Free Tiger Bound by Doranna Durgin

that—the sensations that spoke to her of dread, and of dangers looming large—but it was full of details that had never been hers to see.
    And it had been full of Maks. Subtle hints of a desperate flight, a violent past merging into a violent present...right through to a violent future. Maks fighting and Maks losing —she was sure of it. Just as she was sure that if she looked through her notes and her memories, she would find him tangled in those earlier warnings, too subtle to pick out until she’d actually seen those green eyes, run her hands through that dark chestnut hair...felt the warmth of him against her and rinsed his blood from her fingers.
    She framed his face with her hands as though it was hers to touch, as though it always had been. “Maks,” she said desperately, still adrift in what she’d seen, and deeply adrift in the flavor of him that had come with it, “there’s something... ” Desperate flight and violence...past tied to future...
    She searched his expression, found his eyes gone dark, his mouth grim. She touched his lower lip—a different Katie Maddox, caught in the grip of the vision’s undertow. Unfettered by the deer’s caution, and living in a moment where she knew this man, had always known him. She found his mouth soft and firm and serious...and silent as ever. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
    And there must have been, because those eyes grew more shuttered, and she felt the familiar flicker of hurt. But he responded to her touch as though he, like she, had been caught in the grip of the vision, the thing that made them strangers no more. His hands tightened on her shoulders as he closed his eyes to breathe deeply of her, leaning into her touch.
    “Maks,” she whispered again. “There are things you’re not telling me...”
    But there was plenty he was, right then and there. He dipped his head, touching his forehead to hers; his breath came in a gust against her cheek, his mouth barely open...she could all but feel the touch of it. Her hands roamed—fingers tracing his neck, feeling the planes of his chest, the strapping muscle of his abdomen. They curved around his flanks, fingernails scraping against tough jeans, pulling him against her.
    Maks made a desperate noise in his throat, just the hint of a growl. He ducked his head, and his teeth lightly scraped the side of her throat.
    Reality flooded her. A thrill of fear tightened the skin on her exposed throat and all the way down her back.
    Maks froze. He stopped breathing for that moment—like Katie, jerking back to reality. He stumbled back the few steps he could, looking at her with all the desire still writ large on his face and all the realization of how close to out of control they’d gotten. When he opened his mouth, it formed the beginning of one word, and then another, and finally he just closed his eyes and shook his head.
    “I—” she said, and found herself no more coherent than he. Every inch of her skin felt exposed; every inch of it ached for the feel of his hands—and still she felt his teeth on her throat, knew herself not brave enough to reach for what she wanted. She slid around the table, freeing them from forced proximity, dragging her focus back to the soothsaying—to what it meant for them all. “I saw—”
    What she realized then was that he was in no condition to talk about this, to think about it. That he looked as wild as she felt, and just as inclined to bolt.
    She said, “I don’t know what I saw. I have to think about it. I’m...I’m sorry.” She retreated all the way to the crates, giving him a clear shot to the exit.
    He took it, quickly enough to generate another tiny stab of hurt. At the last moment, he turned in the doorway, caught in such imminence of motion that she caught her breath on it—seeing for once not the predator to be feared, but the magnificence behind that presence. He finally managed, “The woods. I need to know them.”
    She nodded,