Page 5 of Tempting the Tiger
He lets me go and steps back. ‘It’s good to see you in something other than grey.’
I snort, a little puff of white smoke escaping my nostrils. We’re wearing identical work-issue black hoodies with the company logo on, simply swapping one uniform for another.
‘Same.’ I raise my eyebrows. ‘Don’t tell me they agreed to let you show me around?’
He smirks and reaches over to the reception desk to pick up a security card, which he hands to me. ‘There’s a supervisors’ meeting happening right now, so you get me. Keep that card on you at all times. You use it to clock in as well as get through this next door, which leads onto the warehouse floor, and they take the cost of a replacement out of your pay.’
I nod and cross to the only other door in the small space, then tap the card against the little black pad at the side. The small red light changes to green, so I open the door, walk through into the main part of the warehouse, and immediately have to shield my eyes.
Holyfuck, it’s bright in here. Every single box on the industrial shelving glows faintly golden with magic. Individually it wouldn’t be a big deal, but the racks stretch throughout most of the cavernous steel-framed, corrugated-roofed space. There aredoors on one side that could be offices, a metal staircase leading upwards to a single door above the rest, and a loading area where a couple of forklifts are lifting pallets onto waiting lorries. A shimmering air barrier constructed with fae magic keeps any wind and rain out, and the warehouse at a reasonable, albeit cool, temperature.
Harley taps my shoulder to get my attention. ‘What’s wrong?’
Since a quick glance at the soaring roof confirms that there are fae spells which act as security cameras, I keep the explanation brief and my signs small and tight. The last thing I want is for any fae to discover I can see magic.
‘It’s brighter than I’m used to.’ I’m going to have to come up with a way to cope with the glare, or find an excuse for wearing sunglasses indoors.
Understanding dawns on his face. ‘The containment fields on the boxes?’
I give a sharp nod before I’m distracted by movement behind him. Several fae leave one of the side rooms, all of them glamoured to hide their opaque, insect-like wings and pointed ears, and to soften their otherworldly facial structure. Some are also using their glamour to show different clothing than they’re actually wearing as well. Since my magical sight includes the ability to see through any glamour it’s like seeing double, with their real appearance overlaid with how they want to appear to the rest of the world.
Last out is a familiar fae that has my dragon curling up smaller inside me. I glare at the fae bastard who my dragon should want to threaten instead of hide from, my muscles tensing.
From his pale white skin to the various gold rings he wears on both hands and his sleek black hair, Lance’s glamour is similar to his real appearance. The only things he disguises are the way his black suit jacket is styled to allow for long wing slits, and his distinctly fae features: the tips of his ears, his faded charcoal wings, and his ethereal, ageless face.
He smirks when he notices me, the fucker. I clench my fists to stop myself signing something that’ll get me fired.
As soon as Harley turns and sees who I’m glaring at, he grips my shoulder and steers me in the opposite direction. He lets me go when we’re a safe distance away.
‘Rebuild, not revenge, remember?’ His hand movements are sharp, a reminder of our pact.
I give him a nod and force myself to unclench my fists. ‘I know. Come on, show me what the fuck to do.’
Chapter Two
RAJ
I walk naked back into my bedroom, carefully patting my hair dry with a towel. I blindly reach into my underwear drawer only to freeze at the feel of fake fur under my fingers. Slowly, I lower the towel and stare at the drawer full of soft tiger toys. I sigh and hang my head.
My prank war with Jet, one of my fellow Lupo Pack members, has been going on for years. Recently he’s convinced our alpha-mate, Ayo, to disguise his scent, probably bribing the sorcerer with his mum’s baking, if I know Jet.
It used to be that I’d know the minute I opened my flat door if Jet had been here and I could hunt out whatever he’d done. Instead I’m left wondering where the heck my underwear is when I need to leave in less than ten minutes.
I rifle through the cuddly tigers in the faint hope that he’s just shoved them in on top, but there’s nothing but the hard bottom of the drawer. I open the next drawer down and stare in disbelief at more tiger toys, all of which look eerily similar to my tiger form.
Okay, this is starting to piss me off. I don’t care how cute these things are; I can’t freeball it in an Armani suit.
I pull out every single drawer, only to find no clothes and a thousand stupid cuddly toys. How many of these things did Jet buy?
I rush to my wardrobe, yank it open, and take a moment to breathe. My suits and shirts are all still hanging up neatly, thank goodness. It’s just my casual clothes and underwear that are missing.
Now, where would Jet have hidden them? I refuse to give him the satisfaction of calling to yell at him.
Two minutes later, I drag my suitcase out of the hall cupboard and let out a sigh of relief at the weight of it. I unzip it and sure enough, I’ve found my missing clothes.
I have to rush to finish getting ready on time, barely having enough time to style my hair before I leave my flat in a chaotic mess, then spend the short drive over to my alpha’s flat planning my revenge. Hardly anyone is about on the dark neutral zone streets, and there are several available spaces in the underground car park thanks to the early hour. By the time I unlock Ethan and Ayo’s flat door with the key Ethan gave me when we first moved to Birchester, I know exactly how I’m going to get Jet back.
I pause just inside the wards, checking for sex noises in case they need privacy for a bit longer, but it sounds like one of them is moving around the kitchen, the other in the bathroom, and I can smell coffee, sausages, and eggs, so I judge it safe to enter.
