By morning, she was pretty sure he was. The gashes down his side were knitting and his breathing was deep and steady now, so she suspected even his ribs were mending. He didn’t seem to be quite as fevered as he’d been the night before and he hadn’t shifted from human for several hours.
She looked down at the quiet face on the pillow. She had never seen him in repose before yesterday. When he was awake, his face was always vivid with mockery and laughter. And even when he was not teasing her, it was tough and intransigent. She had thought him uncaring. But in sleep there was vulnerability there, with the shadows cast by those thick lashes down the flat plane of his cheek and the corn-silk strands of his hair falling boyishly over his forehead. It was a sensitive face, she thought in surprise.
She didn’t want to think that, didn’t want to soften toward him. Before, she had always been able to block out how handsome he was and drown her attraction to him in anger. His mockery and constant provocation had helped, kept them both at daggers drawn. Helpless and vulnerable now, he was getting under her guard.
The darkness of those lashes in contrast to his hair was explained at last. The leopard’s eyes were black-rimmed, as if it were wearing kohl. Pale hair, dark lashes, right. Plus the high, curving scimitars of his cheekbones. It all made sense now. She wondered if she would be able to make out others of his kind by small signs like that.
She touched his shoulder lightly. His skin was not as hot as before, but he still had a fever. She bent to reach for the sponge in the basin at her feet and her long hair fell to one side, brushing lightly across his chest.
“Silk,” he murmured. “Your hair feels like silk.”
She looked back at him in surprise. His hand came up and wound into her hair, twining it about his wrist.
“Beautiful. Like dark water in the moonlight.”
“Uh, Ian…”
He let her hair slide loose again. Then his fingers stroked down her upper arm, bared by the thin halter top she was wearing with her jeans. She shivered involuntarily at the sensual, arousing touch of those calloused fingertips upon her flesh.
“Skin feels like silk too. Always knew it would.”
“Ian, stop!”
He frowned in puzzlement. “Why?”
His shackled hands had clasped on her arm. He drew her forward and down to lie across his chest. The eyes smiling up at her were sensuously half-lidded, their pupils dilating over a burning darkness, turning his irises into thin rings of blazing green.
“You’re one hell of a sexy woman.”
Aw jeez! He had gone into seduction mode, probably thought she was one of the girls he messed with.
“I am not one of your women!”
“Wish you were.”
For a crazy moment, so did she, hypnotized by the heat in those compelling eyes.
She tried to pull away but his grip was too strong. As she reared back, his head came off the pillow and his parted lips found the underside of her chin. She gasped at the feel of his open mouth sucking down her throat and the sudden slide of his tongue against her skin. A tongue like very fine sandpaper, as raspy as a cat’s.
He paused at the hollow of her throat and licked at it. That felt incredible.
“You feel so good,” he purred.
Oh God, so did he. That wickedly knowing mouth, his face pressing against her flesh, the softness of his hair against her jaw.
His lips slipped down lower, into the V-neck of her top, sliding over the curve of her breast above her bra. She was on fire, she was burning, more feverish now than he was. And he had done it all so simply. No wonder no one seemed to be able to hold out against the man!
Sierra wrenched herself desperately backward. Safely on her feet, she glared at him.
“Probably don’t even know who I am,” she muttered resentfully.
“Sierra.” His eyes were very green and bright with teasing laughter. “Beautiful Sierra. Watched you a long time.”
He what? He couldn’t mean… No, it wasn’t possible.
He still held one of her wrists and now he drew her hand to his chest, pressing it to his breastbone. She could feel the accelerated beat of his heart under her palm.
“Always wanted you to touch me.”
He was moving her hand back and forth over his chest. Her fingertips slid over the flat disc of his nipple and she felt its nub harden under her touch. Without her volition, her hand slipped down his chest, over the supple solidity of those washboard abs. Then she suddenly realized the thin sheet over his loins had developed a distinct rise.
“Whoa!”
She tore her hand free and jumped back. He was laughing helplessly.
