Over the noise, she heard the distinct metallic click that she knew from living in a remote part of the mountains. Rae was pretty sure guns weren’t allowed in the bar either but she saw one man raise a shotgun and point it straight at Zander.
Rae had never before heard the noise that left her throat. A cross between a snarl and a scream belted out of her and the sword was out of the case and in her hand before she knew what had happened.
She closed both hands around the hilt, her feet finding balance as Zander had showed her. Rae wasn’t certain how she landed in the right stance, because she sure hadn’t been able to do it during this morning’s lessons. Now she rocked on the balls of her feet and swung the sword in a huge arc, bringing the flat of the blade down on the gun.
The sword’s momentum shoved the gun’s barrel toward the floor just as the man fired. The shotgun went off with a deafening boom, driving shot pellets into the boards beneath them.
The blow and shot ripped the sword from Rae’s hands. It tumbled away, landing with a clank before it spun across the floor.
Clank? Not a silvery ring, not a rippling hum, but a metallic thud.
Rae dove for the sword. The human men backed out of its way as it skittered by, until it came to rest in the middle of a cleared space on the floor.
Rae swept it up and saw why it had made the dull sound. The blade, in its middle, was cracked straight across.
“No!” Rae moaned. “Son of a bitch, no.”
Men, angry and drunk, closed in on her. Rae looked up at them in anguish, unable to feel her danger. “It’s broken.”
The guys coming at her didn’t appear to care. They were angry, afraid, and not too happy their bar had been invaded by Shifters.
Rae lifted the sword, its blade wobbling. If it snapped all the way in half . . .
The thought died as Zander barreled into her, grabbed her around the waist, and used his momentum to haul her out the front door. Piotr came right behind them, his burly arms around Ezra’s half-human, half-wolf form, dragging the man away, or at least trying to.
The night was finally dusky, a smattering of stars peeking out through the velvet blue. Lights were on in the bar’s tiny parking lot, though they weren’t much needed.
The entire bar poured out behind them, men yelling, shooter guy reloading his gun.
Zander tossed a bundle of cloth to Rae. “Hang on to my coat.”
He ripped off his sweater and threw it at Piotr, who’d finally let go of Ezra. Ezra started to run back to the twenty or so men after them but Zander got in his way.
“No,” he yelled into the wolf’s face. “Run.”
Zander threw his T-shirt at Piotr, toed off his boots, yanked down his jeans, said, “Get out of the way,” and turned bear.
Two thousand pounds of polar bear swung around to the humans in the lot, braced his great feet on the asphalt, and let out a roar.
The collective group halted. Zander roared again, the rage in his eyes glittering in the parking lot lights. His roar showed his very large, very sharp teeth.
The guy with the shotgun raised it and aimed at him.
Rae screamed, “Zander!”
Zander charged. The fighters scattered. The gunman tried to shoot but went down as Zander ran directly into him. Rae heard the gun go off but she could see nothing beyond a flurry of polar bear and men.
Ezra shook himself, shifted fully to wolf, and sprang at the men, knocking aside those trying to surround and bring down Zander.
Rae longed to shift—the wolf in her growled and squirmed, her hands turning to claws and back again. But she couldn’t abandon the sword, especially now that she’d broken it. She couldn’t let the humans get their hands on it.
But Zander was fighting for his life. He and Ezra, even in their animal forms, couldn’t last against this many, and what if more of the guys were armed? What if the bartender—or worried neighbors—called the cops?
“Rae!” Piotr was shouting to her. He waved at her to follow him before he jumped into Zander’s truck and cranked it to life.
Rae’s feet didn’t move. She couldn’t leave Zander to fight on his own. She had to help him.
Protect the sword. Eoin’s directive pounded into her head.
This sword had been stolen once from their Shiftertown, when Daragh had been killed, which had nearly led to disaster. Rae couldn’t let it be taken from them again.
Her instinct to go to Zander, though, to protect him, warred with her need to protect the sword.
The anguish of it tore at her. Was this what being Guardian meant? Having to choose between protecting those she cared about and always being Guardian first?
