The Tiger's Pregnant Bride

by Bonnie Burrows

  THE FINAL CHAPTER

  Terrence was sitting at the table with young Morgan, playing go fish for what seemed like the millionth time when they heard a car pull up to the house. Doors opened and closed, followed by footsteps on the porch. The door opened, Sable walking into the house and opening his arms in time to catch Morgan, who flung himself into the air at his father.

  Behind him were Olivia and Grace. One look at Grace sent Terrence towards the phone, ringing for his doctor. Grace was battered and bleeding, a large cut over her eye in need of stitching. After a short conversation, Terrence hung up and went to Grace. He led her to the table, helping her sit down gently before rushing to the freezer to get some ice packs.

  She laid her head on the table, took weak to move. Her face was nearly unrecognizable; her swollen eye a constant stream of hot tears.

  “What about the curfew?” Sable asked.

  “Medical and Law Enforcement are exempt. He’ll be here shortly to attend to Grace’s wounds.”

  Olivia was standing in the doorway still, mouth slack, arms wrapped around her child. “Sable, would you like to explain to me why you’re not shocked to see our child? And where in the hell is Egan?”

  Sable couldn’t deny the look on his face, or the truth in his eyes. He’d hidden Morgan’s whereabouts from her, and she was furious.

  “It was my idea. Egan brought him to Florida and I didn’t want you to worry about him. Terrence went to the airport to pick him up and brought him here. He hasn’t left his sight since the plane landed. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want you distracted when we went after Grace.”

  “And where’s Egan?”

  Sable shrugged. “He’s gone after his fated mate. He has no idea where he’s heading and there’s no way to know when he’ll be back.”

  Olivia scoffed, angrily shaking her head as she stormed out of the room.

  Morgan sat down next to Grace, his tiny hand grabbing hers and holding on. “We came here to save you, Grace. Are you going to come live at our house?”

  Grace opened her good eye, unable to gather the strength to lift her head. She managed a small smile for the child, but she didn’t answer his question. She squeezed his hand and closed her eye once more.

  Terrence handed Morgan the ice packs wrapped in hand towels. “Can you carry these and follow me?”

  Morgan nodded. Terrence gingerly picked Grace up, cradling her against his chest gently as she moaned in protest, but didn’t fight. He walked down the hall to the great room, Morgan close on his heels. He set her down on the plush sofa, guiding her body as she stretched to lie flat on the soft surface. She trembled in pain before sinking into the plush upholstery.

  Terrence kneeled before her, taking the first pack and tucking it between her and the back of the couch. Morgan handed each pack to Terrence as he placed each one. He held the last one gently against her swollen eye, turning to Morgan over his shoulder and speaking softly. “Would you get her a blanket and cover her?”

  Morgan ran to a large wicker basket full of carefully folded throws. He picked the one from the top and rushed back to the sofa. Careful not to hurt Grace further, he gently spread the blanket over her, tucking the edges around her and under her feet. When she was adequately covered, he climbed onto the sofa by her feet and settled in.

  “I’m going to protect Grace. No one will ever hurt her again.” Terrence smiled at the little boy, reaching out to tussle his hair.

  “Good man.” The doorbell rang, announcing that the doctor had arrived. Terrence could hear Sable’s voice as the men spoke briefly before Sable led him into the room.

  Sable left the men to care for Grace, walking down the hall in search of Olivia. He found her in his old room, sprawled out on the bed, face buried in a pillow. Sobs wracked her slender body, the sound tearing a hole in Sable’s heart. He slipped into the bed with her, pulling her against him and wrapping his arms around her. She buried her head in his chest. He rubbed her back and soothed her, his words pointless but gentle. The stress of the last week and the shock of finding her child in harm’s way were too much for her. He didn’t blame her.

  Slowly she regained her composure, turning her head to the side and breathing deeply. “What are we going to do about Egan? We can’t just leave him here.”

  “He’ll be back soon, or he’ll call. It’s hard to explain, Olivia, but the pull is something he can’t deny. He’s not thinking straight. It’s possible we’ll have to leave him here.”

  “Sable, we can’t do that. We can’t just leave him here to fend for himself.”

  “He’s a man, Olivia. He made his choice. Whether I like or not is not my call. He’s going to do what he does, and we have to accept that.”

  He pulled her in tighter, inhaling the scent of her hair. A mix of her shampoo and the heady scent of earth and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on reminded him of earlier that night.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get over you sucker punching that man in the face.”

  Olivia laughed, flexing her sore hand and admiring the tiny bruises already gracing her delicate knuckles. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it somewhat. When I saw Grace’s face I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to kill that man on the spot.”

  Sable bent down and gently tilted Olivia’s face to him. He kissed her softly and deeply, taking his time. She returned his kiss, her hand reaching up to cup his strong jaw. She broke the kiss and rested her head back on his chest. “Thank you for saving my friend. And me.” Olivia sat up slowly. “I want to see Grace.”

  She stood and grabbed his hand, walking down the hall with him and into the great room. Grace’s limp body lay on the sofa, her head in Morgan’s tiny lap while the doctor worked. Her arm was limp on the floor. The doctor had obviously sedated her before beginning the daunting task of stitching the split area above her eye.

