CHAPTERONE
Clenching his teeth and biting back the pain, Rev brushed the gravel out of the open flesh wound on his leg. “Damn it.” From the looks of it, his motorcycle took the brunt of the damage when he swerved to avoid the three deer that had leapt out in front of him. Pulling the twisted metal free from a stump, he audibly growled. “It’s gonna be a long walk home. Unless …”
Hearing the telltale sound of a vehicle approaching on the dirt road, he reconsidered his opportunities.
An old pickup truck, so dirty it was impossible to ascertain what color it was painted, slowly rolled up under the canopy of live oak and Spanish moss.
A gray-haired man leaned out the open window. “Hey, Rev, what the hell did you do now?”
“Loose gravel and a herd of deer running through the swamp. I laid my bike down. The hard way.”
“And taking that curve too damn fast, I bet. Shoulda hit your big head on that stump. Maybe it’d finally knock some sense into you. You want a ride home?”
“Sure. Thanks, Sam. I’ll come back for the bike later,” Rev said, taking a last glance at his wrecked motorcycle.
After a mile of bouncing over the washboard road, Sam spoke up. “Good thing I came along. You’d have to walk through the narrows. The bayou has been waking up again. People been talking.”
“Nah. People get spooked by their own crazy stories. The narrows ain’t nothing but a crosswalk for gators going from one spot to the other.”
The narrows, as the locals called it, was where the high ground disappeared, and the road became nothing more than a low causeway through a heavily wooded, swampy part of Bayou Rouge. As far as Rev was concerned, it was dangerous only during storms. But the locals seemed to have an endless number of supernatural stories surrounding shadowy swamp roads.
“I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I heard.”
“Well, what did you hear, old man?” Rev asked, half curious, half amused.
“Couple of folks said they heard some things. Growling. Howling. I don’t know exactly. Unnatural sounds.”
Rev cocked his head, gaining interest. “Probably bobcats. Those damn things can make weird sounds like someone’s getting murdered. Might even be a panther crossing through. I’ve seen their tracks,” he said, trying to dismiss Sam’s concerns.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Bayou keeps a lot of secrets,” he replied, steering the truck into the drive of a large waterfront cabin.
“That it does. Thanks for the lift,” Rev said, then limped across the yard and into his house.
Once inside, he stripped off his ripped and bloodied clothes and walked out the back door. Stepping out onto the pier, he stretched his naked body. His powerful muscles rippled with every movement he made. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the ancient magic and called forth the spirit inside that he was born with.
“Finally. We could’ve done this earlier and skipped the whole motorcycle accident. You realize that, right?”
“You heard what Sam said. People are nosey, even out here in bumblefuck. We can’t just be running wild down the roads in broad daylight. It’s called being discreet.”
“Yeah, well, we could’ve at least been feasting on fresh venison. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for a tiger to have his prey takehimdown?”
“Forget it. We’ve got fresh fish inside waiting to be fried up.”
His tiger lunged forward, taking his place in front of Rev’s mind. His body transformed into a massive tiger nearly twice the size of any natural beast in the wild. Most importantly, his body healed. Crouching and baring his fangs, he let out a roar that reverberated across the bayou. Suddenly, he launched off the end of the pier and hit the water with a huge splash, scaring every bird who happened to be nearby into flight.
Effortlessly swimming over open water, he dove to the deepest section and resurfaced on the other side. He had nothing to fear in the bayou. Not the snakes nor the gators. They were nothing compared to him. This was truly his kingdom.
Returning to the pier, he shook himself off and shifted into his human form. Back inside the cabin, he stepped into the shower. As he was soaping himself down, his mind flashed a slideshow of erotic memories. Bits and pieces of times when he wasn’t alone. It was nearly painful.
His hands ran down over the rippling six-pack of his abdomen, and he cupped his sack with one hand while he stroked his thickening length with his other. Throwing his head back under the steaming shower, he allowed himself to remember the passion of being with a beautiful, curvy woman. One who was more than willing to take the entirety of his length and, in fact, begged to be filled by it.
His pace increased, the strokes covering his swollen head and down over the thick, veiny length. With a series of thrusts, his cock erupted with numerous ropes of his hot seed spurting out. Obviously, it had been too long since he had been with a woman.
“Forget the fish. Go into the city. It’s Friday night. I bet the Quarter will be packed with women waiting for a real man and a good time.”
“Shut it, already. Anyway, shouldn’t you be worn out?” he asked, scolding his tiger.
Sure, he knew he could make a run into New Orleans and hang out in the Quarter. It would be nothing to pick up a hot tourist looking for a few hours of fun. Gods knows he’d done it enough, even if it had been a very long time since then. Glancing around his lonely cabin and anticipating a fish fry for one, the true loneliness began to settle in. There had to be more to all of this, to everything … a purpose, a mate. His mate. But how?