Tiger Magic

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Walker swallowed on his dry throat. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Rebecca. A bear Shifter, if you’re wondering. And you’re Walker.” She tilted her head to consider him. “I like that name.”

“So did my mom.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.” Rebecca leaned forward, her large breasts behind the tight shirt softening and coming within reach. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Walker. You’ll be staying here, in my living room, until Liam figures out what we should do with you. Want some water? When I took the tape off your mouth, your lips were dry. You have to be thirsty.”

Walker cleared his throat. “Water would be nice.”

Rebecca lifted her head, but the pressure on Walker’s chest didn’t ease. He wouldn’t be able to dislodge her foot in a hurry.

“Olaf,” Rebecca called. “Olaf, honey, bring out the water for our guest.”

The kitchen door opened, and out walked a small boy with white hair and night-dark eyes, carrying a sports bottle with both hands. The boy came to Walker without fear and held out the bottle.

Walker took it, mystified. He knew that if he tried anything, such as hitting the kid or slamming Rebecca onto her back and barreling through Olaf to get away, Rebecca would kill him. The look on her face told him no less.

Walker wouldn’t use a child to help himself escape. He wasn’t that way. He upended the bottle of water and drank.

They might have drugged the water to keep him groggy, but at this point, Walker didn’t care. When he was more rested and no longer thirsty, he’d be better fit to get away. The water tasted normal, though, nothing added that he could taste.

Olaf watched him drink, his look grave. No child should be so quiet and serious. He didn’t look anything like Rebecca, so not her son or her brother. The kid was about ten, his eyes black—not dark brown as Walker had first thought. They were the eyes of an animal, a sad animal.

Walker handed the empty bottle back to Olaf. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Olaf said, then he turned and walked back to the kitchen, his job finished.

“Were you trying to lull me into submission with a cute kid?” Walker asked, wiping his mouth.

“Did it work?”

“I don’t hurt kids.”

“I’m glad. I’d have had to hurt you if you did.”

“I thought so,” Walker said.

In the next instant, he struck. Rebecca had been drawing a breath to continue the banter, but she let out the breath with an oomph as she fell.

Walker had grabbed her leg—silken skin over firm muscle—and jerked, reaching up to pin her when she came down.

Rebecca landed on his chest, a hundred sixty pounds or so of woman, her breasts soft against the harder planes of his chest.

She had great reflexes. Walker had started a roll to put her beneath him, where he’d wrap her hands in the loose tape, but he couldn’t move her.

Rebecca had him pinned; his back was solid against the rug, Rebecca’s hold on his shoulders perfect. Her smile didn’t waver. “Not a bad attempt.”

“Had to try,” Walker said.

Rebecca came closer, her breath warm on his face. “You know what, Walker? I’m a Shifter woman in my fertile years. You know what that makes me?” She lowered herself closer still. “Horny. Very, very horny.”

And helping her take care of that wouldn’t be bad. Not bad at all. Walker’s thumping heart and hardening cock would have told him that even if his brain didn’t. She was a lush, female armful, very tempting.

Any man but Walker would have taken her up on the offer and let her bang him right here, surrendering to the beauty of her. But Walker never mixed sex with his missions. Sex was for celebration, for taking his ease afterward, for loving. He wanted to be in a position where he could let down his guard and enjoy himself. Stopping a mission for sex was appallingly stupid. It took only a little self-control to stay focused.

Rebecca might have good reflexes, and she might be the hottest thing he’d seen in a long, long time, but she wasn’t a trained fighter. Not trained in fighting dirty.

Walker heaved himself up, and heaved fast. One lightning move and he had her off him, sliding her across the floor, out of his way. Walker rolled to his knees, then levered himself to his feet, reaching for the tape on his legs.

Rebecca landed hard, with enough impact for her to hit the bottom of the stairs, smacking her head on the post. Walker hadn’t meant for that to happen, but it would slow her enough for him to get his legs free and himself out the window. Shifters could hunt him down faster than he could run away, but Walker knew how to hot-wire a car in ten seconds flat.

