A White Cougar Christmas

Concentrating inward, thinking about the cougar inside, she closed her eyes and imagined the ice blue glow of her own eyes when she shifted. Satisfied that she’d controlled herself just enough, she opened her eyes and bared her fangs at the helpless stranger. He may not be much sport but beating the hell out of him would still feel good none the less.

Her hand shot out to grasp his neck but was grabbed instead by someone crazy enough to step between her and her prey. Her snarl of frustration sounded in the bar, garnering the attention of more than a few patrons. But the warmth of the hand encircling her wrist distracted her, reminding her why she’d come to the bar in the first place. She didn’t want to spend Christmas alone this year.

“Hey pal, this lady is mine, no poaching allowed.”

“I just saved your life, now be a good little drunk and order another drink from the bar before I change my mind and throw you out of here.”

His voice flowed over her like warm butter, all silky smooth as he spoke to the idiot without taking his eyes from her. Her heart pounded in her chest as his unwavering gaze traveled over her. Tall and lean, he had the body of a warrior not one sculpted in a gym. She could smell the cougar on him, a wild and reckless scent that made her nipples tighten and her nostrils flare as she took in more.

His olive toned skin and long dark hair was flat out sexy and gorgeous as hell. Without even knowing his name she wanted to wrestle him to the ground and taste that skin. He didn’t look like any other cat she’d ever seen and something about him pulled her to him.

He smiled at her then, white teeth flashing against ruby lips that she could nibble on. The arrogant way he looked at her would have earned any other man a punch in the gut or worse, not the compulsion to wrap her legs around his waist and hang on for dear life.

Now there was an image she could wrap her head around.