Sharpe's Tiger Novels & Stories

The tiger tilted its head upward to glare at Adrian on the treetop and let out a roar as a massive amount of blood dripped from the wounds on its body. This time, the tiger's rage had reached its peak at this point, and Adrian knew it well. Seeing that the tiger was about to launch another attack on him, he hastily got down from the treetop. "Hmph! It seems like your physical resilience is truly impressive. You're not dead yet, even after sustaining such severe injuries," Adrian commented, displaying a hint of admiration for the tiger's strong physique.

This was an year old picture of him standing topless for the playboy magazine. "Now what the hell is wrong with her?" Troy frowned and then walked out of the office instantly, wiping away the sweat from his forehead. The only person Troy was afraid of was his grandmother, Mrs. Herarld Dawson, his only living family. Troy was closest to her grandmother ever since he was born and perhaps that is why she was the only person who could control the untammed tiger.

Corinne sighed, “You always seem to be wondering why I'm so relaxed about my situation. Well, there's your answer, Calibur. I know very well what could happen to both our packs if this alliance had not been consolidated, no matter what it cost us. I saw with my own eyes the bloodlust of those beasts. More than conquering, they want to destroy what is before them, even if they have to rip off their own limbs and use them as a weapon. Your wolves and the tigers of my pack fight well alone, but not as well as together. And I know that not even someone as full of pride as you can deny that, after we managed to dominate together that bear shapeshifter that was trying to enter your territory…” “Yo

A tiger motif was tattooed on his face. This man was Tigre, one of the Quintus family’s twelve zodiac fighters, a person much stronger than Pigsy and Capra. “After screwing up, how are you still alive?”

Rosie swooned as they continued to watch their fierce mate tear chunks from the unmatched cat who sought to hunt her. Their mate was large. Easily three times the size of Rosie, if not more. He was a true apex predator, a tiger. Tigers were reclusive shifters. They were not pack animals, so it confused her why this one was part of a pack. Sure, the Slaughtered Lambs pack had multiple different shifters within their pack, but Tigers were notoriously known to be solitary creatures. They wandered and hunted alone. This is why he is always in trees. Remember the pack saying that he is always off somewhere, hunting. It makes sense now. Rosie says as though she were connecting the dots.

Tiger snapped angrily . . . .......

he smiles, showing me some photographs of buildings and streets. “Yeah, it looks colorful,” I say. “You need to come with me this time, you’ll like it.” After a few moments, I hear people whisper and laugh. I turn my head and gasp when I see the Black Tiger enter the building, his arm covered with blood. I look at people and widen my eyes, wondering how they could laugh when one of the agents is hurt. “It seems like the tiger has become a little cat now.” Jayden chuckles and regrets it immediately when he sees my death glare.

Two more male tigers were growling on the outside, pacing and panting in stress, but not offering any help, even as a second, unconscious tiger was flung into the mud in a lifeless heap. Shuule had not let go of her grip on her battle partner, even though he was now frantically trying to remove her from the nape of his neck. He could not reach her with his claws or teeth, so he had opted to rear up and slam himself back onto the floor, in an attempt to crush her. The fox could feel her bones straining, and she willed them not to break, if it was possible. She was determined not to give up as she was flung around like a rag doll, though she did not have the faintest idea what her next course

Although he was in the center, his attention focused on the images of the two alphas on either end: Garcia, the first and most long-lived alpha of their streak, and Antonio, the most recent, now-deceased, alpha of their streak of tigers. Garcia, with his long, silver hair, was the founder of the first San Antonio tiger streak. His reputation was as a fierce warrior and a wise leader, the standard all the streaks’ later alphas strived to emulate. Antonio had been charismatic and had died far too young. The Losoya Pack, from the southwest part of town, had waged an unprovoked war against his streak and too many shifters had died, on both sides—including Antonio.

SOMEONE'S POINT OF VIEW I was reading today's newspaper when I saw some very interesting news written in it. 'The Sharp Shooter: The Oracle's Pride' was written in bold letters. I smirked at the sight of the picture attached to it. A beautiful lady with fiery red long hair who is holding a very exquisite gun in her hands. She is aiming at the target with her pair of keen silver eyes. It makes one person lose their mind with a quick glance at this picture, and I must admit that I am no exception.