Tiger Magic Read online

  But Carly would feel awkward saying such things in front of Ellison, Tiger’s friend and right now his watchdog. Watch-wolf? She’d have to wait until she and Tiger were alone, but that would be dangerous too.

  Not that Ellison was paying attention to Carly right now. He kept looking into the rearview mirror, but not at Carly or Tiger. Carly saw a flash in the side-view mirror and turned around to see an SUV coming up behind them, very fast.

  This wasn’t unusual. People got out here on these stretches of back highway and let it all go. It was dangerous, particularly on this two-lane road, but that didn’t stop people.

  The SUV—black, like the one Walker and Brennan had used yesterday—zoomed closer. It pulled around their car into the oncoming lane, slackening its speed to run side by side with them. The windows were tinted, hiding the view of the driver and any passengers.

  Tiger moved to look around Carly at the SUV, his gaze fixing on it.

  “Ellison,” he said. “Go.”

  “I hear you.”

  Ellison floored it. Carly’s fairly low-performance car sputtered as it leapt ahead of the SUV, then it smoothed out and sped away.

  The other vehicle sped up next to them. Ellison grinned out the window at them and pressed the accelerator even harder. Carly’s car zipped forward, but the other kept pace with it.

  “Get away from it,” Tiger said abruptly.

  “Can’t outrun them.” Ellison took his foot from the accelerator. “Have to do this another way.” He stepped on the brakes.

  The SUV zoomed ahead as Ellison suddenly slowed. Carly assumed that would be the end of it, but red brake lights flashed on the SUV ahead, and it made a U-turn, driving halfway off the road to do it.

  “Shit,” Ellison said.

  The SUV came toward them. “Go!” Tiger shouted.

  Ellison said, “Hold on,” right before he slammed on the brakes and spun the car to face back the way they’d come.

  He jammed on the gas, racing back toward Austin, which loomed in the distance, the buildings of UT and the capitol area hugging the horizon.

  “He’s still coming,” Carly said.

  “Yeah, I see that.” Ellison hunkered over the wheel, his foot down, as though he could make the car go faster by pushing it.

  “Do you know who they are?” Carly asked Tiger.

  “No.”

  But it couldn’t be good. Carly’s body tightened as they raced on toward the city. Ellison was going plenty fast, and they might reach town in time to lose themselves in traffic.

  The black SUV put on a burst of speed—no unmodified vehicle could have decreased the distance between themselves and Carly’s car so quickly. The SUV pulled up alongside them.

  Another car came over the rise in the oncoming lane, straight at the black SUV. That other driver saw and swerved to move as close as possible to the shoulder, which was minuscule in this stretch.

  “Son of a . . .” Ellison muttered.

  The SUV pulled ahead of Ellison, clipping the front fender of Carly’s car. Ellison jerked the steering wheel sideways, but too late. Carly’s car jarred as the other vehicle bumped it, then Carly’s car hit the drop-off on the road’s shoulder, tires spinning on the dirt and grass beyond.

  Ellison cranked the steering wheel, trying to pull the car out of its spin. The car skittered and danced. Tiger grabbed both headrests of the front seat, and Carly grabbed on to Tiger.

  They might have made it if the SUV hadn’t turned around again. The first oncoming car went past, the driver twisting to see what was happening. The SUV timed its own pass to ram the left back end of Carly’s car.

  The car lost hold of the pavement and rose into the air. Carly’s stomach rose with it, her view of the rolling hills distorted as the car flipped once, twice. She only knew that Tiger was solid beneath her, one constant in the churning world.

  The car landed on its side, slid down into a ditch, and then came down on its tires, slanting with the ditch, half on grass, half in mud and dirty water. The engine hissed and spit and then all went quiet.

  * * *

  Tiger broke the window of the bent door and crawled out of the car, his large torso catching on the frame. He grunted and heaved, tearing apart half the door, but at last he pushed free.

  Carly lay on the seat behind him, her eyes closed, blood on her face. Tiger’s heart thrummed with panic, but when he touched her, he felt the warmth of her skin, the press of her breath. Alive if not awake.

  Ellison, in the front, was likewise slumped, the steering wheel propping him up. His face sported bruises, but he too breathed.