“Only gonna tent the covers. Never can help having a hard-on around you.”
“Doc’s here,” she gasped, hearing with relief Doc’s ancient pickup groan to a halt outside.
Then she ran like a rabbit.
Chapter Four
She hadn’t even remembered that he was a werewolf…er, cat. That should have squicked her right out, but she hadn’t even thought of it. It didn’t seem to matter. He was simply Ian, who had driven her crazy for years and just now had horrifyingly turned her whole body molten with desire. Besides that, the whole turning into a cat thing seemed really unimportant.
She was certifiable. Absolutely.
“How is he?” asked Doc, coming in with his bag and a suitcase. “Fever better?”
“Think so. Though he might be delirious,” muttered Sierra, her face burning.
Doc glanced at her and laughed. “Made a pass at you, did he?”
“Uh…”
“It’s the fever. Takes a lot of them that way. They get really horny.”
Okay, now
that
made sense. Ten years of fighting and hassling each other, then suddenly he was coming on this strong? With her? Even his changing into a cat hadn’t shocked her as badly. The fever turning him on was something she could understand. Any female body would have done. That was fine. That was safe. Anything else was way too scary to think about.
“Okay if Ian stays with you a little longer?” Doc was saying. “Things are going crazy right now.”
“Yes, of course,” said Sierra, though at that moment she wanted Ian anywhere but here. “Is there anything you can tell me about what’s going on?”
“I don’t know whether I should. I’ll tell him if he’s in any kind of shape to hear me and he can tell you if he wants to.” Doc held up the suitcase. “I picked up a few of his things from the ranch, told Taylor Weekes he was hurt but would be coming home in a few days. You’re looking tired, Sierra. Were you up all night?”
“Slept a little on and off. Not that tired.”
“Well, why don’t you have a wash and freshen up while I take a look at the boy?”
She took a quick shower and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a dark long-sleeved tee. Carefully covered up. Doc was just helping Ian back into bed when she got to the guest room.
“You had him up?” Sierra said in surprise. “I didn’t think he could walk.”
“Can shuffle,” muttered Ian. “Needed the bathroom. Damned if I was gonna let you help me with that.”
She flushed. “Right.”
Doc had clearly given him some more shots. He seemed a lot more coherent but his eyes were still faintly glazed and there was a dull stain of feverish color over his cheekbones.
“Don’t see why I can’t go home,” he muttered resentfully to Doc. “Arrhan…”
“Kurt’s taking care of that. You need to lie still. That fever’s got to run its course. You start fussing over things, it’s just going to take longer.” Doc looked toward Sierra. “When was the last time he shifted?”
“About three in the morning. He’s been human ever since.”
“That’s a good sign. Maybe we don’t need these chains anymore.”
“No!” said Ian sharply. “They stay on until I’m recovered.”
“The cat won’t hurt me,” Sierra said. “It didn’t last night and I don’t see it ever doing that. I’m not afraid of it.”
He smiled at her. “No, you’re not, are you?”
He caught her hand and drew it to his mouth. Startled, she felt his lips move sensual and soft against her palm.
“My Mouse with fangs. Always so brave,” he said and she realized with a shock that what she had always thought was an insult was not an insult at all, maybe never had been. It was a compliment. Even an endearment. “Well, I’m afraid of the cat. Of what it might do when I’m out of my head. Not gonna take any chances with you.”
Okay, when had the world turned upside down? Sierra retreated hastily to the kitchen and occupied herself with making coffee. It gave her something to do to steady herself.
She’d been too long without a man. It was as simple as that. She wasn’t the type for one-night stands and she hadn’t slept with anyone since Peter, who had made her wary of relationships anyway. It wasn’t really surprising that Ian Raeder should turn her on. All the years of attraction and temptation, of wondering what he would be like in bed.
Sexual curiosity, that’s all it was. That’s all it had to be.
