Page 4 of Tempting the Tiger
I take a swig of my beer, relishing my first taste of something different. It’s not an exaggeration to say it’s the best beer I’ve ever had. Sitting here with my brother, sharing a drink, is the first time I’ve truly been able to relax since my arrest.
I lean back and take in the new plants he’s got, snorting at theHow to Train Your Dragonposter on the wall behind the sofa, then stand and walk over to the framed pencil sketch that looks really fucking familiar.
It’s the first drawing I did of the eighteenth-century manor house that inspired me to become an architect. The lines have faded a bit over time, but the memories definitely haven’t.
I ignore the tightness in my chest and take a gulp of my beer.
Milo waves to catch my attention. ‘You’re in the spare room. I had to get rid of your desk to fit a bed in there. Your stuff is still boxed up next to your Fender. Figured you’d want to unpack it yourself.’
I give a sharp nod. I’m less bothered about my few belongings, but I’m itching to get my hands on my bass again. The vibrations soothe me like nothing else.
‘Help yourself to any food in the fridge. If you finish something, add it to the shopping list. I’ll send you a link. Your new phone is on your bed, along with a credit card linked to mine and a new bank card for your account.’ He stops when I frown.
I put my beer down on the coffee table to free up my hands. ‘You didn’t put my prison earnings in there, did you?’
I arranged to transfer my meagre savings from my pitiful prison wage to him to cover some of my basic expenses, like food. I’ll be annoyed if he’s transferred it to my bank account instead of using it.
He shrugs, palms up, like he couldn’t possibly know what I’m talking about.
I narrow my eyes, retrieve my beer, and head for my bedroom. I’ll check my account online later. Some time playing my bass has to happen first, and then I’ll see whether I have any clothes that still fit.
They’re small steps in rebuilding my life, but they’re a start.
‘Bryn!’ The grinning face of my little sister greets me from my phone screen. ‘I’m glad I caught you. Are you about to go inside? You start this morning, right?’
I smile at Zara’s careful hand movements. ‘Yeah, in about ten minutes. When do I get to see you?’
‘It might be a couple of days. Dad is determined to keep me away from you. It’s so unfair. I wanted to be there when you got released yesterday.’
Her pout makes my heart clench. Between the more sophisticated make-up she’s wearing, her new nose piercing, and the way her curly hair cascades over her shoulders, she looks so much more grown-up now.
‘I wanted that too, but we’ll see each other soon.’
‘And fly?’
I hide my wince. ‘Definitely. I have to head in, but message me later?’
‘I will.’ She blows me a kiss before ending the call.
Fuck, I miss her. Things won’t feel settled until I can hug my sister again.
I pick up my phone from where I’d propped it against the ridge of the roof I’m crouched on and stand up, pocketing it. The corrugated metal underneath me is strong enough to handle the weight of my dragon, and is a far better take-off and landing spot than the crowded car park below. I walk to the edge of the massive warehouse, to where I spotted a ladder when I was coming in to land, and climb down until I hit the tarmac.
I head around to the front of the building, trying to keep the scowl from my face. Part of the agreement the fae people have with the British Supernatural Government, known to everyone as the BSG, is that as well as running the prisons they’re also responsible for getting recently released people like me back on their feet. They meet this requirement with a mandatory work programme, where they pay minimum wage and in return get guaranteed cheap labour for their many businesses.
I’ve been assigned to Far Out Freight, a global distribution business catering to the needs of fae around the world. It’s not that I’m too proud to be a warehouse worker—although it does seem a waste of the furniture-building skills I learnt in prison—but this business is owned by Lance, the fae responsible for my extended stay in Wargate.
Whichever fae over at Realm Enterprises assigned me here must have been feeling particularly spiteful when they decided on my work placement.
I’ve got the email with the relevant details pulled up on my phone, ready to show the receptionist, but when I walk through the glass doors there’s a familiar face waiting for me.
Harley, my cellmate in Wargate up until his release two months ago, straightens from where he’s talking to the femalerabbit shifter behind the reception desk. He looks me over, inhaling.
‘Who do you smell of?’ His hand movements are as smooth as always, although his eyebrows pull together.
‘My brother. Do I not even get a hello?’ I smirk.
He loses the frown and gives me a bro hug as soon as I’m close enough. He’s a little shorter than I am but has bulked up a lot since I last saw him—likely thanks to reconnecting with his wolf and getting enough to eat on a regular basis, although there’s no doubt he’s been working out as well. He’s trimmed his bushy black beard into a shorter, neater version since he got out, and his ebony skin is looking significantly healthier.
