White Tiger

by Jennifer Ashley

  You are an amazing man. After everything Kendrick had just told her, about his stepfather and the brutal way he’d had to rid himself of his abuse, she called him amazing.

  Kendrick couldn’t think of anything romantic or poetic to say back to her. Words flitted through his head and out of his grasp. He could only groan softly and keep kissing her.

  He turned the kiss deep, drawing her up into him, eyes closing as he tightened his arm around her. She was all that was warmth and goodness fighting against the harshness in him. His cock pushed against his jeans, his entire being aching for her.

  A cough sounded somewhere at his feet.

  “Hey,” Ben rumbled faintly from the floor. “I’m not dead yet.”

  Addison broke from Kendrick. He couldn’t see her face in the darkness, but her eyes were shining, and she wiped her cheeks.

  “Ben?” she asked in concern. “You okay?”

  “No.” Ben’s voice was weak. “I meant—I’m not dead yet, so keep going. Might be the last action I ever get.”

  “Stop talking,” Kendrick said sternly. “You might move the knife.”

  “That’s not how it’s supposed to go,” Ben croaked. “You unbutton her shirt from the top—one, two . . .”

  “You’re a shit,” Addison said. “Just be quiet.”

  Ben rumbled a chuckle, which ended in a cough.

  Kendrick got off the swing to check Ben’s pulse and feel his forehead. The man hadn’t developed a fever, which was good. Even in these days of antibiotics and other medicines, infection happened and could swiftly kill, and germs themselves were developing resistance to antibiotics.

  Ben’s eyes drifted closed, his lips parting. Kendrick pulled the sheet over his legs again—the wind that had sprung up was cooling off the hot night. This time, Ben didn’t throw it off. He’d sunk into a stupor and responded to nothing.

  Addison joined Kendrick on the porch floor. She smoothed the sheet then rested her head on Kendrick’s chest. “I barely know him, but I don’t want to see him die.”

  “I won’t let him,” Kendrick said. He put his arms around Addison and kissed her hair. “He did me a good turn, and I won’t let him pay for it.”

  Addison shivered and Kendrick drew her closer. They returned to the swing and sat together as the night cooled, and they waited.

  The horizon grayed around five, the night coldest just before dawn. Addison slept against his shoulder, her breathing even. Dimitri and Seamus checked in from time to time during the night, to report all was quiet. Jaycee kept her distance.

  Kendrick sensed the motorcycle’s approach before he heard the rumble and then saw it coming up the hill from the highway. He was on his feet, Addison rising and blinking sleepily beside him. Tiger brought his Harley up the drive, a big man clinging on behind him.

  Tiger expertly turned and stopped the bike within feet of the porch steps, then looked up at Kendrick with an expression of vast irritation as he killed the motor. Well, the personage of Zander Moncrieff would piss anyone off very soon after meeting him.

  The large man climbed off the back of the motorcycle, moving with inhuman grace. A duster coat floated around him, as did two long white dreadlocks that framed his face. The rest of his hair was in a buzz cut against his head, and unlike many Shifters, he wore a goatee beard around his mouth.

  The hair on his head and in the thin braids was pure white, but he was not an old man. His facial hair was jet black, which matched his very black eyes.

  Zander was a polar bear Shifter, a creature as rare as a white tiger. Still more rare, he was a healer, the gift of the Goddess running strong in him.

  He was also batshit crazy.

  “Greetings, Kendrick,” Zander said, as he strode for the porch, his coat flaring behind him. “Who’s the stiff?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Addie stared in amazement at the man who bounded up the porch stairs with energy. He threw off his duster and thumped a canvas bag to the porch floor, his gaze on Ben. He’d braided blue beads into his dreadlocks, which caught the early light.

  “Kendrick,” the man said in a deep baritone as he pointed his forefingers at Ben. “I’m a Shifter healer. He’s not a Shifter.”

  “I know,” Kendrick said. “But you’re his best shot.”

  The man sank to his heels and moved the sheet from Ben’s legs, taking in the knife hilt sticking out of the bloody wound. “Poor bastard. My diagnosis—he’s been stabbed.”

