With TIGER MAGIC, the Shifters Unbound series is moving
back to the Austin Shiftertown, at least for the time being.
Tiger, who was introduced to readers in Mate Claimed as
the first (and only) lab created shifter, has been sent to
Austin from the Las Vegas area where he was discovered.
Liam, leader of the Austin Shiftertown, is not quite sure
what to do with Tiger. Tiger is following his orders, but
Liam knows that it is because Tiger wants to, not because he
is showing submission to the Shifter leader. As Tiger is
not a 'registered' shifter, the collar he wears is not real,
and won't send shocks into his body if he attacks a human or
another shifter. The shifters are all wary and fearful of
him, but the children in the Shiftertown love him, for
reasons that will become apparent in the story.
Carly Randal's car has broken down in a remote area outside
of Austin. Tiger, who has been out for a run as a shifter,
helps get her car running again, and she gives him a ride.
They walk in on her fiancé with another woman, starting a
chain of events which throw the two together. Tiger
immediately realizes that Carly is his mate, and makes his
intentions known to her. Carly doesn't know much about
Shifters, but she knows she is very attracted to the
enigmatic Tiger. Unfortunately for both of them and their
budding romance, the Shifter Bureau and the military
presence overseeing the Shifters have taken a great interest
in Tiger; and are making plans to take him into custody for
more experiments.
Tiger has been shot several times by Carly's ex-fiancé Ethan
while protecting Carly; and he quickly and miraculously
heals from his injuries. Now, Lt. Colonel Sheldon wants to
see what makes Tiger heal so quickly, and delve into
whatever secret technology went into the creation of Tiger.
Since the original lab where he was created burned down,
there are no records of what Tiger's original purpose was.
There will have to be DNA and blood taken, and new tests
performed. Tiger, after spending nearly 40 years of his
life in a lab already, has absolutely no intention of being
captured and taken back. Problem is, he now has a mate to
protect; and he will protect her at all cost to himself.
This is a very good, well-plotted story. While there is the
requisite 'insta-mate' scenario, there is also a much deeper
story about Tiger's background, and the future of the
Shifters as a whole. The secondary plot about the plan to
create a race of 'super-shifters' to aid in the military is
both fascinating and repellent. The subplot with the rogue
military Captain Walker Danielson was also quite
interesting. Readers can only hope there will be more about
him in future books, especially his relationship with Kodiak
bear-shifter Rebecca. TIGER MAGIC is a great read, one any regular
reader of the series would be well pleased with.
He doesn't have a name. He doesn't have a clan. The humans
who held him prisoner for forty years have taken them away.
He knew nothing but captivity until nearly a year ago, when
he was released into the light. Now Tiger lives in the
Austin Shiftertown, where he struggles to belong and
searches for an identity.
Carly Randal thinks her fabulous life is
complete—until her car breaks down on the side of the
road, and a wild–looking Shifter is the only one to
help her. Tiger takes one look at Carly and knows
instantly—she will be his mate. As Carly is drawn
into his Shifter world, she risks everything she has for
that forbidden something she still wants: passionate love.
Excerpt
Chapter One
No, no, no, no, not today. You can’t do this to me today!”
But the car died anyway. It throbbed onto the shoulder of
the empty highway, bucked twice, and gurgled to silence.
“Aw, damn it.” Carly’s four-inch heels landed on the
pavement, followed by tanned legs and a tight, white sheath
dress. She glared down at the car, the Texas wind tugging
her light brown hair out of its careful French braid.
She would have to be wearing white. Carly jammed her hands
on her hips and skewered the Corvette with her enraged
stare.
Take the ’Vette, Her fiancé, Ethan, had said. It’s a big
day. You want to make an entrance. She’d been in a hurry to
get on her way out of the city to the gallery where she
worked, so Ethan had pressed the keys into her hand and
pushed her out the door.
Carly had agreed with him—the artist they were showcasing
liked classic cars, and he was doing an exclusive with her
boss’s gallery in the little town northeast of Austin.
