Saved by my Weretiger

my Weretiger

 

  Copyright © 2016 by Neil Sinclair

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

  About the Author

  Neil Sinclair is a country girl turned urban dilettante. She loves lemongrass green tea, long summer days, and thick novels.

  Join her Book Club to enjoy the latest buzz and freebies. Other books include:

  Romance on the Range Boxed Set

  Lou arrives at Shadowbreak Ranch as a studious man with a serious girlfriend. But once he’s there, he realizes that being with men whips him into a state of mind-blowing ecstasy. What’s less clear is whether he can find love with a guy. But as Christmas approaches, a handsome stranger comes out of the shadows to teach Lou what is really important.

  50 Minute Hour Boxed Set

  Dr. Noah Davidson has been hired to convert Dallin, a religious senator’s son, into the type of man who wants to marry a woman. But Dallin is stubborn and more than ok with being being gay. As the sessions go on, he begins to suspect that the sexy Dr. Davidson is not actually trying to make him straight. In fact, he seems to be doing the opposite.

  Frat Love Boxed Set

  The entire package! Madison has fallen hard for his Big, a hot guy named J.R. But as they get to know each other, Madison realizes that J.R. is only interested in sex, not dating—and certainly not coming out of the closet. When Madison turns to his roommate’s gay brother for advice, he gets a little more support than he’d expected.

 

  I.

  Everyone knows not to walk in Central Park at night.

  Everyone, that is, except for me.

  I was walking through the park because I craved nature. As a kid, I'd never been interested in outdoor activities, but lately I feel drawn to the woods. Maybe it was the fact that I'd moved to the urban jungle of New York City.

  Also, there was the problem of my little vibrator. Until recently, it had always served me well. A few minutes with that thing and some mental images of muscled men was usually all it took to make me whimper my way to climax. But lately, I’d really been craving something more.

  But as a big lady—not to mention a shy one—I had no idea how to get it.

  So Central Park was a great way to walk it off. As I strode through the delicious night air, I thought about what it would be like to have a man here. A la Midsummer Night’s Dream, we could cuddle amongst the flowers and make frantic love like rabbits in the grass. He could bite my neck, and I could fondle his dick. In all of my sheltered youth, I had actually never seen one. It would be quite the anatomy lesson.

  My reverie was broken by a noise up ahead on the path.

  A couple of guys wandered out of the bushes. They were kids, really, with long hair and dark clothing. Their nose rings looked painful, not cool. They wouldn't have seemed out of place in a Danish punk band.

  But the fact that they were probably several years younger than I was didn't make me feel any less afraid.

  "Hey," said one of them, slurring his speech. "Give me your wallet."

  The other one, a skinny boy with huge sneakers, seemed more aware. "Unless you don't want to," he said. "There are other things that you could do for us."

  He took a couple steps toward me, and the other guy started laughing hysterically.

  I thought he might grab me, but he seemed very confidant that I wouldn't get away.

  And hell, he was right. These kids looked like great sprinters. I'd never been particularly athletic, and even at 23 I'm already a full-figured woman. At 5'10", I towered over these guys, and I was probably twice their weight.

  But I was not in great shape and I knew nothing about fighting. The skinny kid looked like he knew that, because he started by taking off his pants. My eyes were fixed into the darkness just above his head, even as he took my right hand and drew it down his chest.

  Trying to think of an exit strategy, I let my hand be drawn down. Much more than repulsion for this particular guy, what I felt was regret. The first time that I touched a man's cock wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be sexy and special, not horrifying and weird.

  There was a burst of light, and both of us were knocked to the ground. Later, when I thought back, I could remember all of the sensations fully. I saw a flash of deep orange and heard snarls. The guys were screaming in terror, but I didn't hear them running away.

  When I came to, a man was standing over me, shaking my arm.

  "Lena! We have to go."

  He knew my name. I must have been mumbling.

