Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

R aj

I step out into the spotlight, the familiar hum of anticipation buzzing through the packed room. The stage lights are blinding, but I've grown used to them. They're part of the game, a necessary distraction. But tonight, there's something else gnawing at my focus. Or rather, someone.

Felicity. The new server who ran into me backstage, her drink spilling all over my shirt. Awkward? Sure. But it was also electric. There was something about her that snagged my attention and refused to let go.

"Hey folks, how's everyone doing tonight?" I start, my voice filling the room. The crowd responds with cheers and claps. I scan their faces but find my mind drifting back to Felicity.

I launch into my first joke, something about dating apps and how you can swipe left on someone and end up matching with their hotter sibling. The crowd laughs, but I'm half-committed. My hand still tingles from where I caught Felicity's arm to steady her. Her skin was so soft under my fingers.

"Y'know," I continue, leaning into the mic with a smirk, "people say New York is the city that never sleeps. But honestly, that's just 'cause everyone's too busy avoiding eye contact on the subway." The crowd chuckles, and I glimpse Felicity's smile from the corner of my eye. It's like a spark that ignites something primal in me, making my pulse quicken.

Laughter ripples through the audience again, but it feels distant, like background noise to the reel of the pretty waitress playing in my head. Her wary eyes, framed by dark lashes that fluttered as she apologized. Her hair falling over her shoulders in waves that seemed to shimmer even under the harsh backstage lights.

There's something about her that's... alluring. It's not just her beauty, though that's impossible to ignore, it's her mystery. She looks like she carries secrets in those eyes, deep and guarded, like there are layers to her waiting to be unraveled. The way she moves, the way she speaks, it all hints at a story she's not ready to share. And damn if I don't want to be the one she finally opens up to.

I dive into another bit about how no one actually likes kale; it's just a social experiment to see how far people will go for Instagram likes. They laugh again, but my thoughts keep circling back to Felicity.

What is it about her? Why can't I shake this feeling? I'm used to women flirting with me after shows or during meet-and-greets, but Felicity didn't even look at me twice after our collision.

She's different.

The protective side of me stirs—the animalistic instincts I've spent years learning to control want to know more about her. The weretiger in me senses something special about her, something worth guarding. It's not just her beauty or the mystery in her eyes; there's a vulnerability she tries to hide, a strength she doesn't realize she has.

As I wrap up another joke about trying and failing miserably at cooking during quarantine—"Turns out sourdough starters need more than just wishful thinking"—the applause is louder this time, but I'm only half-listening. My eyes keep drifting to Felicity, who's moving gracefully between tables, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders. There's a tension in her posture that pulls at me, making it hard to focus on anything else. The crowd's laughter feels distant, almost muted, as my weretiger instincts sharpen, urging me to stay alert and keep an eye on her.

My set finishes strong, the crowd's laughter still echoing in my ears. But as I step off the stage and head back toward the bar area. There's an irresistible pull towards her, a magnetic force I can't ignore. I need to find out what makes her tick, what secrets lie behind those hazel eyes. If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to uncover the layers she hides beneath that guarded exterior.

I step off the stage, applause still ringing in my ears, and head straight for the bar. Felicity's there, setting down an empty tray, her eyes scanning the room like she's searching for escape routes. I lean against the bar, my eyes never leaving her.

"Hey," I say, my voice casual but laced with curiosity. "How'd your first shift go? Everything alright?"

She looks up, surprised to see me standing so close. "It was busy," she replies, her voice soft but steady. Those hazel eyes of hers dart around like they're checking for danger, a fleeting shadow of fear crossing them. I can't help but notice how her hands fidget with the edge of the tray, a nervous habit she probably doesn't even realize she has.

My instincts flare up, the weretiger within me sensing her unease. I lean in slightly, trying to offer a comforting presence without crowding her. "Busy's good, right? Means more tips," I say, my tone casual but my eyes searching hers for any sign of what's really bothering her. "You handled it well. Most new servers drop more than one tray their first night," I joke, letting a chuckle escape.

I'm hoping to see that smile again, the one that lights up her entire face and makes her eyes sparkle.

She gives a small laugh, barely more than a breath. "Guess I'm just lucky."

I catch the hint of vulnerability in her voice, and it tugs at something deep inside me. My instincts roar softly, urging me to protect her, to keep her safe from whatever shadows linger in her past. "Luck's only part of it," I say, leaning in just a bit closer. "You've got skill, too. Don't sell yourself short."

I tilt my head, watching her closely, taking in every nuance of her expression. "You don't strike me as someone who relies on luck," I say, my voice gentle but firm. I want her to understand that I see her strength, that I'm not just feeding her empty compliments.

Her eyes flicker with something, fear? Maybe recognition? She quickly looks away, and I can feel her retreating into herself. "I just try to stay out of trouble," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

I lean in closer, my eyes never leaving her face. "Trouble has a way of finding people who don't deserve it," I say, my tone serious now. "Trust me, I know." I can feel the weretiger within me stir, a low rumble of agreement resonating through my chest. "But that doesn't mean you have to face it alone."

She glances at me, curiosity mingling with caution in her gaze. "What do you mean by that?" Her voice is soft, almost hesitant, like she's testing the waters.

I shrug, keeping it light. "Let's just say life has thrown me a few curveballs."

She nods slowly, like she understands more than she's letting on. There's a vulnerability there that tugs at me. Her eyes, so bright yet shadowed, pull me in. I can sense the weight of her past, a past she's not ready to share. .

"Sometimes, it's not about staying out of trouble," I add, my voice softening. "It's about facing it head-on. You've got this air about you," I continue, leaning closer so only she can hear, catching a whiff of her subtle floral perfume. "Like you've been through a lot but came out stronger."

Her eyes widen slightly, and she takes a step back, clutching the tray like a shield. "I don't know about that," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. There's a flicker of pain in her eyes, a shadow of something dark and haunting.

I can almost feel the weight of her past pressing down on her, and my protective instincts flare up. The tiger in me growls softly, urging me to reach out, to comfort her. But I hold back, not wanting to scare her off.

I let out a soft chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "You don't give yourself enough credit, you know." It's like I can almost see the invisible scars etched into her soul, and every part of me wants to reach out despite my rule against dating humans. But this human, I can tell, she's different.

"Thanks," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

We stand there in a silence thick with unspoken words. Her eyes flicker with a mix of gratitude and something else, something deeper. My weretiger senses pick up on it, a subtle shift in her demeanor.

I clear my throat. "Look, if you ever need someone to talk to or just someone to make you laugh, I'm around." I lean in slightly, my voice soft yet resolute. "I mean it, Felicity. You don't have to go through this alone."

Her eyes meet mine again, and this time there's something different in them with a flicker of trust, maybe? It's small but unmistakable. My weretiger instincts sense the shift, a subtle but significant change in her guarded demeanor.

"Thanks," she repeats, this time with a bit more conviction. Her voice has gained a touch of strength, a hint of resolve that wasn't there before.

I nod, pushing off from the bar with a deliberate ease. "Anytime, Felicity. Seriously." My eyes linger on her for a moment longer, hoping she can feel the sincerity behind my words.

As I walk away, I can feel her eyes on my back, a silent plea for a connection that tugs at my instincts. Something deep within tells me this is just the beginning of whatever is brewing between us. There's a magnetic pull, an undeniable spark that promises more.

My senses prick with anticipation, every fiber of my being on high alert for the unfolding of something significant. This isn't just a passing moment. It's the start of something I don't think either of us can ignore. The animal within me is restless and eager, recognizing the connection between us. It's more than just attraction, but something more.