Buyers were already lined up. Carly’s commission could be
enormous.
If she could get there. Carly kicked one of the tires in
rage, then danced back. Her shoes were substantial but that
still hurt.
Perfect. Ethan could be generous—and he had the filthy
richness to do it—but he also forgot little details like
making sure cars got tuned up.
“His lazy highness can just come and get me, then.” Carly
went around to the passenger side of the car and leaned in
through the open window to grab her cell phone from her
purse.
Today. This had to happen today. Still bent into the car,
she punched numbers with her thumb, but the phone made the
beeping noise that indicated it was out of range.
“No effing way.” Carly backed out of the car and raised the
phone high. “Come on. Find me a signal.”
And then she saw him.
The man stood about ten feet from the car, not on the road
but in the tall Texas grass beside it. That grass was
dotted with blue, yellow, and white flowers, and this being
summer the grass was also a nice vivid green.
It wasn’t every day a girl saw a tall hunk of a man,
shoulders broad under a black and red SoCo Novelties T-
shirt standing by the side of the road. Watching her.
Really watching her. His eyes were fixed on Carly, not in
the dazed way of a transient wandering around in an
alcoholic haze, but looking at her as no human being had
looked at her before.
He wasn’t scruffy like a transient either. His face was
shaved, his body and clothes clean, jeans mud free despite
him having walked through the field. And he must have
walked through the field, because she sure hadn’t seen him
on the road.
His hair . . . Carly blinked as the strong sunshine
caressed sleek hair that was orange and black. Not dyed
orange and black—dye tended to make hair matte and stark.
This looked entirely natural, sunlight picking up
highlights of red orange and blue black.
She knew she should be afraid. A strange guy with tiger-
striped hair popping out of nowhere, staring at her like he
did should terrify her. But he didn’t.
He hadn’t been there when Carly had first stopped the car
and climbed out. He must have arrived when she’d bent over
to get the phone, which meant he’d seen every bit of her
round backside hugged by her skintight white dress.
This stretch of road was deserted. Eerily so. The streets
in Austin were always packed, but once outside the city, it
was possible to find long stretches of highway empty of
traffic, such as the one Carly drove down to get to the art
gallery every day.
There was no one out here, no one speeding along the
straight road to rescue her. No one but herself in now-
rumpled white and the tall man staring at her from the
grass.
“Hey!” Carly shouted at him. “You know how to fix a car?”
He didn’t have a name. He didn’t have a clan. He’d had a
mate, and a cub, but they’d died, and the humans who’d held
him captive for forty years had taken them away. They
hadn’t let him say good-bye, hadn’t let him grieve.
Now he lived among other Shifters, brought to this place of
humidity, heat, and colorful hills. He only felt completely
well when he was running in his tiger form, way out in the
back country where no one would see him. He usually ran at
night, but today, he hadn’t been able to stay in the
confines of the house, or Shiftertown. So he’d gone.
He’d left his clothes hidden behind a little rise at the
side of this road. Connor was supposed to pick him up, but
not for a couple more hours, and Connor was often late.
Tiger didn’t mind. He liked being out here.
He’d dressed, walked around the rise to the road . . . and
saw a fine backside sticking out of a bright red car. The
backside was covered in thin white fabric, showing him
faintly pink panties beneath.
Below the nice buttocks were shapely legs, not too long,
tanned by Texas sun. Shoes that rose about half a mile made
those legs even shapelier.
The woman had hair the color of winter-gold grass. She had
a cell phone in one hand, but she waited, the other hand on
her shapely hip, for him to answer her question.
Tiger climbed the slope from the grass to the road. She
watched him come, unafraid, her sunglasses trained on him.
Tiger wanted to see her eyes. If she was going to be his
mate, he wanted to see everything about her.
And this woman would be his mate. No doubt about that. The
scent that kicked into his nostrils, the way his heartbeat
slowed to powerful strokes, the way his body filled with
heat told him that.
