and dust. Tiger took her hand and walked her downstairs to the ground floor, where the smell of pancakes on the griddle filled the big kitchen.

The man standing at the griddle, a towel tucked into his jeans as an apron, was Sean, not Liam. A quick scenting told Tiger Liam wasn’t in the house.

Sean’s mate, Andrea, sat at the kitchen table, her cub on her lap. She held the little boy’s hands while he stood on her thighs, his little bare feet pressing her jeans. Kenny Morrissey was seven months old with a round, chubby face and gray eyes like his mother’s.

Connor puttered around the kitchen as well, fetching things out of the refrigerator for Sean. He glared when he saw Tiger and Carly walk in.

“Goddess, how much sleeping do you think I got with your bed banging away over my head all night? I thought Liam and Kim were bad.”

Carly turned cherry red. “Sorry, Connor.”

“I should run up to bed right now and catch some shut-eye. Either that or I’m trading rooms with you, Tiger. That one used to be mine.”

“Really sorry.” Carly cleared her throat. “Mind if I have some of that juice?” She gestured to the pitcher of orange juice and glasses on the table, the movement elegant.

“Help yourself.” Andrea bounced Kenny and smiled into his face. “Oh, yeah, little man. You’ll be walking soon, won’t you? Look at you go.”