Shifters of Grrr 1 (40 page)

“Where are the rest of your bags,
sayang
?”

Her heart seized for a second when he addressed her using the Malay word for “love,” which her father had always called her.

He scanned the road for the car. “My driver didn’t leave without—”

“Nope. This is it.” She shrugged. Being thrust into a privileged environment, while everyone she knew remained under quarantine in California, seemed wrong. She’d repacked twice, only to leave behind almost everything to the donation bins.

“Come, come, you must be exhausted. It’s a long flight.” He snared her arm, leading her inside the lobby where crisp, cool air embraced her.

While Xiaodan pointed out random facts about the condo, she smiled and nodded politely. They paused in front of the elevators. “Thank you,
Shūshu
. This can’t be easy for you, either. I do appreciate you taking me in.”

His thick black brows bunched together. “We’re family. Where else would you have gone? A woman of your age should live with her family. Unless, of course, you marry.” He winked.

She bit her tongue to stop from countering that she was twenty-four. An adult. Quite capable of managing on her own, without a man to take care of her. She’d had a job and an apartment before the world turned upside down. Before
her
world spun out of control. She’d only moved back in with her parents because of the quarantine, when all industries had ground to a halt and life became safer indoors than out.

Her uncle was Old World. He probably deemed her an anomaly for being single at this age, puzzling over why her parents hadn’t auctioned her off to a matchmaker ages ago. A chuckle tickled her throat, but she fought it back.

“Yes, well, thank you.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Pressing her lips together, she followed him inside. Up they went to the thirty-ninth story, right below the penthouse. The elevator hummed to a halt, and she released her tight grip on the railing. She’d never been one for heights, but had better get used to it quickly.

This was, after all, home sweet home.

Xiaodan showed her to the apartment—one of two on this floor. The doors stood at opposite ends of a fifteen-foot corridor. As she faced him to inquire who occupied the other flat, its door creaked open.

Her uncle jammed the keycard into the slot and prodded her inside. He spun and blocked the doorway with his body while he spoke to her new neighbor in harsh, low tones.

Even with her proficiency in Mandarin, she couldn’t make out what they said to each other. Except her uncle’s tone was severe.

As he turned back to her, she shifted her gaze to the floor, pretending she hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop. The second she lifted her head to scan her new place, her jaw dropped.

The wide hallway opened straight into a classic galley kitchen. Beyond the small dining area, instead of a balcony and a view of the city, an enormous terrace sprawled outward. Jungle plants, crawling with gorgeous, exotic flowers, fanned beyond her field of vision.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it?” She shook her head in amazement and turned a bright smile on her uncle. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never lived anywhere like this.” The electricity alone was a luxury she hadn’t experienced since the early days of the plague.

And
yay
for an unlimited water supply.

“Well, this is your home now.” He extended his arm, gesturing for her to explore.

She didn’t require any convincing. The spacious apartment covered at least two thousand square feet and boasted three large bedrooms—the master, the second, and the third, which had been arranged as an office.

That would come in handy when she began her new job at the private English language school her uncle owned. He didn’t know it yet, but she’d accepted his invitation with the intention of working toward her future. She had goals. Dreams.

An ESL teacher’s salary wouldn’t cover the rent, but she loved teaching. She’d been halfway through her practicum in a kindergarten class when they’d closed the schools. Her heart had broken at the thought of never knowing if any of those sweet children had survived.

The heartache splintered her chest. Children and the elderly, being the most vulnerable, were the hardest hit. Part of her preferred not to be informed, so she wouldn’t have to accept that any child in her class had passed away.

But the numbers on the television screen didn’t lie.

“I will do everything in my power to make you as comfortable as I can.” Xiaodan placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Please do not hesitate to ask for anything. I will leave you now to rest.” He squeezed hard, planted a kiss on top of her head, and left her alone.

Alone. Again.

She rolled out the tension in her shoulders.

My life isn’t over. It’s just beginning
.

Right.
She straightened her spine and strode to the French doors. Twisting the lock, she flung them open, letting the moist, greenhouse-like humidity crash over her. As she inhaled the floral air, she embraced its purity. Cleansing. Renewing.

Shucking her sandals, she followed the path, her bare feet soaking in the warmth of the stones. Her head tilted back, she drank in the sunlight. After months in a quarantine cell, this freedom was heaven. Despite the hefty sum of her ticket, paid for by her uncle, she had spent three long months in a secured lockup before being allowed into the country. If not for her desperation to come here, she might have gone nuts between the whitewashed walls of her cell.

As she lowered her lashes, she caught sight of movement behind the copse of leathery leaves. Quirking her head, she treaded around the corner into the clearing at the end of the path.

Her foot snagged on a tile, and she tripped forward, her hands and knees slamming onto the pathway.
Ouch
. Focused on the blur of motion ahead, she’d missed the uneven stonework. She hissed while she examined the mild scrape on her hands, brushed the pain off, and lifted her gaze.

Wow.
A sexy, tattooed exhibition of bronzed skin greeted her. As she blinked, she realized the statuesque figure was actually a man. He sat cross-legged in the center of the clearing, his back to her, clad in only a pair of black, tailored martial arts pants.

Her gaze meandered over ripped muscles and the darkly inked, tribal tattoo of a tiger. The animal stretched from its head on the man’s left shoulder to the tip of its curved tail near the base of his waist on the right side.

“Oh, sorry.” She shot to her feet, wiping her hands on her skirt. “I assumed this was my terrace. Sorry for intruding.”

He remained silent. His back ramrod straight, hands balanced on his knees, he was clearly deep in a form of meditation like
qìgōng
.
Just as she was about to leave him be, he tilted his head toward her and regarded her from the corners of his dark-lashed eyes.

