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“What the hell happened? I know that wasn’t a knot. It didn’t hurt, but it could have, if I’d moved too soon.” She was rising to her feet and Antonio began to put himself back in order. He rose to his feet, tucking his shirt back into his pants.
    “Barbs.”
    She took a step away from him, looking up. She was a tiny thing, really; maybe five-foot-two to his six-three. In the fading light, he couldn’t quite make out the expression on her face, but her scent was unmistakable: sweat and sex and the sudden bite of fear.
    “Barbs?” she whispered. “As in… Antonio… Siberians don’t have barbs; we have knots… but only when we breed.”
    Siberian? She was a Siberian? Why couldn’t he sense her animal? A few missing facts rolled into place.
    “Didn’t say what kind of Siberian I am, did I?” He grinned, knowing his fangs were slightly distended. “The barbs are to coax the female into heat, if she’s not already there. They don’t really hurt; it’s just a bit uncomfortable for the tigress. Most women find it incredibly exciting.”
    “Tiger? A Siberian… tiger?” she squeaked. “I just fucked a… and you…” She took another step back, closer to the edge of the dock. She grew steadier, her voice was firmer. More decisive. The rough edge of fear was still there.
    “Well, Antonio the Tiger. Tony!” Her laugh had a hysterical edge. Antonio stepped forward, reaching out, but she took another step away. “This was lovely. I’d love to do it again, or exchange cell numbers, but I don’t have one. So maybe I’ll just see you around.”
    Before he could respond, she leaped, twisting in the air as she descended. It was a thing of sheer beauty. She hit her board, kicking off the dock and scooping up her paddle all in the same movement. She was skimming across the canal within a heartbeat.
    “Coco!” He ran, not willing to go into the water, but unable to simply watch her fade into the darkness. Something tore inside his chest, and the cat made a sound of rage and horror. Antonio went down on his knees at the knowledge of what had just happened. His tiger had just mated a half-crazy Siberian husky. And true to her kind, she’d run. He fisted his hands, pounding them on the wooden planks of the dock.
    He was so fucked. His poor, clueless little Siberian was in an even worse spot. Tigers were obsessive once they were mated. And they were monogamous. Coco didn’t know it, but she was stuck with him for the rest of their lives.
     

 
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
    As she approached her home, Coco dropped to her belly on the board, keeping the bundled shorts above the water. She angled the board and paddle and glided under the slight opening in the corrugated steel wall of the boat house. During high tide, the small entrance vanished, but as the tide was going out, she had plenty of space to scrape through without taking skin off her ass.
    Inside, the darkness was broken by a small light on a wall, giving the cavernous space a green, watery appearance. She rose to her knees and headed toward the slip at the end, maneuvering the board between an elegant jet boat and the wooden dock. She scrambled up the wooden ladder and stored her board away.
    Her makeshift home was a small equipment shed over by the wall. The owner of the shop had cleared it out for her, letting her squat in the boathouse as long as she worked it off by doing janitorial work and teaching the occasional kiteboarding class. She had everything she needed here. A small cooler for her drinks and snacks, a cot and bedding against the wall. There was a biohazard shower and a toilet inside the store. She could slip in any time after hours for bathing. She tossed her shorts and the file she’d pilfered on the bed and grabbed a towel, running in for a quick wash.
    She needed to shower, to wash his scent and seed from her body, but Coco was reluctant to do so. The odd sound he’d made as she’d rushed away still tore at her gut; a glance back