HURRICANE (Beasts of Prey Book 2) Read online

  He takes it. Puma slides himself in, quietly closing the door behind him. "How are you holding up?"

  I look at myself from the mirror. The fading bruises on my jaw are now on sight when I shaved the days' old stubble away. Those combined with the dark circles around my eyes, makes me look like shit—precisely what I feel like.

  "I need to clear my head," I tell him, moving my eyes to Puma through the mirror. Feels like my skin is vacuum packing me. Every breath I let out makes it squeeze tighter around me.

  "Yeah, I know, man." Puma hands me a small towel, his bright green eyes locked on me, studying me inch by inch. Surprisingly, there's no reddish shade in his eyes, and it makes his eyes more striking—as he could actually read me.

  Wiping my face dry, I block his stare, trying to figure out how to say things. I don't even know if I want to tell him about last night. The strangling on my throat feels like I have the rope around it all over again—as I've already failed with her too.

  "Hey, go running. Let's talk after it if you feel like it," he sighs, pulling on a smile which doesn't reach his eyes. "I'll be with Cobra, and I promise she's perfectly safe with me."

  Fuck.

  I drop my head back, scrubbing my face. "There's one thing you should know." I take a long inhale through my nose, keeping control of my emotions. "She's having hallucinations."

  "What? Oh, shit," Puma gasps under his breath, slamming a hand to his forehead.

  Bringing my gaze to him, I nod. "Yeah, she—" the knot in my chest tightens. "She almost shot me last night."

  "Holy fuck. Holy fuck." He leans back, biting his knuckles. "Oh, hell, she really should take those pills. This can't go on like this."

  "I'm not going to force her." I frown at him, anger lingering from my core to my fingertips like a vine. My hands curl into fists as I stare at him. "And neither will you. It's Cobra's decision."

  "Dude, you said she almost shot you!" he whisper-yells at me, throwing his palms in the air. "What if the next night she actually pulls the trigger? It can't happen!"

  "Keep your fucking voice down, idiot. She is sleeping, finally." I poke my index finger to his chest. "I'll make sure she won't shoot me, but we're not forcing her to take drugs."

  "Oh, God," Puma sighs, covering his face with his palms, cocking his head back. For a while, he mutters all kinds of vivid curse words, while I pull on a black hoodie.

  "It's almost six, I gotta go," I tell him. "Be careful, and if Cobra wakes up, don't push her about the fucking drugs, or I'll beat the shit out of you."

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah." He gives me a meaningful look. "You gonna tell Dad?"

  My stomach churns. "Will see."

  ~

  The sweat pours down my back, gluing the hoodie to my shoulder blades. Focusing on breathing, I keep myself from panting. In through my nose, out from my mouth. The soft sand forces me to concentrate on every step, or otherwise running turns into scrambling.

  It's therapeutic.

  All you have to do is find a way to keep breathing and don't stop. Move forward—one step at a time.

  That's what I have to do with Cobra. One step at a time. After running for almost an hour already without speaking a single word, my head is getting clearer. It's so fucking obvious I don't know how the fuck it didn't occur to my mind earlier. I've thought I need to make her feel better as soon as possible. Quickly get her out of the nightmares she's been living.

  But that's not how she did it to me.

  No. Cobra gave me all the fucking time in the world five years ago—she's always given me time, even when I've been in dark places.

  My hand trembles on the doorknob as I gather my breath, finding the strength to open it. It's my choice.

  It's my choice.

  "It's me," her happy vibrating timbre comes from the other side, and the sound of it makes my heart take extra bounces. "Have breakfast with me, Tiger."

  Tiger.

  I'm Tiger.

  I'm not Anthony anymore. I'm not that boy anymore.

  She gave me the new name yesterday—new me. I can be more than this—better than this. I want to be more than a coward hiding in a room, afraid to live the life I was left with. Tightening my hold on the door, I force the tremble to stop and open the safety lock, trusting her to be alone like she always is. This time, when I open the door, I don't back away.

  I open the door for her. The most beautiful pair of hazel eyes look straight at me, just for a second, before Cobra turns her gaze to the couch, stepping in.

