Tiger Magic

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Liam took Crosby down the stairs, out of the house, and along the yards behind the Shifters’ houses. No other Shifters were in sight, windows and doors closed up tight.

Liam walked Crosby to a stand of trees that formed a sort of ring. A mist floated there, and only there, but Crosby was interested solely in the pain in his wrist and in planning how to get away from Liam to complete his mission. He couldn’t return to Sheldon to confess a failure.

A second Shifter creature emerged, walking through the mists. Dylan, Liam’s father. Dylan was more problematic. He was older and more experienced than his son, and his eyes told Crosby he’d do what it took to stop him.

“I told you before, son,” Dylan said to Liam. “You can’t kill him. You have too many others depending on you.”

“I know.” Liam squeezed Crosby’s neck, fingers biting down with terrible strength. “But maybe we can make an exception this once?”

“No.”

More pressure on Crosby’s neck. At any moment, a vertebra would burst. “You know that this asshole started the fire.”

Dylan gave Liam a nod. “Yes.”

“Then you know why I need to kill the gobshite.” Liam’s voice was low, not carrying, but fierce, bearing a note of rage Crosby hadn’t heard from him before.

Dylan turned his gaze to Crosby. “What was your purpose?”

Liam snarled. “Does it matter?”

“I want to know.” Dylan fixed Crosby with a steady stare, his eyes as cold as icebergs. “Speak.”

Crosby shrugged the best he could. “I was told to smoke out the tiger Shifter. My commander suspected he was hanging around the area. He said if we put his woman in danger, he’d come.” Crosby felt a bit smug. “He was right.”

“But there were cubs in the community center,” Dylan said in his chill voice. “Children. Babies.”

“Not children,” Crosby corrected him. Crosby would never hurt a kid, or a female, unless they deserved it. “They were only Shifter get, the woman a Shifter whore.”

One of Crosby’s vertebrae crackled this time. “You’re dying for that,” Liam said. “Sorry, Dad.”

“No.” Dylan’s word was quiet but rang with authority.

Father and son studied each other for a long time. Finally Liam sighed and released Crosby’s neck. Crosby’s knees buckled, but he was pulled upright by the equally strong hand of Dylan.

“All right.” Liam looked at his father again, then without further word, he turned his back and walked away.

Mists from the trees swirled around Crosby and Dylan, cutting off Liam, cutting off Shiftertown.

“You won’t die for what you just said,” Dylan said in a mild tone. “Not for ignorant words.”

Crosby started to relax. If Dylan was adamant about keeping him alive, then Crosby might be able to get away, get back into the house, and somehow kill the tiger, and then worry about escaping. The mission came first.

Dylan’s hand clamped down on Crosby’s neck, harder than Liam’s had. Dylan’s mouth came close to Crosby’s ear. “You’ll die for nearly killing our cubs. For that, may the Goddess help you.” He turned his head and stared straight into the mists. “Fionn!”

The mists thickened, and a slit of light about ten feet high snapped open. A tall man, with limbs so long they looked as though they’d been stretched, appeared in the opening. The man was dressed like an old-fashioned warrior, with long white braids, chain mail, leather, and furs.

“Come,” he said.

Dylan shoved Crosby through the slit and followed.

The air became clammy and damp, and also brighter, as though the sun had suddenly risen. The ground was spongy underfoot, no more Texas dryness.

Crosby knew he was in a different place, more like the jungles of Central America, but cold. What the fuck? The slit in the air disappeared. No way back, no more Austin, no more Shiftertown.

Dylan spun Crosby to face him. Dylan’s eyes had gone white, the hand holding Crosby changing to the paws of a huge cat.

“I’m trying to teach my son mercy and restraint,” Dylan said to Crosby, his voice guttural. “Because I don’t have any myself.”

“There’s no law against vengeance here,” the tall man said in a tone of satisfaction. “In fact, it’s required.”

“For the cubs,” Dylan said, and finally Crosby thought to give in to his fear.

He beheld the nightmare that was the truth of Dylan, and that was the last thing he ever saw.