Doc had helped Ian into pajama bottoms before getting him back into bed. Sierra wished he had put on the pajama top too, just so that disturbing torso of his would be covered as well. But apparently Ian disliked wearing even the bottoms and only had them on because she was around. It seemed he preferred to sleep naked.
Sierra sighed deeply. He would.
The claw marks had knitted into rusty-brown lines, the inflammation that had reddened the flesh around them now gone. Doc removed the stitches at Ian’s request.
“Skin might heal over them and then they’re a bitch to get out,” Ian explained drowsily to Sierra. “Really hurts. Know that from experience when Simon caught me a good one when we were cubs and then we left the stitches in too long.”
“Where?” asked Sierra, puzzled. There didn’t seem to be any marks on that flawless gold-tanned skin aside from the faint shadows remaining of the cuts and bruises he had picked up in the rapids.
“Right across my chest from one side to the other.”
“Just shows you how well they heal,” said Doc a little resentfully and Ian laughed at him. “Not even the slightest scar. Those claw marks will fade to white in a couple of days and be completely gone in a week.” He was probing Ian delicately. “His ribs are almost knitted and those internal injuries are healing fast.” He checked Ian’s pupils. “Concussion’s gone. Still some fever. That’ll last until he’s completely healed. He’ll be weak until then.”
“Wanna get up,” Ian complained. “Sick of lying around.”
“Want a relapse?” Doc scowled at him. “You stay in bed for the rest of today. Tomorrow you can shuffle into a chair. But you don’t do anything more strenuous than reading a book or watching TV until I tell you.”
“The ranch…”
“No,” said Doc flatly. “Taylor’s taking care of the ranch. I know you, boy. You go home, you’ll be out digging post holes or doing something equally stupid in no time. Take this, Sierra.” He handed her what looked like a miniature ping-pong paddle with prongs. “He does anything out of line, you whack him in the shoulder with that. It’s a tranq. He’ll go down like a stone.”
“Ooh! That should be fun!” Sierra grinned nastily at Ian. He groaned.
“You gonna give her power over me like that? No fair, Doc!”
“Someone’s gotta make sure you do what you’re told. Oh, regarding food. Only liquids ’til the fever’s over. Broth, eggs beaten into milk, that kind of thing.”
“Ick!” muttered Ian.
“You know you can’t handle anything else right now. Shifters!” sighed Doc. “Always have to be difficult. He’ll be ravenous once the fever’s run its course, Sierra, so prepare yourself for being eaten out of house and home then.”
“That’s okay.”
“No,” said Ian sharply. “My wallet in that suitcase, Doc?”
“Yeah.”
“Take whatever you need from there, Sierra.”
“It’s not necessary…”
“I’m causing you enough trouble as it is. Not gonna have you pay for my food as well.”
“But…”
“Owe you, Mouse.” He looked back at Doc. “Arrhan. What’s happening? I’ve got to know,” he said urgently when Doc hesitated.
“I’ll leave,” Sierra offered.
“Don’t bother. Secret’s out.” He glanced at Doc. “Just don’t use names.”
“Okay. Arrhan targeted all the non-lions. Attacked the males, set fire to the houses of the females. At least, we think he’s responsible,” said Doc, sitting down in the chair beside the bed. “No sign of arson, but what else could it be with all their homes going up in flames on the same day? There’s been one death so far, one of the cheetah males. The others are like you, pretty banged up.”
“Damn him to hell!”
Ian was snarling, his fangs out though the rest of him hadn’t shifted. That looked really scary. And sexy at the same time, thought Sierra involuntarily, then was appalled at her own reaction.
“The women with cubs have taken them and left the state this morning,” Doc was saying. “Abandoned their jobs or decided to take whatever leave they have. They say better safe than sorry and they’re not gonna get caught up in a war with some lunatic. We’ve talked the older people like the Ki…snow leps into going too. The Lo…the lions are funding everyone until this nut’s gone and they can all come back. Getting the non-lions out seems to be what this Arrhan was after. Kill the males, run off the females.”