Connor had tried to explain that mating didn’t happen like
that for Shifters. A Shifter male got to know a female a
little bit before he chose, and then he mate-claimed her.
The mate bond could rear its head anytime before or after
that, but it didn’t always on first glance.
Tiger had listened to this wisdom without arguing, but he
knew better. He wasn’t an ordinary Shifter. And this
female, hand on one curved hip, wasn’t an ordinary woman.
“Can you put the hood up?” Tiger asked her.
“I don’t know,” she said, frustrated. “This car is
different from anything I usually drive. Hang on, let me
check.”
Her voice was a sweet little Texas drawl, not too heavy. A
light touch, enough to make warmth crawl through Tiger’s
veins and go straight to his cock.
The woman found a catch and worked the hood open, then
dusted off her hands and peered at the inner workings
without comprehension. “Classic car, my ass.” She scowled
at it. “Classic just means old.”
Tiger looked inside. The layout was much different from the
pickup he and Connor had been tinkering with all spring,
but Connor had been teaching Tiger a lot about
vehicles. “Got a socket wrench?”
When he looked up at the woman, he saw her staring at him
from behind the sunglasses. “Your eyes,” she
said. “They’re . . .”
“Yellow.”
Tiger turned away before her scent convinced him to press
her back against the side of the car and hold her to him.
She wasn’t a female someone had tossed into his cage to
trigger his mating frenzy. This was his mate, and he didn’t
want to hurt her.
He wanted to take this slow, woo her a little. Maybe with
something involving food. Shifter males around here liked
to cook for their mates, and Tiger liked the rituals.
She opened the back of the car and found a toolbox, which
did have a set of socket wrenches. Tiger took one and
reached inside the car, looking for the silence within
himself that would lead him to the problem. He seemed to be
able to sense what was wrong with engines, and how to coax
them back to life. He couldn’t explain how he did it—he
only knew that cars and trucks didn’t watch him, or fear
him, and he could see what was wrong when others couldn’t.
As he worked, the neckline of his T-shirt slid down, baring
the silver and black Collar that ran around his throat. The
woman bent over to him, the top of her dress dangerously
open, the warmth of her touching his cheek.
“Holy shit,” she said. “You’re a Shifter.”
“Yes.”
She lifted her sunglasses and stared at him. Her eyes were
clear green, flecked with a little gray. She stared at him
frankly, in open curiosity, and without fear.
Of course she wasn’t afraid of him. She was going to be his
mate.
Tiger met her gaze, unblinking. Her eyes widened the
slightest bit, as though she realized something had
happened between them, but she didn’t know what.
She restored her sunglasses and straightened up. “I’ve
never seen a Shifter before. I didn’t know any of y’all
were allowed out of Shiftertown.”
Tiger picked up the wrench with one hand and moved the
other to the timing belt chain, which had come loose from
the gear. “We’re allowed.”
The repair needed both delicacy and strength but Tiger
finished quickly, leaning all the way inside and letting
his fingers know what to do. He backed out and closed the
toolbox. “Start it now.”
The woman eagerly rushed to the car, slid inside, and
cranked it to life. She emerged again, leaving the car
running, while Tiger scanned a few more things. “The timing
belt will hold for now, but the whole shaft is worn and
could break. Take the car home and don’t use it again until
it’s fixed.”
“Terrific. Armand is going to kill me.”
Tiger didn’t know who Armand was and didn’t much care. He
carried the toolbox to the back for her and closed the
small trunk, then returned to close the hood.
He found her smiling at him on the other side of the hood
as it came down. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”
she asked. “So what were you doing out in that field? Were
you running around as a . . . Let me guess. Tiger?”
He let his lips twitch. “What gave it away?”
“Very funny. I’ve never met a man with striped hair and
yellow eyes. Call it a clue. Anyway, you’re a lifesaver.
