She made herself relax, to breathe the healing oxygen and not move. Tiger would come out, he’d have the cubs, and all would be well.
There was a whump, and firemen shouting, and a huge plume of flame and smoke shot from the building’s roof, high into the blue of the afternoon sky. Every window showed fire, and a part of the building collapsed.
Carly screamed. She ripped off the mask and tried to scramble from the stretcher. The EMT, a strong Hispanic man with muscles almost as big as a Shifter’s, pushed her back down. “No, you stay here.”
“Did they get out?” Carly yelled. “Did they get out?”
“I don’t know. We’ll find out, okay?”
Carly clutched the padded sides of the stretcher, staring at the building until her eyes ached. Ellison and Spike were on the ground, human now, leading Cherie and the cubs to the parking lot. Other Shifters had arrived, Liam and Dylan, Sean and Ronan. Ronan ran for Cherie, now a human girl again, and caught her in his arms. He led her away, snatching the blanket a fireman brought them and wrapping it around her.
Cubs: one, two, three, four, five, and Cherie. Six. The rest must be inside with Tiger.
Carly scrambled off the stretcher again, holding the mask to her face. She could barely see through smoke and tears, or through the crowd of people and emergency vehicles. All she could make out was that the small community center was now a flaming wreck, collapsing on itself, with Tiger and the cubs inside.
Shouting sounded at the front of the building. The rest of the med team started that way, running, running.
Smoke billowed from the front door, and people scattered. Through the opening, parting the smoke and haloed by flame, ran Tiger. His fur was blackened, body moving fast, children clinging to his back.
He stopped as the medics ran forward, Tiger dropping flat on his belly so the kids—three of them—could drop from his back. The medics swept them up, and Liam and Dylan surrounded the kids and EMTs.
Only three cubs.
Carly threw down the oxygen mask and darted away from the EMT, running, stumbling, toward the entrance and Tiger.
Tiger was already climbing to his feet as she sprinted forward. “Olaf!” she yelled. “Where’s Olaf?”
She had to stop as coughing wracked her, more gook in her lungs coming out. Ronan released Cherie and pushed her at Sean.
Tiger had turned for the building even before Carly had shouted about Olaf. Another explosion lit up the world, the community center now nothing but flames surrounding a shell.
Tiger ran right into it.
Carly collapsed, sitting down hard on the ground. Tiger’s body was outlined in flame for a brief instant, then he was gone.
* * *
There was no longer any up or down, backward or forward. There was only flame, and the melting floor searing Tiger’s feet, his fur burning. Trying to see was useless, so Tiger closed his eyes.
Numbers whirled across the insides of his eyelids—coordinates, angles, distances. Every piece of data about the building as it had stood condensed itself into formula, and danced before him.
Tiger had known exactly when Olaf had fallen, but Tiger hadn’t been able to stop his forward momentum to snatch him up. The other cubs had been falling too, sliding, coughing. Tiger had put on a burst of speed to take them to safety.
The new explosion complicated things, but Tiger moved unerringly through the flames, eyes closed, stopping at the small limp body of the polar bear cub. He reached down and gently picked up Olaf by the scruff of his neck.
Then Tiger turned and ran. Fire tried to stop him. It burned him, his fur singeing with an acrid stench, his sinews melting. But Tiger kept going.
The door wasn’t where he’d left it. Tiger closed his eyes again, relaxing his mind, letting the numbers come. Why they were there, and how Tiger understood them, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. With the strings of numbers to guide him, Tiger ran directly to the last door in the building that existed and out into daylight.
A giant Kodiak bear caught Olaf as he fell from Tiger’s numb grip. The Kodiak turned into Ronan, who lifted the unconscious Olaf into his arms and ran with him toward a medical team.
Tiger collapsed. His lungs were liquid, his coat gone, fire dissolving his skin. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make a sound.
He heard Carly’s voice—my mate—and dragged open his eyes. He saw Carly, her hair scraggly and singed, her clothes burned, blood on her arms and legs. But she was safe.
Tiger let out a sigh. Carly was too far away from him, but she was safe.
