White Tiger

Addie was left looking at a black-and-white haired man standing fully illuminated by the bedside light, not wearing a stitch of clothing.

The last time Addie had seen Kendrick unclothed, he’d been covered with blood and grime at the close of a deadly battle. At the moment, he was clean and unscathed, the quiet bedroom a very different scenario.

His hard chest was dusted with dark hair and another arrow of hair pointed from a firm abdomen to a place that wasn’t in shadow. No modesty for Kendrick as he remained standing two feet from her, every inch of him showing. The hair there was purely black, Addie saw. Not mixed as she’d wondered.

“Well,” Addie said shakily. “Good to see you’re not a real tiger.”

“I am a real tiger,” Kendrick answered in his low rumble. “The beast is the real part of me. This is what I show to humans to live in their world.” He splayed fingers across his chest.

“I see.” Addie realized she was having a philosophical discussion about whether he was tiger-man or man-tiger, while he stood naked in front of her. “Clears that up. Don’t you want to . . . um . . . put anything on?”

Kendrick shrugged and turned his back. “I will if it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Addie said quickly. His back was as enticing as his front, his well-muscled torso narrowing to tight buttocks and strong thighs. “I’m as happy as the next girl to have a good-looking man like you on full display.” She let her gaze rest on his backside as he reached for clothes draped over a chair. “But Charlie might be embarrassed if he came in.”

“Why should he come in?” Kendrick pulled underwear on over his delectable ass, to Addie’s regret. Although . . . he still looked pretty good in only the underwear.

“I don’t know,” Addie babbled. “To check on us? Bring us a midnight snack?”

Kendrick turned around, underwear in place. The briefs were dark blue and very small. “Charlie is asleep. I heard him snoring in a room at the other end of the house.”

Addie’s need to gaze at him hungrily kept her nervous questions coming. “What were you doing out until o’dark thirty in the morning?”

His quizzical expression told her he didn’t know what her idiom meant, but he answered. “Walking the bounds, making sure all was safe. The one horse in the barn wasn’t happy with a visit from a tiger, but otherwise, we’re alone here.”

“Good. I like that.” Addie folded her arms, cold. She’d put on one of the shirts he’d offered, a big T-shirt, faded from washing, with an INXS logo on it. She wondered how long he’d had it—Shifters, it was rumored, lived for several hundred years.

Kendrick’s gaze was steady. “You like being alone?”

Addie hugged herself tighter. His shirt was roomy on her, which was a nice change. Usually clothes hugged her too much, revealing more of her plumpness than she was comfortable with.

“I’m by myself a lot,” she said. “When I’m not at work. Sometimes it’s refreshing.”

“I hate it.” The words were vehement, Kendrick’s eyes burning.

“I thought tigers were solitary,” Addie ventured.

“I’m Shifter. It’s different. We’re not meant to be alone. I surrounded myself with Shifters to take care of them. Their bodies, their souls. I’m not only Shifter, I’m Guardian.”

Kendrick’s muscles were tight in the dim lamplight, his fists curled.

“You’re the protector,” Addie said, trying to understand. “Of other Shifters.”

Kendrick shook his head, his look still savage. “I stand between them and terrifying darkness. I don’t let their souls be enslaved. Ever. But they are scattered from me, gone. If they die . . . I can’t help them.”