Читать книгу Awakening The Shifter - Jane Godman - Страница 13
ОглавлениеHow many different ways was she supposed to answer the same question? Tiredness and frustration were getting to Sarange now. It was beginning to feel like she was the suspect as the detective waited with his notebook open and his pen poised.
“I’ve already told you, Detective Kidd.” Sarange thought she did a pretty good job of keeping the annoyance out of her voice. “They came into my bedroom through the balcony.”
He tapped his pen against his teeth. It was a mannerism he’d already used a few times. If it continued, he might find himself eating that pen before too much longer. “See, that’s where I’m struggling.” He shook his head, and Sarange decided he’d modeled his mannerisms on various TV cops he’d seen. “You’re saying that four men climbed up the front of the house and in through the balcony to this suite in broad daylight without being seen and without triggering the alarm system?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Sarange had decided not to go to the Rock the World Awards. She hadn’t declined, she had just decided she wouldn’t turn up. Even though it was one of the biggest nights in the music world’s calendar, she wasn’t going to put herself through the humiliation of seeing Khan again. She might spend every private minute fighting the cravings, but she didn’t have to do it publicly. She couldn’t trust her emotions around him, and no way was he going to get another chance to humiliate her.
Even if he didn’t reject her this time, what did she anticipate would happen between them? A one-night stand? She shivered at the thought. Spontaneity, stepping outside the boundaries, seizing the moment...they were all alien to Sarange’s nature. She played by the rules. That, and the fact that she lived her life in the full glare of the public eye, were probably the reasons she’d never hooked up with a stranger. I don’t do wild. An image of Khan came into her mind, bringing with it a surge of longing to break free of her self-imposed constraints. Although she thought she knew her own mind, her treacherous body kept giving the idea of a one-night stand an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Her resolve had held firm. Vowing to avoid social media, she had spent the day in her office, doing her best to focus on Animals Alive paperwork. The attempt had been futile. The white-hot desire and almost insane longing for Khan weren’t going away, no matter how hard she tried to push them aside. Knowing he was in the same town made it so much worse. It was as if an endless recording that could not be turned off was playing inside her head. Khan had entered her soul like a mind-altering drug, meaning she was no longer responsible for her actions.
Eventually, she had succumbed and checked her cell phone. Almost with a will of their own, her fingers found images and recordings of Beast arriving at their hotel. And there was Khan. Her heart melted at the sight of him. Glittering, feral, predatory. With his usual grace, he bounded from the limousine ahead of his bandmates. The sunlight turned his hair to burnished copper as he acknowledged the shouts of the crowd with a wave.
Who was she fooling? Of course she was going to the awards ceremony. There was no way she could stay away from him. That invisible thread that drew them together was pulling her to him harder and stronger than ever. It had been as she was in her dressing room, trying to decide what to wear, that the men had burst in from the balcony.
Sarange could understand Detective Kidd’s confusion. It matched her own. Her luxurious home was secure. She lived in a gated community. She had three live-in bodyguards. Her security system was the best, and most up-to-date, that money could buy. There was no way four men should have been able to get close to her house, let alone inside her personal suite. She should not have a sprained ankle and a bruised cheek because she had fought them as they tried to drag her back out onto the balcony. It was only because she had her cell phone in her hand, with its personal attack alarm enabled, that she had been able to summon Marco, her head of security.
Her bodyguards had rushed into the room while calling the police. With remarkable agility, the intruders had vaulted back over the balcony wall and scattered through the grounds before they could be caught.
“I didn’t imagine them.” She was tired now. Yet surely she should feel more traumatized by her experience? Instead, her overriding emotion was disappointment that she wouldn’t get to see Khan. “My bodyguards saw them, too.”
The detective consulted his notes. “And these men made no attempt to hide their faces?”
“That’s right. I’ve already given your colleague a description.” Sarange resisted the temptation to sigh.
“Tall, muscular, medium brown hair, amber eyes, sharp features.” His eyes probed her face. “That’s your description...of all of them?”
