He heard Carly’s voice—my mate—and dragged open his eyes. He saw Carly, her hair scraggly and singed, her clothes burned, blood on her arms and legs. But she was safe.
Tiger let out a sigh. Carly was too far away from him, but she was safe.
Tiger focused then on his immediate surroundings, and found the barrels of a dozen automatic weapons pointed at his head.
* * *
Tiger groaned. He couldn’t move. He lay supine in his human form, chained down, too exhausted to shift to the tiger.
They’d chained him like this in the hospital, and before that, in the research facility where he’d been made. Only this time, there was no leaping up in rage, no breaking the chains. Tiger was weak, and he was dying. But then, he’d been burned to death today.
Was it still today? Or had days and nights passed? Tiger had no idea.
The cubs were safe. Carly was safe. Nothing else mattered.
At one point, men in white masks came and drew blood out of Tiger’s arm, and scraped skin cells from his armpit, the only place he hadn’t burned.
Most of his skin was gone. Tiger was surprised he could see or hear, but those senses seemed to function, though his left eye, when he pried it open, showed him nothing but a milk-white fog.
He had his sense of smell too, because he could smell himself, and it wasn’t good. Taste, he wasn’t certain, except for the dry sourness in his mouth. They gave him no water but pumped fluids into his veins through an IV.
Tiger definitely had his sense of feeling. He was in excruciating pain.
He wasn’t sure who was keeping him prisoner this time, but it must be Shifter Bureau. The men who’d come for him had looked like they were from Walker’s unit.
But it no longer mattered. Carly was safe. His cub was safe. Tiger had seen the magical threads of the mate bond shimmering between them—intact and still strong.
More time passed. More blood, more skin cells taken, a change of the IV drip bag. Tiger couldn’t make his mouth work to ask what the white-coated medics were doing to him or why.
He drifted to troubled sleep. The next time he opened his eyes, two researchers were standing over him. Past and present melded, and Tiger started to think he’d dreamed being released from the research lab, and everything that had happened since.
“A couple more samples,” one said. “Then he’s done.”
“Done?”
“Terminated. He’s beyond saving.”
“Shame,” the other man said. “Would have been interesting to study him.”
“Orders are orders,” the first man said. “But we can dissect him. See what’s inside.”
“That’ll work.”
Tiger wanted to leap up and onto them, to tear them down. But he lay inert, his body refusing to obey.
He needed Carly. Wanted her so much. She hadn’t been a dream. Carly was very real.
Tiger fought to rise, to get out of this place before they killed him, to get to Carly, but he managed only to fall asleep again.
He saw Carly, her red lips and wide smile, her sexy legs, the way she closed her beautiful eyes when she leaned in to kiss him. The position let Tiger see her soft br**sts behind the neckline of whatever dress she wore that day, made him want to cup her in his hands, lick her, close his mouth over her breast. She made such pretty noises when he did that.
Carly, he tried to say. A faint croak issued from his throat.
Tiger forced the name out. “Carly.”
“Sorry, my friend.” He thought Walker leaned over him. “I’m not as pretty. But now I know what you are.” The man wore a look of triumph. “Or at least, what you’re for.”
Oh goody, Tiger wanted to say in Connor’s most withering tones. I’d been so worried about that.
“I’ve brought someone to see you.”
Tiger’s heart squeezed with fear. No. Not Carly. This place wasn’t safe. She couldn’t be here.
The person who walked forward at Walker’s gesture wasn’t Carly, but Liam.
“You were a bit of a hero out there,” Liam said, his smart-ass Irish grin in place. “I’m thinking my humble home won’t be big enough to hold you now, but I’m going to take you there anyway. Carly, now, she told me to bring you back with me, or not to bother coming back at all.”
* * *
Carly sat on the edge of the big bed in the attic room of Liam’s house and looked down at Tiger. She feared to touch him, since what was left of his skin was black and brittle. Any human, probably any other Shifter, would be dead by now.
It was night, Tiger’s room lit by one small lamp. The rest of the house had gone to bed, but Carly hadn’t wanted to leave Tiger alone in the dark.
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.