  Tiger braced himself on the side of the car, leaned back in through the window, and wrapped his arms around Carly’s torso. He pulled her out, trying to be gentle, but needing to get her out.

  He lifted her once he got her clear of the car and laid her on the grass about ten yards away. At least the grass was dry, warm from the morning sun, which was beaming brightly.

  Tiger went back for Ellison. Ellison was Shifter and strong—he’d come around quickly—but Tiger had learned from Connor the dangers from gas or other liquids leaking from a car. Best to get away from the wreck until they knew it was safe.

  He was halfway back to the car when the driver of the black SUV, which had stopped, got out and came toward them. For a second, Tiger thought the man was Walker, but quickly realized that he wasn’t. This man wore black, like Walker, and he had a similar build and close-shaved hair, but the scent was wrong.

  Like Walker, the man carried a gun. Tiger didn’t know much about guns, but the one he’d broken apart last night had looked lethal, and so did this one. The man looked for a moment at Tiger, then turned and made directly for Carly.

  Tiger became the Bengal in the space of three seconds. He was too far from the man, who was raising the black, square-looking gun to aim at Carly.

  Tiger changed direction and sprinted for Carly. His tiger was faster than any other Shifter he’d encountered, and he landed on Carly just as the first bullets left the gun.

  He felt the bullets enter him, pain blossoming, reawakening yesterday’s wounds. Unlike the slow bangs of Ethan’s pistol, though, this pistol shot so fast Tiger couldn’t count the retorts. He only prayed the bullets didn’t go through his thick tiger body and into Carly.

  “Hey!” Ellison’s yell cut through the pain. “Aw, shit!”

  Two more flat shots sounded, one clanking on the car, the other thudding with a meaty sound as it went into Ellison. The shooter walked to Tiger, Tiger smelling him coming.

  Walked. Deliberately. Slowly. He reached Tiger where he lay dazed and in pain, dusty black boots halting by Tiger’s head. The man didn’t shoot. He stopped, watched, waited.

  Then two more bullets went into Tiger’s back. Tiger gave up trying to know anything and let himself succumb to darkness.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Oh my God. Oh my God. Tiger.”

  Tiger heard Carly’s voice as he rose toward consciousness, toward a mountain of pain that waited for him. They’d shot him in the basement of the research facility, repeatedly, to see how much he could take, but they at least let him rest between bullets.

  “Sean.” Ellison was nearby, voice heavy. “I think you’re gonna have to bring the sword. No, not for me. For Tiger.”

  Tiger heard the exclamation on the other end of Ellison’s cell phone, which must have survived the crash and the shooting. The thing was as resilient as Tiger.

  “He’s waking up,” Ellison said. “Who the hell was that?”

  “Hell if I know.” Carly’s voice held tears, and two hot droplets fell onto Tiger’s face. “I don’t care right now. He’s still alive. Thank God.”

  Carly’s lips touched his cheek. Tiger tried to pucker his in response, showing her how much he’d learned. She didn’t stop weeping, so he must not have done very well.

  “Tiger, honey, don’t move,” Carly said. “We’ll get you to a hospital. You’ll be all right.”

  “I d
on’t know,” Ellison said. “He’s amazing, but that was about fifteen rounds from an automatic weapon. It has to have torn him apart inside.”

  “Don’t say that. He’s strong. He’s a fighter.”

  “We’ll help him the best we can, trust me.”

  “Hang on, Tiger. Hang on.”

  Carly’s light touch slid through Tiger’s pain, making his heart beat harder, his lungs draw breath. The pain became incandescent then, but Tiger was breathing, functioning. He might not need the Sword of the Guardian yet.

  An odd custom, the working part of Tiger’s brain thought. The Guardian’s sword pierced the heart of the dead Shifter, or the dying one, releasing the soul and turning the body to dust. The legend, Sean had told him, said that the Sword had been created to save Shifters’ souls from a nasty, evil Fae prince. The Shifters’ bodies had crumbled to dust, and the souls of the enslaved Shifters had been released, freed to go to the Summerland. The story reassured all Shifters that, though they might be enslaved during life, they never would be in death.

