Seduced By The White Tiger (IR Paranormal Shifter Romance BWWM)
SEDUCED BY
THE WHITE TIGER
A Paranormal Shifter Romance BWWM By..
JJ JONES
Summary
Dominique is a woman on a mission. As far as she is concerned she has been assigned the simple task of picking up White Tiger shifter Gregor from the airport and dropping him off. The fact he is muscle bound and sexy as hell should not come into it or distract her from the job at hand.
Gregor is a rare “White Tiger” shifter who has been drafted in to stop a potential war between other shifters. The fact he has the hots for Dominique's luscious and curvy body should not distract him from his important task. He knows he should really not be thinking about sex when there are lives at risk and usually Dominique is much more professional then that.
However, sometimes a Tiger has to do what a Tiger has to do and for Dominique a Tiger might just be too much to resist....
Copyright Notice
JJ Jones
Seduced By The White Tiger © 2014, JJ Jones
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
Contents
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The city was slowly descending into chaos. It was a strange place to be, where the human tensions were spilling over into the shifter community. The cartels were aggravating the communities of supernatural creatures in the area, and now the fight was threatening to break out all over the city. This wasn’t supposed to be her job, she was lamenting it, but she was the only one available to pick this person up from the airport, everyone else was busy trying to stop an all out war from breaking out. She cursed under her breath, careful to control herself even though there was no one around to hear it.
Turning off the romantic movie that had been playing low on the television screen, she started to go over the items she needed to have with her. She loved the smell of her purse; it smelled like sage, yucca flowers and mesquite. It was a very specific smell that focused the old and the new west under a single microscope. She checked the small pouch that carried those supplies. She was happy; it was still intact and in good condition. It meant that she was safe for now, if something happened to that pouch, it would mean that she would be walking into a dangerous situation. She tore the flap off of a cardboard box that she had broken down before. Digging through a drawer for a permanent marker she wrote the name on the makeshift sign. Observing it, she determined that the handwriting was at least legible and might actually be considered neat.
Picking up her phone she checked the time, it was almost noon. Then she selected a contact from her recent calls. It had been dialed several times that day for the same questions. Once it connected, she asked once again, “Did anyone else become available?” She almost sounded like she was begging for some good news, and if she had to admit it to herself, she
was
begging. She would never admit that however.
“No.” The disembodied voice echoed out of the phone. “Do you want me to try to get a hold of someone who might be able to take care of it? Did you have a flat tire or something like that?” The woman on the other end was eager solve any problems.
“No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just trying to get out of this. I’m not built for ambassadorial work.” She joked with the dispatcher, laughing lightly. “I’ll call them myself. You don’t have to worry about it.” Her answer came as a sigh; she was already sensing doom on the horizon, a bad experience just waiting to happen at this point. It would be getting off of the plane in just a few minutes.
“I’m sorry you have to do this, Dom. We just don’t really have the manpower right now. Not everyone has gotten back from the mission in Massachusetts, yet. This thing has everyone on the edge. The shifters are constantly trying to fight each other. To be honest, from what I’ve heard about this guy, I would like to meet him. He sounds pretty hot.” The woman was referring to the recent fight with that vampire family that had everyone on edge for a while. Dom hadn’t been involved in that fight because vampires weren’t her specialty, but she had to cover for all of the people that were gone to help solve those problems.
“What’s a tiger going to do to stop a war between wolves and coyotes?” Dom’s voice was unsure of the solidity of the plan. She had heard some stories about this guy who apparently was a pretty accomplished diplomat with a taste for the ladies.
“His nobility. Shifters all over the world look up to him and he’s helped a lot of groups settle their differences.” The woman’s voice held a little pity in it.
“I’m not sure if anyone can settle these guys’ differences. It’s like they want to fight.” Dom’s point was valid, but she, like everyone else in her organization, knew that they had to do something. If fighting broke out it would be devastating to the entire community. Entire neighborhoods of innocent people would be taken over by battlefields of shifters. Shifters did not fight nicely; they were very capable of taking out large tracts of land and destroying them in the course of a fight. It would be even worse with two opposing factions of shifters clashing on the streets of a border town. It would probably affect the human tensions between the companies, the government and the cartels that existed in the area.
The woman on the other end of the phone agreed with Dom’s observation. “I got to go. I have to keep all of the lines open in case the shifters get out of control again.”
“I’ll see you at the potluck later this week, Mattie.” Dom told the dispatcher. In her mind, she could see the happy woman’s face. She wasn’t the kind of person you would expect in her line of work; she was a tiny Hispanic woman in her fifties. Someone who looked like a grandmother and made the best homemade burritos in the world, it was worth going to the potlucks just to get whatever she was cooking. Every time they met at the office for a potluck she would make a larger batch than before and it would always end up being the first thing gone.