I’m Carly, by the way.” She stuck out her hand, then pulled
it back from his now-greasy one. “Hang on. I think there’re
some wipes in here.”
Carly leaned in through the passenger window again. Tiger
stood still and enjoyed watching her, and when she
straightened, she knew he’d been looking. “Like what you
see?” she asked, her voice holding challenge.
Tiger saw no reason to lie. “Yes,” he said.
“You sweet-talker.” Carly pulled out two damp wipes for him.
Tiger took them and wiped off his hands. Wet wipes were
familiar, at least. Whenever he’d been working on the
truck, Connor’s aunt always made him clean up with them
before she’d let him back into the house.
“You need a ride into Austin?” Carly asked. “It’s still
thirty miles from here to the gallery, so I’d better take
this car back to Ethan’s and not risk it. Ethan loves this
car. Like I said, Armand’s going to kill me, but I’m so
late now, it’s not going to matter.”
“Yes.”
Carly sent him a wide smile. “Yes, you want a ride? Or are
you just being polite while I ramble?”
“The ride.” He could call Connor with the cell phone they
made him carry when he got back to town. He couldn’t miss
this opportunity to get to know his mate.
“Man of few words. I like it. Ethan, my fiancé, can talk on
and on and on about his family, his business, his day, his
life—Ethan. His favorite topic.”
Tiger stopped. “Fiancé.”
“Do Shifters have fiancés? It’s what humans call the man
they’re going to marry.”
Tiger wadded up the now-dirty wipes in his big hands. “I
didn’t know you’d have a fiancé.”
Carly opened the door of the running car as though she
hadn’t heard him. “Get in. Ethan’s house is on the river—
it’s a ways from Shiftertown, but I can always get you a
taxi, or one of Ethan’s many lackeys can run you home.”
“Why are you marrying him?”
Carly shrugged. “Girl’s got to marry someone, mostly so her
older sister stops mentioning it every five minutes.
Ethan’s a good catch. Besides, I’m in love with him.”
No, she wasn’t. The slight motion in her throat, the scent
of nervousness as she replied gave away the lie. She didn’t
love him. Tiger felt something like triumph.
He got into the car as Carly slid into the driver’s seat
inches away from him. Her fingers ran over the steering
wheel as she made a competent U-turn on the still-empty
road, and she drove, somewhat slowly, back toward Austin.
Carly tried to talk to him. She liked to chatter, this
female. Tiger was fine with sitting back and listening to
her, scenting her, watching her.
As they neared the city and the road started getting
busier, Carly lifted her cell phone and called the man
named Armand. She explained she’d be late, then held the
phone from her ear while a male voice on the other end
spoke loudly in an unfamiliar accent. Carly rolled her eyes
at Tiger and smiled, unworried.
“Bark’s worse than his bite,” she said, clicking off the
phone.
“I know some wolves like that.”
Carly laughed, her red mouth opening. Tiger leaned in
closer to her, not hard to do in this coffin of a car, and
brushed his scent onto her.
She glanced at him, again with the puzzlement of knowing
something had happened but not sure what. “It’s dangerous
for a woman to give strange men rides. I wonder why I’m not
worried with you.”
Because you’re my mate. “Because I’d never hurt you.”
“Well, you can’t, can you? That’s why you wear the Collar.
Keeps you tame. Shifters can’t be violent with it on.”
Tiger could. This Collar was fake. It didn’t have the
technology or Fae magic that would send shocks through his
system if he started to attack.
They’d tried to put a real Collar on him, and Tiger had
nearly gone insane. They concluded that Tiger should wear a
fake Collar—not that the humans realized it was fake—and
proceed from there.
This Collar would not stop Tiger from scooping up Carly and
running off with her if he wanted to. He could sequester
her, mate with her, soothe his need for her until they both
collapsed in exhaustion.
Or he could be kind and wait for her to get used to him.
