Run Fur Love (BBW Tiger Shifter Romance)

by Catherine Vale

  She could see Morgan struggling to move, struggling to sit up. He was on his back, trying to turn over. Harley saw blood saturating the sleeve of his jacket. Something seemed to be wrong with his arm; Harley could see he had a hard time controlling it, couldn’t use it to push himself up without grimacing in pain. But she saw that his other arm was working fine, and it still held the knife. She sank to the ground on her knees, clutching the rock hard enough

  Morgan glared at her, lips pulled back in a snarl, face distorted with rage and pain. She’d never seen Morgan shift, but she thought it would be terrifying to meet that horrible face as a tiger. The hate was intense, and right now it was directed all at her.

  “This is your fault, bitch. You dragged my brother into this, then you left him. When he needed you most, you just dropped him like he was trash, like you couldn’t get away from him fast enough.”

  Morgan was finally sitting, and she looked at him from her place on the ground, crouched with a rock in her hand.

  “Seriously? You think I had anything to do with Jake’s drug problem? He was into that stuff long before I met him. It was the drugs, and him doing crazy shit, that made me leave him in the first place! I wanted it to work, had the stupid idea I’d be able to save him, or something. But it wasn’t me that drove him into that lifestyle. What happened with Duke was his own doing. Jake had hit rock bottom long before now. Neither my brother or I had anything to do with his death.”

  “Bullshit. You know you’re lying.” Morgan’s eyes flashed like sapphires. He struggled to his knees, waving his knife. It cut the air between them, not close enough to cut her, but a clear threat. If she sat here any longer, he’d just crawl over, and cut her throat. The rock she held was just play acting; unless she threw it at him, and accidently hit him, it was worthless. So she let it fall from her hand.

  “I know it hurts, that he was your brother, and all. But killing us isn’t going to make him come back.”

  Morgan clearly wasn’t listening. His eyes were bloodshot, his breath coming hard and fast through clenched teeth. He lunged suddenly, and with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, she realized he was closer than she thought, that she’d let herself sink onto the ground, that her little rock had rolled away. And she was basically a sitting duck.

  The knife slashed through the air, and for a minute she was mesmerized by the way the fading sun flashed on the blade. The thought passed through her head that this was just all too ridiculous, and she was way too tired to deal with Morgan, and his knife, and any of this.

  Then she was lying on the ground, her face in the dirt again, a heavy furry body practically sitting on her legs. It had to be Jericho, since the big furry cat wasn’t trying to maim her in some vicious way. For what seemed like the tenth time that day, she spit out a mouthful of dirt, then pushed up on her elbows, as the weight came off her back.

  The big furry cat was Jericho, and she got to her knees, just as Jericho hit Morgan from the side. The knife in Morgan’s hand was knocked free, and it flew toward her, and while she managed to duck, the handle still cracked against the back of her head. Lights flashed behind her eyes, and she wobbled, arms crumpling, putting her back into the dirt. Morgan and Jericho were literally inches away, and as much as she wanted to be a part of this whole fight, getting out of the way of those two was more important.

  She rolled, once, twice—exquisite pain, as the rock she’d dropped dug into her spine. Dust and leaves flew around her, and she sat up, then scrabbled backward on her hands and heels. Someone grabbed her arm, and she shrieked. But it was Duke, his face streaked with dirt, and blood, and sweat.

  “Come on. Get the hell out of there.”

  She managed to get herself out of the way of Jericho and Morgan. Duke was bleeding from somewhere near his shoulder, his shirt soaked with blood, but he pushed her away with one good arm when she tried to see where the blood was coming from. Ember was crouched, back pressed against the trunk of the tree, watching Van and Bear, and the lone tiger that was Morgan’s remaining man. The tigers were circling, pacing, all three of them agitated, snarling, hackles raised, tails held low, twitching. All three of them wanting to attack. She knew the lone tiger wanted her, or Duke. And that Van and Bear wanted nothing more than to tear into that single tiger. But knowing how shifters thought, she was pretty sure they had their eye on Jericho as well.