  "L-Let m-me." I bite my tongue, hot waves floating over me, and instinctively I wrap my arms around myself. I feel my ears burning under the hood, but I try again. Because she's waiting. Waiting for me to gather myself, so patiently. "L-Let m-me carry t-that." Forcing my hands off myself and extending them towards the tray she's holding, I bite my cheek hard enough to taste the blood in my mouth.

  I keep my eyes on the tray, heart pounding in my ears, and I fucking hate the fact my hands tremble. The genuine smile curving up her rosy lips makes me want to look up at her. I don't.

  "Thanks." She places the tray in my hands, ignoring the shaking. Then, with her butt, she knocks the door shut and walks to the couch. Casually, she turns on the TV, criss crossing her legs in front of her.

  The tray stops shaking.

  Slowly I make my way to her, repeating myself I'm Tiger. Not Anthony.

  "Could you make me a bowl?" she asks, eyes on the TV as she scrolls through the channels. My breath catches in my throat. I stare at the cereal package, the bowls, and the milk, heart skyrocketing. She's never asked me to do anything for her. In these two months I've been here—in this room—she hasn't asked me to do anything at all.

  But I want to—for her. These past months, she's filled the hole inside my chest with her joyful being. I want to be strong enough to walk out of that door with her someday, so I don't have to watch her leave.

  Focusing very hard not to let my hands shake, I make two bowls—the same kind she makes every day—and carefully hand her the other one.

  "Thanks." Cobra's shining eyes came to me, making a warm flood running through my veins. But not the usual way. I don't feel embarrassed. I feel good. So. Good. I took care of her.

  It feels... amazing.

  I can take care of her.

  "You're welcome." My voice doesn't stutter, and her mesmerizing smile captivates me in a way it's impossible for me to turn my gaze away from her.

  I want to see her smile like that every day.

  Taking care of Cobra has been my purpose since the day I fucking started doing it five years ago. She trusted me I can, and I'm not going to let her down, no matter how hard it is.

  No matter what it takes.

  "How is she?" Leo asks when we slow down to walk as we come back to our yard. He usually speaks almost the whole time as we run, but clearly, he knew I had to think this through by myself.

  "Not good," I say truthfully. "But I think I figured this out, and I'm ready to... you know, go through things with her."

  He plants a palm on my shoulder. "You are." He stops as we get to the front door and turns to face me with an appreciative smile on his face. "You're stronger than you even realize, Tiger. I'm grateful you belong to our family."

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Fuck, I know I should say something back, but my brain decides to be a wasteland this second.

  Leo's other hand comes to the side of my neck, his yellowish eyes piercing into me, almost pleading. "I know you're strong enough to help her. You've always been. Please, bring my daughter back."

  After making some mental push-ups, I nod at him convincingly. "I will, Cobra is getting through this."

  We all are getting through this.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  As I tiptoe my way past the bathroom door, my stomach lurches. Part of me wants to go in, join Tiger in the shower. What happened last night… stops me from doing it. I can't face him, not yet.

  I pointed a gun at him.

/>   I have no memory of doing it, how did I get into that position, but waking up keeping a loaded gun pointed towards him, the love of my fucking life… I should eat a bullet, really.

  Yet I can't do that because he would follow me to Hell. I know Tiger, he'd never stay behind. I wouldn't either when it comes to him.

  Needing to do something normal, I make coffee—not pods, the real thing—so I can get the right scent. Tiger's open-concept kitchen has always been one of my favorite places in the whole mansion. We all got to renovate these apartments when we moved here from Dad's side. These were originally made for our mothers and employees, but mothers are long gone, and Dad built a separate house for the employees. Tiger's artistic nature shows in his loft—all the colors are in perfect balance. The color of the dark hardwood floors continues in the kitchen counters, and the deep asphalt grey on the cabinets has a calming impression. With a couple of green house plants, it has an earthy vibe in it. It's a peaceful place—just like he is to me.

