Читать книгу Awakening The Shifter - Jane Godman - Страница 14

Chapter 5

Khan knew the werewolves wouldn’t be able to outrun him. He’d never come across another shifter that could match him for speed. The problem was, once the werewolves leaped over the perimeter wall surrounding Sarange’s property, they did exactly what he expected them to. They split up and ran in four different directions.

Wolf instincts. He could never understand it. They would sacrifice one for the sake of the pack.

Khan’s inner tiger was prompting him to kill, but his human senses were urging caution. He could catch one of the werewolves, but forcing the guy to shift back and start talking? That needed privacy and time. And a tiger in the heart of Beverly Hills didn’t have the luxury of either of those things. He faced a choice. Risk bringing chaos and carnage into the heart of the human world, or let the werewolves go.

The two halves of his psyche went to war. While his tiger was pushing him to hunt and kill, his human was arguing for restraint. Because he was in tiger form, it would be easy to go with the voice of his inner animal. His tiger instincts were strong, but he fought them. Reluctantly. Now was not the time. This was definitely not the place.

The werewolves had been given a powerful warning. They knew what they were dealing with. They would be back—tenacity was one of wolves’ strongest traits—but Khan would be ready for them.

With a feeling of resignation—a tiger always knew when to give up the hunt—he turned back toward Sarange’s house. He should shift back before he was seen. That way, his only problem would be that he was a naked man in the heart of Beverly Hills. That, and the fact that he needed to talk to Sarange about what she had just witnessed. He had hoped to ease her in gently to his shifter status. The werewolves had taken that opportunity away from him.

Shifting back, he kept to the shadows. Even in his human form, he retained elements of his inner cat. They showed through in his strength, speed and agility. When he had fought the four men back in Sarange’s bedroom, there was no hesitation. He had known he could take them on and beat them. Just as he knew now he could scale the wall surrounding her house. Nimble as his inner cat, he pulled himself up and over the wall, dropping into a crouch on the other side.

Khan’s eyes scoured the darkened yard, his keen vision easily picking out the security cameras. Sarange had live-in security, but no one had been roused by the arrival of four intruders. The werewolves had somehow bypassed her security system. His protective instincts went into overdrive again, his hands curling into the shape of tiger claws. If I hadn’t been here...

He forced his breathing back to a regular rhythm. He had been here. He would be here. But they still didn’t know what the werewolves wanted from her. All they knew for sure was this wasn’t a robbery. This was about Sarange.

Using the ornate shrubs and flowers as cover, he made his way across the yard. Stepping onto a patio table, he climbed from there onto the balcony. Swinging himself over the rail, he looked around for something to cover his nakedness. He couldn’t see anything. Maybe that was because his gaze was immediately captured by an ice-blue stare.

Arms folded across her chest, Sarange was standing in the doorway, blocking his entrance to the room. “You can start talking now.”

“I was hoping to shower first. Maybe find some clothes.”

“You turned into a tiger.” He wasn’t sure whether the wobble in her voice was caused by anger or shock. It didn’t matter. She kept going, coming toward him until he was pressed up against the balcony rail and she had to tilt her chin to look up at him. “I need to know what’s going on.”

He caught hold of her upper arms, and as soon as he touched her, she collapsed into his arms. The feel of her body against his drove every other thought out of Khan’s mind, and a harsh groan of surrender was dragged from him. His whole body was entranced by her. His eyelids half closed as if weighted and he lowered his head, compelled by a force beyond his control to graze Sarange’s lips with his.

I don’t want to control this.

The instant his mouth touched hers, their ragged breathing united in a single rhythm. Sarange melted into him, nuzzling his lips with her own. He clutched her tighter to his wildly beating heart, deepening a kiss that left Khan reeling. Achingly tender, it should have been unique. So why the hell did it feel so familiar?

His body was on fire, his arousal in danger of reaching epic proportions. Khan needed to regain control of the situation. But he was naked, with a beautiful woman in his arms. Restraint, never easy for him, was getting harder by the second.

“I’m hungry.” He murmured the words into her hair.

“I can tell.” She glanced down at his erection. In the moonlight, he could see a blush staining her cheekbones.

