Alternative Universe, Paranormal Women’s Fiction

Date Published: Apri 12, 2024

 

 

Kurt Briggs has a spirit link to a tiger Familiar that gives him superhuman
abilities, but when his father is murdered, the military veteran becomes a
target for terrorist sorcerers. Alone, Kurt finds he’s no match for the
witch and her shape-shifting polar bear. He turns to Arcanist Genevieve
Reyes for help in fighting the killers’ spells.

As Genevieve and Kurt hunt the terrorists, shared danger leads to shared
desire. But they soon realize Kurt’s passion for Gen weakens his control
over his cat. The consequences could be deadly for them both. Genevieve is
attracted to Kurt’s animal sensuality, but she knows she may be in as much
danger from his tiger as she is from the terrorists.

Even if Kurt and Gen manage to stop the terrorists, their evil sorcery may
trigger a witch hunt that could mean the destruction of everyone with
magical Talent — including Kurt and Genevieve.

EXCERPT

The tiger bounded toward him in a blur of striped fur and powerful muscle.
Kurt Briggs braced himself as the big cat reared to thump huge paws down on
his shoulders. Somehow he managed not to fall on his ass, though eight feet
of cat made an awkward dance partner. Rumbling, the beast touched a cool,
damp nose to Kurt’s.

“Hi to you, too, Stoli.” Kurt dug his fingers in thick reddish
gold fur to give his Familiar a scratch.

Golden eyes narrowed in feline ecstasy and Stoli chuffed a greeting. The
tiger dropped to all fours again, and turned toward the lake with a flick of
his striped tail. Kurt strolled after him across the thick grass.

Through the trees ahead Kurt spotted the flickering glint of afternoon
sunlight on water — the spring-fed lake that lay at the heart of Briggs
Feral Sanctuary. Another tiger lounged in the shallows, six hundred pounds
of stripes, attitude and luminous golden eyes.

Dave gave them a lazy blink, indolent as a pasha. And like a pasha, he
apparently had a harem — or at least a gang of devoted fans. Ten female
volunteers clustered just outside the enclosure fence as close as they dared
get. Dressed in shorts, hats and T-shirts with the BFS lion logo, they all
wore grins of anticipation as they waited for him to do something amazing.
Or, knowing Dave, inappropriate.

Stoli catapulted off the bank, sailed through the air, and landed on the
other cat with a huge splash. The volunteers fled the arcing water, yelping
and laughing.

Dave roared, batting at Stoli’s nose with sheathed claws. “Back
off, Tigger! Do I look like fuckin’ Pooh Bear to you?”

Stoli raced off, chuffing like a giggling ten-year-old who’d pranked
his brother. Which was exactly what he was. The two cats had been
littermates before they’d melded with their human partners. Otherwise
they couldn’t have shared an enclosure. Their fights would have been
real.

“You’d better run, asshole! I’ll turn you into a
rug!” Dave flopped back down in the water with a huff of feline
disdain. “The crap I put up with.”

Kurt’s grin faded. Dave did indeed put up with a hell of a lot. A
year ago he’d been Dave Frost, a member of Kurt’s Arcane Corps
unit — a tall, lanky blond with a wicked sense of humor. But that was
before Dave had died, leaving his soul trapped in the body of Smilodon, his
Familiar.

Another man might have surrendered to bitterness and grief for his lost
humanity. Dave taught himself to talk by making the air vibrate with magic
instead of human vocal cords. Now he was building a thriving career as a
YouTube smartass.

“You got me all wet,” a blonde volunteer complained, pretending
to pout as she pulled at her soaked shirt.

The tiger gave her a toothy grin. “My pleasure.”

“Ladies, quit flirting with the wildlife and finish cleaning the
enclosures.” Kurt put a little subsonic rumble in his voice. Dave
wasn’t the only one who could manipulate sound with his magic.
“We don’t want BFS to smell like the world’s biggest
litter box.”

“Killjoy,” Dave complained.

“You heard the man.” Karla Morgen, the volunteer coordinator,
made a shooing gesture at the women. “The poop won’t scoop
itself.”

“You know,” Kurt told Dave as the volunteers scattered,
“you couldn’t be any more a ham if you were Porky
Pig.”

“How else would I bring home the bacon?” Dave flicked a paw,
and an invisible snare drum banged out a rimshot.

Kurt laughed. “You’re getting scary with the magical sound
effects.”

“I live to terrify. Speaking of performances, how many tickets did we
sell last night? Looked like every inch of the arena bleachers had
somebody’s butt on it.”

“Pretty much.” BFS’s Feral 101 show was designed to
educate sanctuary visitors about big cats. They’d livened it up with a
demonstration of Feral abilities, but the material had still been as dry as
sawdust — until Dave had taken the emcee job in his capable paws. “We
brought in five thousand in ticket sales and donations, plus another
thousand for selfies and souvenirs.”

And they needed every dime. Keeping fifty-nine exotic cats fed and healthy
wasn’t something you did on a shoestring.

Dave gave him a smug smile. “I has skillz. I also has half a million
followers.”

“You’re just lucky they don’t know what an asshole you
are.”

“I’m a tiger. We’re supposed to be assholes.”

Movement across the lake drew Kurt’s attention. In the next
enclosure, a lion came to the water’s edge, accompanied by his two
lionesses. Staring at the tigers, the Familiar roared.

 

 

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards
for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.

 

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@changelingpress

 

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