“Oh.” Rebecca pushed her hair from her face. “Now.”

Walker jerked at the tape until it came unstuck from his black fatigue pants, wishing they hadn’t taken his knife. They’d wound a huge wad of tape around him, and he fought to pull it free.

Rebecca slid her shirt off over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but Walker didn’t let himself look, not fully. What he saw from the corner of his eye was pretty good though.

Rebecca shoved down her shorts and then her panties more rapidly than Walker could unwind the tape. Her bare body came into view, curved, gorgeous, mouthwatering.

“Damn it,” she said. “I did not want to go bear in front of you.”

The last words degenerated into one long growl as Rebecca’s body expanded and changed, growing fur and claws longer than any knife Walker ever carried. She shifted and grew, the growls becoming louder, until finally Walker saw exactly what kind of bear she was.

Kodiak.

Ordinary Kodiak bears were gigantic. A Shifter Kodiak, even a female, was at least twice that size. No wonder all the furniture in here was pushed against the walls.

Walker got himself free of the tape. He made it one step toward the open window before a giant bear paw brought him down. Rebecca’s mouth opened to show her horrifyingly large teeth before she flipped him onto his back and held him there the most effective way she could—lying down on him.

She let him breathe, at least. Her large body kept him as well-pinned as she had in her human form, except now she was warmer and heavier, and had a lot more fur.

Rebecca nuzzled his face with her large bear nose, her dark eyes filled with amusement. She raised her head and huffed a little, and Walker swore she was laughing.

When Tiger woke again, the afternoon was waning, long blocks of light slanting through the windows. He’d learned that in this season—summer—the light lingered for a long time, so it could be eight in the evening already.

The first sensation he had was one of rightness. His body felt much better, the horrific pain gone. His headache had receded, leaving only a slight pounding to remind him of the previous hurt.

The second was stunned wonder. Much of the rightness he felt came from the fact that Carly was lying next to him, curled up under the sheet, her head on a pillow.

Tiger’s bed was large, the biggest in the house. He was as bulky as Liam, though he shared height with Ronan, a Kodiak bear Shifter. Kim had gotten Tiger a bigger bed because when Tiger had first arrived, he’d been restless at night, rolling from side to side. Hard to find comfort on the small mattress that had been Connor’s when his previous sleeping pallet had been the metal floor of a cage. After he’d fallen out of the smaller bed a few times, Kim had brought home the larger one.

Carly had plenty of room in the bed. The fan played near the window. It, combined with the cooling breeze from all four open windows, had made Carly pull the sheet over herself. One thigh, covered with a couple of inches of the canvas-cloth shorts she’d put on at Ethan’s, poked out from beneath the sheet.

Her makeup was smeared from the accident and sleep, her hair was messed from its careful French braid. Beautiful. Tiger would explain that Carly didn’t need the face paint and her hair tucked away for her to be pretty.

But she was unhurt. Tiger scented that from her, saw it in her unbroken skin. She’d been bruised and afraid, but not hurt. He let himself believe in the Goddess long enough to be thankful.

Before the crash, Carly had been teaching Tiger about kissing. When the subject had first come up, Liam had told Tiger that Liam hadn’t known how to kiss either. Kim had taught him. He’d implied that not knowing how to kiss wasn’t a problem for Shifters, and that was when Connor had said Tiger would learn when the time came.

Tiger brushed a wisp of hair from Carly’s cheek. He knew he needed to make his way to Ronan’s and question Walker. He needed to know why Walker had been sent to watch Carly, and why a man dressed in the same kind of black fatigues had shot Tiger in the back more than a dozen times.

