Tiger Magic
Page 76
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.
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.