Her dilemma was solved by Zander. He sent another human to the ground with the swipe of one big paw, then he bowled over two others and galloped back toward Rae. Ezra sprinted after him, the long-legged wolf overtaking and passing the bear.
Piotr had the truck in motion, pointing it down the road to the marina. Ezra’s wolf chased it like a dog after a car, until he leapt and scrambled into the truck’s bed. At any other time Rae might have laughed at the sight, but she was too terrified for him and for Zander.
Zander ran straight for Rae. He smacked into her with his shoulder, not knocking her over but using the momentum to send her up onto his back.
Not quite. Rae had to scramble to get on top of him without stabbing him with the sword or dropping his coat. She had the feeling he’d be very upset if she dropped the coat.
Rae clung to Zander’s back, feeling the immense power of the bear beneath her. Zander ran with lithe ease, catching up to the moving truck.
Behind them the shotgun went off again, boom! Men yelled and sirens sounded.
Zander’s white fur rippled beneath Rae’s fingers. In one place on his shoulder, the white was tinged with red.
“Zander,” she gasped.
Zander growled in response, vibrating Rae’s body.
The truck was just ahead of them, tailgate open. Rae stifled a shriek and held on as Zander gathered himself and leapt for the pickup’s bed.
Ezra was already there. He squeezed his wolf body into a corner as Zander landed, paws scrabbling on the bottom of the truck’s bed until he was solidly on board.
The momentum made the pickup lurch and spin. Piotr cranked the wheel until the truck righted itself, then he stomped on the gas, sending the vehicle screaming down the road toward the marina.
He looked back at the trio in the bed and pumped his fist into the air. “Woo-hoo!” he cried. “Zander, you do know how to party.”
* * *
Police sirens dogged them all the way to the docks. Zander’s shoulder hurt but if he stayed bear it wouldn’t be so bad.
Piotr was driving like an insane man, pushing the truck down the narrow spit of land, the flashing lights dropping farther and farther behind them. If he made one mistake and slid the truck off the road, they’d crash into rocks and sand and tumble into the sea.
But Piotr had been driving the back roads of this part of Alaska all his life, in all weathers, in vehicles so broken down it was a surprise they worked at all. Piotr kept the truck going at a speed that would get him arrested and imprisoned, but they made it to the marina in one piece.
Piotr spun the truck to a halt in front of the dock that led to Zander’s boat. “Go!” he cried. “I hold them off!”
How he would, Zander had no idea, but he galloped down the dock, still bear, and onto the boat, Rae and Ezra following.
Tanner and Johnny, who hadn’t gone home even after all these hours, rose and watched a polar bear, followed by a young woman with a sword, followed by a wolf, run onto Zander’s boat. Zander shifted when he reached the deck, his wound ripping pain through his shoulder.
“Zander,” Rae’s voice came behind him. “He shot you.”
“Only a little.” Zander didn’t slow as he made his way into the pilot house, where he pushed the starter. He checked his fuel—he had enough to get to the port he had in mind, where h
e’d need to refill. “Go see if Piotr’s all right.”
Rae gave him an exasperated look, tossed his duster down, and hastened outside, still clutching the sword. Ezra stood on the foredeck, wind in his fur. His feet were planted on the gunwale, watching as Piotr angled the truck to cut off the two police cars and a sheriff’s SUV at the end of the dock.
Zander slid on a pair of sweatpants against the cold but didn’t bother with a shirt—he’d have to fix his shoulder first. He got the engine going, checked everything he needed to check, and made ready to pull out.
He moved to the doorway to see that Piotr had abandoned the pickup. Piotr was running faster than a bulk-muscled man should be able to, down the dock to Zander’s slip. “Go!” he yelled, making shooing gestures.
The police had leapt from vehicles and moved around Zander’s truck to chase him. Johnny and Tanner came off their boat and untied Zander’s before Zander could move to do it himself.
“Go on, man,” Tanner called to him. “We got your back.”
Zander lifted his hand in acknowledgment. Tanner and Johnny slipped the boat’s ropes free and tossed them on deck. Zander waved his thanks, returned to the wheel, and backed the boat carefully out of its place.