Carly kept up the conversation all the way through midtown
traffic and up the hill north of the river. She pulled into
a drive that arced in front of an enormous house, the
mansion white with black shutters and black trim. Carly
parked the car and emerged, and Tiger got out with her.
Gates on either side of the house led to the backyard, and
Carly opened one, beckoning Tiger to follow. Tiger got in
front of her and went through the gate first, his Shifter
instinct urging him to make sure the way was safe for her.
The backyard overlooked the river and the hills opposite
it, where similar houses had a view of this one. A stair
ran down the side of the hill to a private dock, where two
boats bobbed.
A row of glass windows lined the back of the house, but the
glare of the sun and tint of the windows kept Tiger from
seeing inside. A man with pruning shears looked up from a
bush at the corner of the house, then stood up in alarm as
Carly reached for the handle of one of the glass doors.
“Ms. Randal, you don’t want to go in there.”
Carly turned to him in surprise. Tiger tried to get around
Carly to enter the house first, but she was too quick. She
was opening the door and walking inside before Tiger could
stop her, and he had to settle for following a step behind
her.
What Tiger smelled inside the house wasn’t danger, however.
It was sex.
He saw why when he and Carly rounded a wall behind which
stretched a huge kitchen. Cabinetry in a fine golden wood
filled the walls, the long counters shiny granite. It was
clean in here, no dishes cluttering the counters, no one
cooking something that smelled good, no chatter and
laughter as a meal was prepared.
A woman sat on top of the counter with her blouse open, her
skirt up around her hips, high-heeled shoes on her feet. A
man with his pants around his ankles was thrusting hard
into her, holding her legs in black stockings around his
thighs. Both humans were grunting and panting, and neither
noticed Carly or Tiger.
Tiger stepped in front of Carly, trying to put his huge
body between her and the scene. Carly stopped, her purse
falling from nerveless fingers to the floor. “Ethan.” There
was shock in her tone.
The man turned around. Tiger was growling, feeling the
distress of his mate, the animal in him wanting nothing
more than to kill the person who’d upset her.
The man jumped, his mouth dropping open, then he stumbled
over his pants and had to catch himself on the counter.
“Carly, what the fuck are you doing here?” His gaze went to
Tiger, whose fingers were sprouting the long, razor-sharp
claws of the Bengal. “And who the hell is that?”
Chapter Two
Carly’s anguish hit Tiger in a series of waves. Shock,
anger, and then a pain so harsh the edge of it hurt him.
Tiger reached for her, but Carly snatched up her purse and
swung away, blinded. She ran from the room, out of the
house, and back into the sunshine.
The house’s windows let Tiger trace her progress through
the backyard and around to the front. She slammed her way
back into the Corvette, started the engine with a roar, and
shot around the circular drive and out into the street.
Leaving Tiger alone, unable to comfort her.
He turned instead to the source of Carly’s distress, the
man called Ethan. Ethan glared at Tiger, outrage in his
eyes, and snarls built in Tiger’s throat.
The young woman Ethan had been with—unknown, not part of
this—scrambled from the counter, her skirt catching on her
black thigh-high stockings as she righted herself. A flash
of yellow satin panties broke the monochrome colors of her
outfit before the businesslike gray skirt shut it out.
The woman buttoned her blouse with agitated fingers. “Shit,
Ethan, you said she’d be gone all day.”
Ethan dragged his gaze from Tiger, took a step toward the
woman, half tripped on his pants again, and leaned down to
drag them up. “Lisa, wait . . .”
“You said she knew. You said she was cool with it.”
The woman grabbed her purse and started for the sliding
glass door. Tiger remained in front of it, growling.
The woman looked up at him, and a bite of primal fear
entered her eyes. She didn’t know what Tiger was, but
something inside her knew a predator when she saw one. She
stood a moment, indecisive, then pivoted and ran out the
other side of the kitchen toward the front of the house.
“No,” Ethan called. “Wait.”
He frantically zipped and buckled as he swung around to
follow her and found himself up against the solid wall of
Tiger, who’d stepped in his way.