But the house was quiet, the street outside quiet as well. Shifters would be inside eating their nightly meal, talking to their mates and cubs, mothers and fathers, sharing time with family. Later, the more nocturnal ones would be out with neighbors, playing with cubs in the long stretch of green behind the houses, or leaving Shiftertown to go to the bar Liam managed or one of the clubs in town that allowed Shifters.

Or they might go to the fight club that was held once a week, where Shifters took out their aggressions in the ring, with the rest of the Shifters betting like crazy on the outcomes.

Tiger wasn’t allowed to fight in the fight club. They didn’t trust him, and Tiger agreed with that. To him, fighting wasn’t a game. It was survival. Kill or be killed.

Right now, his bed was the best place to be. He was hard and ready, wanting Carly. But just lightly touching her while she slept filled something in Tiger he hadn’t realized was empty.

Tiger leaned over. Remembering how to pucker his lips and how to release the pressure at the correct moment, he kissed her cheek.

Carly blinked once, then again, then her smile blossomed. “Oh, hey.” She slid herself to a sitting position and tucked stray locks of hair behind her ears. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You stayed.”

Carly shrugged. “I told Armand about the accident, and he said that under no circumstance was I to come to work. He said he’d make Yvette answer the phones and beg her to be nice to people.” She laughed a little. “Yvette has the biggest heart in the world, but she doesn’t suffer fools gladly. She’ll save their lives and fix them the best meal they’ll ever eat, but she will give them her unvarnished opinions about them at the same time.”

“Glory is the same. Except she can’t cook.”

Carly laughed again, drawing her knees to her chest and circling her arms around them. How wonderful, Tiger thought as he studied the softness of her thighs, to know people—who weren’t researchers studying him—to know enough about them to make jokes.

“Looks like you’re feeling better,” Carly said.

Tiger put his hand to his abdomen. A few twinges went off at his touch, but that was all. As before, his body had closed up, was making itself whole again.

“Why did you stay?” he asked.

“I just told you. Armand said . . .”

“No.” Tiger sat up with her, reflecting that he was tired of lying on his back. He propped himself on the headboard, leaning an arm on his drawn-up knee. “You could have gone home. Gone anywhere. But you stayed.”

A flush of color stained her cheeks. “I was worried about you.”

“Why? You saw that I was healing.”

“Tiger, no one gets shot twice in as many days and heals faster the second time. Dylan said it was like your body was changing, like it was adapting to the circumstance.”

He shrugged, and even that didn’t hurt. “They wanted me to be the best fighting machine ever. Gave me drugs that hurt like hell, and surgeries, always surgeries. And then tested me and gave me more drugs. I was the only one who survived.”

Carly’s eyes widened. “There were more like you?”

“There were twenty-three. I was the last. Then there was only me.”

She touched his arm, fingers light on his bicep. “I don’t know how to answer that. How to convey how really sorry I am. It sounds lame even to say it.”

The touch had been a mistake. Tiger’s healing body had been content to be in her presence, to rest while he drank in her scent.

The warmth of her hand on him awakened primal needs, and the beast in him rushed to the surface. He should warn her, tell her to get out.

He couldn’t make himself. Tiger was lonely, and alone, in spite of living in this house, in this room where he could watch over all of Shiftertown.

Carly was here. And he needed her.

Simple words, for a simple being. Tiger clasped Carly’s wrist and lifted her hand away, but kept hold of it as he looked at her. She gazed back at him, her expression telling him she felt the change in him, his raw need.

“Tiger,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”

The hesitant words made Tiger stop himself, to push down the feral beast who wanted her. “Of me?” Even his voice had changed, the words harsh and flat.

“Of me.” Tears moistened her eyes. “I just had a bad ending to a relationship I thought was fine. I don’t want to let myself fall in love with you. With anyone.” She touched his face, this second touch ripping away all restraint Tiger had put on himself. “But I think it’s too late for that.”

Too late. Much too late. Tiger growled like a true tiger, pushed Carly onto the bed, pinned her with his hands on her wrists, and brought his mouth down on hers.