  The coffee machine starts to steam, and the rich scent floats in the air, calming my nerves. I place my hands on the warm counter and let my head drop down, not closing my eyes. My body isn't the problem now, I don't feel like an addict, but it's a mental breakdown that's lurking around the corner. I've never been a paragon of mental health, but this? Every time I close my eyes, I see him. Not Tiger, like I usually did before I got out of there.

  It's Levi, whispering kind words into my ear, his soft touches slithering around my body. No matter how hard I try to tell myself he's dead, he comes back from the grave to haunt my dreams. Not just that—he haunts me even when I'm awake.

  "Baby." A soft, but still raspy voice calls behind me, and I spin around, hastily, heart skipping beats. I wipe the locks of hair away from my face, clearing my throat.

  No matter where my head was second ago, my body reacts instantly to what my eyes take in. A warm puddle emerges into my abdomen as I look at Tiger's sculpted body, covered only with a black towel low on his hips. The hills and valleys of his trained abs shimmer after the shower as he tears his hands through his wet hair. My breath picks up speed, and the mouthwatering sight makes me swallow.

  He stays in the living room, the other side of the island that separates the spaces, keeping the distance to me, but he cocks his head. "How are you feeling?"

  I fiddle the hem of the t-shirt—his shirt—against my thigh and try to navigate in the storm of emotions inside me. What happened last night makes my stomach hurt, but looking at Tiger now, makes it burn from the need to touch him. Make it all better.

  "I—" My voice fails me, coming out in just a hoarse whisper. I clear my throat, trying again. "I'm sorry about what I did. I'd never…" I tear my eyes away from his handsome face, gathering myself to say what I need to. "That can't happen again. I think I need help."

  Tiger says nothing, only makes his way slowly around the island to me. My blood runs hot in my veins as he stops in front of me, placing his hands on either side of me on the counter, caging me. He dips his chin down, those dark eyes reading me like an open book.

  "You mean the pills?" He leans closer, placing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Or me?"

  My skin shivers from the touch, and when I lift my palms to his sides, just above the towel, the feel of his skin makes my insides hum. I want to feel Tiger in me, taking away the bad memories. I want him to make me new ones.

  "Probably both, but mostly you," I answer, knowing that to make sure last night won't happen again, I need to take those drugs to make this easier. No matter how it makes me feel because it's Tiger's safety what matters, and more so, he's here for me. He will help me.

  The heat in his eyes makes my legs weak, and I bite my lower lip, almost tasting him. He trails his eyes to my lips, parting his own as his chest rises and falls in front of me, telling me he wants me just as much as before. It eases the pressuring pain in my chest—I didn't break us when I almost fucking shot him.

  "How do you want me to help you, baby girl?" Tiger asks, maintaining the distance between our bodies, even though my fingers are digging into his sides as the heat grows inside me from the promises of his tone.

  I'm hot and heavy and ready to go, but at the same time, my tongue glues to the roof of my mouth, and I can't find the right words. How can I tell him what I need without saying what Levi did to me every night? What I begged him to do only days ago? I know I did it to escape but still. I can feel his caressing touches on my skin, even right now.

  It's everything I don't fucking want to feel.

  "Tell me, baby, what do you want me to do?" Tiger's dark stare pierces my bubble as he urges me to give him a direction, and I open my mouth to answer something, but nothing comes out.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  I really don't want to say those things.

  Letting my eyes roam down his gorgeous body—bronzed skin filled with tattoos and scars—I end up looking at the noticeable erection he is sporting under the towel. I lick my lips, not on purpose, but it makes him chuckle.

  "Oh, you crave my dick, huh?" He leans toward me, sliding his tongue on my jawline to my ear, biting my earlobe. It almost makes me flinch. Almost. I feel his hot breath on my ear. "Well, why don't you touch me then? Take what's yours."

  He's mine. It feels so good to hear that, but now, I want to be his. I want him to mark me, own me—all the ways Levi didn't. Fuck him and his gentle hands. Tiger has always known how to handle me, love me in a way I want to be loved. How I need to be loved.

  At least, right now.

  I lift my gaze to meet his, challenging him. "Why don't you take what's yours?" My voice comes out as a throaty whisper, but at the second, my words are out, the look in his eyes changes.