Tiger smelled Ethan’s outrage and shock, but no fear and no
shame. “Who the hell are you?” Ethan had to crank his head
back to look at Tiger, but he had an arrogance that would
make an alpha smack him down just to make a point.
The front door slammed open, the young woman fleeing. Ethan
grimaced as he heard her car start, then turned even more
rage on Tiger.
“Carly’s sleeping with you?” he demanded. “You can tell
that slut for me she can give me back every penny I’ve ever
given her.”
Feral anger rose inside Tiger in a wave. Living outside the
cage, experiencing new sensations and feelings had dampened
his rages a bit, but hadn’t erased them. Nothing ever would.
This man, this pretend-mate of Carly’s, had hurt her. He’d
not done it with calculation, but with careless cruelty.
Now he twisted the fact that Carly had walked in on him
while he betrayed her to make the betrayal her fault.
Tiger’s reactions were more basic. He saw a source of pain,
and he eliminated it.
His snarls grew in volume, a sound so deep it was felt more
than heard. The glass-fronted cabinets rattled, and dishes
behind them took up the dance. The kitchen windows caught
the vibrations and rumbled in response.
A glass cabinet door shattered and broke. Ethan gaped at
it, then back at Tiger. “You’re paying for that.”
“Mr. Turner.” The gardener who’d tried to stop Carly from
entering the house now stood in the kitchen’s open
door. “He’s a Shifter.”
“Is he?” Ethan peered up at Tiger again, taking in his
Collar. He started to smile. “Son of a bitch. Carly’s doing
it with a Shifter? She won’t have anything left when I’m
finished with her. Teach her to mess around with me like
that.”
Killing rage beat through Tiger’s blood. Ethan was a small,
sniveling creature, smelling of deceit, and he dared to
threaten Tiger’s mate.
Tiger slammed his fists to the kitchen counter, a polished
slab of granite. It broke into two giant chunks.
“Here . . . you . . .” The gardener held his rake in front
of him, a tool Tiger could snap between his fingers.
Now fear appeared in Ethan’s eyes but still not
enough. “Get out of here, or I’m calling the police.”
Tiger barely heard him. Because the man was so weak,
Tiger’s need to protect Carly would be slaked with
something simple, like breaking Ethan’s neck. Ripping him
apart and painting the walls with his blood wasn’t
necessary. Not this time. He reached for Ethan’s throat.
Fear at last radiated from Ethan, sickening waves of it.
Tiger smelled the man’s bladder fail him, and then Ethan
turned and ran.
Running was a bad idea. It woke Tiger’s need to hunt, to
kill, the instinct to track through the jungle something
for his dinner.
Ethan ran into his living room. The place was filled with
furniture, all of it white. Tiger threw things aside to
clear his path, chairs and the sofa crashing to the floor
in pieces. Ethan dashed into a smaller room, darker, with a
desk and a computer. And no escape.
Tiger barreled inside like silent death, while behind him,
the gardener shouted, “I’m calling the cops! I’m calling
the cops!”
Ethan yanked open a desk drawer and scrabbled in it. Tiger
picked up the desk and threw it aside. The wooden thing
crashed into the wall, smashing desk, wall, and computer.
Ethan came up from a terrified crouch, something black in
his hands. There was a loud bang.
Fire bit into Tiger’s gut, but he plowed on, kicking aside
the remains of the desk.
Bang, bang, bang. Three more bullets entered Tiger’s body.
The pain finally cut through his rage, and he looked down
to see blood dripping over the front of his shirt.
Tiger hadn’t been shot in a long time. The humans who’d
tried to tame him in the basement had used tranqs at first,
and they’d had to shoot him several times before Tiger
succumbed to the drugs. Then they wondered, How many
bullets would it take to slow him down? And they’d tried
it. They’d discovered it took more than the four small ones
Ethan had just pumped into Tiger’s front before he felt it.
