Tiger Eye (36 page)

“Show me,” she said. “I want to see it all.”

He stared at her, and clarity seemed to return—accompanied by a smile so joyous Dela laughed out loud with delight. Hari kissed her hard and then rolled away, slipping off the bed, shifting as he moved. This time, light shimmered around his body, golden and sheer, sparkling like sun on rippling water until a tiger—a real full-formed tiger—stalked around the room, muscles gliding beneath glorious skin. Hari walked to Dela’s side of the bed and set a giant paw in her lap. She sat up, touched his face. Scratched behind his ears. Laughed again, softer this time.

When Hari shifted, it was slow, as though he savored every
change within his body, tasting the swing from beast to man, until, finally, he knelt before her, a thin sheen of sweat covering his naked body. His gaze burned.

“You healed me. You healed my heart and gave me back my skin.” Laughter burst from his throat, bright. He grabbed Dela’s hands, pressing kisses on her palms, and then her face, her throat. He worshipped her with his mouth, tears spilling from his eyes. Dela found herself crying with him, and she clutched his shoulders, tangling her fingers in his hair.

“Does this mean the curse is broken?”

Uncertainty slipped into Hari’s gaze. “I do not know. Command me, Delilah. Anything.”

Dela hesitated, and Hari kissed her. “It will be all right. I do not mind.”

She
minded, but thought for a moment and said, “Thou shalt … thou shalt stand.”

She knew the truth even as the words left her mouth. Power hummed in the air, a devastating thread of cool horror touching her lips, caressing her throat. She felt the power of the box coalesce inside her body, and for one awful moment, she was its mistress—the wellspring of life and pain and death.

The look on Hari’s face alone was enough to make her sick. He gave the impression of a tree being strangled by an immense vine. With excruciating sluggishness, he rose to his feet.

Dela began to cry in earnest, but her tears were no longer joyful.

“Delilah,” Hari said softly, his face etched with pain. “I cannot come to you until … until you release me from your command.”

She choked. “Thou shalt do as you please.”

Hari instantly relaxed. He crawled onto the bed beside Dela, wrapping his arms around her waist, drawing her unresisting body into his lap. She clasped him, tight. For a long time they silently held each other.

“I thought your skin was the key,” Dela finally breathed.

“As did I.” Hari looked down at her face, and something soft fluttered in his sorrowful eyes. He kissed her palm, her wrist, achingly gentle.

“You have given me a great gift,” he said. “The least of which is my skin. As long as I can live as your mate, it does not matter to me if I am bound by the box.”

“I want you to have your freedom, Hari. More than anything else in this world.”

“You have already given me freedom.” He gently pressed her down upon the bed, caressing her face. “There is so much to celebrate, Delilah. So much to be thankful for. This is a small thing.”

It’s not a small thing, and you and I both know it.
Still, she said nothing. It would only cast a deeper pall, and Hari was trying so hard to forget—to make
her
forget.

Dela kissed him, desperate and clumsy, and he joined her with equal passion. He clutched her, and his hands were kisses, smothering her body with a wide-planed warmth that sheered heat to bone.

Hari smoothed back Dela’s hair. “If we were in my own time, I would steal you away to a secret place. A home, built just for you. I would show you all the wonders of the forest and mountains. Every day, my only goal would be to make you happy, safe.”

“You can do that here,” Dela reminded him.

“And I will.” He sighed, passing a hand over his face. “I wish we had more time alone. We have so much to talk about.”

“So much to do,” she said impishly.

Hari laughed, shadows fleeing his eyes. “I cannot tell you how shocked I was to wake and find that not only had I changed shape, but that you were still looking at me as a man.”

Dela blushed. “I expected you to pull away.”

“Oh, no.” Hari hugged her tight. “That was a celebration in itself. You do not know how rare it is for shape-shifters to find human mates who do not fear the beast.”

“Why?” Dela asked. “You’re still …
you.
Just, inside fur.”

“I do not know, Delilah. Perhaps, confronted with the animal, it finally becomes clear we are not human. That we carry the seed of something strange and dangerous. It can be very frightening.”