  Ben’s eyes slowly opened. “Great. I’m dying, and I get a doctor who thinks he’s hilarious.”

  “You’re not dying.” The man touched Ben’s face with a surprisingly gentle hand. Then he let out a whistle. “Whatever you are, my friend, you’re old. Very old. Old as the hills old. You’ve held on this long—maybe you will a little longer. If we’re lucky. You.” He looked up, his braids swinging around his face, and fixed his midnight gaze on Addie. “I need you to stand right there.” He pointed to a spot next to him.

  Addie left Kendrick’s side to go to him. “Why? What can I do to help?”

  The man raised his brows. “Nothing. You’ve got great legs—I just want to see them next to me.”

  “Oh, Goddess,” Ben groaned. He grinned weakly at Addie. “But hey, he’s not wrong.”

  Tiger growled from behind the man. “Heal him. Now.”

  The man lost his smile as he glanced at Tiger. “Kendrick, where did you find this guy? I was minding my own business, meditating in my happy place, when he breaks down the door and demands I come with him. I’m Zander, by the way.” The man held out a hand, now streaked with Ben’s blood to Addie. “Alexander Johansson Moncrieff, but you can call me Zander. My ancestors were Norse, but I grew up in Alaska.”

  “Addie,” she said, not reaching for his hand. “Short for Addison.”

  “Very pretty. Now, who can get me water, bandages, and a stiff shot of whiskey?”

  “Whiskey for sterilizing?” Addie asked. “Charlie has rubbing alcohol.”

  “No, sweet thing, for me. It was a long ride down dusty roads. I figure as long as I’m stuck in Texas, I might as well be drunk.”

  Charlie had disappeared into the house, presumably to fetch the supplies. The cubs were at the living room window, eyes wide, as fascinated as Addie.

  “Why are you stuck in Texas?” she ventured.

  “Ask laughing boy there.” Zander gestured to Kendrick and turned back to Ben. Even while he’d talked, he’d kept one hand on the man, and Ben, Addie thought, was breathing better. “Kendrick found himself a Shifter healer and decided he could reach out and grab him whenever he wanted.”

  “Zander says he loves the cold,” Kendrick said mildly, “but he jumped at the chance to come to warmer parts of the world.”

  “Plus, I kinda wore out my welcome up north,” Zander said, his fingers moving on Ben’s side. “Figured I might as well hang out in Texas for a while.”

  Zander’s neck, no longer hidden by the duster, was bare. No Collar. “Do they know you were Shifter?” Addie asked him. “Your neighbors in Alaska?”

  Zander shrugged. “A lot know, sure, but they say nothing. Those from the north like being left alone. Which is why they weren’t happy with the polar bear rampage. But hey, it wasn’t all my fault.”

  Charlie emerged at this point with a first-aid box and rolls of bandages. He hadn’t brought any whiskey, but Zander didn’t comment.

  “He needs to be held very still,” Zander said. “Big guy, you’d be good.” He beckoned to Tiger. “This tiger threw me around like a rag doll when I . . . protested him interrupting my solitude.”

  “Turned bear and attacked me,” Tiger clarified.

  Tiger came up on the porch, his movements lithe despite his size. He sank down and held Ben’s shoulders. Kendrick positioned himself to hold Ben’s legs and feet.

  “Kicked my as
s is what he did,” Zander said as he laid towels around the wound. “Embarrassing. Polar bear Shifters are the biggest predators alive, and I let a tiger kick my butt.”

  Addie knelt on Ben’s right side, while Zander busied himself on his left. “Tiger’s a special case,” she said. “That’s why we like him.”

  “I see how it is,” Zander said, sending her a grin. “You have a thing for tigers. Maybe I’ll get you to appreciate the greatness of bears. Now, let me do this.”

  Zander placed both hands around the knife, bowed his head, and closed his eyes. His body stilled, his braids ceased swinging and hung silently beside his face. He seemed to stop breathing altogether.

  Then he made a long inhalation, air grating through his throat. The next sound that came out of his mouth was a long, low note, so low it was mere vibration.