  Morgan held perfectly still, his tiny hands holding Grace’s hair off her face while the doctor leaned over her and carefully stitched. Olivia peered over the doctor’s shoulder, sucking in a quick breath when she saw that there were already more than ten stiches running almost parallel to her eye brow.

  “If you want to help, you can start cleaning out some of those wounds so I can see what I’m dealing with.” He gestured towards the pile of gauze sitting on the coffee table.

  Olivia grabbed a handful, squirted some of the blue liquid onto the gauze and went to work gently swabbing the deep cuts on Grace’s knuckles.

  **

  Egan crouched in the shadows, watching the house for signs of movement. So far, he’d counted seven men coming in and out. They carried supplies in and out, some loading cars up before driving away, others doing cursory perimeter checks, more than once one of those men passed within a feet of Egan without being aware of him.

  He hadn’t seen a woman yet, but he knew she was in there. The pull of the house was strong, and he couldn’t turn away from the structure without excruciating pain. If she weren't there yet, she would be.

  Egan ducked, backing further into the bushes when a sleek, black car slid into the driveway. A single man exited, his stride hurried a purposeful. When he stepped into the glow of the porch light, Egan snarled under his breath. Laskin! He thought he was dead.

  Laskin strode up the stairs and into the house. His voice was loud, though Egan couldn’t make out the words from where he hid. Within seconds of Laskin walking into the house, men piled out of the house and into the bed of a large pick up. Bringing up the rear was Laskin, heading towards his vehicle once more.

  A tiny figure, no more than five feet tall, hurried after Laskin. Egan’s breath whooshed out of him painfully. It was her, she was here -- with Laskin.

  “But I can help!”

  Laskin paused as he was entering the car, regarding the young woman with disdain and a touch of amusement. “You need to stay behind and be ready.” Without another word, he sat down in his car and drove away, leaving her standing in his dust. Angrily, sh
e kicked a rocked with the toe of her boot, sending it sailing in the air. She stomped back into the house, stopping for a moment in the doorway to survey the woods beyond the well-kept yard.

  The soft, yellow light kissed her smooth skin, casting an angelic glow on the angry woman. She turned quickly and walked into the house, slamming the door behind her.

  Egan crept forward, eager to get into the house before the men returned. The woman wasn’t more than nineteen or twenty, but Egan could see that she was full of fire. She was small but feisty, reminding him of the pixies in Morgan’s storybooks. A hostile pixie, but a tiny, fairytale creature, nonetheless.

  He circled the house slowly, peeking into each window before moving on to the next. When he’d completed the circuit around the building, he quietly slipped into the house via the unlocked front door. His feet were silent as he moved from room to room, making sure there were no stragglers left in the house. Satisfied they were alone, he quietly walked through the house and to the room in the center where he heard a television blaring.

  The woman sat on the sofa, arms crossed angrily in front of her. The news flashed images of civilians clashing in the street across the screen while the news anchor read the words on the teleprompter with little emotion.

  Egan stood in the doorway for several seconds before his presence registered with the woman. When at last she noticed him, she turned to give him a look of rage, as if she assumed he was one of the men returning from the field. In an instant, her demeanor changed. She jumped up onto the sofa, sailing over the back of the tattered chair in search of a weapon.

  Egan lunged at her, diving over the sofa and landing on top of the woman. She had her hand outstretched, reaching for a rifle propped up against the wall. Wrapping his arms around her, he pinned her to the ground.

  “Wait, wait. I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.”

  “That’s what they all say.” Her voice was high and melodious, with a slight hint of an overseas accent Egan couldn’t quite place.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, please, just listen to me.” She stopped struggling briefly, and he took that as a sign that she was willing to talk. He moved off her, close but giving her room to breathe so they could talk.

  She pulled up her knee, catching him in the groin and running as he struggled to stand up in spite of the pain. He hobbled after her as she ran. He was surprised she didn’t cry out for help, but she knew as well as he did that all the men had left with Laskin. Better to save her energy and not give away her position with helpless screams.

  Pushing through the pain, he smiled as he ran. Feisty didn’t even begin to cover it. If he could just explain to her who he was and why he was there, he was sure she would-what Egan, he thought, ride off into the sunset with you? He scoffed at his own errant thoughts. Even once he explained himself to her, it was doubtful she would fall into his embrace and live happily ever after. She’d been hiding out with the human resistance, and Laskin. There was no telling what this woman had been brainwashed into believing.

  Egan hobbled onto the porch and down the stairs. Something hit him in the back of the head and he went down hard, stars exploding behind his eyes. His knees hit the ground and he heard her tiny footsteps as she ran into the woods. He went after her, stumbling in the dark.

  He shook off the pain in his head, terrified of losing her again. He’d risked everything to find her; he wasn’t about to let her go. She crashed through the trees and onto a sandy trail, slender legs pumping frantically as she ran.

  Egan hit the path and picked up speed, calling out to the woman. “I just want to talk.”

  She flipped him off over her shoulder without breaking stride. Egan laughed in spite of himself. He didn’t even know her name yet, but he knew he liked her. Every step brought him closer to catching her, and her labored breathing told him that she was well aware of the fact.

