Final Cut Miami Voodoo You Love? by Belinda McBride Page A

across the tile, slitting her eyes against the sting of the water. “You don’t do it enough.”
    “I think you do it enough for both of us. Were you this silly before?” He held out his hands, pulling her into his lap. The giant shower was like a big slip-and-slide: dangerous, but the potential for fun was there. His cat loved it.
    She leaned back, rinsing the conditioner from her hair. “Maybe. I suppose sometimes. Not once I started at the firm. I wonder if maybe that’s why… you know. I lost my husky.”
    She looked so despondent at the idea, it nearly broke his heart. He held her close, and then leaned back so he could study her face. “No, it’s still there, but trapped. This whole thing stinks of magic.”
    “Really? You can smell it?”
    He grinned. “No, not really smell, more like sense it. At home in Brazil, I saw some odd stuff. A lady in my neighborhood practiced Macumba. She was a healer and did some very impressive charms. My parents were afraid of her and tried to make me stay away from her and her son. Of course, that never worked. They were always worried she’d figure out our secret.”
    “She knew you were shifters?”
    “No, she knew we were Russians.” He grinned at her look of surprise. “My family didn’t… blend in too well among the natural born Siberian tigers.”
    “Well, you aren’t a natural born tiger; you wouldn’t blend in any case.”
    He reached out, tweaking a strand of matted hair. “No, we were a bit too different. So about a century ago, my family immigrated. The jungles of Brazil promised plenty of hunting and an environment we would better adapt to. The family adopted the name of Silva. From there, we never looked back.”
    She stared at him. “So, what’s so different about you?”
    “You’d have to see my animal.” Would she be willing to let him shift, or would Coco flee in terror? He saw the curiosity play over her features. If nothing else, both types of Siberian shared a healthy curiosity. She slid off his lap, standing to turn off the water. He enjoyed the curves of her body and the glistening water on her skin. His hand dropped to his groin and he casually palmed his erection.
    “Show me your tiger.”
    He lifted a brow at her in question.
    “I won’t run. I promise.”
    He sighed. “And I promise not to harm you in any way. I’m my animal and my animal is me. Do you understand?”
    She nodded. “That’s how it used to be for me.” She stood against the tile wall of the shower, her hands flat on the surface behind her.
    Antonio took a deep breath and relaxed. That’s all it took to unlock the form he held and allow the tiger to step forward. It felt good, like water flowing over his skin. A thought, an intention and there he was, reclining on the wet floor of the shower, blinking lazily up at Coco, whose eyes were huge.
    “Ohhhh… I see. No, you probably didn’t fit in too well there in the mountains and snow.” She dropped to the floor and slid forward on her bottom, reaching out to stroke the thick ruff of fur around his cheeks. To his surprise and delight, his little Siberian snuggled up close, leaning against him, her hands digging into his fur. “God, you feel so good.”
    If tigers could purr, he’d be doing so right now.
    * * *
    Coco pushed back the tiny flutter of alarm when a giant, magnificent tiger manifested in front of her. She’d seen hundreds of shifts, but had rarely seen someone flow so gently into their alternate form. And he wasn’t the typical orange and black of most tigers. He wasn’t even white or marmalade like Mya. Antonio was reverse-colored: jet black fur punctuated by thin white stripes. In the snow or on the tundra, he’d have stood out in a dangerous fashion. His coloring was much better suited for the darker rain forests of the Amazon.
    His eyes were not the leaf green she expected, but the same whisky brown of the human Antonio. He blinked lazily and lifted a huge paw, batting gently at her. No wonder