  Tiger had been enslaved until last winter—he hadn’t known about the seasons even to know what winter was. Now he was free, at least as free as he could be. He lived under Liam’s watchful eye, had to wear a fake Collar to fool humans into thinking he was still enslaved, and had few remote places in which he could run flat out as a tiger, but it was better than what he’d had.

  But now he wanted more. Freedom to be with his mate. The joy of running until he wanted to stop. Tiger was tired of being feared. Mistrusted. In pain. Afraid.

  “Carly.” Tiger barely moved his lips, but the sound of his mate’s name gave him strength.

  He needed to live, so he could be with her. Forty years of hell had coalesced into the moment he’d seen her backside sticking out of the red car, heard her voice, felt her smile. He’d start believing in the Goddess if he thought she’d known to bring Tiger to the road at the exact moment Carly Randal needed help.

  “Carly.”

  “Don’t talk. Don’t move.” Carly bent over Tiger, her face streaked with tears. “We’re going to help you. They’re coming.”

  “I don’t need . . .”

  Talking was too much effort. Keeping his mouth shut was a good idea.

  Time must have passed, because more people were now kneeling around him. He’d expected to hear sirens. Humans loved their sirens.

  “His breathing is good,” Dylan said above him. “Andrea.”

  A smooth, feminine hand pressed to Tiger’s chest, palm flat. He smelled Andrea’s strange half-Shifter scent, the subtler scent of her cub clinging to her. Tiger hoped the boy had been left safely at home. That’s what Shiftertowns were good for. Keeping the cubs safe.

  Sean knelt near his mate, the vibrant hum of the Sword of the Guardian shimmering. Tiger had always been able to hear it, though Sean had said that was unusual.

  Tiger cracked open his eyes. He could barely see, but he could make out Andrea with her hand around the Sword’s blade, Sean holding its hilt. Curling wisps of silver snaked from the sword into Andrea, and out through Andrea’s hand to Tiger.

  “He’s torn up in there,” Andrea said. “A complete mess. So many of them.”

  Bullets, she meant. The threads of magic from Andrea hurt—hurt a lot.

  Then Carly laid her hand on Tiger’s forehead. The coolness of her touch spread like a balm through his battered body and tangled limbs.

  Andrea’s eyes popped open. “Wait. What?”

  The new pain that tore through Tiger cut through Carly’s touch, even his mate’s presence not soothing it. Tiger groaned, then the groan turned to a roar. He balled his fists, clenching his jaw.

  “What the fuck?” That was from Sean.

  White-hot trails flowed through Tiger’s body, paths cutting from the embedded wounds to his skin. Tiger shifted without wanting to, becoming a snarling half-man, half-Tiger beast as the pain continued.

  “What are you doing?” Carly cried. “Help him.”

  “I can’t.” Andrea pulled away, the silver threads going away with her, but Tiger barely felt the disconnection.

  Blood bubbled up from his wounds, and then from new ones as the bullets that had lodged inside him pushed their way out. The bullets clicked together and rolled off him, gathering in little piles around his body.

  And it hurt. Tiger kept growling, pain like a blast furnace. The bullets hadn’t hurt this much when they’d gone in.

  “They’re closing up,” Carly said, wonder in her voice. “Tiger, how the hell are you doing that?”

  If Tiger knew, he’d also find a way to stop the crazy pain. He groped for Carly, and Carly grabbed his hand and held on. Tiger’s beast fur receded as the agony lessened a bit, his human flesh and fingers returning.

  “Andrea, what did you do?” Dylan sounded angry, but his scent betrayed his alarm.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Andrea said. “I mean, nothing more than I normally do. I close my eyes and see the wounds as threads, and I try to untangle them. I hadn’t even started—it was such a mess.”

  Ellison coughed. “Well, whatever it was, can you see if it will work on me?”

  “Now, please,” a new voice said. Female, small but loud—Maria, the young woman Ellison had fallen madly in love with.

  Andrea and her Fae scent moved from Tiger, leaving him relatively alone with Carly. “You did it,” Tiger whispered. “The mate’s healing touch.”