Tiger didn’t move again or speak for the rest of the night. Carly slept fitfully, even after reassurances that Crosby had been dealt with. Having a gun go off next to her when she’d been sound asleep had not been a happy experience.

Morning light streamed through the windows, touching Tiger’s face with gentle fingers. The air was cooler now as August waned toward September. The pressing heat of summer had broken.

Carly thought Tiger looked better. The unburned part of his face was flushed instead of deathly pale, and his scalp where his hair had burned was pink instead of black.

Tiger opened his eyes. Maybe the rosy hue of sunrise made his hurt eye look a little clearer—golden instead of white.

“Tiger?” Carly whispered.

Tiger turned his his head the tiniest bit. His face drew down, the movement painful. “Carly.” His voice was barely audible, a rasp.

“I’m here.”

“Touch me.”

Carly blinked, clenching her hand. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Touch . . . me.” He exhaled the last word, his eyes closing again.

Carly swallowed and brushed her fingertips over the clear part of his face. As it had been last night, the unburned part of his lips was satin smooth, his face smooth too, every whisker singed away.

She ran her hand down his neck, finding the unhurt patches, across his shoulder and down the slice of chest that was firm flesh. Back to his face again, then she slowly, carefully bent over him and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Carly,” he whispered. Was his voice stronger? “Mate of my heart.”

“Yes.” Carly kissed him again. “You said we had a mate bond. I believe you now.” She put her hand to her chest. “I feel it. I swear I do.”

Tiger closed his raw-red fingers around hers and guided her hand to a space between her chest and his. “There.”

Carly thought she felt something, a faint tingle that moved from her hand up her arm to warm her behind her breastbone.

“Is that the mate bond?”

Tiger gave her a slow nod, his eyes warming. He moved his hand and hers together over her abdomen. “My cub. Our cub. Another bond.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” Carly said, carefully caressing his fingers. “Or her.”

“The bonds heal me,” Tiger whispered. “Magic.”

Carly smiled. “There’s no such thing.”

“Shifters have Fae magic. Fionn said I had none, but there is something. I see the magic, the bonds, the threads.” He touched his own eyes, his voice gaining a little strength as he spoke. “I can see things in the dark. Know where they are. I saw Olaf.”

“When you went back into the building, I thought both of you would be dead.” She swallowed on the last words, the remembered dread filling her throat.

“I saw him,” Tiger said. “When I closed my eyes, my brain told me where he was. And he was—in the exact spot.”

“Your brain told you,” Carly repeated. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. But I can see things that are true, even when others can’t.”

“Like when you knew my sister was pregnant,” Carly said slowly. “And when you knew I was, when it had been only a day.”

Tiger gave her another nod. “I saw it, the life inside you, and knew we had created it. And the day I first met you, you standing on the side of the road, I saw the mate bond. I knew you for my mate, and my world changed.”

Carly gave him a little smile. “So you kept telling me.”

“I saw what was there. Before it was clear to anyone else.” Tiger lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “That is my magic.”

“But no one ever believes you. Not even me. What good does it do you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tiger said. “I know.”

No, it didn’t matter. Tiger was always proved right in the end. As much as the other Shifters thought him frightening, ignorant of Shifter ways, and not one of them, Tiger was . . . Tiger. He was unique, amazing, smarter than anyone would ever understand.

“All right, then, hotshot,” Carly said. “Why don’t you know your own name?”

Tiger let out a breath. “Maybe I do know it. Maybe I’ve known all this time.”

“Tigger,” Carly said, straight-faced.

Tiger rumbled a laugh. “I’d like it.”

“So, not Rory?”

“What is your saying? Not only no, but . . .”

“All right, all right.” Carly waved her hands. “What is it, then?”

Tiger touched Carly’s face, and that touch was definitely stronger. “You have always called me Tiger. And you are my mate. So . . . that is my name.”

Carly gave a soft laugh. “Wait, you want to go the rest your life being called Tiger? It will look weird on the birth certificate. Mother, Carly Randal. Father, Tiger.”

“Father. That will be the best name. Or Dad.”