Tiger focused then on his immediate surroundings, and found the barrels of a dozen automatic weapons pointed at his head.
* * *
Tiger groaned. He couldn’t move. He lay supine in his human form, chained down, too exhausted to shift to the tiger.
They’d chained him like this in the hospital, and before that, in the research facility where he’d been made. Only this time, there was no leaping up in rage, no breaking the chains. Tiger was weak, and he was dying. But then, he’d been burned to death today.
Was it still today? Or had days and nights passed? Tiger had no idea.
The cubs were safe. Carly was safe. Nothing else mattered.
At one point, men in white masks came and drew blood out of Tiger’s arm, and scraped skin cells from his armpit, the only place he hadn’t burned.
Most of his skin was gone. Tiger was surprised he could see or hear, but those senses seemed to function, though his left eye, when he pried it open, showed him nothing but a milk-white fog.
He had his sense of smell too, because he could smell himself, and it wasn’t good. Taste, he wasn’t certain, except for the dry sourness in his mouth. They gave him no water but pumped fluids into his veins through an IV.
Tiger definitely had his sense of feeling. He was in excruciating pain.
He wasn’t sure who was keeping him prisoner this time, but it must be Shifter Bureau. The men who’d come for him had looked like they were from Walker’s unit.
But it no longer mattered. Carly was safe. His cub was safe. Tiger had seen the magical threads of the mate bond shimmering between them—intact and still strong.
More time passed. More blood, more skin cells taken, a change of the IV drip bag. Tiger couldn’t make his mouth work to ask what the white-coated medics were doing to him or why.
He drifted to troubled sleep. The next time he opened his eyes, two researchers were standing over him. Past and present melded, and Tiger started to think he’d dreamed being released from the research lab, and everything that had happened since.
“A couple more samples,” one said. “Then he’s done.”
“Done?”
“Terminated. He’s beyond saving.”
“Shame,” the other man said. “Would have been interesting to study him.”
“Orders are orders,” the first man said. “But we can dissect him. See what’s inside.”
“That’ll work.”
Tiger wanted to leap up and onto them, to tear them down. But he lay inert, his body refusing to obey.
He needed Carly. Wanted her so much. She hadn’t been a dream. Carly was very real.
Tiger fought to rise, to get out of this place before they killed him, to get to Carly, but he managed only to fall asleep again.
He saw Carly, her red lips and wide smile, her sexy legs, the way she closed her beautiful eyes when she leaned in to kiss him. The position let Tiger see her soft breasts behind the neckline of whatever dress she wore that day, made him want to cup her in his hands, lick her, close his mouth over her breast. She made such pretty noises when he did that.
Carly, he tried to say. A faint croak issued from his throat.
Tiger forced the name out. “Carly.”
“Sorry, my friend.” He thought Walker leaned over him. “I’m not as pretty. But now I know what you are.” The man wore a look of triumph. “Or at least, what you’re for.”
Oh go
ody, Tiger wanted to say in Connor’s most withering tones. I’d been so worried about that.
“I’ve brought someone to see you.”
Tiger’s heart squeezed with fear. No. Not Carly. This place wasn’t safe. She couldn’t be here.
The person who walked forward at Walker’s gesture wasn’t Carly, but Liam.
“You were a bit of a hero out there,” Liam said, his smart-ass Irish grin in place. “I’m thinking my humble home won’t be big enough to hold you now, but I’m going to take you there anyway. Carly, now, she told me to bring you back with me, or not to bother coming back at all.”
* * *
Carly sat on the edge of the big bed in the attic room of Liam’s house and looked down at Tiger. She feared to touch him, since what was left of his skin was black and brittle. Any human, probably any other Shifter, would be dead by now.
It was night, Tiger’s room lit by one small lamp. The rest of the house had gone to bed, but Carly hadn’t wanted to leave Tiger alone in the dark.
The usually quiet Olaf had been regaling everyone in sight, repeatedly for the last couple of days, about how he’d thought he was dead, and then Tiger ran in through the flames and rescued him. Ran in, straight to him, Olaf said in awe, and out again.