As he picked up speed he heard the thump of Piotr landing on the front deck and Piotr’s laughter.
“I have to come with you,” he called to Zander through the pilot house window. “If I get arrested, my wife, she kills me.”
Ezra, still a wolf, sat at the rail, watching the dock recede as Zander took them out into the harbor. The police halted at the slip and simply watched them go.
“Won’t they chase us?” Rae asked. She stood in the doorway, her hair and jacket she’d borrowed from Zander stirring in the breeze.
Piotr, who’d made his way around to the stern, answered her. “Nah. It’s expensive to take their boats out and we’re not drug smugglers, just drunk fishermen. They will think the people at the bar talking about polar bears and wolves were—as Americans put it—drunk off their asses. Pardon me, young lady.” He moved past Rae into the pilot house and collapsed onto a bench. “I think I have not had so much fun in a long time. Zander, friend, you have been shot.”
“I know.” Zander plotted his course, his alcoholic haze gone—Shifters could recover from such things quickly. Adrenaline from the fight and the pain of the wound helped sober him up fast.
The human police maybe wouldn’t chase them but if those at the fight reported that they were Shifters, someone might call Shifter Bureau. Shifter Bureau was the coordinator of all regulations and laws regarding Shifters—they didn’t have a police force but they had a military attachment and they could alert the local authorities to round up the Shifters causing trouble and bring them in. As soon as the authorities saw that neither Zander nor Ezra wore Collars and that Rae was out of her territory, they’d be in deep shit.
Zander knew how to hide out from Shifter Bureau though. He’d been doing it for a lifetime. He steered the boat toward the coordinates he’d chosen, keeping an eye on his gauges and the readouts on the laptop open next to the wheel.
Piotr was right, however, that Zander’s wound needed to be dressed. He opened a cupboard and glanced inside but it didn’t contain what he was looking for.
“I have a first aid kit somewhere,” he said. “Maybe below.”
Rae glared at him. “First aid? Seriously?” She left the doorway and stomped her way down into the cabin.
“She’s very pretty,” Piotr said, his eyes sparkling. “You two . . . ?”
“No,” Zander answered quickly. He didn’t like the pang of regret the negative answer produced. But Rae was here to learn from him, that was all. She’d return to her Shiftertown when Zander was done teaching her how to fight—though she’d done pretty damn good at the bar—and Zander would go his own way again, solitary, alone . . .
Rae banged her way back inside, her hands full of bandage rolls, alcohol, and a pair of pliers.
Zander swung away from her, putting up his hands. “No you don’t. No way am I letting you rummage inside my body with a pair of greasy needle-nose.”
“I washed them,” Rae said. “Relax. I’ve pulled bullets out of my brothers more than once. Colin and Logan run in the woods and hunters shoot at them. Taking pellets out of your shoulder will be a piece of cake in comparison.”
She dipped the pliers in alcohol and opened and closed them with a few little taps.
Zander flinched and Piotr laughed. “I will hold him down.”
Zander growled. “No you won’t.” He sidestepped Piotr and plunked himself down on a clear space on the bench.
Piotr moved to the wheel without Zander asking and took over the controls. Piotr was one of the best fishermen in the area and he’d guide the boat steadily to open sea. Ezra was still a wolf, watching the wake of the boat as the green and brown shores of Homer receded.
Most humans might suggest Zander go to a hospital. Piotr, however, knew about Shifters, courtesy of Zander, and would know a human hospital might not be able to treat him. Plus the hospital staff would call Shifter Bureau, obligated to report the incident. Rae was obviously used to home medicine and Zander would heal quickly, as Shifters did.
Rae sat right against Zander and put her hand on his shoulder, above the wound. Her touch was warm, already soothing the pain.
She brought alcohol-soaked gauze to the hole in Zander’s upper arm and very carefully began to clean it. Zander winced at the sting but tried not to move too much.
Rae wiped the wound then held it open with strong fingers as she very carefully and steadily eased the pliers into his flesh.