  They ran for a while, with the woman keeping several yards between them the entire time. Over their strained breathing, Egan heard a scream in the distance, and a mighty roar. The woman’s steps faltered as she pulled up short. The sounds of a fight drifted towards them from directly ahead. Undeterred, Egan closed the distance between them and grabbed her, clapping one hand firmly over her mouth to keep her from screaming.

  **

  She kicked and fought, but Egan held fast, carrying her in front of him towards the sounds of the fighting. Several yards ahead, Egan could finally make out the scene in the darkness. Sable and Laskin were fighting, though only Sable was in the process of shifting as the two pummeled each other. The men had piled into the truck stood mere feet away from Egan, eyes riveted on Laskin and Sable. The woman attempted to scream through Egan’s hand, kicking and twisting in an effort to break free and run to Laskin and his supporters.

  She suddenly stilled when Laskin began to shift, her screams dying abruptly as she and the others noticed Laskin’s transformation. She started trembling, moaning forlornly through his hand, tears streaming down her face. Like the others, she was apparently unaware of Laskin’s real identity. He leaned down and whispered in her ear.

  “Things are about to get really bad. We need to leave, okay?”

  She nodded behind his hand, her eyes wide as she watched in horror the man she’d followed for the last few years turn into the very thing she was fighting against. He grabbed her hand and ran the opposite way, heading for the place where he’d hidden the rental car. She stumbled behind him, struggling to keep up and trying to yank her hand out of his.

  They burst out of the tree line several hundred yards north of his rental car. She planted her feet, yanking her hand out of his. “I’m not going with you.”

  “And where will you go? To your family? To those men and Laskin? The one’s that left you alone to fend for yourself.”

  She stared him down, arms crossed, stance defiant. “I don’t have a family. I only have myself, and I don’t need you.”

  “We don’t have time for this. We’ll talk later. Right now, we have to get out of here before this place is crawling with police.” He bent down and threw her over his shoulder, his strong arm locked around her tiny waist. “The trunk or the passenger seat. Your choice, but if you haven’t chosen by the time we get to the car, I’ll choose for you.”

  “Gah! I hate you!”

  “Trunk it is.”

  “No, no the passenger seat.”

  “I thought you’d see it my way.”

  He jogged to the car, ignoring her protests as she hung gracelessly upside down over his shoulder. He opened the driver door and set the automatic locks before pushing her across the driver’s seat and into the passenger seat. She didn’t bother trying the lock; she knew it wouldn’t budge when locked from the driver’s side.

  Egan turned over the engine and threw it into gear, growling at her to buckle her seat belt before he did it for her.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “I don’t know yet. We’ll figure it out when we get there. Right now, I’m taking you away from this mess. Somewhere quiet. We have a lot to talk about.”

  She opened her mouth to ask him a question, but thought better of it and closed her mouth. Arms crossed tightly across her body she leaned against the window, moving as far away from him as she could get.

  “I’m Egan, what’s your name?”

  She stared daggers at him, but said nothing.

  “Suit yourself. It’s going to be a long trip if you’re going to act like that.”

  She turned and stared out the window, giving him the cold shoulder and making her intentions clear. His heart tore in pieces when he realized she had turned her head to hide her tears. He knew she was scared, but he didn’t know what else to do; she wouldn’t talk to him and he couldn’t leave her there to die.

  The miles stretched before him, giving him plenty of time to figure out what to do. She had no family and no one to turn to but him. He felt like a complete ass for taking advantage of that, but if she only knew what he knew.r />
  The woman’s head rested against the cold glass. Egan drove in silence, glancing at her every few minutes. Slack-jawed and obviously feigning sleep, Egan resisted the urge to reach out to her. To stroke her soft cheek, and move the chocolate colored tendril of hair out of her eyes. Her hair was shoulder length and thick, with soft waves framing her tiny face.

  Looking at the woman caused Egan physical pain. He wanted to hold her, to touch her. But he knew she wasn’t ready, and he didn’t want to push her. She was angry enough, not that he blamed her.

  He’d been driving for hours and had no idea where he was going. He assumed he would figure it out when they got there. In a few miles, they would cross the border into Alabama. He had no plan and no idea when they would stop.

  She stirred beside him, at some point having falling to sleep. Her eyes flew open, shock registering on her face as she realized where she was. Egan prepared himself for the barrage of fists, but she sat quietly in her seat.

  “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Egan regarded her suspiciously. “I can’t risk you getting away.”

  “Look, I’m not going to run. I have nothing to run to. The rest area at the state line is up ahead. It’s the middle of the night so there won’t be anyone there and I have nowhere to go. You can come in the bathroom with me if you want, but I need to go.” She looked at him, pleadingly.

  “Please don’t run.”

  “I won’t. Not this time. I’m too tired. I’m going to run eventually, but right now I’m exhausted, I’m hungry and I need to get somewhere more populated before I make a run for it.”

  He had to laugh at her honesty. She was a firecracker that was for sure. He didn’t doubt she would run when the opportunity presented itself, but for now, he was the lesser of the two evils.