Blurb：
Broken veterinary student Maeve Connolly rescues a wounded stray cat, unaware her new pet George is Dorian Kingsley - ancient Tiger King hiding as a British Shorthair. When the struggling grad mysteriously lands a dream job at Whisperwind Wildlife Sanctuary, she discovers terrifying predators bow to her presence. Dorian's secret agenda to claim his fated mate unravels as Maeve's dormant shifter-bloodline awakens, making her target for supernatural forces. Can the golden-eyed beast masquerading as her housecat protect Maeve from a hidden world that hungers for her power?
Key elements:
- Forced proximity with shapeshifting Tiger King Dorian/George
- Maeve's mysterious healing abilities & predator-dominating aura
- Whispers of ancient bloodlines at Whisperwind Sanctuary
- Viral "Beast Whisperer" incidents exposing supernatural truths
- Tessa's cryptic guidance vs Owen Ramsey's warnings
- Bear/Wolf shifter reactions to Dorian's territorial scent marking
Content：
§PROLOGUEDorian Kingsley watched her sleep.
The moonlight filtered through the cheap blinds of her cramped studio apartment, casting silver stripes across the rumpled duvet.
Underneath it, Maeve Connolly murmured, one hand thrown over her pillow, her breathing deep and even.
He lay curled at the foot of her bed, a compact knot of muscle and shadow disguised as a perfectly ordinary British Shorthair.
To her, he was George, the stray she’d rescued from a rain-slicked alley, her only companion in a city that felt determined to chew her up and spit her out.
To the ancient world that hid in the cracks of human awareness, he was the King of Beasts.
And she, this woman who smelled of antiseptic soap and quiet desperation, was beginning to smell more and more like him.
Like his territory.
Like his own.
He’d felt the shift tonight, subtle but unmistakable.
The ambient magic of the city, usually a dull, chaotic thrum, had sparked around her for a barest second, a flicker of impossible power before settling again.
It was the echo of a bloodline long thought lost.
A power that made the tiger within him stir, a low growl vibrating in his chest, almost a purr.
He had found her.
After ten long years, he had finally found her.
He watched until the first hints of dawn painted the sky a bruised purple, then rose, stretched, and leaped silently from the bed.
His job tonight was done.
Soon, his real work would begin.
She had to be brought into his world.
Before her own world tore her apart.
§01
My name is Maeve Connolly, and I was officially a failure.
With a Master's in Veterinary Science and a mountain of student debt, the only job offers I’d received were for unpaid internships that required a decade of experience I didn’t have.
My savings account was a joke, a two-digit tragedy staring back at me from my banking app.
The eviction notice tucked under my door felt less like a threat and more like a prophecy.
That night, the Portland rain was coming down in sheets, a relentless, miserable downpour that matched my mood perfectly.
It was on my way back from yet another soul-crushing interview that I found him.
He was huddled in a cardboard box behind a dumpster, a sodden lump of golden-tipped fur, shivering violently.
One of his legs was bent at an unnatural angle, and a raw, ugly gash ran along his side.
He should have hissed, or spat, or tried to scratch me when I reached for him.
Instead, he just looked up, his big, round eyes full of a weary intelligence that tugged at something deep inside me.
He let out a soft, pathetic sound, a cross between a meow and a groan.
"Mrowl."
My own problems evaporated.
The rent, the debt, the gnawing hunger in my stomach—it all faded into the background.
"Okay," I whispered, carefully scooping him into my arms. "Okay, buddy. Let's get you fixed up."
The emergency vet visit cost me nearly everything I had left.
They wrapped his leg, stitched his side, and gave him a shot of antibiotics.
I spent my last few dollars on a can of premium cat food he devoured with a startling ferocity.
Back in my tiny studio, I held the bandaged cat and stared at my empty wallet.
"I can't even feed myself, and now I'm trying to save you," I said to him, the words catching in my throat.
He was lying in my lap, the purr rumbling from his chest a small, steady engine.
It was probably just the pain medication.
He let out a low "mrowl" and then drifted off to sleep.
Watching him, so vulnerable and trusting, I sighed, a long, ragged breath that let out some of the tension.
Fine.
One more mouth to feed.
I'd figure it out.
I always did.
Tomorrow, I'd hit the pavement again.
Download the Novellia app, Search 【 707565 】reads the whole book.
The End