  The sound hummed for a very long time, longer than Addie would think any person could let out breath. Then Zander began to chant words in the same low, pulsing note. Addie didn’t understand the language he spoke, but she saw Kendrick bow his head, his lips moving in time with Zander’s words.

  Zander continued to chant, the sounds coming out in even syllables, the rumble of them vibrating the porch. Tiger didn’t follow along as Kendrick did, he only stared at Zander as though he’d never heard the language before either.

  Zander kept chanting, his body immobile, for a very long time. As he half spoke, half sang, the sky brightened, as though his words were pulling up the sun.

  Addie wasn’t certain, but Ben seemed to breathe more easily. He lay quietly, his eyes open and glittering, as Zander sat like a statue with sound pouring from his throat.

  “He’s c-calling the Goddess.” A whispered voice in Addie’s ear made her jump. When she came back to earth, she recognized Dimitri standing behind her in the near-light. “The h-healer of all things.”

  Zander didn’t cease or even note the interruption. He slowly brought his hands together, until they met on the hilt of the knife.

  Even more slowly he began to draw the knife out, a millimeter at a time. It took so long for the blade to rise from the wound that it seemed not to move at all. But at last, the tip appeared, dripping with blood.

  Instantly, Zander dropped the knife, grabbed one of the towels, and pressed it to the wound. “Hold it there,” he said to Addie. “Hard.”

  The change from Zander motionless to abrupt action made Addie react in the same way. She darted forward and pressed down on the square of towel. Ben grunted in pain but lay still.

  Zander went back to chanting, but this time louder, the syllables more erratic. Kendrick stopped following along, as though these were words he didn’t know. All the while Zander ran his hands over Ben’s chest and the towel Addie held.

  After a few moments of this, Addie understood why he’d had Kendrick and Tiger hold Ben down. As Zander’s words rose and became a rapid ululation, Ben began to writhe.

  Spasms wracked his body, his spine twisting and arching. Tiger and Kendrick held him firmly in place, but blood oozed from the wound, soaking the towel.

  Without breaking his chant, Zander snatched up another towel and replaced the soiled one. Addie again pressed it firmly to the wound.

  This happened again and again, until Addie feared Ben wouldn’t be able to take the strain of it. He couldn’t lose so much blood, fight to twist his body like this, and live.

  Just as Addie’s thoughts voiced this worry, Ben gave one final heave and dropped back to the porch. Addie leaned to him, fearing him dead, but Ben dragged in a long breath.

  The breath was clean, no raggedness, no clog of blood or phlegm. Ben’s eyes closed, his body relaxing. His hands dropped open at his sides, and he slid into the breathing of natural sleep.

  Zander’s chanting grew softer, his head bowed, braids swinging gently. He lifted his large hands from Ben and pressed his palms together, blood coating his fingers. His words became a whisper, then finally ceased altogether.

  Zander raised his head, and Tiger and Kendrick climbed stiffly to their feet. The sun was well up now, bathing the porch in warmth and light.

  At Zander’s nod, Addie lifted the towel from Ben’s abdomen. She found the skin beneath his shirt whole and closed, only a red, scabbing streak to show where the knife had been.

  She turned to Zander in amazement. “How did you do that?”

  Then she gasped. Zander looked terrible. His face was blotchy, his hands shaking. He met Addie’s gaze for a brief moment before he doubled over, his hands pressed to his abdomen, and he collapsed.

  Kendrick caught him. He laid Zander out across the porch floor, as he’d done Ben, easing him to lie full-length.

  “He’ll be all right,” Kendrick said. “As I understand it, part of Zander’s healing gift is that he takes the pain of his patient into himself. Not the actual wound or disease, but the sensations of it. It will disperse, in time.”

  “That’s horrible.” Addie smoothed back a braid that had caught on Zander’s face. His hair was sleek, clean, pure white. “Why?”

  Kendrick shrugged, weary. “The price the Goddess extracts? I don’t know. It’s hard to be Goddess-touched, trust me.”

  Dimitri laid a broad hand on Kendrick’s shoulder. “Not all s-sunshine and roses, poor Guardian.”