  Morgan was on his back, teeth showing in a snarl that was terrifying, more so because he was in human form. His hands around Jericho’s throat, buried deeply in the blood-stained fur. Morgan’s arm was bleeding, but he held on with a death grip to the big cat’s neck.

  She thought it would be over quickly, but Jericho’s injury from Morgan’s knife must be deep. Jericho was breathing hard, and Harley was horrified to see blood-tinged foam dripping from Jericho’s lips. He snarled, teeth snapping inches from Morgan’s face. Someone made a horrible choking sound, but Harley couldn’t tell if it was Jericho, or Morgan.

  Suddenly, Morgan pulled his knees up to his chest, feet braced against Jericho’s chest. Harley expected him to push Jericho away, but nothing happened. Then, as Morgan slid one foot lower, she realized he was searching for the injury in Jericho’s side. Seconds later he found it, and as Harley screamed, Morgan viciously kicked Jericho.

  The big cat made a horrible sound, then shuddered and listed to the side, fresh blood streaming from the wound. Morgan took one hand away from Jericho’s throat, fingers scrabbling through the dirt for the knife.

  “God, Harley…”

  Duke saw what she saw, and the panic in his voice galvanized her into action. Armed with a knife, Morgan could easily kill Jericho. She needed to do something, anything.

  Duke had her arm in a grip like steel, but she pulled against him, hard enough that he almost toppled over. “Let me go.”

  “Harley. No.”

  But Harley was already scrabbling forward. The knife was inches away from Morgan’s outstretched hand, and she flung herself belly down in the dirt, fingers touching the blade, as Morgan’s touched the handle. Instinctively, she grabbed the knife, trying to ignore the pain of the blade slicing into her fingers. She wrapped her hand around it, and pulled, crying out in pain, as the knife bit deep. But there was no way in hell she was going to let Morgan have the knife.

  The blade was soaked with blood, slippery, by then she had it in her hand. She turned it around, grabbing the handle. The pain was exquisite, her vision going gray around the edges, as the blade slicked into her fingers. But Morgan made a sound, a snarl of frustration.

  “Bitch.”

  Morgan kicked viciously at Jericho’s midsection, and even though Jericho grunted with pain, he fought to keep his place over Morgan.

  Harley raised the knife, but she had no idea what to do with it. She’d never killed a man, couldn’t quite bring the knife down. Morgan met her gaze, a cruel smile twisting his lips, kicking once more into Jericho’s flank.

  “Haven’t got it in you, have you?” His words were barely audible over Jericho’s growls. But in those growls she could hear an edge of pain. “You’re not one of us. You can’t kill a person. You’re weak.”

  She raised the knife higher, bringing it down into Morgan’s shoulder, aiming for the blood-soaked patch on his jacket. The knife sank in with sickening ease. He screamed, flailing at her with his injured arm, cuffing her alongside the head. She was tired of being hit in the head, tired of being knocked to the ground. She pulled the knife out, thinking she could use it again, knowing she didn’t have it in her.

  Blood ran out onto the dirt, and Harley thought she’d hurt Morgan badly enough to give Jericho an advantage. She could tell he was badly hurt too, worse than she thought maybe. Morgan thrashed beneath Jericho, one hand still managing to hold him off, feet still planted against Jericho’s big body. It seemed impossible, but she’d seen shifters in human form display almost superhuman strength. Morgan was fueled by rage, and she knew that could make people do crazy things.

 
But his strength was fading, and Jericho took the advantage, lunging hard, closing the distance between him, and Morgan. She couldn’t watch; the last view she had of the two of them was Jericho’s open mouth, teeth flecked with blood, bearing down on Morgan’s neck. This time she willingly buried her face in the dirt.

  The rest was horrible, the sound of teeth crunching bones, a strangled yell from Morgan cut off with a gargling sound. Harley cringed, turning her head away, the blood-slippery knife falling from her hand. Someone wheezed; it had to be Morgan. And then the clearing was quiet.

