by Layla Nash
Shivers crawled up my spine as I rolled up in the sheets and tried to find a comfortable position for my aching muscles. Surviving two fights against women and then beating that giant Atticus took its toll. His face distracted me and I smiled against my pillow. I felt a little bad about knocking him out, but when his two pissed off friends jumped up out of the crowd, I couldn't ignore the opportunity.
I hugged my pillow closer and tried to put him out of my thoughts. I had about six hours before teaching, and I needed to be on my toes to deal with my Tuesday students. I didn't need Atticus's piercing, sorrowful eyes keeping me awake. They did anyway, until I dreamed about him cuddled up next to me, holding me close and warm.
He stayed with me, a comforting presence, as I got up for work at the fancy gym in the heart of downtown. I taught a couple of different classes, but the most popular were cardio kickboxing and self-defense. The self-defense classes started as an impromptu deal after someone spotted a guy loitering in the parking garage after hours and the manager learned I studied kung fu. He asked me to teach a class on staying safe, and I was happy to comply. The single class turned into weekly gatherings, which turned into three nights a week every week.
I taught classes all afternoon and ended with my seven o'clock take back the night group. Every class, one of the ladies brought a husband or boyfriend or other trusted male to be the guinea pig. After the first volunteer ended up out of commission quite a while, I always called to remind the guy to bring a cup. Groin shots could be pretty funny for observers but didn't encourage the guinea pigs to ever return.
For two hours we practiced blocks, punches, grip breaking, throws, and every other dirty technique I'd learned from formal kung fu study as well as on the street. Every bruise and bloody nose I survived was something I could teach the others to avoid, a nightmare they could escape because I'd already been through it. I'd always healed fast, too, so few of those nightmares left externals scars. On the inside was another matter. I pushed away the thought and taught them another way to break out of a chokehold. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Atticus, but when I looked it was just a shadow.
After class, a few of the women went out for dinner and drinks. Despite the call of the files and more research into investigators and the public health system in Illinois, I went along with them. I liked them all a great deal, even if we had next to nothing in common. My apartment waited for me, empty and cold, and I needed to get that giant bruiser out of my head so I could actually sleep. A couple of beers and some bacon cheese fries seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to end the night, even if there were a few overly-friendly guys hanging out at the bar and hitting on us. Luckily I still wore my fighting clothes. I ordered another beer to take the edge off as adrenaline surged and a protective drive rose in my chest. If I had to draw the frat boys away to keep my students safe, then that's what would happen.
Three
Atticus loitered outside in the cold, tired of waiting for John to tell him where the next round of fights would be. Edgar, still pissed about catching him at the illegal fights, had put Atticus to work as a sparring partner for the entire security team for the Chase Company. It hadn't helped, though Atticus was tired as hell and every part of him hurt after so much rapid healing. The lion still seethed and raged, at the limits of his control. And it was getting worse; only last night, he fought hard and got knocked out by the girl, but less than twelve hours later, he could barely stay in his own skin. Edgar didn't understand it wasn't just about physical exertion — if the challenge was missing, if the danger wasn't real, it didn't work.
Maybe Edgar had a word with the coyotes about Atticus joining in on their illegal street fights. That would explain why John hadn't called or texted to update him, when Atticus earned him more money than almost anyone else in the circuit. Atticus had almost decided to just go pick a fight with one of the groups of frat boys leaving the bars when a musical laugh caught his attention. His lion perked up. He looked down the street and saw Sophia, the girl who'd knocked him out, leaving a bar. She waved to a few other women and headed down the street. Atticus meant to shout to get her attention but stopped when he couldn't think of anything to say. Hey, want to punch me again? wasn't exactly an enticing pick-up line.
He shook his head and started to turn away, but hesitated as three guys spilled out of the bar she'd left and headed after her. Maybe they were just walking down the street to their own car, maybe they knew her, maybe they followed someone else. And maybe he crapped rainbows and was more leprechaun than lion. His feet followed them following her, and he eased into the shadows as one of the assholes glanced back. They weren't big guys but being in a group gave them confidence. The booze helped. Made them self-assured to the point of stupidity. That was usually how packs worked.
His lion growled. And Sophia seemed completely unaware, clicking away on her phone as she headed toward a cut-through street, narrow and dark. Atticus shook his head and bristled as the guys nudged each other, muttering and chuckling as they stalked the girl. His heartbeat slowed and the lion concentrated on the prey. Everything in the world focused down to the silhouettes half a block ahead of him.
She turned into the alley, singing in a throaty voice as she tucked the phone away, and disappeared into the shadows. Atticus hurried his pace as a thump and a yell disturbed the night, and he grabbed one of the men to throw him out of the way. And then Atticus stopped dead.
Sophia stood over the bodies of the other two, working her wrists as she frowned at them. She took a ready stance as he approached, and though recognition dawned across her expression, she didn't relax. "Hey, big guy. You want a real fight?"
"No." Atticus bent to check the two would-be attackers — both out cold, their friend running the other direction as fast as his legs would carry him. "I saw them following you and figured I could help if anything happened."
