Tiger

Laurann Dohner

Book 7 in the New Species series.

Zandy’s had too much to drink and is in the wrong place at the wrong time. She knows she’s going to die. When next her eyes open, a beautiful man-creature is holding her in his arms. He’s just too tempting to resist; her very own fallen angel. She wraps herself around his body, determined to have him. But when this angel turns out to be flesh and blood, reality crashes in—she’s seducing a New Species.

Tiger’s shock quickly turns to intense passion when the human female kisses him, despite the fact she’s trying to get his clothes off while he’s engaged in a task force operation. He’s also made it clear he’ll never take a mate. Rather difficult when he and Zandy can’t keep their hands off each other. The taste and feel of his little human just leaves Tiger wanting more.

Publisher’s Note: While each New Species book is a standalone, the greatest enjoyment will come from reading them in series order.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Tiger

ISBN 9781419939136

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Tiger Copyright © 2012 Laurann Dohner

Edited by Pamela Campbell

Cover design by Syneca

Photography by Fotolia.com

Electronic book publication April 2012

The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

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Tiger

Laurann Dohner

Prologue

Zandy knew she was in a world of shit. She was still unsure how going out for a few drinks to drown her sorrows had landed her in such a mess, but it had. A glass crashed into the wall near her, beer splashed her skin, and she huddled in her seat to make a smaller target. A body landed just feet away. The man grunted from hitting the floor hard and struggled to get back on his feet. She stood quickly and the wood chair scraped the floor as she turned.

The fight had moved her way. Drunken idiots were doing their best to beat the living crap out of each other and she was trapped on the far side of the bar. Her gaze frantically searched for an exit—a door or even a window to flee through. Three solid walls surrounded her and the only way out would be to struggle through the tight press of combating bar patrons.

“Oh hell,” she muttered.

One of the tables close to her toppled when a man stumbled back against it after taking a fist to the face. The table missed crushing her feet by inches and she spun back around, stepped up on the seat she’d vacated and climbed on top of the corner table. There wasn’t anywhere else to go. Two more bodies hit the floor too close for comfort. One more dived on top of the fallen pair and they rolled dangerously close to her perch. Blows were exchanged and one even pulled the hair of his opponent.

Her view of the room was much better from the higher vantage point on the tabletop but it assured her she was still trapped. Two small groups of men fighting over the football game on television had turned into a brawl that encompassed the entire length of the room, wall to wall. At least forty men were involved. The few women who’d been inside the bar were rushing out the doors and Zandy envied them. No way could she safely navigate through the fight to follow them outside.

Her back pressed tightly to the wall, her breath came out in pants and she prayed the cops would arrive to break it up before the worst of the fighting reached her. The brawling men on the floor hit the underside of her table, it shook and a whimper escaped her parted lips. She glanced to the next table, ready to jump for it, but a burly man suddenly crashed into it. It collapsed under his weight and she winced as he landed on top of the broken thing.

Regret filled her. She should have stayed home. She’d just wanted to forget her misery by spending her evening sulking over the bitch-slap life had given her. Leaving Los Angeles to move to Northern California had seemed like a dream come true when she’d been offered a better-paying job. She’d relocated, sunk every penny of her savings into buying her first house and had thought everything would work out.

Within three weeks she knew what a clusterfuck of a mistake she’d made after starting her new life. Her boss turned out to be a sadistic slave driver and a chauvinist pig. The jerk knew how much she depended on keeping her job and wasn’t above taking full advantage. He’d spent the last week making her miserable. He’d upset her to the point that she’d ended up in Mickey’s Bar and Grill. Another mistake.

Two men grappled, wrestling while on their feet. They slammed into the wall near her and tripped over the man still trying to untangle his drunken body from the destroyed table. Both of them fell on top of him. Zandy frantically stared across the room again, praying everyone would just stop fighting.

The doors of the bar were thrown open and she watched several unusually tall men come inside. They all wore matching black uniforms and riot gear. Their black helmets, vests over their chests, and shield-covered faces were ones she was happy to see. Joy rushed through her that help had arrived and they’d get control of the room fast.

She wasn’t the only one to notice their arrival. Bodies surged her way—panicked drunks possibly afraid of being arrested—and Zandy screamed as someone fell against her table. It tipped, wood snapped under the man’s weight, and her hands flailed to grab something—anything—but she ended up slamming hard into the floor, on her ass.

Pain shot up her spine and stunned her, but she recovered quickly when someone nearly stepped on her fingers. Zandy struggled to get to her hands and knees. She frantically crawled for another table to hide under it since being on top of one hadn’t been good but she didn’t make it.

Something big and fleshy landed on her back, shoved her flat against the floor, and knocked the air right out of her lungs. The man on top of her didn’t get up. He was impossibly heavy and more weight ground her against the unforgiving hard surface when another body landed on top of him. Their weight shifted enough for her to barely gasp in air.