Zander snarled, fists balling. He let his head drop back to the wall, his jaw clenched as he fought the pain. He couldn’t let it make him shift—if he went bear, he might hurt Rae.
Something like a white-hot pincher tore at his shoulder, then Rae eased the pliers out, a pellet clamped between them. She quickly shoved clean gauze against the wound.
“There we go,” she announced.
Zander studied the squashed ball squeezed tight between the pliers. “What the hell did he load in that gun?” he asked, voice a croak. Shot came in several different sizes and this hunter must have used the biggest he could get away with.
Rae didn’t move. She kept the gauze against his shoulder, her pressure slowing the bleeding.
“You should be all right,” she said. “Can you, you know, help it heal?”
Her eyes held belief in him. Zander wanted to reach up and cup her face, wrap his hand around the warmth of her braid, and pull her down to him.
She’d kicked the ass of the last guy who’d tried that, Zander remembered. “You mean, Shifter, heal thyself?” he said, shaking his head. “Doesn’t work that way. When I’m beat up and hurt, I don’t get healed—I just have to live with it.”
Rae’s dark brows came together. The contrast between her nearly black hair and gray eyes was enchanting. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s the way it is.” Zander started to shrug, then grimaced at the pull of injury. “The way it is sucks sometimes.”
Rae set down the blood-soaked pliers and applied both hands to the gauze. She leaned in closer, brushing against him, her warmth working through his body. Rae knew that touch soothed and she was generously offering it.
Her breath was soft on Zander’s skin, the scent of her, sweet. Zander leaned closer and ever so lightly pressed his lips to the line of her hair.
Rae started but she didn’t pull away. She sat still, her breath lifting her chest, her hands fixing the bandage in place.
Zander moved his kisses along her hairline, breathing her scent, tasting the faint saltiness of her skin. Rae said nothing, did nothing. Zander kissed her temple, the brush of her hair tickling his lips.
He eased back and looked down at her. Rae’s cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, her eyes flicking away when he tried to read what was in them.
Anger? Fear? Outrage? Interest? Wha
tever she felt, Rae concentrated on holding the gauze in place as though that were all-important. At least she didn’t spit on him, punch him, go wolf and rake her claws through his already smarting shoulder.
Zander lightly kissed her temple again, then her cheekbone, absorbing her warmth. Her eyelids fluttered, lashes brushing his lips. The sensation made his entire body go hard.
“Hey,” Piotr said suddenly, and Rae jumped, scooting back a few inches.
Piotr wasn’t looking at them. He had his hand on the wheel but gazed past them to the stern. “Your wolf looks as though he wishes to leap overboard.”
Sure enough, Ezra crouched on the gunwale near the fishing poles, peering down into the water as though looking for the best place to dive in.
“Damn it,” Zander said. He rose abruptly, the gauze dropping away, and strode out into the cool dimness of the midnight sun.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rae sensed Ezra’s distress before she reached the deck. His grief and despair came to her in waves—she knew Zander felt them too, because Zander visibly flinched.
Zander put big hands on Ezra’s wolf scruff to drag him from the edge. Ezra came alert at his touch, whirling to lunge at Zander with a vicious snarl.
“Stop!” Rae shouted at him.
Ezra paid no attention. He leapt onto Zander, pushing him off balance and landing on top of him, claws raking Zander’s chest. Rae dashed to them and locked her arms around Ezra’s middle.
Several hundred pounds of squirming wolf easily broke her hold but Rae went after him again. She pulled Ezra off Zander¸ who rolled out of the way to lay panting and bleeding on the deck.
Ezra then turned on Rae.
He was in fighting frenzy, not knowing or caring who he attacked. When Shifters grieved, they went to a dark place deep inside themselves and sometimes never came out. Rae had nearly gone there as a little cub and only the combined effort of Eoin, Daragh, and her brothers had dragged her back to sanity.
Zander was coming to his feet, the alpha bear in him ready to grab Ezra and slam him to the deck until he calmed down. In the wild, if an alpha couldn’t subdue a Shifter endangering another, then the alpha went for the kill. Zander and Ezra weren’t Collared—they were as close to wild as Rae had seen in twenty years.
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