“Oh, you’re still frightening. Just not to me.”

Hari’s smile was infinitely tender. “You were never scared of me, Delilah. You saw past two thousand years of masks wrought from pain, and found the man who had been lost.”

Dela’s blush deepened. Hari laughed at her discomfort, and kissed her shoulder. “I was so angry at being summoned, and there you were, wrapped in the smallest scrap of cloth I had ever seen, defying and honoring me at the same time.”

“Best disappointment you ever received, huh?”

“A miracle.” He kissed her, and she buried her hands in his hair; then lower, digging her nails into his shoulders. He growled, and she felt fur sprout beneath her palms, against the length of her body. Thick hard heat pressed against Dela’s thigh, and she reached down and touched him.

“Do you want me as a tiger or a man?” Hari’s voice rasped low, hungry. His eyes glowed.

“I love you either way,” Dela said, stroking him. Hari trembled, and Dela lay back, watching his body change above her, savoring the warm glow of golden light bathing her skin. Eerie and exciting and bizarre; muscles tightened, expanded. His face elongated, cheekbones spreading outward, lifting—but his eyes, those passionate eyes, stayed the same.

Hari bent his head. When his tongue rasped her breast, she rose off the bed, whimpering. She grabbed great handfuls of fur as he continued his exploration, licking and nuzzling his way
down her ribs and stomach, lower still. He paused between her thighs, and the look in his eyes as he watched her panting seemed distinctly amused.

“Just wait until it’s
your
turn,” she warned him, breathless. His mouth opened in a toothy grin.

Dela lost track of time, all sense of control. Hari was relentless; gentle, yet firm as he played with her body, driving her over the edge again and again. When Dela finally took his thickness into her mouth, resting her cheek on his belly as she sucked and stroked, Hari changed, took her in his arms and made love to her.

Afterwards they lay together, foreheads touching, sharing breath. Dela’s thighs felt damp, her body heavy. A thought occurred to her, but it was unpleasant. It must have shown in her eyes because Hari nudged her ribs. “What is it, Delilah?”

She hesitated. “Before … when you were forced to have sex with your mistresses … do you think any of them became pregnant?”

Hari’s lips tightened; his entire body coiled in on itself. Dela reached for him, cold, and he relaxed enough to tuck her deeper into his embrace.

“I try not to think of it,” he said. “Many of the women refused my seed. They feared I would give them a child, and that later, their husbands would realize they were not the father.”

“Your appearance and abilities are fairly distinctive,” Dela agreed. “But the possibility exists?”

“Yes,” he said heavily. “But I hope it is not so. It is one of my great fears, that I left a child alone to face the world. A shape-shifter, growing up without guidance, unaware of the changes in his body. That is, if he was allowed to grow at all.”

Hari placed his large hand over Dela’s belly, holding her gently. “Do you think …?”

She covered his hand. “I hope so. Do you want a boy or a girl?”

He kissed her. “Both.”

“Nothing will happen to our children,” she promised. Hari nodded, solemn.

A door slammed. Dela heard familiar voices, the approach of feet.

“Yo—Dela, Hari! You guys in there?” It was Dean, sounding as though his ear was pressed to the door.

“Go away!” Dela yelled, Hari growling.

“Just making sure you guys hadn’t been kidnapped,” he groused, but his footsteps quickly receded.

Hari and Dela looked at each other, and shook their heads.

“We will have a home far from all people,” he said. “And I will continuously make love to you.”

“You do that already,” Dela said, sliding out of bed. “Every time you look at me.”

Chapter Sixteen

They held a ceremony over Adam’s ashes that evening, driving out to Barrymore Park, a scenic overlook on the edge of the city. The sun threw out arms of crimson and gold, the brilliant light bathing the river and trees, as well as the gathered men and woman, in the hushed, vibrant aura of dusk.

“I’m still going to miss you,” Dela said, holding the simple metal box containing Adam’s remains. Hari glanced at her friends, who wore conflicting expressions of sorrow—for Dela’s sake, he supposed—and hard grimaces.

