Cree
Cree was aware of Tamara the second she walked through the doors. He loved seeing her so free and confident as she laughed and joked with her new friends. Cree caught Murray’s eyes, telling him it was okay to let them in.
Jason needed help at the bar, so Cree took over one end. A local band played in the back, and it promised to be a busy night.
There were a few rowdy assholes in to clean up underbrush on the mountain, but for the most part, it was the usual crowd. A few college kids from App State, some shifters, and a few locals.
As the press of people increased, Cree’s attention was pulled away from Tamara and company dancing and having fun. He had beers to pour and a bar to run.
“Can I get a hard cider?”
Cree smiled at the college student. She looked as out of her depth in the Leopard as a fly in milk. “If you need a ride home, we have a taxi service,” he told her.
A stirring of his senses made him uneasy. His gaze darted around, seeking Tamara. “Jase, you good?” Cree didn’t bother for an answer. It wouldn’t have mattered if there were customers ten deep around the bar. Tamara was in trouble.
Not bothering with walking around, Cree leaped onto the bar and jumped down. Last he’d seen her, she was dancing in the back with her girlfriends.
Cree zeroed in on the fuckwad gripping his girl’s arm, but he was too far away to do anything. He elbowed his way through the taller men, cursing his lack of height. “Fucking bear shifters,” he muttered.
His instincts told him to charge in like he owned the place. Shove the fuckwad off for daring to touch Tamara. But then the image of her wide brown eyes appeared in his mind. The look of horror and fear disgust? in her eyes when he’d attacked Elliot.
Cree just got her back. Tamara was his to pet, hold, and love. Cree could not would not allow his temper to put that look of horror back on her face.
Swallowing, fists clenched in rage, Cree slowed down and moved forward with calm purpose.
Tamara
As predicted, the bouncer at the bar didn’t ask to see their ID.
Something slow and twangy was playing on the jukebox when they entered the Lusty Leopard. “Oh, I love this song.” Lacey grabbed Hadley by the hand and pulled her onto the dancefloor.
“How rude.” Kimber winked at Tamara. She tilted her head. “How about it? May I have this dance?”
Tamara took a look around the near-deserted floor. She totally had this. “Let’s go!”
Laughing, dancing, wiggling around with her new friends, Tamara felt the kind of freedom and happiness she’d never experienced before.
“Having fun?” Lacey called over the rising din.
Tamara nodded as sweat slipped down her back. Her spine straightened, and she felt a new level of confidence enter her body. “Never better.”
Kimber touched Tamara’s forearm. “I’m going to get a drink and check out the bartender. Wanna come?”
Tamara looked up to see Cree in the middle of a group of guys, pouring beer, popping tops, and mixing drinks. “Ooh, he is cute,” she said with a wink.
But as they left the dancefloor, another hand shot out and grabbed Tamara’s forearm. At first, Tamara stared at the meaty grip wrapped around her arm, not quite able to process what was happening.
“You’re looking awfully sexy out there grinding on your girlfriend. How about a man to grind on?”
Tamara looked down at his hand and then back up at him. “Not interested, cowboy.”
“You’re hot.”
Seeing her friends in line for drinks, Tamara knew she was on her own. She wasn’t sure where Creole was, but she had to count on herself. Once she got Murray’s attention, Meaty Fists would be gone.
“You could’ve said that without grabbing me.”
Meaty Fists shook her a little and dread crawled up her spine. “Then I couldn’t get this view.” He leered down at her high neckline top at her non-existent cleavage.
“This view isn’t for public viewing.” Her eyes narrowed with anger.
“Dance with me,” the drunk ordered.
“No.” Tamara’s jaw tensed. There was no give in her. She could not go docilely onto the dancefloor with this behemoth. She began to tremble, unsure of what she would do if he continued to manhandle her.
“You too good for the likes of me?” He stank of old laundry and stale beer.
Tamara’s gorge rose, and she fought back her nausea. “A raccoon ravaged garbage can is too good for you.”
Meaty Fists shook her until her teeth ached and she worried the delicate bones in her wrist would snap like twigs beneath his grip.
Tamara’s whimper was lost in the flow of conversation, music, and glass bottles tossed into the trash. “No.” It was barely audible, even to Tamara’s ears, but she said it. She shook her head to further reinforce her decision. “Now let go of me.”
Meaty Fists wasn’t about to release her. “Just a dance. You come into a shifter bar, shaking your cute ass. I know it’s what you want.”
Tamara turned to look for Kimber, but she was gone. Panic burst through her cells and demanded she leave. Now. Immediately. Ten minutes ago.
She pulled on her arm, determined to get away from him. Tamara wasn’t the weak child she’d once been. Would never be again.
Flashbacks, ones she hoped she’d never see or feel again, pushed against her memories. Seducing her with the ease of allowing them in.
Tamara struggled in his grip, but her attempts made Meaty Fists smile down at her.