Khan groaned as temptation almost got the better of him. He pressed his forehead to hers. “No, I really am hungry. For food. Shifting affects me that way.”

“Shifting?” She wrinkled her brow. “Is that what you call it when you change?”

“Yes. I’m a shape-shifter.”

She was silent for a moment. When she raised her eyes to his, the anger was gone. He wasn’t sure he could name the emotions that replaced it. There was a healthy dose of understandable confusion, but he thought he could see acceptance. Of what, he wasn’t sure. His shifter self? Or of them?

“Take a shower. The security guards have spare uniforms. I’ll see if I can find something to fit you. Although—” there was that blush again “—you are very big. Then we’ll go down to the kitchen. You can talk while you eat.”

* * *

Khan had already eaten the remains of a cold chicken, a quiche and a bowl of potato salad. He had washed this feast down with a half quart of milk. Now he was prowling the kitchen, opening cupboards and regarding Sarange with a look of dismay. “No cookies?”

“I don’t really eat sweet things.”

“Let me guess.” He pointed to the chicken carcass. “You’d rather eat the meat than the salad. You like your steak rare. No one ever quite cooks it bloody enough for you, am I right?”

She blinked at him, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling slightly. On one level, it didn’t matter how she liked her steak. On another, it was scary that Khan could somehow get inside her head and know that much detail about her.

“Is your special tiger sense telling you that?” What else is it telling you? Is it telling you who those men—those werewolves—are, and what they want with me?

Khan came to sit on a stool next to her at the counter. “I’m not sure I have a special sense. Maybe it was a lucky guess.”

She shook her head. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“I know.”

He gazed into space, gathering his thoughts, and she took a moment to study him. The sweatpants and T-shirt she had found were stretched tight over his bulging muscles, and his hair was still damp from the shower. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she could see the tiger in the man. It was there in the tawny tint of his hair, the broad, arrogant nose, the fiery gold eyes. In the lines of his body, she could see the coiled strength of the mighty beast, the long, lithe sinews and the powerful muscles. Most of all, she could see it in his mannerisms. Khan was a cat. He was the ultimate rebel. His movements were all stealth and grace.

He was breathtaking, and yet...he was the opposite of everything she had believed she wanted in a man. In the past, she had never admired flashy good looks and strength. She’d have run a mile from a promiscuous narcissist like Khan. So why did it feel like everything, her whole life, her next breath—who I am—was wrapped up in this man?

Was that why she had accepted his shape-shifting, if not with ease, at least with composure? Although her mind was still struggling to make sense of what she had seen, she had felt no real surprise or skepticism. Instead there had been a sense of “So that’s what this is all about.”

Yet a man to whom she was attracted—more, this was so much more than straightforward attraction—had changed into a tiger before her eyes. She should be cowering in a corner at least. Probably there should be screaming involved. Sitting next to him, gazing at him as if her whole world hinged on his next breath, was possibly not the most sensible approach to how this night was unfolding.

Sarange had a feeling she had waved goodbye to sensibility around the time she first set eyes on Khan.

“I’m not an expert on the history of shape-shifters.” When he turned back to face her, the smile in his eyes undid her. Took everything she was and unraveled it. Sarangerel Tsedev came apart and became...just his. “You would need to talk to Ged if you want an in-depth analysis.”

“I want to know about you. Anyone else can wait. Start by explaining what you meant when you said you are a shape-shifter.”

“It means I can take on the physical form of an animal while maintaining my human consciousness.” He regarded her warily, as though unsure of her reaction.

“Can you do it any time you want?”

Khan nodded.

“But you control it? It doesn’t just happen without warning?”

Another nod.

“Can you become any animal you choose?”

“No, I’m a weretiger. My DNA is part human, part tiger.” There was a note of pride in his voice. “With an extra shifter-something thrown in for good measure.”

“Were you born this way?” She had so many questions, but no uncertainty. He was telling the truth. Even if she hadn’t seen the evidence for herself, she would know it.

