The Tiger King

By Raisa Greywood

Now that I've teased my beautiful Renata's mating bite from her, I can finally take her home and claim her like a Ximeran warrior should. Shifters are still being stolen from Earth, and I know we have to stop it, but it can wait until my mate is healthy a

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Aug 16, 2018

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Chapter One

My tiger curled up in the back of my head, purring happily. We had chosen wisely in our mate. He was a fearsome orange creature and would give us many fine cubs. Though they were untaught, Rakon and his tiger would soon learn what it meant to be mated to the Panteris.

I loved the markings on his tiger’s face. The swirls of black and orange matched the brand on his Ximeran form. I didn’t know if it was his tiger’s doing, or if it was some genetic anomaly present in Ximeran DNA that gave him such a unique stripe pattern, but I adored it.

His seed trickled from my core, dampening the crotch of my pants. My body ached from his possession, but it was the most delicious of hurts. Though I hadn’t come to Rakon untouched, sex with him was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Was that how it was between mates? I could barely fathom such a thing. If it was true, I’d be lucky to survive the surfeit of pleasure. I let out a gasp as my pussy twinged. Even though I was sore and aching, I’d lift my tail if he so much as crooked one of those winged eyebrows at me. I wanted several leisurely days to explore my new mate, and growled low in anticipation.

I reached our den, declining several offers of assistance along the way. After a night in fur and Rakon’s depredations, I had a pretty good idea what I looked like and didn’t blame the crew for their concerned attention. Leaving the stasis container just inside the door, I fiddled with the comm. Fengar had told me of something he called pancakes and I wanted to try them. He’d described them as a chemically leavened bread that had been a common breakfast food on old Earth, served with a spreadable fat and a sweet liquid he’d called maple syrup.

Wasn’t maple a kind of tree? How did a sweet liquid come from a tree? Maybe Patrek would know.

Even though it was far past time for a morning meal, the galley attendant agreed to my request. I sat down to wait and clicked on the vidscreen. Several messages awaited, but most were for Rakon. I left those alone. I had one from Fengar and another from Patrek. I tapped the screen to let them know I’d returned to our quarters.

To my surprise, I had one from Magistrate Smith. He apologized for allowing me to be stolen and asked after my health. It wasn’t his fault, though. The one I really wanted was Jensen, but he’d vanished.

It took me several minutes to reply. I could read well enough, but writing was always a challenge. Since Magistrate Smith’s message was written, I wanted to reply in the same way, though an audio recording would have been much easier.

I could never think about how the words went together and struggled putting my thoughts in order on a comm. It was a little embarrassing, but I knew I was more fortunate than most. I’d had Sendra to teach me the basics. If it hadn’t been for her, I probably wouldn’t have learned to read at all. Literacy had become a lost art when I’d been a cub.

A chime sounded at the door, and I clicked the comm absently, still lost in thought. Fengar’s booming voice drew me out of my funk.

There’s my Renata! Where’s your mate, child?

I smirked, wondering how long it would take Rakon to remember he had thumbs. He’s likely still in the holo.

He sat down on the couch next to me, propping his cane against the cushions. May I ask what that evil smile is for? He grinned in delight. You simply must share the nefarious deeds you’ve been plotting.

I laughed helplessly. Fengar must have had many women fighting over him in his day, the old charmer. I’m not plotting anything, but I do have further information about how Ximerans will tolerate their mate’s bites.

Leaning forward expectantly, he said, Go on.

Actually, I have no idea if this will be universal among all males and their mates, but Rakon seemed to have a much easier time coming to terms with his tiger than I’d expected. I described my first adolescent shift and contrasted it with Rakon’s.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. Do you think your difficulty was because you were a child?

I don’t know. By the time I was old enough to shift, there wasn’t anyone alive who might have known. My mother was a bitten human, but she never described it to me other than to say she was wild for about a week. Given that we have only Rakon’s experience, I don’t think it’s a good idea to trust the information. For all I know, it may be different for every individual.

What about your friend? Sendra, right?

It never came up. I was an adult and well past my first shift when we met.

The chime at the door sounded again and I clicked the response. The steward came in, smelling of delicious fear as his hands shook under the tray he carried. Thank you. You can set it on the table. The odors emanating from that tray made my mouth water. There was something that smelled meaty under that domed lid.

Yes, War Mate Renata. He set the tray down and beat a hasty retreat before I could get up.

Stop scaring the help, child, Fengar chided.

I only scared him once! He had meat and wouldn’t give it up.

I heard a low growl from the doorway and a yelp of fear as Rakon pushed past the terrified steward.

What happened to you, boy? Fengar’s eyes were wide as he took in the bloodstains on Rakon’s clothing.

My mate slumped into a chair and lifted the cover off one of the plates. His nose twitched as he inhaled the scent of meat. Later, old male. Hungry now. His low growl made the crystal water glasses rattle as he pulled the plate closer and began to shovel food into his mouth.

Fengar opened his mouth, his expression tight and forbidding, but I put a hand on his arm. Let him have a few minutes. His tiger was unwise, and they lost their breakfast.

Blinking in surprise, Fengar muttered, You’ll have to tell me that story later.

Much later. We waited until Rakon had finished everything on the table. It hadn’t been fair of me to deny him meat, but his hairball had needed to learn a lesson.

Rakon’s eyes cleared and he coughed uncomfortably. I’ll order you more food before I get cleaned up.

Don’t worry about it. I can wait until later. Do you want some help? Some of those bites look bad.

He touched a finger to his bleeding shoulder. No. The sonics will take care of most of it and I’ll try to get that mangy cat to shift again.

I arched a brow. He’s mangy now? I thought he was a hairball.

Mangy hairball. He’s the reason I’m bleeding and hungry. He scowled at me and I tried to hide a smile.

The stasis container is by the door. If you can shift now, it’s yours.

He grunted and the tiger appeared. It looked like painfully slow going for him. When he’d finished, he examined the container and hooked a claw under the lid. With a powerful jerk, he tore the lid away and started devouring the contents.

Those things are supposed to be indestructible, Fengar whispered.

We liked Fengar’s expression of shocked awe at the sight of our fierce mate. Not so much. They’re easy to open for a tiger, but we should try to remember not to destroy any more. They’re probably expensive.

Very, he said absently, still focused on the hungry tiger by the door.

Sorry.

My tiger bared her teeth and stretched. Not sorry.

I hid my grin behind my hand at my tiger’s comment. When he finished his meal, Rakon grunted and padded into our bedroom, his tail twining around my shoulder as he passed. I heard the sonic shower run for several minutes as Fengar and I chatted about the Ximeran sights.

* * *

Though the mating bite on my shoulder was sore and inflamed, it appeared to be healing. It would leave a nasty scar but I would bear it proudly, knowing it was a visible sign of a fully mated male. Actually, everything was healing. The dozen or so deep bites on my arms and legs trickled blood sluggishly, but most of the minor scratches and cuts from our battle with Renata’s tiger were already closed. The pulled hamstring and cracked ribs would take more time.

It was likely she’d have killed me easily if she hadn’t been working so hard to avoid hurting me. Ximerans trained for battle from a very early age. When we’d had children on Ximera, a very few gifted ones started as early as six, living with their parents and training with local warriors until they were old enough to go to permanent training facilities at twelve.

Despite a lifetime of combat training, a size advantage of at least fifty kilos, and a well-nourished and honed body, Renata had kicked my ass.