  Harley held onto her hand with the other, applying as much pressure as possible, trying to stop the bleeding. She ripped off a piece of her t-shirt, winding it around her hand as tightly as she could, before tying it in place. Reluctantly, Harley turned her head back, not wanting to see, but knowing she had to. Morgan lay with his ruined face turned away from her, the front of his jacket soaked in blood. Jericho had fallen back on his haunches, breathing hard, and she saw blood on his mouth, dripping from his teeth. For a minute she wondered whose blood it was, his or Morgan’s.

  “Jericho?”

  He turned his head toward her, hot breath washing over her, the coppery smell of blood making her stomach churn. She saw pain in his eyes, and her eyes went to the gash on his side. Blood ran freely, and she reached out to touch him. But he got up, moving slowly away from her, further into the trees. Too slowly, as far as she was concerned. She tried to get up, to go after him.

  “Leave him, Harley. Let him tend to himself while we look at your hand.”

  She turned to face Duke. He was sitting propped against the tree, eyes moving between her, Jericho’s retreating back, and the last of Morgan’s shifters. That tiger had moved away, putting more distance between itself, and the others. She still had Morgan’s knife, and she stood up, holding onto the blood-slick handle.

  “Go. Get. Go tell the rest to leave us the hell alone. It’s over. No more fighting.”

  The tiger growled, but it backed away. Van and Bear made a feint at following it, but they’d heard her words, and stopped. The tiger gave one last shake of its head, and disappeared into the woods. As its body disappeared into the shadows, she let the knife fall to the ground.

  Van circled back around, nudging Ember with his big head. She ran her fingers through his mane, a smile curving her lips. “You beautiful creature, you. Get yourself back into human form so I can get a hug, okay?”

  Bear started back toward the shed, and the burned bar, while Van gave Ember one last nuzzle before he followed. Harley sat down beside Duke.

  “I know you don’t want me asking, but are you okay?”

  “I’ve been better, thanks, but I’ll be okay.” He winced, as he pushed himself up. “Nothing important has been punctured. Just a flesh wound… bullet grazed me, that’s all. I’ll be stiff and sore, but as long as I don’t have to fight anyone else right now, I should be back to my old self in no time. But you, you need to get that wound tended to right away. You aren’t like us… you aren’t going to heal quickly.”

  Harley looked down at the blood soaked cloth that was wrapped around her fingers. “I know, but I’ll be fine. What about Jericho? He’s badly hurt, isn’t he?”

  Duke didn’t answer right away, and that only made her think the worse. Then he straightened again, nodding toward the trees. “Oh, I think he’ll survive. See for yourself.”

  She followed his gaze. Jericho was walking out of the trees, wearing a pair of sweatpants. He’d obviously gone further away than just the nearest clump of trees, and found clean clothes. But her eyes were drawn to the ragged gash on his side. He was holding a blood-soaked t-shirt in one hand, face turned toward her, already seeking out hers.

  “Jericho. My God.” She stood up, a wave of dizziness threatening to take her back to the ground again. “Are you okay?”

  “Looks worse than it is, really.” He stopped close to her. He smelled of dirt and sweat, and the deep rich primal smell of blood. And death. But she didn’t care. She reached out, brushing her fingers over his skin. The wound did look less severe than he’d thought it would be. It was ragged, but not as deep. “Besides, I heal quickly. You know that, right? Shifter blood.” He winked at her, then reached out, and put his hand on her upper arm. Before he pulled her closer, she was already closing the space between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his neck.

  “I need to tend to that wound of yours, Harley. I hate that you got hurt, but I’m so damn proud of you. You’re one kick ass woman, beautiful.”

  “I don’t know about that. I did what I had to do. And yeah, I’ll have a doctor look at it, don’t worry about that. But Jericho, is this over now? Really over?”

  He looked down at her with so much emotion in his eyes that it took her breath away, and she found herself snuggling back against him, closing her eyes tightly, trying to shut out the scenery, the people, the dead body on the ground. For just a moment, she wanted it to be just her and Jericho.

  “Yes… It’s over.” She felt his head turn, and knew he was looking at Morgan’s body. She couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to see the ruined body on the ground.

  “So what do we do now?”

  His chest rose and fell under her cheek, slow and easy, reassuring and exactly what she wanted. But she wanted it somewhere else, anywhere else but here.