"Oh. Thanks." She winced as she straightened, rubbing her shoulder and working her jaw, then nodded. "You can go. I'm fine. I live —"
She bent over abruptly and the sound of tearing fabric filled the night. Atticus took a step back as her clothes split and a low yowl tore from her throat, and then — in a mist of blood and snapping bones, a snow leopard glared at him with blue-gold eyes. His heart jumped to his throat as his lion roared to life.
Holy fucking shit. She was perfection — creamy white and gray fur mottled with darker splotches, dinner plate paws as soft as snowfall as she paced toward him, and a long, bristling tail that lashed the air behind her. Adorably tufted ears, round like a teddy bear, swiveled and twitched as she listened to the noises in the night. A growl vibrated through the air as she batted at one of the unconscious men.
Atticus didn't dare move, mesmerized by the gold-blue eyes that reflected the moonlight back at him. His heart thumped an odd rhythm against his ribs. "Hey, gorgeous."
It sounded so stupid when he said it, he almost slapped himself and walked away in embarrassment. Especially as her gaze sharpened on him and her lips parted to reveal massive teeth. And as the leopard lowered her head and took another step, only a predator watched him. Not a girl, not the laughing fighter who teased him or the stone-faced ninja who just took out two dudes without breaking a sweat. A real fucking leopard, the animal in total control.
The lion could deal with that, since the man knew better. Atticus eased his phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial, waiting until he heard Edgar's irritated voice to start talking, as calm and as fast as he dared. “There's a rogue leopard. In the alley two blocks from O'Shea's. She's either going to attack me or run, and I'm going to change. Track us down and bring the tranquilizers. The animal is in control, I don't think she's able to change back —”
And the leopard stalked forward another step, gaze so intense his skin prickled.
Atticus couldn't help it as adrenaline started pumping — he curled in on himself and the lion roared to the surface. He found himself on four paws, staring down at a startled leopard. He dwarfed her
in height and bulk, but her attitude certainly outdid his as she hissed and yowled, crouching to leap.
He shook out his mane and rumbled a warning, hoping Edgar hurried. A loose shifter was problem enough Atticus couldn't just let her run. Maybe if she stayed distracted in the alley, Atticus wouldn't have to chase her. Just as the thought occurred to him, the leopard bolted for the darkness behind her.
Atticus leapt after her, staying far enough back he wouldn't drive her to run faster, but he kept close enough to save anything that might cross her path. She periodically turned to growl at him and charge, driving him back until she felt safe enough to continue her run. Atticus jogged after her, content just to follow even though the lion wanted to catch her and pull her under him until he could mark her. She smelled even better as a leopard. And her tail waved so enticingly behind her...
He had no idea how far they ran but it felt like an eternity before he cornered her near a Chinese restaurant in one of the wolf packs' territories. She crouched low and prepared to spring. Atticus braced himself for the assault and the pain of her claws and teeth, but a whispered thump and the scrape of boots on concrete gave him a hint of warning. A metallic dart appeared in her side and the leopard went crazy — she screamed her pain to the world and charged him. Atticus endured, fending her off when her jaws snapped too close to his throat, and used his bulk to protect his brother and the rest of the security team from her. Blood dripped like water onto the ground as deep slices striated his sides but Atticus didn't care.
Another dart followed the first and she wobbled. Atticus eased back and she staggered after him, blinking rapidly and still snarling. Blood stained the white fur around her mouth and throat, and it coated her teeth as she threatened him again. She took one more swipe at him and collapsed. Atticus kept a wary eye on her; she could be faking, after all. Edgar must have had the same thought, as he remained well behind Atticus and the team kept their weapons ready.
Atticus huffed air in through his mouth, his leonine senses amplifying her intoxicating scent. He paced toward her and patted her fluffy tail with a paw. She didn't move. He snuffled the fur on her side, then continued his examination. He wanted to touch her with human hands to test the softness of her fur, to bury his fingers in her ruff and press his face against her throat. A purr rattled through his chest and he dared to lick the fur on her cheek and throat, grooming her.
Edgar sighed, snapping his fingers. "Atticus, man. Is she out? The tranqs won't last forever, and we have thirty minutes to get back to the house."
Atticus looked back at the men waiting to touch her, to lift her into the enormous armored van with a cage built in the back that idled a few feet away. His lip lifted to reveal sharp teeth and they retreated. He nosed the leopard a little more, checking her over, then paced away to give them room. It took four men to lift and load her into the van.
The security team disappeared into two waiting cars, leaving Atticus and his brother to transport her. Edgar sat on his heels, staring at his brother with such intensity that Atticus's lion bristled and considered charging him to remind the man how dangerous a lion he was. Edgar and Logan pretended like they understood Atticus, but they didn't really. They only saw the carefully managed facade, the result of hours of merciless training and fighting and punishment. If they really knew how much time he spent balanced on a razor's edge, they'd have put him down long ago.
Edgar rubbed his jaw, then tilted his head at the van. "Do you want to ride in the back with her as a lion, or up front with me?"
A good question. Atticus snarled one last time, then curled in and forced himself back into his human body. He staggered upright and took the sweatpants Edgar tossed him. "Did you get everything from where we changed?"
