Tiger Magic

The momentum made Walker release Connor, now a young lion with the beginnings of a black mane, who fell to all fours, panting.

The rescuer spun Walker around and delivered a tight, efficient blow behind Walker’s ear. Walker had balled up his fist to punch first, but his hand went slack, and he collapsed at the newcomer’s feet.

The man looked Walker over, then shifted his gaze to Carly, giving her the same assessing stare. He was an older version of Sean and Liam, with similar blue eyes, but his dark hair was going gray at the temples. The difference was in the absolute stillness this man could achieve; it was even more acute than that which she’d observed in the Shifters at the hospital, or even in Tiger.

This Shifter looked at Carly, all the way through her, as though he knew every thought inside her head—the ones now, every thought she’d had in the past, and every one she would have in the future. His nostrils moved the slightest bit.

“Who is she?” he asked, voice deadly quiet. Not asking Carly—oh, no. He wasn’t even asking Tiger. The question had been directed at Connor.

The young lion shook himself. He sat down on his haunches, not turning back to human. The man’s blue gaze flicked to Tiger, waiting for him to answer. But Tiger remained in place, though his face and hands became human again, still protecting Connor.

Carly stepped forward into the silence. “I’m Carly Randal,” she said, trying to sound both bright and firm, as she did when arrogant people came to the gallery to sneer at brilliant paintings. “And you are?”

“He’s Dylan,” Tiger said. “Used to be Shiftertown leader.”

“Retired, are you?” Carly asked. “That’s nice.”

Dylan’s eyes flared with white-hot anger. Carly understood in that moment what it was like to be a rabbit under the gaze of a mountain lion right before that lion put out a paw and ended the rabbit’s life.

Then Dylan’s rage dissipated, and the corners of his lips quirked into a small, ironic smile. “I gave over the running of Shiftertown to my son. Who is that?” He pointed at Walker on the ground.

“His name’s Walker Danielson,” Carly answered. “From the Shifter Bureau, apparently.”

Dylan’s smile vanished. “Shite, woman. And you thought it was a good idea to haul him here wrapped in duct tape?”

Connor remained a lion, slowly blinking and looking as innocent as a youthful male lion possibly could.

“He threatened Carly,” Tiger said, fury in his voice.

“So you beat him down,” Dylan said. “Whose idea was the duct tape?”

“Mine,” Carly said quickly. Connor was too young to have this dangerous-looking man angry at him. Dylan might not be in charge anymore, but his stance said that he hadn’t stopped expecting everyone to obey him. “I didn’t know what to do with him, and I didn’t want him to go to the police, so I thought Shifters would know what to do.” Carly gave Dylan her most charming smile, one that disarmed even the pickiest of gallery customers.

“She’s lying,” Tiger said.

“I know,” Dylan answered. “I can smell it. Let’s get him inside.”

Not inside his own house, the one he’d come out of—Dylan heaved Walker up over his shoulder as though the man weighed nothing and carried him into the house next door.

No one was there. This bungalow was airy, with a gigantic kitchen and an equally large living room with a dining area fixed in one corner. A staircase rose from the middle wall of the living room, disappearing upward.

“Who lives here?” Carly asked.

“My son Liam.” Dylan deposited Walker on the floor, walked unhurriedly into the kitchen, and returned with another roll of duct tape.

“And me.” Connor came inside, human again, his shirt and jeans ripped from his change. “And Liam’s mate, Kim. And Tiger.”

Tiger stood above Walker, staring at the blood on the man’s face, his fists clenched. Fighting himself again.

“Tiger,” Carly said. “Come on over here with me.”

Tiger’s glance at her showed rigid anger and pain so deep it cut her from all the way across the room. He didn’t want to look away from Walker, the potential threat, but at the same time, he was pulled to Carly.

Tiger closed his eyes, blotting out the flash of anger, but his face was fixed, the pain obvious.

Carly walked to him and took his hand. Tiger opened his eyes and looked down at her, this time fully.

Carly wanted to both run away and stay under his mesmerizing gaze. As a very small child she’d gone to a zoo where the animals had roamed freely, and the humans walked past them in caged walkways. She remembered a mountain lion that had followed her on the other side of the grille, its golden eyes directly on her. Even now, Carly had no idea whether it had been curious about her or had thought a small child would make a good midmorning snack. She’d cried in terror, and her mother had carried her out.

The feeling, buried deep in her past, flooded out again. Tiger was a wild animal, never mind that he currently had a human body and wore normal clothes and a Collar. The wildness was in his eyes, a creature untamed.

Tiger’s gaze held her in place as though she were the small animal that couldn’t run away. The predator had her, his prey.

He touched her face. Carly shuddered with reaction, his caress a gentle contrast to the obvious strength in him.

Tiger bent to her, as though drawn by her, everything around them forgotten. He nuzzled her as he had in her yard, and Carly caught his face in her hands, rose on tiptoe, and kissed his lips.