Mated To The Possessive White Tiger Marshal

hanging vines, his breath coming in rag

rant, alien flora swam in and out of foc

d root, sprawling hard on

red just staying there.

closer this time. It was a sound of pure, predatory po

to his feet, leaning heavily against the trunk of a massive, black-barked

trying to hold onto the last shreds of warmth. He knew with terribl

up the back of his neck. It was the unmi

ly, hesitantly, scanning the darkened woods around him. He saw n

he saw

They were not fungi. They were eyes. They glowed with

, something hidden in the darkness. A primal terror, colder and deeper than the feve

he shadows. It was huge, a silhouette of

ith fear, his breath trapped in his lungs. He scra

nt, otherworldly light caught its f

, broad-shouldered, a

ror subsided, replaced by a

on? Ou

t was a man, wearing dark, form-fitting tactical gear tha

y beam of bioluminescent light caught his fea

And those glowing golden eyes, mesmerizing, predatory, deeply uns

aced the line of Ansel's throat, the curve of his lips, the fragile rise and fall of hi

dead human was testing his control in ways he did not appreciate. There was no overt thr

ot. He wanted to close the distance, to press his mouth to that pale throat, to feel the shiver that would follow. But

rre shock of this encounter was too much. Ansel's vision tunneled, the

lack were those golden eyes, the pupils contr

consciousness finally su

m shot out and caught him. The touch was firm, steady,

ical gear, clinging with a desperate, instinctive grip, as if his body h

s thoughts turn distinctly unprofessional. His arms tightened around the human, pulling him closer, an

fragile, unconscious human in his ar

burning with fever, clinging to him

ghtly parted lips, the way Ansel's body fit agai

anted. Gods, he wanted. He wanted to lay him down on the moss, to strip aw

lpless, utterly unaware of

took a slow breath, and