  There is something like… disquieting in them.

  It hits me. He fucking knows something.

  I jerk my hands to myself, remembering what I had forgotten while worrying I almost shot him. They got the mole.

  "Who was it?" I snap, unable to restrain my feelings.

  Tiger sighs, scrubbing one hand over his face. "Corey."

  I fucking knew there was something profoundly fucked up in that asshole. I don't move my gaze from Tiger. "What did he say?"

  He looks everywhere but me. "He's been working for Silas the whole year."

  I know what he's doing—avoiding, so he doesn't have to lie. "And?"

  Tiger drops his head down, his entire body bulging from the tension. "Fuck, baby. I… He said—" He blows out a heavy breath. "Levi did things to you."

  My stomach turns into knots, and I know there's no fucking way to go around this. I don't want to talk about it, but how are we supposed to continue from here if we don't get this over with?

  Folding my arms over my chest, I grit my teeth to the memory. "Yeah, he did, and that's why I want you to erase those by painting over them."

  His puzzled eyes meet mine. "That's what I tried—"

  "No, not like that." I shake my head, swallowing the lump from my throat. "I want you to be you, okay?"

  The confusion shines from his face, and even though I get it, it still makes me cringe I have to say it out loud.

  "Don't be gentle with me, Tiger. It's the last thing I want from you right now," I tell him, dropping my hands down. I'm so fucking exhausted. "I just want you to fucking own me."

  He scans me for a moment, frowning. Like he's not sure, is it still okay. Clearly, the frustration leaks from my face because he narrows his eyes, hands coming to the hem of my shirt, and with one swift move, he jerks it off me. The sudden chilliness raises goosebumps on my skin, but when I catch the craving returning to his eyes, my body turns hot all over again.

  Heat floods to my core as he leans closer, crashing his mouth on mine. I lift my hands to his broad shoulders as his tongue sweeps through my lips, claiming me, but when my fingers touch his skin, Tiger grabs my wrists, twisting my arms behind me.

  "I tell you when you can touch me, baby girl," he murmurs into my mouth, pressing his
hard dick against my stomach. My laces are already soaking, and the anticipation makes me squirm between him and the counter. I'm ready to combust any second, but I know Tiger won't let me go easy.

  And I don't want him to.

  He locks my wrists together with one hand, the other one disappearing from me. The faint sound behind me makes my body tense, and then I feel something cold sliding down my arm.

  "Baby girl." Tiger draws his teeth over my lower lip, and pulls away from me, eyes flickering wickedly. Then the blade I felt on my arm comes to my lower belly, and my heartbeat skyrockets. My eyes widen as I stare down, the blade flat against me, sliding from side to side. "Look at me." His steady words force me to lift my eyes, breathing coming out in a rush. There's a sinister smirk playing on his full, kissable lips. "You trust me, baby?"

  I glance at the blade—long, extremely sharp meat knife—and then nod, bringing my eyes back to his. "Yeah."

  "Such a good girl," he purrs, dragging the blade up my skin to my breasts, not cutting me. He turns the knife, slipping it under the center of my black bras, and cuts the fabric with a slight lift. The cups take off like from a slingshot, flying to the side and slips down my arms. Chill bites my nipples, and even though they were high beaming already, I still feel them pointing out even more.

  Tiger's eyes leave mine, and his smirk widens. "Have I ever told you I fucking love these?" He circles the blunt side of the blade on my breasts, making a full round with it, marveling at them.

  I don't know if he expects an answer, but just in case, I whisper a shaky no. My core is throbbing from need, and I want him there as fast as possible, so when he's playing the good girl game, I know how to behave to get the treat.

  I want it so bad.

  "Well, I do. Every part of you is a masterpiece." Then the blade leaves my skin as he releases my wrists but places my palms to the edge of the counter on each side of me. "Keep them there until I tell you otherwise, okay, baby girl?"

  "Yes." I nod, waiting. My eyes shot wide, and a gasp escapes from my mouth when he brings the blade to his left palm and cuts a long, deep slash to it without batting an eye.