Tiger reached for the pistol.
Five, six, seven. The bullets hit Tiger one by one, pain
escalating. Tiger snatched the gun from Ethan’s hand and
broke it in half.
Ethan was screaming now, his terror beating against Tiger’s
pain. Tiger lifted Ethan by the neck, higher, higher. The
man gave Tiger one look of intense fear, and then he went
limp, eyes rolling back into his head. Tiger shook him, and
Ethan’s head lolled. He still warm and alive, but
unconscious.
Disappointing. Tiger dumped Ethan’s body on top of the
ruins of the desk and turned to leave. Blood slid down the
shirt and his torso behind it, pooling in his waistband.
Kim was going to be angry at Tiger for ruining the shirt.
She always shook her finger at him when he got his clothes
too dirty.
The gardener jumped out of the way as Tiger came out of the
office. The man still held the rake, ready to swat Tiger if
he came too near, but Tiger ignored him. The gardener had
done nothing to Carly.
Tiger pressed his arm to his abdomen as he found the front
door of the house, left open by the other woman’s swift
exit. He staggered out on weakening legs, vision blurring.
Dimly, he heard the wail of sirens, growing louder as he
stumbled down the long driveway and out into the street. He
saw and smelled other humans popping out of front gates to
peer at him, reminding him of prairie dogs he’d seen while
he’d roamed, peeking up out of burrows to check whether the
way was safe.
Shiftertown lay to the east of this place, so Tiger turned
his steps that way, feeling the warm asphalt through the
soles of his shoes.
The sirens grew louder. Tiger remembered how afraid he’d
been when he’d first heard them charging through the city,
how Connor had explained what they were and what they
meant. Police, fire, ambulance. Get out of the way, because
someone needed to be saved, or someone needed to be hunted.
Hunting should be silent. Predators had to stalk, to move
silently, to find their prey and strike before the prey
knew they were there.
Five police cars charged up the hill toward him, followed
by a small red truck, lights blazing. They cut off Tiger
from progressing east, but he could climb walls and cut
through yards if he had to.
Tiger turned in through a gate to another house, scattering
two more men with garden tools. Behind this house, the
river gleamed at the bottom of a hill, a better way to
escape than the roads. He could swim down the river, pull
himself out near Shiftertown, and make his way home from
there.
Police cars hurtled through the gates after him. Tiger
jogged around the house, heading down the slope, his
breathing labored now.
The river flowed, cool and sweet, at the end of the path at
the bottom of the hill. The water would feel good on his
wounds. Tiger would wade in and then just float away,
dreaming of Carly and her scent, her red-lipped smile, and
her eyes assessing him without fear.
Another loud bang ripped away his daydreams. Pain tore into
the base of his spine, and Tiger’s knees buckled.
He landed facedown in a lawn of green grass, the blades
tickling his nose. “Carly,” he mumbled. “Carly.”
A boot landed on his backside. A man pulled one of Tiger’s
hands behind his back, and a cool cuff touched his wrist.
Bound, chained, trapped . . .
Tiger rose, the Shifter beast tearing out of him as he went
up, and up, and up. The bloody mess of his clothes fell
away, and the cuff shattered and fell to the grass.
He roared his Tiger roar, opening his mouth filled with
fangs, his in-between beast huge and deadly.
A barrage of guns pointed at him, including a large air
rifle loaded with a tranquilizer.
Tiger went for the man with the tranq. Too late. The dart
entered Tiger’s already battered body, and the quick-acting
tranquilizer made him stumble. But it wasn’t enough. Never
was.
“Takes two,” he said, his voice clogged, clawed hand
reaching for the rifle. “Maybe three.”
The man had already reloaded. The second dart hit Tiger’s
throat, right above his Collar, a third one entered his
thigh, shot by a second man, and peaceful tranquilizer
poured into Tiger’s blood.
“Good shot,” he said, or thought he said, then he rushed to
the ground at sickening speed.
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