“Yes.” They had been through this. Several times. She knew how weird it sounded. “They could have been quadruplets.”
Before he could say anything else, she heard a commotion. It sounded like it was downstairs, possibly in the entrance hall. Disturbances didn’t happen in her house. In her life. She paid people to make sure of it. Now, twice in one day, her ordered existence was being tilted off course. But this time, she knew the reason. She could feel it...him. Khan was close by. She had no idea how she knew he was the source of the fire and fury taking place elsewhere in her home. She just did. This connection they had transcended normal rules.
Detective Kidd turned his head to look at the uniformed officer who was standing by the door. “Find out what’s going on.”
Before the police officer could move, Khan strode through the door, instantly filling her bedroom with his presence. Those hypnotic eyes, golden and fiery, fixed on Sarange as though there was no one else present. “They tried to stop me seeing you.”
Sarange’s head of security burst into the room behind Khan. His shirt was torn and a scratch on his face oozed blood. “I’m sorry. He was like a wild animal...”
“It’s okay, Marco.” And it was. Suddenly, it was as though she had been wrapped in a protective blanket. Without words, Khan had managed to do what the police and her bodyguards couldn’t. Just by being there, he had reassured her that she was safe.
“Call me if you need anything.” With obvious reluctance, Marco left the room.
Khan was about to cross to the bed when he appeared to notice Detective Kidd and his companion for the first time. “Why are these people here?”
“The detective wants to ask me some more questions.”
“I think not.” No one could do arrogant like Khan. As he turned that feline gaze on Detective Kidd, the words of protest died on the police officer’s lips. Moving to the door, Khan held it open.
“There is something very strange about this incident. If you think of anything else, give me a call.” Tossing a look of dislike in Khan’s direction, the detective and his colleague left.
Sarange barely had an instant to wonder why Khan had come here. After taking so much trouble to show her he didn’t want anything to do with her, why was he in her bedroom right now? And why was he gazing at her with that look in his eyes? Within a second or two of the door closing, he had crossed the room and dropped on one knee beside the bed, catching hold of her hand and raising it to his lips.
“I wasn’t here to protect you. I will never forgive myself for that.” The antagonism was gone. His voice throbbed with genuine regret.
This should be weird. That was her first response to his words. She should run a mile from a man who spoke to her that way. She definitely shouldn’t tangle her hands in his hair, or utter a sound that was midway between a laugh and a sob. This shouldn’t feel like the best thing ever to happen to her. Yet, as she touched Khan, she could feel strength and heat flowing from him and into her body.
This is real. Whatever it is, this is happening.
“Who were they?” Khan lifted his head. “Did you know the men who broke in here?”
Sarange shook her head. “I’ve never seen them before. They didn’t speak to me, so I don’t know what they wanted. They were trying to drag me out of the house when I raised the alarm. Marco and my other bodyguards burst in. They called the police, but the intruders had already gone.”
Khan raised a hand, his touch featherlight as he traced the bruise on her cheek. “They hurt you.”
“Because I fought them.”
There was a flash of fire in the depths of his eyes. She glimpsed something in him then, something raw and animal. It called to an answering part of her own character. A part she hadn’t known existed until now.
“You are safe now. I’m here.” His smile was pure insolence and undiluted mischief. “You no longer have to rely on second-rate protection.”
“I get a rock star for a bodyguard?”
He got to his feet, and she looked up at him. He was breathtaking. “You get Khan.” The words should have been conceited. Instead they comforted and scared her. Was it possible to feel those conflicting emotions at the same time? It seemed Khan could make her feel the impossible.
Khan pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat in it. Resting his feet on the mattress, he leaned back with his arms folded across his chest. Sarange turned on her side, drinking in the beauty of his profile. “You can’t stay there all night.”