Olaf had begged for paper and paints so he could draw Carly a picture, and Armand happily supplied them. Olaf had submerged himself in art, painting a picture of a huge tiger carrying a little polar bear, both surrounded by flames. No more abstract images without faces—Olaf’s tiger had Tiger’s face and ferocious snarl.
“You’re a hero,” Carly said softly to Tiger now. “The newspapers and TV are full of it. Especially after the convenience store clerk recognized you and said you were the guy who’d stopped the robbery too. A Shifter superhero. You’ll probably end up in a graphic novel.”
Tiger didn’t answer. He hadn’t for the day and night he’d lain here. He hadn’t healed either. No change in him at all.
“Ethan is leaving me alone,” Carly said. “Armand’s lawyer talked to Ethan’s lawyer, and Ethan’s been advised that since he did cheat on me, and because you’re so popular right now, he should leave you alone. And me. That’s good. I don’t care if I never see Ethan again.”
Tiger lay silently, breaking Carly’s heart.
She gave in to tiredness and stretched out beside him. She was fine, despite the ordeal, fortunately. The medics, the emergency room doctor, and then her own doctor had confirmed that though she had cuts and bruises, and would have a sore throat for a while, she’d suffered no worse damage. Her child was fine too. Thank God.
Carly propped herself on her elbow. Tiger’s face was half-black, one eye closed tightly, the other resting more naturally, unburned. His lips were partially burned, only one side of them pink and strong. He’d been burned as a tiger, but she supposed his human form retained the relative placement of the burns.
“My doctor was pleased at how resilient our little guy is. Or girl. I don’t know yet.” Carly touched her abdomen. “He—or she—will be strong, like their daddy.”
Tiger remained silent, unmoving. Not even a finger twitch. He was breathing, shallowly, and that was all.
Andrea had been by twice to work her healing magic on him, which was likely why Tiger was breathing at all, but Andrea had said she’d done all she could. Nature had to take its course.
“My mother was so excited when she heard the story,” Carly said. “She hadn’t realized you were a Shifter—but then, you didn’t have your Collar when you met her. All my sisters are happy, in fact. They keep calling me. I had to tell them to stop it and give me a break. They want to throw us a party when you’re better. Yvette and Armand do too, and with the way Yvette cooks, you know it will be good.”
Carly didn’t expect Tiger to answer. She talked because she needed to talk.
“Liam rescued you, you know. Walker got clearance for Liam to go to the camp and see you. Not, of course, for Liam to pick you up and haul you away. They sneaked you out in Walker’s truck. He’s here, by the way. Walker, I mean. He’s excited about you too, keeps saying he needs to talk to you, and won’t tell the rest of us about what. He’s also pretty sure he’ll face a disciplinary hearing, but he said he’s not worried.”
No sound. A light breeze made the shade tap at the window, and far away a Shifter wolf howled. Here, all was silence.
Carly remembered their night in this bed, the two of them learning the wonder of each other’s bodies. Her child had been conceived then.
She thought about Tiger’s hard, male beauty, the way his eyes went dark when he was ready to come, how he held her tenderly, just stopping himself from giving her raw, rough sex.
The feeling of him inside her, deep and tight, with Carly rocking on him, then him driving into her, had been momentous. In all her life, Carly had never experienced anything like it.
In the night, they’d touched, kissed, licked, tasted. He’d loved her slowly, first on top of her. Then they’d rolled onto their sides, Carly’s leg around his hip, while Tiger eased inside her again. He’d liked that position, where he could smooth back her hair, kiss her forehead, slide his hand down to cup her breast.
Now the beautiful man lay immobile, almost unrecognizable. He must be in terrible pain.
“I wish you weren’t hurt so bad,” Carly said. “I’m scared.”
The word broke on a sob. One tear dropped and touched his burned skin.
Tiger made a small noise, a grunt or a sigh. Carly leaned forward, half-afraid, half-hopeful, but the sound wasn’t repeated.