Carly caught her breath. She pictured a cute kid, like Jordan or Olaf, looking up at Tiger with his same golden eyes, and saying “Daddy.” She wanted to cry.

“Mate of my heart,” Tiger said, tugging her closer. “Come here and kiss me.”

Carly leaned to him and kissed the corner of his lips again, trying to be careful.

Tiger slid his good arm around her neck and pulled her down for a true and thorough kiss. Nothing wrong with his mouth.

When he eased away, Carly looked down into the face that she loved, no matter what. Tiger’s left eye was definitely clearer, the golden iris coming into view. Both eyes fixed on Carly, strength returning.

“The touch of a mate,” Tiger said. “Heals. Which means you need to keep kissing me.”

Carly laughed as he pulled her back down, then she gave herself over to healing him the only way she knew how.

Tiger did mend, inside and out, but it took days, and it was painful. But Andrea confirmed that though Tiger had been as near to death as anyone could get, his thread of life barely intact, he would make it.

Andrea came over many times in the next few days, she and Sean lending healing strength through her gift and the Guardian’s sword. At least Tiger didn’t have to worry about seeing the big sword coming toward his heart to send him to the afterlife. Not yet.

One morning about a week later, Tiger opened his eyes to find Carly at his side. She’d insisted on sleeping with him every night, and she slept now, her head on one hand, her sleek hair in fine strands on the pillow.

Tiger immediately knew he was well. His skin was whole—the pain that lingered was like the remnants of a sunburn. He’d gotten his first sunburn this spring, a new and interesting sensation.

Tiger had slept without covers, but a thin sheet hugged Carly’s breasts, her dusky areolas showing through the pale cloth. Her hip rose in a sweet curve, legs stretched out and touching Tiger’s.

Tiger gently pushed Carly onto her back, peeling the sheet from her and replacing its drape with his body. His ready cock nudged between her legs.

Carly stirred, woke, smiled. “Hey there. I guess you’re feeling better.”

Tiger wanted to tell her he loved her, that he loved waking up next to her, that he was grateful beyond words for what she’d done for him, but his throat closed up, and he couldn’t speak. His need climbed, the mating frenzy tapping him.

Carly stretched, saying “Hmm,” then she brought her arms around him. “I’ve missed you.”

That, Tiger could respond to. His voice rasped. “I missed you every day, every hour, every second.”

“Then why did you go? What were you doing all this time? I was going crazy without you.”

Tiger’s fears, which had been dulled by pain, rose again. “I wanted you to be safe. So that if they came for me, they wouldn’t hurt you. But I couldn’t stay away. I had to protect you, to watch over you.”

“That was you in my house, saving me and bandaging me up.” Carly touched her face, where the bruises had been. “And what was with stealing my sofa cushion? Which I found in my yard, unsalvageable.”

“The man Crosby took it,” Tiger said. “He dropped it when he ran.”

“He broke into my house to steal a cushion. What a weirdo.”

“Connor said he broke in here too, stealing my shirts. He was looking for something that might have traces of my DNA, I’m thinking.”

“And you slept on my sofa that one time. How could he have known that? Unless . . .”

“He was spying through the window. I sensed Walker that night, but . . .” Tiger thought about it. If Crosby had been outside Carly’s living room window, he’d have known. “He could have been spying far away, if he was looking for an opportunity to shoot me. Some rifles have good scopes.”

Carly’s amusement died. “And then he tried to kill you.” Tiger had come very close to death that night Crosby had snuck in, but whatever had been bred into him had made him wake up, alert, in time to stop the shot.

Carly wrapped her arms around him. “I hate how close to losing you I came.”

“And I came too close to losing you,” Tiger said. “I almost didn’t make it in time.”

“But you did. You saved us all.”

Tiger looked down at Carly, her green eyes, her fine-boned face, her wide-lipped smile. Desperation tugged at his heart. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m right here, love,” she whispered.

Tiger kissed her again, gently at first, then letting his mouth become firmer, bolder. Carly returned the kisses with as much boldness, her arms tightening around him.