“How else will I make sure you are safe?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest he could join her, but she stopped short of saying the words. This wasn’t a fling, or even the start of a brief relationship. This was beyond anything she had ever known. There was magic between them, but there were barriers as well. She still had no idea what this attraction was about. She suspected Khan knew and was fighting forces that went way beyond her comprehension.
She spent the night content to drift in and out of sleep, enjoying the deep contentment his presence brought. Strange snippets of dreams gripped her as slumber pulled her deeper into its embrace. Four men who all looked alike. Blue Fire. Great Tiger. Golden Eagle. The words meant nothing and everything. Each time she stirred and opened her eyes, Khan was there, watching over her.
Her life had just changed forever, and she didn’t know whether fear or excitement was her strongest emotion. She only knew she had never felt either with such intensity.
* * *
Sleeping was one of Khan’s favorite activities. Fortunately, he could do it pretty much anywhere. When he was on stage, he expended huge amounts of energy, and afterward his inner tiger took over to restore his energy. While on tour, he had been known to spend half the day sleeping. It wasn’t considered unusual among his bandmates. Diablo and Dev were also werecats. No one flinched when Finglas bowed down before the full moon, Torque took to the skies or Ged disappeared into the forest for hours. There was mutual respect among the group for the diverse traits of the individual members.
So sleeping in a chair at Sarange’s bedside shouldn’t be a problem for him. Physically, it wasn’t. He could curl his long limbs into a comfortable position and, catlike, be asleep in seconds. Even though they hadn’t spoken about her attackers and their motivation, the possibility that they might return was at the back of Khan’s mind. He wasn’t afraid of that. They wouldn’t sneak up on him while he slumbered. Khan didn’t know who these people were, but he could go from sleeping to waking in an instant. The slightest sound, movement, scent, even a shift in the air would alert him to danger. His every sense would power up and be ready to take on the enemy. His fingers curled into the shape of claws as he looked forward to the prospect of confronting them.
No, it wasn’t the physical practicalities of sleeping in a chair that bothered him. It was the problem of being so close to Sarange and not touching her. He had crossed a line tonight. Resistance had become acceptance. He had been fighting his attraction to her so hard that he had ignored another part of his role as a mate...protection. Alongside the admission that he had a duty to care for her, some of the barriers he had worked so hard to erect had come tumbling down. He couldn’t remain antagonistic toward her when he needed to be at her side 24/7. He didn’t know what the future had in store, but the present held a new rapport. Khan could snarl about the quirk of fate that had brought them here, but he was honest enough to admit he liked it. A little too much.
Although why watching Sarange sleep should bring him so much pleasure, he had no idea. She lay curled on her side in the huge bed, with one hand under her uninjured cheek. Her braid hung like a glossy rope over her shoulder, and the bedclothes had slipped down to reveal her pink pajama top. Her features were relaxed, her long lashes shadowing her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. And, alongside the fire in his blood, something softer bloomed within him.
He’d had enough torture. There was only so much nobility one person could stand. Slipping off his shoes, he leaned over Sarange and pulled the comforter up to her shoulders before lying down next to her. He was fully dressed. She was beneath the bedclothes. Resisting temptation would be a new experience, but he was prepared to try it.
Holding his breath in an attempt not to disturb Sarange, he settled his weight, turning on his side and mirroring her position. This was the problem with being a solitary being living among social creatures. Khan was used to doing what made him feel good without considering others. He stopped short of breaking the law and tried not to hurt anyone—either physically or emotionally—in the process. Even so, he had a lot in common with the ultimate hedonists who had colonized this human world. Like a domestic cat, Khan sought his pleasures, took them and only considered others as a means of getting what he wanted.
Right now his perfect pleasure was lying next to him...but he wasn’t going to take her. His life had changed the moment he saw Sarange. The fabric of who he was comprised a unique pattern, woven by his experiences. It was ever-changing with old colors and textures fading and disappearing and new ones emerging. Even Khan had no idea how long he had been alive, or where his life had begun. Held in captivity in China, he had been in his tiger form when he was captured. The darkness, despair, hunger and weakness of his imprisonment had lasted many lifetimes. His captors had used silver to weaken him, but they couldn’t kill him. He was unique, and that frustrated them. Now and then, he suspected his captors might have been werewolves, but he had no idea why they wanted him. A weretiger against a group of werewolves? It should have been no contest. That had been his last coherent memory of his capture until he was rescued by Ged.
