Chapter 6
When Lana awoke the next morning, Roman was gone. Although she could still feel him inside of her and had loved everything about the night before—especially the way he had soothed away her terror—she was actually grateful that he’d left.
She loved how he’d made her feel and that she’d been able to completely abandon any inhibitions with him. Somehow, it seemed right that her first time with anyone other than Ian had been with a man like Roman.
But he wasn’t just a man. He was also a tiger. Although nothing about him seemed threatening, getting involved with him was certainly not a good idea.
In the bright sunlight of the Texas morning, she had to admit that there was no good outcome for a connection with him. Worst case scenario, as unlikely as it seemed, was that Roman was part of the faction that had been pursuing her and was trying to lure her into their clutches.
But even the best case scenario was no good—in that one, she re-entered the tiger-shifters’ world, but with Roman. And eventually, the danger of her past would come back into her life and endanger him, too.
No. Merely being in that world was dangerous. Even though she always had to stay on guard, she actually liked living in the world of humans, existing as a human. As complicated as humans believed their lives to be, they were actually much simpler than shifters’ lives.
“What was I thinking?” she said aloud as she made the bed. Yet, even as she said it, she knew exactly what she was thinking. Hell, she wished she could see him again. She wished she could see him all the time.
Still, for the first time since she’d escaped the cage Trevor had tried to hold her in, she felt... complete. Free.
Strong.
Like the tiger she was born to be. Ironic that it came at the price of realizing she wanted to continue to play human.
A glance at the clock reminded her that she had a shift early that afternoon. But first, a tiny celebration of her renewed sense of self, she decided—home-grown coffee and homemade quesadillas at her favorite place on the River Walk, Guantanamera.
Once there, sipping her fresh Americano out on the porch, watching both the San Antonio River and the people moving along the River Walk, she again realized this was exactly what she needed. Even though her thoughts drifted to Roman, she was able to relax, watching all the tourists in their cowboy hats and silly sombreros, knowing that at least in this moment, she was completely safe from Trevor.
As she made her way to work after finishing her light meal, a thought struck her. What if Roman showed up at work again? What if she had to see him before she was ready?
“Relax, Lana,” she said out loud, almost laughing when a young tourist girl shot her a confused glance.
He left before I woke up, she continued silently. It was obviously a one-night stand for him. No point in thinking about him anymore.
She should enjoy the memory and move on with her life.
Move on with my life.
Move on. Why had she used those words? Was she thinking it might be a good idea to leave San Antonio? She’d been there longer than anywhere else. Was it a sign that a tiger found her? An omen?
Well, I need to at least consider it.
“Hi, Lana,” Jorge, the day manager said to her. Lana thanked her lucky stars Phil wasn’t working again. Jorge was much easier to get along with and didn’t constantly watch his employees—not that Phil had been around much the night before, come to think of it.
As she wrapped her apron around her waist and filled the pockets with an order pad, straws, and a pen, she glanced back at her section, where she saw the back of a man’s head—someone already seated at the same table Roman sat at, the exact chair, even. But she knew immediately that it wasn’t him.
With a sigh, she walked around the table, facing the new customer, and got her pad and pencil out. “May I get you something to drink, sir?”
Yeah. Maybe it is time to move on.
Or maybe there was another option.
But only if Roman Velazquez shows up again.
* * *
Roman walked through downtown San Antonio, passing tall hotels and historic brick buildings. One of the many things he liked about San Antonio was the mix of the modern with the old. The town was alive and it aged, like a person or a shifter.
Despite being the alpha, he was accompanied by two other shifters in human form—his second-in-command, Jackson, and his newly chosen personal guard, Drake. Although the Incas were close to being wiped out, they couldn’t be too careful. Who knows how vengeful they might be? After all, Roman did escape from them. And Roman was all too aware of the fact that he was now crippled, making him vulnerable to an ambush.
By all rights, he should have been considering his next moves as alpha of his streak. But his thoughts were still on the human he spent the night with, Lana. It had been a long time since he’d been with a human woman. Now, he found himself considering seeing her regularly. He certainly couldn’t bring her into his world or have any kind of permanent relationship, but maybe a few weeks or even a few months of spending time with her would do them both some good.
Unless, of course, Incas saw them together and decide to retaliate against her.
This thought hit him out of nowhere and actually sent shivers down his spine.
No, that would not be good.
Better to let her go, as much as he hated the idea. With an effort, he pulled his thoughts from the dark-haired beauty.
Food. That was always a good way to distract from thoughts of sex. Roman half-snickered at himself as he turned to the two tiger-shifters walking with him. I’m in the mood for a burger. How about you guys?”
“Yes,” they both said.
“You read my mind,” Drake finished.
“Good. How about Pop’s?”
“Let’s do it,” Jackson agreed.
They made their way to Pop’s, a restaurant that was both an anomaly and an icon in San Antonio. It didn’t fit the rest of downtown in any way whatsoever, with its fifties diner feel—but Pop’s served some of the best malts and shakes in town.
The three large men entered the restaurant. It was packed, but the soda bar had a lot of empty seats. They headed for it, taking seats on the stools.
As he chewed his burger contemplatively, Roman found himself growing more and more angry at the recent incursions of the Incas into his streak’s territory. He hadn’t realized how the scent of hamburgers would set him off, reminding him of his months in their captivity.