His brother grunted as he got in the driver's seat. "Yeah, her stuff is in that bag."
Atticus eased into the passenger seat, uncomfortable with the increased sensitivity of his skin after a shift, and looked back at where a reinforced steel cage separated him from the leopard. The beautiful Sophia. His chest ached more than with a normal shift.
Edgar started driving, faster than Atticus liked with Sophia unconscious in the back, and handed Atticus a shorter tranquilizer gun. "If she wakes up, dart her."
Atticus started to argue but fell silent when Edgar shot him a look, his rank in the pride reinforcing the need for obedience. So Atticus turned in his seat to watch the leopard breathe, searching for a hint of consciousness. The drive to the mansion outside the city went on forever.
Four
Everything smelled different. No garlic, no ginger, no fried noodles. I forced my eyes open and sat up, rubbing my head. I felt like the ass end of a five day bender. Squinting didn't help make sense of my surroundings — a fancy office library, like something from a movie, with massive built-in shelves of books and chaise lounges and deep chairs — or the fact that I was naked.
And in a cage.
My heart sank and panic rushed through me. A fucking cage.
I didn't dare move; a lumpy shape snored on one of the couches. Waking it would only make a shitty situation worse.
I concentrated on breathing slow and even, trying to steady my hands as they shook, and I fumbled the t-shirt and loose yoga pants someone left on the floor next to me. I eased to the back of the cage once I dressed, examining the hinges of a door and where the steel bars met the expensive rug on the floor. There had to be a way out. Had to be.
Maybe it was the fight organizers, John and his pals. Rumors constantly circulated that the fighters who sometimes disappeared ended up in national-level underground competitions — whether they wanted to participate or not. Apparently someone wanted to recreate the gladiator trials of back in the day. I swallowed the metallic taste of terror as shivers ran through me and my insides started to wobble. A seizure might end up killing me. I needed to stay conscious.
The mantra helped eventually as I repeated it over and over in my head. Someone would notice I disappeared. Maybe. The gym where I taught group classes would notice eventually, but they'd probably just take me off the schedule and mail my last paycheck. My students would wonder but none of them would look too hard for me. I chewed my lip ragged as I tested the strength of each bar and tried to lift the cage enough to slip a hand underneath. My sinuses burned and tears threatened. Or I would sink into the underworld without a ripple, and no one would even look for me.
"You're awake."
I froze, crouching to a defensive position just in case.
Atticus sat on the couch, dark hair sticking up in random tufts, and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He smiled, then yawned. "Are you hungry?"
Hungry. I straightened, staring at him as my lungs constricted. I barely managed to force the words past chattering teeth. "Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell is going on?"
His eyebrows rose. "You went rogue. We had to bring you back here to make sure you were safe. And that you didn't eat anyone." He grinned. As if it were a joke.
I held my head, breathing through my nose to manage the hyperventilation before it knocked me down completely. Dark spots already swam across my vision. I held on to the bars so I wouldn't fall. Couldn't look weak. Had to look strong, even if I wanted to curl up under the blanket someone had draped over me inside the cage. "Rogue? What the fuck are you talking about? You kidnapped me."
His smile faded. "What do you remember?"
The night came back in flashes. Leaving the bar after dinner with girls from the self-defense class, walking down the street, being attacked by three dudes and then Atticus saying he was there to help. Then nothing. A seizure, definitely. I shook my head. "You did something to me. In the alley. I had a seizure and you did something."
"A seizure." He eased to his feet and stretched. The muscles slid under his t-shirt, almost a distraction, but when he took a step toward the cage, I braced for a fight. A real fight. He wasn't the only one who'd pulled punches during our first encounter. Atticus stopped short, then shoved his hands in his pockets. "S
o you don't remember shifting."
"Shifting? Shifting what?" My heart raced and the room started to tilt; sweat broke out on my palms and my skin crawled. A seizure. Not another seizure.
I bent over to brace my hands on my knees, squeezing my eyes shut. Control. Had to control it. Couldn't be weak. A fighter with seizures wasn't worth enough to keep alive.
"Are you okay? What's wrong?" He stood at the cage, concern making him look younger.
I held up a hand to fend him off. "Back. Up."
He did, retreating several steps to pick up the red phone on the desk. He said something into it that didn't make sense, but the sound was too distorted in my ears. I sat heavily, panting, and cursed through clenched teeth as tears broke loose and even the mantra didn't help.
Atticus returned to sit on his heels, still a few feet from the cage, and rolled a bottle of water through the bars. A couple of granola bars landed on the ground in front of me. His voice reached me, low and soothing and calm. Directive. "Slow your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Put your arms over your head. Look at me."
I didn't mean to, but something about his tone compelled me. I looked up and was immediately caught in a sea of liquid gold. My heart leapt to my throat. It had to be some sort of trick, some fancy sleight of hand. Or contact lenses.
But his voice went on until I felt drunk and the panic receded. His voice melted around me like honey. "Deep breath. Good. You're safe. It might not feel like it but you're safe here. I'll protect you."
Looking away seemed both physically impossible and a terrible idea. Every muscle relaxed and my heart slowed. The band constricting my chest loosened, eased, until I could take a deep breath.