“Just a dance, girlie. I’ll let you go after that. I promise.”
Tamara read the lie in his eyes. His voice. His body language. “I said no.” Using all of her weight, she shoved her elbow into his solar plexus. He stumbled back, clutching his chest and gasping for breath.
Seeing her chance, Tamara turned to find her mate and friends. “Oof,” she said as she walked into Creole’s chest. “Oh. Hey there. I was just coming to look for you.” No one had ever looked as good to her in her whole life.
Tamara burrowed into his chest sighing when Creole put his arms around her. This was how a man smelled. Warm and musky.
Cree’s eyes weren’t on her, though. He was eyeing up Meaty Fists like a cougar scenting a deer. “Is there a problem here?”
Meaty Fists tried to intimidate Cree with his height, but there was no fear for him to exploit.
“I’ve killed and gone to prison for this woman,” Cree said, green eyes never leaving his opponent. “I have no problem going back.”
Suddenly, Tamara saw it from Cree’s point of view. It must be killing him not to rip Fists apart. She pressed her ear against his chest.
Cree trembled with his restraint.
“Baby?” Tamara touched Creole’s arm, sliding up to his neck. “He’s not worth it. You know I need you in my arms. I don’t want to have to visit you in prison again.”
Fists swallowed as he realized Cree wasn’t bluffing. “Look, you can’t blame a guy for trying. She’s a hot little piece.”
Cree’s growl started low as his cougar longed to be let free.
Tamara waved over to the bouncer who had let her in. “Have one of the bartenders toss him out on his ass.”
“Hey, Murray, this fuckwad was bothering my mate. Could you make sure he’s never allowed back in here again?” Cree’s arm tightened around Tamara’s shoulder as if to reassure both man and cat she was safe.
“Sure thing boss.” Murray was just as big and twice as dominant as the drunken shifter. He grabbed Fists by the upper arm and propelled him through the packed bar. Trailing in his wake, Fists looked more like a guppy than a dangerous shark.
Tamara pressed herself into her mate’s body. “Thank God you were there,” she whispered into his ear. She could feel the still tenseness of Creole’s body. He was coiled and ready to pounce.
Once the threat was over, Creole wrapped both arms around her. He rubbed his cheek over her hair, vibrating with the need to remove fuckwad’s scent from her.
Tamara was frantic, not sure how to bring Creole back from the edge. “I need you to hold me. Come dance with me.” Her invitation was sultry as she tugged him by the hand. “Please?”
His body still taut, Cree wrapped his arms around her and simply swayed to the music. “You okay?” he asked.
“I have you.” Tamara kissed him. “I’ve never been better.”
“That guy.”
“I kept thinking about before.”
“I know. Me, too.”
Cree buried his nose in the crook of her neck. “I didn’t know what to do. I froze. Part of me wanted to kill him for touching you. The other part can’t get the image of your eyes out of my brain after I killed Elliot.” Cree gasped as though in physical pain. “I can’t lose you again. Not to assholes and especially not to my own temper.”
“Shh. I never was afraid of you, Cree. Not once. Not ever.”
“I saw you.”
Hot tears spilled down Tamara’s cheeks. “I was afraid you’d hate me. For letting Elliot—”
Creole swore, a mixture of profanity-laced prayer and tightened his arms even further. “Don’t you say it. Don’t even fucking think it, Tamara Brennan. I didn’t blame you. Didn’t judge you. You were a child and a victim. He signed his own fucking death warrant.”
“Getting. Hard. Breathe.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Creole loosened his grip and stroked her hair.
“I’m not.” They were barely swaying in time to the music. Tamara closed her eyes as she held him.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. I don’t want to think about him. Either of them. Not when I’m in your arms. I handled him. Thank you for having my back.”
Cree’s smile was slow as the tension drained from his muscles. “You were amazing. You were never in any danger. He would have been removed, but you just smacked the fucker right in the solar plexus.”
Tamara blushed with pleasure. There was something to intellectually knowing she could handle a man versus actually putting a creep in his place.
“I realized something else tonight?”
“Oh?”
“Uh huh.” Tamara would have loved to say they were dancing, but she was pretty sure their swaying was little more than foreplay. “I love to dance. I’m so glad I met Hadley, Lacey, and Kimber.”
“You four can come and dance anytime you want. I doubt after tonight anyone will mess with Tamara and her elbows of fury.”
Tamara giggled a little, relieved the situation was over. Humbled by Creole’s reaction. She kissed his neck, her tongue teasing him.
Pressed against him, she heard Creole begin to purr. Tamara pressed her forehead against his chest. “I don’t want anyone that close.”
“No one?”
“No one but you.”
Heat rose between them as they twined against each other. Each beat of the drum or guitar strum escalated the provocative thrall around them.
“Do you want to go home?” Cree’s hands flexed against her hips, pulling her into him.
“I thought you’d never ask.”