  As he helped me to my feet, my first thought was that I hoped I hadn't revealed too much to this guy in my semi-conscious ramblings. He was nearly as tall as me, but much thinner. And I could tell that he was an older guy. His poise told me that much in about five seconds.

  I limped along. "Where are we?"

  "Just south of the park. I'm sorry, but we have to hurry. I don't want us to get noticed by anyone."

  We continued walking south, toward my sister's cushy apartment. The most important question was now whether to annoy my sexy savior with questions, or act cool and just get home fast.

  I couldn't resist asking more questions. The words just spilled out of me.

  "What's your name?"

  He looked around us, wary. "You can call me Bay."

  It sounded a little bit like "babe." Imagine if I were in the position to use pet names with this kind of man! My brain tripped over itself thinking about that possibility.

  "Did you know who those guys were?"

  He shook his head.

  "Thank you so much," I gushed, "That was amazing!"

  The man, Bay, let out a breath. I wanted to slouch a little bit to make myself seem smaller, but it also seemed like doing that would make my muffin top more obvious.

  "Lena," he told me, "Please don't thank me."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm angry with you."

  I fumbled a bit with the lock on the front door of my apartment building, struggling to see in the light of the streetlamp. It helped keep me from crying from the combined weight of the attack and the odd rescue.

  "Wait," he said, still not making any move to touch me. "I'm sorry. It's just that I wish you hadn't put yourself in that situation."

  "You're blaming me?"

  "I'm telling you that this is New York. And it's dangerous to be out after dark in certain places."

  He turned to go.

  "Wait!"

  "What?"

  "You said it's dangerous to be out after dark. You can stay here, if you want."

  "Won't Raya complain?"

  Funny. I hadn't remembered telling him my sister's name.

  "I'll worry about her. Come on in."

  I held the door open, catching a whiff of the slight man as he moved past me. He smelled clean, but a little sweaty. Maybe fending off my attackers had been more work than I'd thought.

  II.

  When we got inside the apartment, I tried to retreat to my bedroom to cry, hastily offering my mystery man the sofa. It was like his anger had unlocked all the stress and agony. There were way too many emotions coursing through me for conversation, and I knew from experience that when I got this upset, the hurt would last for a while. I'd probably have a terrible weekend, which was unfortunate, because my shitty job demanded that I be at my best pretty much all the time.

  "Wait," said Bay, as I beat my retreat.

  "Goodnight," I said, leaning on my door. "There's blankets and stuff already on the couch. I'm going to turn in, I'm really beat."

  I was tr
ying to seem aloof, but the anger came through in my tone.

  "I'm really sorry. Making you cry wasn't my intention, although maybe it's ultimately a good thing."

  "What are you talking about," I sniveled, "How can it be good?"

  He reached toward my hand, but didn't take it.

  "Your life is in danger. You need to be careful."

  This made me laugh through my tears. "What, is Tony Soprano going to come kill me or something? What do you mean?"

  He started. "I just mean that it's dangerous to live here."

  "Really? Because you sounded like you were speaking about a specific threat."

  "Absolutely not. I was just saying that because I want you to take better care of yourself."

  I raised my eyebrows.

  "Sorry. That's it."

  "Fine. Well, thanks again. I'm going to sleep."

  "No!" he said, very quickly. "I can't leave things like this. Look, I’m bad at this. I don’t have much interaction with other people these days, but I can tell that you’re still upset.”

  It was tempting to contradict him, but tears were stubbornly pouring down both my cheeks.

  "What am I supposed to do about that? Just totally forget the guys who tried to attack me?"

  He glanced quickly at my TV. "Um, do you like any comedies? How about 30 Rock?"

  I loved the show, but it was impossible to pay attention to a moment of it. I kept fidgeting and stealing glances at my companion, who was laughing quite a lot. Maybe someday, when I was less strung out on the horror of the attack, it would be fun to watch it together. But for the moment, all I could see was the dark and handsome face next to me, a burst of beauty flickering in the light of the screen.

  III.

  When I woke up in the morning, later than usual due to the 30 Rock binge of the night before, I momentarily panicked