“He wants this to be only pride country.” Ian nodded.
“The cheetah gals without cubs have stayed. So have the two cougar females. All of them are now holed up with the lions and they’re in a killing mood. Abe…uh, the male cougar’s madder’n a hornet. He and N…uh, the tiger have joined up together and are hunting Arrhan. Carrying some serious firepower. They want his skin for a rug.”
“With them on that,” muttered Ian.
“The lions are taking it personally. They’re out looking for him and there isn’t one of them won’t gut him the minute they see him.”
“Any full-humans targeted?”
“No, thank God. But who knows how long that’ll last.”
“What I can’t figure is how he’s doing it. Someone should have picked up his scent by now. And how’d he set up those attacks?”
“That’s the question.” Doc clasped his hands in front of his chin and tapped his lips thoughtfully with his two index fingers. “What exactly happened with you, Ian?”
“I’m not sure. One minute I was running along, the next something blew up in my face. Not explosives. There wasn’t any smell of chemical combustion, just this weird flare of green light. I was blinded and dazed. Then he hit me. I should have smelled him coming, but there was no scent. He’s found some way of covering that up.”
“The others said they couldn’t scent him either.”
“I don’t think he planned on my being knocked into the river. I think he wanted to kill me outright.”
“He killed one of the cheetah males and would have killed the boy’s brother if some of Kurt’s people hadn’t seen the flash and come running up in time. Abe…uh, the male cougar had his Glock 22 with him and got off three shots, which is probably what kept him from being hurt worse than a clawed thigh. He hit Arrhan dead on, so maybe those forty cal. rounds have solved the problem for us.”
“Unless he’s shot right through the head or the heart, three bullets won’t kill any Shifter, no matter what caliber,” growled Ian. “Arrhan’s probably holed up somewhere healing.”
“Well, see if you can heal faster.” Doc got to his feet. “And that means following orders.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“With all these people hunting Arrhan, you’re not needed. And don’t give Sierra any more trouble than necessary.”
Ian gave Sierra a sudden, sweet smile. “Who, me?”
“Yeah, you,” muttered Sierra. She showed Doc out, then came back to lean a shoulder on the doorjamb of Ian’s room. “This Arrhan. He’s a Shifter too?”
“Yeah.”
“So why is he causing all this trouble?”
“He’s…old school. Long story.”
“That means you’re not going to tell me.”
He frowned, thinking it over. “I think I’d better tell you. You’re caught up in the middle of things. My fault. I shouldn’t have come here.”
“You’d have died otherwise.”
“Even so,” he said almost to himself. She saw that he meant it, that if he had been in his right mind he would never have come.
“Why did you?”
He said nothing, just ran a hand over his eyes. His lips compressed tightly, their corners pointing with strain.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly. “What about this Arrhan?”
“He… I’d better start from the beginning,” he said and rubbed his hands roughly back and forth over his head. Strands of that pale-gold hair fell over his forehead.
Bed hair really looks hot on him
, Sierra thought, then bit her lip. “Um, do you know about dimensions?”
“Science fiction stuff. Heard about it.”
“Science fact. All us Shifters originally came from another dimension. My great-great etceteras came through around 1830, made the adjustment, started the spread, stayed here ever since. The pride of lions in Wade County goes back to before 1776. The others in the state—cheetahs, wolves, whatever—they’re from different times, different places.”
She went and sat down in the armchair by the bed. “What brought all of you to this world? Was it by accident or on purpose?”
He pushed himself higher, wincing a little, to lean back against the headboard. Sierra reached out to help and he shook his head at her.
“From the tales passed down, only a few by accident. Most were outlaws either cast out or fleeing deserved justice on the other side of the Gates. The ones in Europe and Russia go back a couple of millennia. I guess that’s where the stories about werewolves started.”
“Gates?”
“That’s what we call the passageways between dimensions. Some people on that side have the ability to open them.”
“Not this side?”
“Unfortunately, no.” He shrugged ruefully. “We’re stranded here.”