Touching the End Call button on her top of the range cell phone she went through a list of contacts, preparing a list of people to quickly send texts to. Taking a moment, she made sure to phrase them in a particularly clear and coded manner, meant only for the recipients. “Will you be able to pick up the cat today?” The question was vague enough to look like a pet sitting job or an invitation to get a kitten to the uninformed, but it meant something different to people in her line of work. She hoped against hope that someone had suddenly found themselves free. In the back of her mind, she knew that she just wasn’t going to be that lucky, but it was worth a try.
The responses started to arrive one after another. “Nope, sorry, have other things going on down here. The shifters are starting to get a little crazy.” The first response was disheartening. She didn’t like to get her hopes up, but she had. From the rumors about this guy, he was incredibly handsome and the type of guy she always fell for: the impossible to keep ones, the ones that always had to leave. She hated the fact that she didn’t want men that were good for her.
The second answer was equally depressing. Tom rejected her with three simple words. “Too busy, sorry. We just broke up a huge fight between coyotes and wolves and now I have to fill out the paperwork.” After receiving that message, she desperately waited for a positive response. Her little bit of hope that she was clinging vegan to fade with every response she received.
The next one that beeped onto her phone came from her sometimes partner, Eddie. “It’s my day off, but if you need me to, I can help you out.” It was a shame that he was happily married. The thought played in her head. She had a crush on him a few years back, when she first started in the business of hunting and banishing spirits.
“I’m just trying to get out of the job.” She confessed to him, not wanting him to come in on their very rare days off. “You’re going to have to cover any emergencies while I’m dealing with this, however.”
“That will be fine. You just get that guy where he needs to be.” She could imagine the laughter in his voice as she read the message on her smartphone.
“See you in the morning.” She signed off on the conversation, still dreading what was coming.
Looking at her watch she acknowledged that she had at least ten minutes before she had to leave. The plants all over her small home were begging for attention. She reached into the small cupboard under her sink and pulled her old metal watering can out of it. The thing had been passed down through at least three generations of the witches in her family and it buzzed with the energy of countless rituals and the power of various herbs and plants. Her mother and grandmother had blessed this item and used it in rituals many times over sixty years. Those women were kitchen witches, women who used understated abilities to help their families and heal people. Dominique was someone different; she was a little more aggressive than her predecessors. She hunted down spirits who were wreaking havoc on people’s lives and banished them. Her job did entail the occasional showdown with a particularly evil spirit, the kind that most people refer to as a demon.
The familiar energy of the object in her hands comforted her and made her uncomfortable situation a little more bearable even if she still didn’t like it. “I’m not meant to deal with ambassadors and peace talks. This just isn’t my thing. I don’t even deal with shifters. My job is all about ghosts and demons.” Her complaint was unimportant in the grand scheme of things. She knew that she could be called on to do any job required should the need arise. She had fought her share of vampires and shifters in the past, but had never had much cause to sit in a room and talk with them. There were others who did that sort of thing. She didn’t have a really big problem with shifters; she just didn’t have much in common with them.
Filling the metal can she was able to water all of her houseplants quickly and efficiently. She sang as she watered them, weaving a spell of blessing and protection with her voice. She didn’t need to sing loudly, the low hum-like tone of the chant was all that was needed. Her energy intertwined with the magic in the can and the energy rose through the house. A small kitten climbed out of its hiding place, to watch the magical workings going on in the house.
Her chant rose in intensity as the working continued. In her mind, she visualized the plants guarding her home from intruders. They would give a possible intruder an excuse not to come into her home unless they were invited. Her plants would taint the person’s mind, making them suddenly remember a previous engagement or see someone that looked like a police officer hanging around, basically adding just enough doubt to make the idea of breaking into her home seem like a bad idea at the time. It was a ritual that she had done every day of her adult life, a common spell that protected her home from invasion and attack, either spiritual or physical.
She sighed; unsure of what actions she needed to take as she climbed into her small two-door vehicle. The smog was a little thick in the El Paso air, invading her lungs with a harsh acidic sting. It didn’t seem right; they were surrounded with so many miles of beautiful desert on all sides, and here, in this city that bordered Mexico, there was such desperation and it clung in the air along with the cloud of smog that covered the city. It was El Paso del Norte, the pass of the north, a city that was the major gateway from Mexico to the United States. As the tensions between the cartels rose, the violence grew along with it. It wasn’t safe anymore to go near the border and she kept that in mind as she carefully planned her route to the El Paso International Airport.
Driving through the city, she could see the changes in it as she moved closer to the airport. She drove through her neighborhood, a place of old well-kept homes. Small buildings that dotted the landscape with a few old Mexican restaurants in the area, these places comforted her. She had grown up here, and no matter how much they could pay her, she was never going to leave. The house she owned now was the home her father had died in, followed after a few years by her mother. It was a place of wonderful protection that she relished.