Page 12 of Protective Tiger's Curvy Girl Crush

“I’m going to laugh when you die, Maxwell,” I say.

But my anger is faded back into terror. The terror is fading back into hopelessness. I know nothing I’m saying is more than bluster. It’s the angry railings of a person whose fate is already determined. The man next to Maxwell says, “Well, you’re not going to die. We’re going to keep you alive so we can enjoy you, even after you’re done giving cubs. You’re going to learn your mouth has a purpose that has nothing to do with talking.”

He lifts his head up and lets out a howl that certainly sounds like a wolf’s howl. Then he laughs along with the rest.

And then, the head of the man who said he’d teach me the purpose of my mouth lands on the ground in front of me.

Just his head.

I think I’m hallucinating for a moment as the forest erupts in the sound of lions roaring. No… no, not lions. I see a tiger now. It’s enormous. It’s grey. No. A dozen of them! The first one, though, has a muzzle covered with blood and gore. I look where he stands just as the headless body of the taunting man falls to the ground in front of him.

Tigers. I recall something about the lion roaring at the beginning of movies actually being a recording of a tiger. I heard tigers roaring, not lions. I’m right about Maxwell dying but I won’t be laughing. All of us are going to die. Nobody could survive a dozen or more giant tigers. They could eat all of us and still be hungry, I think.

And then Maxwell disappears.

Except he doesn’t disappear. It just happens so quickly that it seems like he does. He changes right in front of me, going from the horrible sight of him as a man to the even more terrifying sight of him as wolf.

A giant wolf!

He’s far bigger than any wolf ought to be, and I see the others are changing as well. Vance was right about the shifters. They aren’t a wolf shifter cult. They’re actually… I fall to my knees and watch. I’ve somehow been brought here when other creatures, these giant bluish gray tigers, have gone to war with the wolf shifters. I don’t know who will win. The tigers are much bigger but there are so many more wolves.

I know who won’t win.

The women here. All of us are certain to die.

I try to keep track of the wolf that is Maxwell. It might be that all of us are going to die, but maybe in the bedlam we have a slim hope of escape. I feel like a crazy woman for even thinking it, but the appearance of these tigers has given us a very slight window.

I look at the other women. Some of them are crying and they’re all huddled together, bowing their heads. I need to get them to be ready to run.

Then, I see it. The tiger that is slightly larger than the rest. This tiger is circling the wolf that I track as Maxwell. It roars and I feel my heart pounding. Tigers have always been beautiful, fascinating animals in my opinion, but these are something else. These are terrifying.

Their power is clear. The wolves do some damage, but already the tigers have taken out a few. It’s clear how the battle is likely to go, and while I like the idea of Maxwell getting absolutely slaughtered, how much better would these tigers be? They might keep us together because I read somewhere they store their food.

Food.

We die today.

I need to get these women the hell out of here. But where the hell can I start?

There is a loud clash behind us and a terrific ear-shattering roar. I look to my right and see one of the tigers take a wolf in its huge jaws and toss it like a doll. The wolf flies into the fence surrounding us and its body tears through it, leaving a gaping hole.

Holy crap, an answered prayer. I can hardly believe it. I turn to the women. “Okay, come on. We’re making a run for it.”

They sit there, shivering, sobbing. I want to slap every last one of them, but I can’t blame them. I’m probably only in my right mind because I’m the newest addition to the collection. I scurry over to the group and tug on the first one. “Come on, let’s go.”

And like that, I push and prod each of them like a group of scared rabbits. Every time there’s a roar or a loud whine from the battle around us, they all go still and whimper. It’s like those rabbits in that book I read as a kid.

Well, I don’t have time for any of this. I look at the oldest one. “What’s your name?” She stares at me. “Come on, goddamn it! What’s your fucking name?”

I scream at her not to frighten her but to shock her out of her fugue. And thankfully, it fucking works. She blinks at me. “Ma...a ...cy.”

“Okay, Macy. I need you to help me get everyone to that hole in the fence and through it, you understand? Once we’re through, we’re going to hold hands and run like hell. Got it?”

She nods. I’m worried none of it sank in but then she starts to pull the other girls along one by one to the gap in the fence. I want to feel relief but there’s too much to do before we can feel safe.

I start helping to pull the girls. Finally, the little collection is standing by the gap. I get them to link hands and then, when I see a clear shot to the woods open up in the midst of the battle, I take the front girl’s hand in mine and run, tugging the whole chain of them along with me.

We pass some cabins that seem silent enough and make it into the woods, but we don’t stop there. I refuse to let them rest, though some of them are crying again. The sounds of the battle start to calm down and the girls seem to settle into an easy jog.

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