  “What do you want to do, Harley?”

  She lifted her head, looked into those gray eyes. “I want to go away, with you, somewhere…until this…” She waved a hand in the general direction of Morgan, and further away the burned rubble of her bar. “Until this isn’t so fresh. Until I can’t smell the burned wood anymore.”

  Jericho hugged her, and then someone touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes, and turned her head just enough to see Duke, standing a few feet away.

  “Echo Lake. Take the cabin, stay for a while. We’ll clean this up.”

  Ember was beside him, her eyes wide, nodding, smiling. “That’s a great idea. Come back when it’s cleared, and the ground is smoothed out, and we’ll build you something new, and even better than before. Not something old, and ready to fall down. You two look like you could use some time together…” She winked, her grin turning mischievous. “Alone.”

  Harley’s cheeks flushed hot, and she didn’t dare look at Jericho after Ember’s comment. If she’d had time during the last hectic day to indulge in fantasies of her and Jericho, and their future, it had been of them being some place together. But she had no idea what he wanted, what Jericho’s fantasies about their future were. Truth be told, he didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d indulge in fantasy; he was a hard-headed realist.

  “Well, Harley?” Jericho put a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to his. “How does Echo Lake sound?”

  She nodded, and got a smile from Jericho. “Yeah. A few days at the lake sounds like a great idea. After a hot shower, and a change of clothes.”

  “And after getting that wound checked out by a doctor,” Jericho replied, eyebrows cocked. “No arguing about that.”

  She sighed deeply, but nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get cleaned up, and go see a doctor right away. Promise.” She pushed away from Jericho, reached out, and wrapped her arms around her brother. “I’m so happy you are okay. I love you, Duke.”

  Duke hugged her tightly in return. “I love you too, sis.”

  There was movement behind her, and she jumped out of sheer exhaustion, and nerves. But it was only Van and Bear, coming back from the shed, wearing jeans and tattered shirts.

  “Come on. Why don’t we all go into town together. Get a doctor to look at us all.” Harley looked at Jericho, and then back to Van and Bear.

  Jericho stepped back, as she pointed to his wound. “We have no need for a doctor, but you certainly do. Let’s get going.” The gash was now just a jagged red line, the edges already knitting together. Any blood she saw now was dark, dried. Jericho brushed at it with the t-shirt
, and most of it flaked away.

  “Almost as good as new.” He held out his arms, giving her a smile. “And so is your brother.”

  She threw him a look, then shook her head in confusion as she turned to face Duke who pulled down the shoulder of his t-shirt to reveal a disappearing wound. “I’ll never get used to that, how easy it is for you shifters to heal.

  Ember reached out, touched Harley on the arm. “Look, Harley, me and Van’ll take care of Duke. You and Jericho just get out of here, get cleaned up, go see a doctor, and then go back to Echo Lake for a few days. We’ll be fine. You’ll have a chance to get some sleep and…” That mischievous little grin was back on Ember’s face.

  Harley shook her head, laughing. “No, don’t say anything else. Not a word, okay?”

  Jericho reached out, and took her arm. “You look like you need stitches, and I want that looked at right away. Let’s get going.” There was something in his voice that made the skin on her arms rise up in goose bumps. It was the promise of something, the door opening to whatever was going to happen to them next, and the concern about her wound, a protective tone that she had never heard from another man before.

  Jericho kept his body between her and Morgan’s form on the ground, shielding it from her view. She turned one last time to her group of friends.

  “You sure you’ll be okay?”

  Duke smiled. “You bet. Just need some rest, and a clean shirt.” But the grimace on his face told her he was hiding an awful lot of pain behind that tough exterior. Before he could say anything, Ember wound her arm through Duke’s.

  “We’ll make sure he’s looked after, taken care of.” She leaned over, and pecked him on the cheek. “Go on… seriously, don’t worry babe. I’ll pamper him.”

  Duke made a sound close to a snarl, shaking his head. Harley knew that there was no chance in hell that her brother would let anyone take care of him. It wouldn’t be long before he hopped on his bike, and was back on the road.