Kept in a cage barely larger than a large dog kennel, deprived of natural light and half-starved, Khan had been close to death when Ged, acting on a story passed on by one of his informants, found him.
Ged was an enigma, even to his closest friends. A werebear of giant proportions, in his human form he poured his considerable talents into the day job. How he balanced managing one of the most successful rock bands in the world with his other persona was a mystery. Ged helped shifters who were injured, damaged or at risk of harm. Khan knew very little about his rescue work, only that Ged was the founder of an international team. Like the Red Cross for shifters.
Ged had always hoped that, once Khan was restored to full health and the trauma of his captivity had receded, his memory would return. It never had. There were snippets now and then. Of stalking deer along thicketed watercourses. Of vast, arid deserts. Of peering into shoreline bracken. Of crawling through a latticework of tangled low shrubs, emerging into willow and poplar forests. Nothing of himself, of who he was. Who is Khan? He had no idea.
Yet lying here, breathing in time with Sarange’s rhythm, inhaling her sweet scent, he felt something stir inside him. Barely enough to call a memory, different to the bonds that bound him to her physically and emotionally. Certainty. That was what it felt like. A confidence that this woman was part of who he was. That pattern in the fabric of his life? The vibrant threads Khan didn’t recognize had been woven by a different hand. Hers.
He didn’t know how that could be so when Sarange believed herself to be human. She had no memory of herself as a shifter, let alone a shifter whose life had intersected his own. They both appeared to have a remembrance short circuit. Now that they had met, was it possible they would trigger each other’s memories?
On that optimistic note, Khan draped an arm over her waist and rubbed his cheek against the silken mass of her hair. Sarange murmured in her sleep and he smiled as he closed his eyes. This was the only pleasure he needed.
* * *
Sarange came awake abruptly, unsure what had alerted her to danger. Moonlight streamed in through the light drapes as her eyes searched the darkened corners of the room, seeking confirmation of what she already knew. Someone was in the room. No, not someone, there was more than one person, standing just inside the balcony doors. Before she could do anything, the strong arm around her waist tightened its grip and a hand moved up to cover her mouth. Her first instinct was to struggle, but then she remembered.
Khan. He was signaling for her to stay silent. Sarange gave a slight nod to show she understood and he moved his hand away. Although his touch reassured her, she couldn’t help being concerned. If the same men had returned, it would be four against one. Surely it would be better if she used her cell phone alarm and got security up here?
With a stealth that amazed her, Khan slid from the bed. Noiseless and unerring, he made his way across the room. His night vision must be incredible. A crash and a cry signaled that he had reached the intruders.
Sarange weighed her options. She could lie still and speculate about what was happening. Or she could find a way to go to Khan’s aid. Switching on the lamp at the side of the bed, she froze in horror at the scene unfolding in her luxurious bedroom.
The four men who had tried to abduct her earlier were back. Even as fear kicked in and her heart rate soared, she took a moment to notice all over again the weirdness of their similarity to each other. She had fought them; she knew they weren’t in disguise. They didn’t just look alike. They were identical. Were they quadruplets? Clones? She swallowed hard. Was it possible that they weren’t human?
Unsure where that last thought had come from, she snaked out a hand for the cell phone on her bedside table. Khan was going to need help after all.
“Don’t call security.” Khan’s voice was like a whiplash. He was half-turned away from her, but he must have seen the movement out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve got this.”
One of the men was already bleeding hard from a cut across his cheek. Did Khan have a knife? Sarange couldn’t see anything in his hand. She remembered when Khan had burst into the house earlier. Marco had tried to stop him from seeing her and had suffered scratches to his face as a result. The wound on this intruder’s face was too deep to have been caused by fingernails...
