Tiger Magic

“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 br**sts, 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 c**k nudged between her legs.