  “No,” Dylan said sharply before Carly could answer. “This was more than that. You, my friend, are becoming more of a puzzle instead of less of one.”

  “Whatever,” Carly snapped at him. “Instead of questioning him and lecturing him, how about getting him home so he can rest? He saved my life, and I think he deserves a little quiet for that.”

  * * *

  When Tiger woke again, he was in the big loft on the third floor of the Morrissey house, in the room where he now slept.

  He liked this room, large and breezy with four windows, one on each side. After a life spent in darkness, shut away, not knowing winter from summer, sunrise from sunset, now he could see the world he’d missed. Sometimes Tiger simply sat up here, watching the Shifters move through their lives, gazing at the many human houses and buildings that surrounded Shiftertown, the cars and people that rushed through, never knowing he watched over them.

  Now he woke in the large bed they’d bought for him, holding Carly’s hand.

  “Why didn’t ambulances come?” Tiger asked. For some reason, this was what preyed on his mind. There should have been ambulances, police, and men with tranq guns, as there had been in Ethan’s neighborhood on top of the hill.

  Carly bent over him, her green eyes full of concern. “I don’t know. Maybe the Shifters told them not to.”

  Tiger started to shake his head, then stopped as it started to pound. “Humans don’t do what Shifters say.”

  “I have no idea, then. Doesn’t matter. You spurted those bullets out of your body, and your wounds are already closing. Andrea says it’s crazy. Dylan says that sure, you’re faster at healing than most Shifters, but this is something new. Even for you.”

  “You were there.”

  “I know I was there. I saw it firsthand.”

  “The touch of a mate.” Tiger squeezed her hand, finding himself so weak he barely moved her fingers. He hated being weak.

  “Don’t even look at me like I have some kind of magic powers. This isn’t the movies. And anyway, Dylan said no.”

  “Dylan doesn’t know everything.” Tiger’s lips twitched. “He only thinks he does.”

  “Yes, well, Liam said no too, and Sean, Andrea, and Ellison, and a really, really big man called Ronan, and a ten-foot blonde named Glory.”

  “Dylan’s mate,” Tiger said, his voice too faint for his comfort.

  “So I gathered,” Carly said. “She looked at me like she’d take a piece out of me if I wasn’t nice to you.”

  “What happened to Walker? The shooter was dressed l
ike Walker.”

  “Walker was taken to Ronan’s house—I think that’s what I heard. They didn’t want him here when you got back.”

  “I need to talk to him.” Tiger pushed aside the sheet and lifted his shoulders off the bed, then groaned and fell back. “I’ve never hurt this much before.”

  “I bet you never tossed bullets out of your own body before.” Carly stroked his fingers, the cool of her healing running through him again. “They’re pretty freaked out downstairs. Talking about you.”

  “Why aren’t you?” Tiger asked.

  “Downstairs? I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  He’d meant why wasn’t she freaked out, but he let it go. “Because you’re my mate.”

  Carly frowned, which pushed her bottom lip out a little, so sexy. “About that. Connor explained to me what you mean by mate. We need to talk, but we can wait until you feel better.”

  Tiger wanted to laugh, but he decided it would be too painful. “Sean says that the four scariest words a woman can say are we need to talk.”

  “Could be. But not now. Lots of time for talking later.”

  “You’re my mate,” Tiger said. “Nothing to talk about.”

  “Mmm hmm. Close your mouth, sweetie. Sleep. Get better.” Carly leaned down to him. Her lashes fluttered against his lips before she slid up to kiss them. “And thank you for saving my life. Those bullets went into you so they wouldn’t go into me.”

  “Anytime,” Tiger whispered. Another cool breath of her slid through him, another kiss, and Tiger fell into a vast well of sleep.

  * * *

  Liam Morrissey’s anger climbed another ten notches before he hung up his cell phone and slammed it to the kitchen counter. He’d walked out here alone to take the call, but Dylan had followed him, ostensibly to retrieve a beer from the refrigerator.

  “Who the hell blabbed to the council?” Liam asked, fists on the counter. “Dad, did you?”

  Dylan shook his head in his quiet way. “I’m not leader anymore, lad. I don’t talk to the others without your knowledge.”