Shifters Unbound [5] Tiger Magic (12 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

“O
h 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 don’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.”

* * *

W
hen 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 like 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.

* * *

L
iam 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.”

“I know. Sorry.” Liam’s edginess about Tiger had him looking for something to attack, but lashing out at his own father wasn’t the answer. He reined in his temper, or tried to.

Dylan’s stoic look made Liam feel even more ashamed. His father had accepted the changeover in leadership without a fight. Dylan had known it was time on that fateful day, even if it took away a large part of what he was. Liam hoped he was half as calm when it was his turn to step down.

“They want to meet,” Liam said. “All of them.”

“That was Eric?” Dylan asked.

Eric Warden led the Shiftertown in Las Vegas. His mate, Iona, had first found Tiger. Eric had helped Tiger escape, and then Liam had offered to let Tiger live in Austin, under his supervision.

Liam had questioned that decision every day since he’d made it. Not because he didn’t think Tiger deserved a fair shot at life, but because he hadn’t learned enough about Tiger to satisfy himself or the informal council of Shiftertown leaders that he was safe.

During his leadership, Dylan had begun the council, which was simply a gathering of the Shiftertown leaders off the radar to discuss common problems and help each other find solutions. Shifters being the way they were, these sessions often degenerated into volatile arguments, but leaders had come to know they could call each other when problems might affect more than one Shiftertown.

Eric had phoned this afternoon to say the Shiftertown leaders wanted to meet about Tiger. They’d heard about him getting shot up by the human Ethan and rampaging in the hospital room. Liam had relayed that Tiger had been shot again today, this time deliberately by an unknown assassin.

Or maybe Carly had been the target. Who the hell knew? Ellison had been out cold at the time, so he couldn’t report on what had happened.

Maria, Ellison’s mate, had glared at Liam in pure fury at the accident scene, as though he ought to have prevented Ellison from getting shot. The shot had gone into Ellison’s leg, missing anything vital. If the assassin had planned it that way, he was a hell of a marksman.

Eric hadn’t been happy at the news of the second shooting, and finished by saying that the other leaders wanted a talk as soon as possible. They’d picked Dallas as the meeting place, because it had no Shiftertown but was close enough to Austin that Liam could get back quickly if needed.