He pulled in a long, slow breath. “Most shifters are born with their abilities. Rarely, they are converts. That means they are turned by a bite. It can happen in conflict. If a shifter leaves a victim close to death but still alive, that person will himself become a shifter.”

“Like the horror stories of werewolves?” Sarange thought of the movies that had scared her when she first came to America. Although nothing could have prepared her for the scene that had played out in her bedroom a few hours ago.

“Exactly. It’s a big responsibility. But shifters living in the human world are peaceful. Conflict is rare. The other way a human can convert is voluntarily.”

“Really?” Sarange couldn’t imagine a situation in which that would happen. “Do you guys hold recruitment drives?”

He laughed. “No. When a human falls in love with a shifter, he, or she, might choose to take the bite of his mate.” Ah. A little bit of electricity crackled through the air briefly. “But I believe I was born a shifter.”

“You believe it? That sounds like you don’t know.”

“I don’t.” He was on his feet again. Restless, noiseless, stealthy. Opening the blinds to peer out at the darkened yard. Rearranging the utensils on the rack. Taking the knives from the block and testing their sharpness against his thumb. “I don’t know anything about my early life.”

Sarange slid from her perch on the high stool and went to him. Standing close, she reached up a hand and ran it through the thick mass of his almost-dry hair.

Khan ducked his head, pushing back against her touch, a smile curving his lips. “I know what you’re doing.”

“You do?” She hadn’t thought about what she was doing. Had just acted on impulse to try and soothe him.

“You’re stroking me.”

“So I am.” She continued the movement, pushing her fingers through his hair, watching in fascination as he visibly relaxed.

“Just so you know—” his voice was almost a purr “—catnip doesn’t work.”

She laughed. “I’m glad you told me.” She looked into those incredible eyes. “Can you talk about it?”

He hunched a shoulder in a half shrug. “There isn’t much to talk about. I was rescued from captivity by Ged about ten years ago. I can’t remember anything before that. I don’t even know exactly how I came to be captured.”

As he spoke, every part of his body tensed once more. She could hear the pain in his words, felt each one being dragged out of him. “I know Ged is you manager, but what else does he do?”

Without knowing it, she had found the right question. At the mention of his manager’s name, Khan relaxed. “Did you ever read the stories of the Scarlet Pimpernel?”

Sarange wasn’t sure where this was going, but she nodded. “He was the fictional hero who rescued French aristocrats before they could be sent to the guillotine. He pretended to be a bumbling Englishman, but in reality, he was a quick-thinking escape artist.”

“Ged is the shifter version of the Scarlet Pimpernel,” Khan said. “By day he is long-suffering rock star manager Ged Taverner. By night he is a werebear who rescues shifters from danger.”

Sarange shook her head in an attempt to clear it. “This night keeps getting stranger.” There were still so many questions that needed answers. She decided to start with the obvious. “Those men who came into the house earlier? They were also shifters. Do you know who they are?”

“No. They are werewolves, but I’ve never seen them before. I didn’t manage to catch up with them to find out why they were here, but they’ll be back. It’s the wolf way. Tenacity is in their blood. Once they have a mission, they won’t give up.” His eyes scanned her face as though seeking a response.

What do you want from me, Khan? I know nothing about werewolves, but you’re looking at me as though I have the answer. I don’t even know the question.

“And now that they know what they’re up against, they’ll reinforce the pack.”

Sarange cast a scared look over her shoulder. “What shall we do? They’ll tear my human security guards apart.”

Khan stretched his arms above his head. “Right now? We’ll get some sleep. They’ll need time to regroup. Wolves don’t do anything spontaneously.” His smile managed to reassure her and heat her blood at the same time. “Tomorrow we’ll bring in a few reinforcements of our own.”

* * *

While Sarange slept, Khan walked the house and grounds, learning the layout. Getting to know his territory. He had napped briefly, but he was conscious of danger nearby, threatening his mate.

Tigers don’t mate for life.