She slid from the bed, trying to scour the room for something she could use as a weapon while also keeping her eyes on Khan. The four men began to circle Khan, their manner predatory. She didn’t like the matching smiles on their faces. It looked too much like they were snarling.
One of the men lunged and Khan was on him in a blur of movement, fighting like a wild animal. He didn’t adopt a conventional style. Feet, fists, teeth and nails all went into the attack. His opponent went down fast under the onslaught.
The other intruders joined in, leaping on Khan. As incredible as it seemed, he kept going without pause. Swinging, slashing, powering into them. It was like watching a giant beast taking on a group of lesser creatures.
But something was happening. As if acting on an unseen signal, the four men were changing. It was swift and subtle. One second their human bodies were being tossed around by Khan as they attempted to bring him down onto the expensive cream-and-rose rug. The next, their facial features had elongated. In place of a nose, they each had a snout. Instead of a mouth, they had huge jaws with sharp snapping teeth. Their limbs stretched, becoming lithe and muscular. As they shook off the remains of their clothing, Sarange saw thick brown fur covering their bodies. A new scent pervaded the air. Like animal fur and carrion, it reminded her that she wasn’t dreaming.
Wolves? Sarange shook her head in an attempt to clear it. These were no ordinary wolves. There are four werewolves in my bedroom.
As if in confirmation of that thought, one of them threw back his head and gave a single, triumphant howl.
Even as she tried to process why four werewolves had come for her and tried to abduct her, Sarange’s thoughts were on Khan. This took the danger to a whole new level. He might have been able to fight four men—although that must have taken some kind of superhuman strength—but this? Four sets of lethal canines trying to rip out his throat? Four sets of claws aimed at his belly?
Khan didn’t seem concerned. On the contrary, he was smiling as he faced the werewolf pack.
And...oh, my goodness. This can’t be happening.
Yet somehow she knew it was going to happen. The transformation was over in the blink of an eye. Khan’s clothing burst apart. Beneath the remaining shreds there was brilliant orange fur slashed across with diagonal stripes, each as thick, black and straight as a hand-drawn charcoal line. In his place, a giant tiger reared on its hind legs, lips drawn back in a snarl that revealed white fangs almost as wide as Sarange’s wrist.
The attitude of the werewolves changed in an instant from aggression to fear. Whimpering, they abased themselves, pressing their bellies into the floor and flattening their ears.
Khan dropped onto all fours. Even by the dim light provided by the moon and the lamp, Sarange could see the ripple of pure muscle beneath his thick pelt. And why am I noticing his muscles when there is a tiger in my bedroom? A tiger in place of the man who had his arm around me minutes ago?
The sound that filled the room was a soft, echoing rumble of pure menace. Originating in the depths of the tiger’s deep chest, it shook every part of Sarange’s body, even though she knew it wasn’t intended for her.
How do I know that? How do I know he’s not going to turn on me once he’s finished with those werewolves?
The answer was simple. He was Khan. And he was hers.
At the sound of the tiger’s growl, the wolves scrambled into action. Heading for the open doors, they couldn’t scramble over the balcony rail fast enough. Khan followed them, his movements deceptive. That big body appeared to barely expend any energy, but he covered the space between him and the werewolves in double time, staying just behind them.
As Khan sprang from the balcony, Sarange ran to see what was going on. From her vantage point, she watched as the security lights below, triggered by movement, came on. The alarm remained silent, and she guessed the intruders must have disabled it and the security cameras before they broke in.
Below her, the elegant patio resembled a scene from a movie, as four werewolves crouched behind deck furniture to avoid the prowling tiger. Eventually, they broke free and headed across the lawn toward the pool. Khan was after them in a bound. The last view Sarange had was when he caught up with them on the extreme edge of her property.
With a shaky exhale, she turned on the lights and sat on the bed, waiting for his return. Because he would return. And when he did, he had some explaining to do.
