Carly stirred, woke, smiled. “Hey there. I guess you’re feeling better.”

Tiger wanted to tell her he loved her, that he loved waking up next to her, that he was grateful beyond words for what she’d done for him, but his throat closed up, and he couldn’t speak. His need climbed, the mating frenzy tapping him.

Carly stretched, saying “Hmm,” then she brought her arms around him. “I’ve missed you.”

That, Tiger could respond to. His voice rasped. “I missed you every day, every hour, every second.”

“Then why did you go? What were you doing all this time? I was going crazy without you.”

Tiger’s fears, which had been dulled by pain, rose again. “I wanted you to be safe. So that if they came for me, they wouldn’t hurt you. But I couldn’t stay away. I had to protect you, to watch over you.”

“That was you in my house, saving me and bandaging me up.” Carly touched her face, where the bruises had been. “And what was with stealing my sofa cushion? Which I found in my yard, unsalvageable.”

“The man Crosby took it,” Tiger said. “He dropped it when he ran.”

“He broke into my house to steal a cushion. What a weirdo.”

“Connor said he broke in here too, stealing my shirts. He was looking for something that might have traces of my DNA, I’m thinking.”

“And you slept on my sofa that one time. How could he have known that? Unless . . .”

“He was spying through the window. I sensed Walker that night, but . . .” Tiger thought about it. If Crosby had been outside Carly’s living room window, he’d have known. “He could have been spying far away, if he was looking for an opportunity to shoot me. Some rifles have good scopes.”

Carly’s amusement died. “And then he tried to kill you.” Tiger had come very close to death that night Crosby had snuck in, but whatever had been bred into him had made him wake up, alert, in time to stop the shot.

Carly wrapped her arms around him. “I hate how close to losing you I came.”

“And I came too close to losing you,” Tiger said. “I almost didn’t make it in time.”

“But you did. You saved us all.”

Tiger looked down at Carly, her green eyes, her fine-boned face, her wide-lipped smile. Desperation tugged at his heart. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m right here, love,” she whispered.

Tiger kissed her again, gently at first, then letting his mouth become firmer, bolder. Carly returned the kisses with as much boldness, her arms tightening around him.

Tiger needed her. Lying here next to her for days, scenting her, feeling her, wanting her, had made him insane. He was hard with mating frenzy. She’d declared herself his mate, and Tiger had been too weak to do anything about it.

He wasn’t weak anymore. Tiger parted Carly’s thighs with one hand, then pushed his wide-awake c**k straight inside her.

Carly’s eyes opened wide, the gray sparkles in the green beautiful. “Mmm,” she purred. “I have missed you.”

Tiger’s powers of speech deserted him. He only felt Carly around him, his mate.

The mating frenzy reached up and closed its fist around him. Thought fled. There was only Carly, her scent, her heat, the dampness of her skin, the scalding moisture that gripped his cock.

Carly, always Carly. The beautiful woman who’d healed him with her touch. She’d saved Tiger, given him his name.

The room filled with the sounds of their lovemaking, their quick breaths and little moans, the creak of the sturdy bed, the slide of skin on skin, their mouths coming together.

Tiger pumped into her in a hard, fast rhythm, his body knowing what to do. Carly rose beneath him, legs coming around him, her bare feet pressing him. She took him easily now, fitting around him. Her eyes were half-closed, lips parted with pleasure.

As Tiger wound up toward his climax, she did too. Carly’s movements became jerkier, her hips rolling with his, her quick cries fueling his frenzy.

Tiger’s growl vibrated the air. His fingers grew claws, then quickly receded, Tiger wanting to be a man when he was with this woman.

Carly crushed against him as she rose into him, crying his name. Tiger held her close, the frenzy erasing all pain, including the sunburnlike tingle. Being inside her took away all sorrow, all grief, all hurt. He had so much hurt, and Carly was dissolving it.

“Carly,” he cried as the white-hot point of climax clenched him and didn’t let go. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Carly’s reply came, loud and clear. Tiger kept driving into her, both of them seeking, rocking, holding, loving.

Then they crashed onto the bed, the morning sunlight kissing their skin. Tiger rumpled Carly’s hair and let kisses fall on her warm face, her neck, her br**sts.

Carly gathered him into her, laying his head on her chest with a happy sigh. “My Tiger,” she murmured, her voice broken. “I very much love you too.”

* * *

When they straggled down to breakfast, Tiger’s first since he’d come home, Sean was there, making a special batch of pancakes, with Connor assisting. Walker waited at the kitchen table, looking content. Smug even.

Carly felt warm, stretched, satisfied. She’d thought Tiger would tire soon after his first foray back into lovemaking, but she’d been proved wrong very quickly. Tiger was healing fast, and with the healing came his stamina.

Carly sat down at the table, gently, a bit sore, and reached for the pitcher of orange juice.