Page 7 of Tiger Born

Red Flag. “Your…your uncle?”

“Yep.”

“And the branches?” he asked. One was jamming him in the leg. He snapped it off and kicked some of the others away from him.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of nest you need! I was trying to make you comfortable.”

He stared at the pile of dried limbs she’d shoved tightly all around him. Sarcastically, he said, “Maybe next time try a bed of nails.”

“Okay, you know what? I’m traumatized from whatever this is, and you’re being rude to me.” She shoved him and he fell over with a yelp. “Take your own staples out, asshole.”

And then he watched her stand up and make her way to a table where she had a bunch of medical utensils. In shock, he pushed back up on a locked arm and studied his chest and stomach. Stellan had tried to fuckin’ eat him. He was going to kill his dumbest brother.

He might have…well…he might have actually died this time without Misty helping him. He inhaled deeply and muttered, “I need food.”

“That wasn’t even close to an apology, and you know what? You’re welcome.”

“What?”

“You’re. Welcome,” she snapped, turning toward him and leaning a half-cocked hip against the table of medical supplies.

Her eyes were blue fire and resting unblinking on him. Whoo, spicy little human.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She cupped her ear. “Heh? Come again? I can’t hear your gratefulness.”

“Are you always like this?” he demanded.

“Again. Traumatized! Twice. By whatever it is you and your brother are doing. I have a good life,” she snapped. “I was almost engaged four months ago. I have an apartment, and a savings account, and I’m thinking about getting a cat. I have four plants I haven’t killed yet, and I’m respected at my job. I pay all my own bills and don’t ask anyone for anything. The only drama I currently have in my life is that you and your brothers keep trying to kill me! And I don’t even know your name!”

Damian cleared his throat and ducked his gaze to the weird nest she had made him. It was kind of sweet in a weird way, if he was a fuckin’ seagull or something.

“Damian Ledger. People call me Dame.” He winced as he plucked a staple from a healed line under his collar bone. People would be calling him Frankenstein’s monster if they spied him at the pool this summer.

He dropped the staple into the metal bowl with the others. It made a soft clink sound. “My body rejects silver,” he ground out.

“Sounds like a werewolf thing, but you are a tiger. I saw you. I’ve had nightmares about it for years.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to Change in front of you, lady. I was a little busy trying to save your life.”

“Yeah well…” She gestured to him. “Now we’re even.”

His head was throbbing and he scrubbed his hands down his face.

“You look like death and you still have a six pack,” she muttered, gesturing to his stomach.

Dame looked down at himself. “Yeah, well that’s literally the one pro to being the monster. I stay chiseled.”

“Well, that is kind of awesome,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She was still staring at his torso, and her eyes had softened. Ha. She liked what she saw, even through the mauling and the scars. He could tell.

“Bet it gets you all the ladies.”

“Oh yeah, all the ladies that I can’t maintain a relationship with because I’m half fuckin’ tiger. Lucky me. I’m killin’ it at life.”

“Your eyes do look insane,” she said, gesturing to his face.

Oh, he could imagine what he looked like right now. His tiger would be riled up until he was fully healed. His eyes would be molten gold and glowing, and the angles of his face would be sharp as glass for another day at least. “What’s up with the almost fiancé?”