“You told me that a mate’s touch healed.” Carly held her fingertips above his face. “But I’m afraid to touch you now.” She let her finger brush the unburned part of his lips, the lightest stroke. “So I’ll just tell you that I’ve decided I’m definitely your mate.”
No response. Carly touched the corner of his mouth again, marveling that the unburned part of his lips could be warm and soft despite his terrible hurts. “Mate of my heart,” she whispered.
She lay down beside him again, pulling a sheet over herself, careful not to let the fabric touch him. Carly didn’t think she’d sleep, but her exhaustion and worry caught up to her, and she drifted off.
* * *
Crosby slid in through the open window, landed noiselessly on the floor, and had his target in visual. These bungalows were too easy to break into, windows in the upper floors in reach from the porch roofs, handholds galore. Scouting this house the last time had made this entry even easier.
Without changing position, Crosby eased his gun out of its holster.
The woman was on the bed with the Shifter, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t the target. Crosby would finish this mission, return to camp, report in, and either sleep or carry on with his next assignment.
He crept to the bed, quietly eased a pillow from the foot of it to use as a silencer, put the pillow over Tiger’s chest, and started to squeeze the trigger.
His wristbone shattered as a hugely strong hand closed around it, the gun twisting away to shoot the wall. The pillow fell and the gun went off loudly.
The woman, Carly, screamed and shot out of bed. What held Crosby’s wrist was the tiger, half-burned, looking more like a corpse than a human. One of his eyes was white and unseeing, the other yellow with rage.
The tiger Shifter spoke, his voice raw and broken. “Don’t. Hurt. My mate.”
Crosby tried to jerk away, and agony shocked through him. He couldn’t draw breath to explain that no, he wasn’t here to hurt the woman. Only the tiger.
The door slammed open, nearly tearing off its hinges, and the Shifter called Liam came in. Crosby remembered what Liam had said about catching Crosby in Shiftertown again, and he felt fear. Crosby never felt fear. This was new.
“Tiger,” the woman was saying, but not in alarm. In surprise, probably because the half-dead tiger was still alive.
Liam closed his hand around the back of Crosby’s neck. Crosby still held his Glock,
but he couldn’t turn it or fire it, because his fingers didn’t work.
Liam twisted the gun from Crosby’s inert hand. “Tiger, let him go. I’ll take care of this.”
“Who the hell is he?” Carly shouted at Liam. “How did he get in?”
Crosby felt disgust. If any woman had snapped a demand like that at Crosby, he’d backhand her. Shifters really should control their women better.
“He’s more determined than I thought,” Liam said grimly. “Tiger, I said let him go. You need to save your strength.”
The tiger’s fury didn’t abate, but he opened his hand and released Crosby’s wrist. Without the clamp of the tiger’s fingers, Crosby’s wrist went slack, and the broken bones shot white-hot pain through him.
“You’re awake,” Carly said to the tiger, joy in her voice. “Moving. Stronger.”
Tiger looked at her, then the light of rage left his eyes, and he fell back to the bed. “The touch of a mate,” he said, then his eyes closed.
Carly shot Crosby a look of fury. “Bastard. If you’ve made him worse . . .”
Stupid bitch. “My orders are to kill him,” Crosby said. “He’s dying anyway.”
“Then why try to kill him?” Carly snapped.
“A good question,” Liam said, his grip strengthening on Crosby’s neck. “Do you know the answer?”
Crosby did, because the LTC had told him. “We have enough DNA samples. The tiger Shifter is useless now. He needs to die and be taken back to camp for cremation. He can’t be allowed to fall into enemy hands.” No reason to keep it a secret. The LTC hadn’t said the info was classified.
Liam shook him a little. “And by enemy hands, you mean . . . ?”
“Anyone not Lieutenant Colonel Sheldon,” said a new voice. Captain Walker Danielson, the insubordinate, disrespectful asshole, entered the room. Not that Crosby would ever call anyone of senior rank that out loud.
“Anyone who might get the glory for learning what Tiger is and what he can do,” the captain continued.
“No, sir,” Crosby said crisply. “Enemy intelligence. Enemy armies. Enemy governments.”
Tiger Magic su-5 Page 27