Tiger needed her. Lying here next to her for days, scenting her, feeling her, wanting her, had made him insane. He was hard with mating frenzy. She’d declared herself his mate, and Tiger had been too weak to do anything about it.

He wasn’t weak anymore. Tiger parted Carly’s thighs with one hand, then pushed his wide-awake cock straight inside her.

Carly’s eyes opened wide, the gray sparkles in the green beautiful. “Mmm,” she purred. “I have missed you.”

Tiger’s powers of speech deserted him. He only felt Carly around him, his mate.

The mating frenzy reached up and closed its fist around him. Thought fled. There was only Carly, her scent, her heat, the dampness of her skin, the scalding moisture that gripped his cock.

Carly, always Carly. The beautiful woman who’d healed him with her touch. She’d saved Tiger, given him his name.

The room filled with the sounds of their lovemaking, their quick breaths and little moans, the creak of the sturdy bed, the slide of skin on skin, their mouths coming together.

Tiger pumped into her in a hard, fast rhythm, his body knowing what to do. Carly rose beneath him, legs coming around him, her bare feet pressing him. She took him easily now, fitting around him. Her eyes were half-closed, lips parted with pleasure.

As Tiger wound up toward his climax, she did too. Carly’s movements became jerkier, her hips rolling with his, her quick cries fueling his frenzy.

Tiger’s growl vibrated the air. His fingers grew claws, then quickly receded, Tiger wanting to be a man when he was with this woman.

Carly crushed against him as she rose into him, crying his name. Tiger held her close, the frenzy erasing all pain, including the sunburnlike tingle. Being inside her took away all sorrow, all grief, all hurt. He had so much hurt, and Carly was dissolving it.

“Carly,” he cried as the white-hot point of climax clenched him and didn’t let go. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Carly’s reply came, loud and clear. Tiger kept driving into her, both of them seeking, rocking, holding, loving.

Then they crashed onto the bed, the morning sunlight kissing their skin. Tiger rumpled Carly’s hair and let kisses fall on her warm face, her neck, her breasts.

Carly gathered him into her, laying his head on her chest with a happy sigh. “My Tiger,” she murmured, her voice broken. “I very much love you too.”

When they straggled down to breakfast, Tiger’s first since he’d come home, Sean was there, making a special batch of pancakes, with Connor assisting. Walker waited at the kitchen table, looking content. Smug even.

Carly felt warm, stretched, satisfied. She’d thought Tiger would tire soon after his first foray back into lovemaking, but she’d been proved wrong very quickly. Tiger was healing fast, and with the healing came his stamina.

Carly sat down at the table, gently, a bit sore, and reached for the pitcher of orange juice.

Walker nodded at Carly, then looked up at Tiger. “Thank you,” he said. “For the promotion and the command.”

Carly blinked while Tiger sat down with his usual stoicism and accepted the glass of juice Carly handed him. He’d resumed the fake Collar before coming downstairs, preserving the illusion.

“Promotion? Command?” Carly asked Walker, when it became clear Tiger wouldn’t speak.

“Because of Tiger, I get to trade my captain’s bars for gold leaves. And assume command of the detachment to the Shifter Bureau. Lieutenant Colonel Sheldon has disappeared.”

Tiger set down the glass he’d just drained. “Disappeared where?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have said disappeared. Seems that someone tipped off Shifter Bureau, the army, and the media that Sheldon ordered the fire to be set in the community center. He’s public enemy number one. Post vacant, and I was offered it, as I was XO and knew all about the training and projects at the camp anyway.”

“Someone tipped them off, eh?” Sean said at the stove. “I have to be wondering who did that.”

“Couldn’t say,” Liam said, coming into the room. “These rumors, how do they get started?”

He and Sean shared a conspiratorial grin.

“Anyway, I’m now in charge of all research concerning the tiger Shifter,” Walker said. “Who’s not to be harmed, by the way, because he’s become a freaking superhero.” Walker leaned forward, looking Tiger in the eyes, a gleam of excitement in his. “And I’ve figured out, my friend, what you were made for.”