It was an insistent little voice in his head, warning him to keep his distance. He didn’t need any more warnings. This whole situation couldn’t get any more screwed up. He was a shifter who couldn’t remember anything prior to his rescue ten years ago. Sarange didn’t even know she was a shifter. To make things worse, they were from different species. Just about as opposite as two beings could get. Unfortunately, no one had told their raging hormones about the obstacles. The instincts drawing them together were stronger than anything driving them apart. As if we were free to mate and be together for life. The thought caught him hard in the chest, knocking the breath from the lungs. It wasn’t a good idea to indulge in if only. And at some point, he was going to have to tell Sarange that. How the hell he was going to begin that conversation, he had no idea.

Tigers don’t mate for life, but shifters do.

That was the problem. Now that they’d found each other, he had a feeling there would never be anyone else. For either of them. How do you tell a werewolf, who doesn’t know she’s a werewolf, that she can’t mate with a tiger? Those cute internet pictures of domestic cats and dogs snuggling up together? Not the same thing as lifelong mates. Lions and hyenas? Leopards and jackals? Tigers and wolves? It didn’t happen.

Oh, hell. I need Ged here. This is a halfway-down-the-second-bottle conversation.

Luckily, Ged was on his way. When it came to reinforcements, there was only one group of people Khan trusted. Beast members bickered their way around the world. Their competing egos didn’t allow for true friendship. Khan knew he was a big part of why that was true. Put a tiger at the center of any group and the grandest of the big cats was always going to stake his leadership claim. Khan shook his head. The idea that he would ever back down and let anyone else take his place was so ridiculous it wasn’t worth considering.

There were other big, alpha male personalities in the band. The next fight was always only a snarl away. The peacekeepers—Ged and Torque—had their work cut out, particularly when Khan and Diablo clashed. But when it mattered? Khan would trust his bandmates with his life.

“Let me get this straight.” Ged was used to getting “bail me out” calls from Khan at any hour of the day or night. Even so, his voice had been a sleepy rumble. “We were due to fly back to New York at noon. Now you want us to change our plans. Instead of working on the new album, we’re going to move into Sarange’s house and take an extended vacation while we do bodyguard duty.”

“There are plenty of recording studios in Los Angeles,” Khan had said. “We don’t have to stop working.”

Just as Khan had known he would, Ged had agreed. Because that was how it worked. No questions, no explanations, no protests. His friends—because that was the closest word he could find to describe what they were—would have his back. And when the time came, Khan would do the same for them. When Ged brought Beast together, they had been a collection of lost and damaged souls. Each of them had a horrific story to tell. Joining the band had been their rehabilitation. Maybe it was their redemption.

As Khan walked through the grounds in the early morning light, the foul werewolf stench of the intruders lingered. It was strange how that worked. Khan hated the smell of werewolves. Even in their human form, he could barely stand to be in the same room with them. He had built up a sort of immunity to the scent of his bandmate Finglas. He could tolerate his aroma, without liking it. Almost as if the guy wore an obnoxious cologne. So why was it that Sarange smelled like the sweetest thing in the world? She was a werewolf. Khan should detest her scent. Instead, he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to nuzzle her, sniff her skin, lick her all over...

He looked up at the balcony that led to her room, picturing her asleep in that big, ridiculously opulent bed. He couldn’t help the leap of joy his heart gave every time he thought of her. Dogs and cats. Had there ever been a time in the past? Could the first time be now?

Those werewolves had come after Sarange for a reason. Why now? What was going on in her life right now that meant four werewolves wanted to abduct her? Diablo would sneer at Khan’s first thought.

“The world does not revolve around you, Tiger Boy.” It was Diablo’s favorite phrase.

Diablo was wrong, of course. And Khan delighted in telling him so. “Try telling the world that.”

Right now, when he was examining what was happening to Sarange, Khan’s entry into her life was one thing that could have triggered the werewolf attack. Why? He had no idea. He was simply considering the possibilities.

The only other things he could think of were the Animals Alive campaign and Sarange’s determination to save the blue wolves. Again, when it came to trying to establish a link between either of those things and the intruders, Khan came up with a big, fat nothing.

He was tired of thinking. It was still early. The world wasn’t fully awake. There was only one place he wanted to be. Up close to Sarange. Pressed so tight against her even a sliver of light couldn’t get between them. That sounded like a plan. Breaking into a loping run, he retraced his steps back to the house.