By the time he’d woken up after the Incas had captured him, he’d been heavily drugged. Although the Incas did this to keep him in a weakened human form, they never fully realized that it also dulled most of the pain he endured, making him practically immune to their torture.
They started by removing his fingernails. Although Roman felt each fingernail tug out, he did not experience any pain in his nerve endings.
He also hadn’t fully understood how the drugs had dulled his anger. Only now, when he was truly free from them, was he able to feel the things they’d done to him.
They took a machete and cut from one of his shoulders down to his chest. Again and again. Although Roman felt the machete against his skin and could feel the blood flowing, he still didn’t experience any pain. The Incas were furious. They were torturing him not only for pleasure, but to get the location of his streak’s stronghold.
Roman gave them neither.
So they sent massive electrical shocks to his heart, repeatedly—his heart even stopped once and they had to revive him.
Finally, in desperation, they took the machete and removed the arm opposite the one they had slashed at. “You know,” he’d overheard one of his captors say, “if this doesn’t get him to give up their location—or even scream—at least he’ll be maimed.”
They accomplished one of those things.
When he didn’t respond, his torturers had laughed as they cooked his limb over an open fire, then fed it to a monstrous, ravenous tiger who rarely reverted to any of his other forms. Roman had watched, tears streaming down his face, revolted as his mouth watered as the smell of his arm cooking—then horrified as he watched it slowly consumed.
In the end, they threw Roman into a small, remote cell, nowhere near any living thing. Not even a guard. He laughed darkly, remembering how he’d actually rejoiced at this development. He’d hoped he could shift into his tiger form and heal his missing limb.
However, as soon as he started to feel his blood coursing a little faster, three Incans arrived in hybrid form, held him down, and injected him again. Afterwards, he curled up in the fetal position in a corner of his cell and wept. Every two days, three Incans came down and drugged him again.
He’d spent months in that hell.
Months.
And now the scent of a burger made him want to vomit at the memory of losing his arm.
He might be the temporary alpha, but because of them, he could never justify taking a mate. He’d never be complete.
It’s time to get even and eliminate the threat entirely.
As Roman set his uneaten burger back on his plate and growled low in his throat, Drake asked, “Are you okay?”
“No, I am not,” Roman replied. “When we get back, we go to the War Room. I have a plan.”
Drake grunted. “I’m glad to hear it. We’ve been waiting for this moment.”
“Well, the wait is over. It’s time to act.”
* * *
He had Drake and Jackson call the warrior members of the streak to the War Room in the basement of the hotel. The room had always been large, but the small number of remaining warriors made it seem even larger. Roman sat on his stone throne. Although it was hardly comfortable to sit in for long periods of time, he loved how solid it was. It reminded him of the streak’s strength and solidity—always the foundation of the alpha’s power.
A table sat in the middle of the room, covered by a map of San Antonio, but the warriors didn’t surround the map. Rather, they stood between it and Roman, waiting to see what he and his two lieutenants had to say.
Roman waited until he judged all the warriors had arrived—but not so long that he’d have to start fielding questions. “The time has come to wipe the Incas out completely,” he announced.
The warriors said nothing at first, until Jackson finally spoke up. “They are scattered, possibly searching for a new lair. How are we going to find them?”
“We start by blowing up the warehouse where they kept me, not far from your post. That may not be their lair any longer, but we can at least make certain that any remaining in there are dead.”
“We could draw the rest of them out, sir,” Drake said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Roman continued. “How many women do they have left?” That was where the Incas would concentrate their forces—where they had the most to lose. If they’d had anything left to lose at all. This was all for show. Roman had gathered this information from Jackson and Drake long ago. He simply needed to make sure the rest of the streak was with him in this plan.
“None, to the best of our knowledge,” Jackson answered. “We haven’t seen a female of theirs for some time. No cubs or younglings, either. We believe all they have left are some adult males, maybe an elder or two.”
“Do we know where any of them are?”
“We think they’ve vacated the south side completely,” Jackson said. “I haven’t seen any at my post for weeks, and neither have any of the other scouts in the area.” A few other tiger-shifters murmured in agreement. “We have occasionally found some downtown, and we have managed to capture and kill those. Our best guess is that they’ve migrated downtown to be closer to us. They’re probably looking for any chance to strike.”
“Are we seeing them any place in particular?”
“We used to see them around the Alamo and the Crockett Hotel and the Lana Center Mall,” Drake said. “But they haven’t been there for a long time. The last one we caught was outside the ER of the Baptist Medical Center, near I-35, right after a skirmish. We suspect he was there in case we sought medical help from the humans.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Right before your return.”
“There’s a chance they have a new lair in that area. Let’s concentrate some scouts there. Do we have any Inca prisoners?”
“Yes, sir,” Drake said, though the glance he shared with Jackson silently reminded Roman that his two top warriors disliked his plan.
“Keep him drugged and in human form. Show him in the neighborhoods you suspect hide the Incas. Let’s see if we can draw them out.”
See if the threat of torturing one of their own the way he’d been tortured prompted the other streak to act.
If it did—if he could make the city safe for his people—then maybe he’d be able to take a mate someday, help the other shifters under his command find mates, as well.
If there are any female tiger-shifters left when this is over.