She froze and her mouth dried while those eyes stalked her, a covetous flash in them. Suddenly, the vulnerability of her situation became clear. A woman alone, where no one would hear her screams.

Her instincts assessed the threat. Flight or fight?

As her mind raced along every possible outcome, her reasoning kicked in. Her uncle wouldn’t have placed her next to a crazy, dangerous man, would he? The guy hadn’t seemed like a psychopath a moment ago, as peaceful concentration had been etched into his features. But dangerous?

Oh, yeah.

Dangerous as hell.

The fluttering in her stomach spiked and then sank lower as he continued to stare at her, unspeaking.

“I’m Lucy,” she tried in Mandarin, since maybe he didn’t speak English. “I just arrived from America. This is my uncle’s condominium.”

The words rambled out of her before she slammed her mouth shut. Next, she’d be telling him about the private jet’s food and what movie she’d watched.

Switch on that censor, Luce.

He might not be a nut job but, by now, he likely concluded she was one. Especially since she continued to gawk at his muscular body.

“Um, what’s your name? Should I go? I should probably go, right?” Pivoting, she winced at the desperate tone of her voice. It’d been so long since she’d chatted with anyone, and this new freedom was…even lonelier.

“Don’t leave.” The smooth, sexy, accented voice stopped her retreat.

A command? Sure sounded like one. Despite the stiffening in her muscles, she obeyed. She swiveled around, her eyes widening as the man rose with effortless, smooth grace, mimicking the tiger on his back.

He kept on rising, stretching at least six and a half feet tall, his body so much bigger than what she’d pictured at first. Her foot inched backward.

High, youthful cheekbones accented a robust, square jaw, obscuring her ability to tell if he was in his twenties or forties. His irises weren’t brown, but a deep, jet black, matching his straight hair. Longer pieces slashed across his eyes, and she curled her fingers into her palms to combat the urge to brush aside those dark locks.

Recognition struck her. Sexy mouth. Strong jaw. “You’re my driver.” The accusation burst out of her mouth. What the hell was he doing here, being her new neighbor?

Unless he really was her bodyguard.
Yikes.

Their standoff of silent appraisals continued as the muscles of his massive, sculpted body flexed. The intensity in his eyes made her lower parts
needy
so she dropped her lashes, peering past them to broad shoulders and across his delectable, carved abs.

She fought against her mouth falling open and drool oozing out as she admired every sharply honed edge of him. Her nails cut deeper into her palms. She reprimanded her fingers against the impulse to poke him and determine if he was indeed pure muscle. No one should be that sexy. Pressing her thighs together, she ignored the demanding pull of desire warming her core.

The tiger tat on his back wasn’t alone in gracing his smooth, burnished skin. A palm-sized stylized
yin-yang
symbol was etched onto his front right shoulder, one Chinese character in the center.

Her gaze followed the straight line of his hands down to his bare feet. As he stepped forward, she shook out of her lust-induced stupor and focused on his face, only to note the slight quirk in one corner of his mouth.

Damn.

CHAPTER TWO

Lucy’s gaze roamed over him, a hunger in her eyes Sheng had satisfied for countless other women.

Not with her.

Tiger clawed at its cage, itching to break free. Sheng squeezed his hands into fists at his sides, grappling for control over the beast. It wasn’t like Tiger to jump out at someone.

What about this woman provoked such a response?

He cocked his head and studied her. They’d waited an eternity for the arrival of Xiaodan’s niece. Hell, Sheng had tolerated the old man for a decade because of her. Because of what she was.

The beast in him surged in recognition of an old friend.

Well, at least her uncle hadn’t lied. Ever since Sheng had first glimpsed her exiting the plane, a tingling had erupted under his skin, rippling awareness through him. A sensation he only experienced with the others.

Lucky for Xiaodan.

Sheng fought to maintain control. Nothing about the waif in front of him evinced the champion he’d been anticipating, but that didn’t mean her spirit animal wouldn’t be a fierce warrior.

Tiger chuffed, a sound none but the other Chosen would be able to detect.

Lucy’s pink lips parted, and her large golden eyes widened. She continued to stare at him with unabashed, carnal curiosity.

A grin tugged at his lips. Might as well return the scrutiny.

Streaks of blonde flowed through her waist-length light-brown hair. Large expressive eyes set in a delicate heart-shaped face sparkled in a striking shade of golden hazel. The mixed blood in her veins resulted in features neither Caucasian nor Chinese, but a combination of both.

The effect was undeniably mesmerizing. He could stare at her for hours, trying to figure out which parts of her were Chinese and which Caucasian. Her father’s side dominated, but her mother’s British traits softened her features.

Her parents. Dead now. He almost opened his mouth to express his condolences, but fuck that. Experience had taught him how little the pity of strangers was worth.

She was an orphan, just like him. Alone in the world, but she didn’t have to be any longer. His
Kongsi
had taken him in and they’d embrace her too.

Lucy exhaled and her other attributes drew his appreciation lower. In this humidity, the cream camisole she wore molded to her breasts, the pebbling of her tight nipples visible through the thin fabric. His fists clenched tighter. If he palmed their weight, they’d be a perfect fit.

His cock stiffened, straining against the fabric of his pants and making him grateful they were neither loose enough to expose his erection, nor snug enough to constrict him.

The view only got better from there. Her gray skirt fit intimately around a slender waist, flared over curvy hips, coming to rest above her knees. The flash of bare, toned legs dried his mouth.

Tiger settled inside him, pleased. Lucy was an enigma. From his world, but not a part of it. Which was why he’d “borrowed” Xiaodan’s driver’s car and picked her up himself. Evicted Xiaodan’s tenant and insisted on occupying the other apartment on her floor…much to the old man’s chagrin. But, fuck him. Sheng needed to gauge how much she was ready to handle.