  Kendrick climbed to his feet, Dimitri’s touch remaining as though it gave Kendrick strength. “I didn’t have to use the sword this morning,” Kendrick said, relieved. “Thank you, Zander.”

  Zander groaned, his eyes closing tightly. “Don’t mention it,” he said, voice barely working. “Now, how about that whiskey?”

  * * *

  Ben sat at the kitchen table, shoveling in everything Addie put in front of him, while Kendrick waited impatiently for the man to tell him all he knew.

  Zander, recovering, was snoring on the sofa. Dimitri had vanished, likely to join Jaycee and Seamus in patrolling. It was nice, Kendrick reflected, to have Shifters he could rely on back with him. He had no need for a minute-to-minute report of their activities—he could trust that they knew what they were doing.

  Tiger, not so trusting, remained in the house. He ate as much as Ben did, but kept a watchful eye on both Ben and Zander.

  The cubs were clumped at the other end of the table, enjoying their breakfast. Kendrick never kept them away when he discussed Shifter business—one of them might become leader someday. Best they fully understood everything that was going on.

  Around bites, Ben described what he’d done at the Shifter bar in Houston, and what he’d overheard.

  Kendrick turned the information over in his head. They were looking for Dylan’s stash of—what? Ben also said they were looking for a “place” and needed a human to do the deal. For what? Buying a building? A piece of property? Probably.

  Dylan suspected they wanted to set up their own compound, so it must be related to that. They would need a human to purchase property, or at least make it look like the human was buying the property.

  They wanted to use the fight club, at least at first, to determine hierarchy. Hmm. Kendrick could work with that.

  “What did this Lupine look like?” he asked. “The one in the bar who told the others he knew me?”

  Ben shrugged. He poured an entire glassful of orange juice into his mouth, swallowed it, and refilled his glass from the pitcher. “He looked like a Lupine. Shaggy black hair, gray eyes. Attitude.”

  Kendrick held on to his patience. “Anything else?”

  “Scar on his forehead.” Ben traced below his hairline. “The others called him Darien.”

  “Ah,” Kendrick said, his heart sinking. Darien was a Lupine somewhat down the hierarchy, who’d given him no trouble before. Unnerving. “And the guy in the parking lot talking to the Feline? You couldn’t tell what he was?”

  “Shifter, human, one of those, probably. Not Fae—I’d have recognized
that right off. I couldn’t see very well though, and was too far away to hear him.”

  Kendrick fell silent. Ben had gathered a lot of information in one night, things he and Dylan hadn’t been able to find out in months, so he couldn’t fault Ben for not having the final piece of intel.

  “What about the Shifter who stabbed you? Who was he?”

  Ben looked sheepish. “He snuck up on me. I don’t know if he clocked me planting the listening device but he sure saw me watching the lead Feline. Don’t worry, I wiped his memory.”

  Addie, who’d been helping Charlie serve, sat down and looked at Ben in astonishment. “You can do that?”

  Ben wriggled his fingers. “It’s a talent I have.”

  “So, why don’t you sit down with these Shifters and pretend to join them?” Addie asked. “Then when they’ve told you everything, wipe their memories for that time?”

  “A thought,” Ben said. Another glass of juice disappeared. Even Shifters couldn’t eat like this guy.

  “Drawbacks,” Kendrick said. “They’d forget what they’d planned and plan it all over again, maybe changing that plan in subtle ways. We might be waiting for them to set up in one corner of the state and they’d have picked another without us knowing.”

  “Mm,” Ben said as he swallowed. “Good point. I do have other talents, don’t worry.” He winked at Addie, and she gave him a warm smile.

  “So, what do we do now, boss?” Ben asked.

  Stuff all the crazy Shifters in a room and sedate them so Kendrick could explore the mate-claim with Addie.

  “If they’re using the fight club,” Kendrick said, tamping down on his impatience, “we go to the fight club.”

  “What’s a fight club?” Addie asked.

  Ben answered before Kendrick could. “Shifters meeting to fight each other for fun. And profit—betting is heavy. They’ve been doing this for a few years now. Helps them work off steam, apparently. There are a few fight clubs around these parts. Secret, or supposed to be. A lot of humans go though, to cheer on their favorites and win money.”