Hari understood. Though Adam had suffered tremendous loss, he had murdered a child. An unforgivable crime.

Dela leaned against the guardrail and opened the box. She dumped Adam’s ashes over the high cliff, and Hari watched them shimmer down and away, lost.

Everyone is lost at death
, he reminded himself.
Though it is a sadder thing when you become lost in life.

Dela did not cry. She fumbled with the box, struggling to
shut its lid. Hari took the object from her, drawing her close with his free hand. He kissed her brow. After a moment, she pushed away.

“Do you guys think I could have a moment? I just want to stand here for a bit, and …” She shrugged, helpless. “I don’t know. Just give me a sec, okay?”

The men walked back to the car. Dela remained behind, a small figure leaning against the wooden rail, her blond hair glowing in the fading light.

Blue leaned against the black Land Cruiser, and glanced at Hari. “How’s she handling all this?”

Hari felt the weight of all their stares, and sighed. “Delilah is still saddened by Adam’s betrayal, but what you see is her true face. She is not hiding any deeper agony. I think, though, she will no longer put such faith in her instincts.”

“That’s a shame.” Eddie ducked his head, folding his arms against his chest. “I mean, I don’t know her as well as any of you, but that has to be one of the things that made her feel safe. Knowing how to read people, knowing she was always right about their motives.”

“She was not wrong about Adam,” Artur said, surprising them. “His motives toward Dela, anyway, were pure. She will realize that in time.”

Hari watched Dela’s slender back, hoping that would be the case. If not, he was comforted by the fact that Dela was not alone. She had friends to remind her of her gifts, to renew her faith in trust, loyalty. Love.

In the distance, crows cawed; leaves rustled in the cool breeze. Dela patted the rail, and finally turned to walk back to them. Hari met her eyes, and for a moment felt her love pour into him, strong and pure.

And then the air between them broke apart with the sounds
of gunfire. Bullets slammed into the car, the ground, whining and spitting.

“On the hill!” shouted Dean, reaching for his weapon.

Hari was already stripping off his clothes, tearing the cloth like paper. Even as the other men took cover, he ran toward Dela, who was pressed flat against the ground with her hands over her head.

Bullets entered Hari’s shoulder; he shook off the pain and flung himself on top of Dela’s body. Struggling to kick off his jeans, he pressed his lips to her ear.

“We must move,” he said, and she nodded with a sharp jerk of her chin. Shoving off the last of his clothes, Hari changed shape, splitting form with a thought, his vision swimming gold. Beneath him, Dela gasped.

More bullets struck him, burrowing deep, striking bone. Hari growled, and nudged Dela with his nose. She did not hesitate; carefully pushing herself up on all fours, she began crawling toward the car with Hari pressed against her side, protecting her from the bullets with his larger mass. In his human shape, he would not have been able to shield her so thoroughly.

Dean and the others were pinned behind the Land Cruiser. Bullets riddled the metal frame. A metallic roar filled Hari’s ears and he watched with alarm as three large cars sped into the parking lot.

Two of the cars’ engines suddenly exploded into flames. Men scrambled from the vehicle interiors, shouting. The third car pulled away from the others, driving straight at Hari and Dela. The engine roared.

Dela flung out her hands. The car slowed, swerving, but the driver pulled hard on the wheel and regained control, barreling down upon them. Dela’s face contorted with pain, and Hari flung himself around her body.

The car never hit them. Its engine sputtered, dying, and Hari glimpsed Blue peering around the battered fender of the Land Cruiser, his eyes hard, his jaw working.

Men—faces twisted in grimaces of desperation—piled out of the stalled car, some of them shooting the Land Cruiser, others aiming at Dela and Hari.

“Call her off or we’ll kill you!” one of them shouted, his eyes bloodshot, wild. “Do it!”

Dela stared, helpless. “Call off who?”

Hari did not care what the men wanted; they smelled crazy, like murder. Shouldering Dela into nearby bushes, he leapt at the speaker, claws extended for the kill. The terrified man got off one shot, but the impact of the bullet did not slow Hari. The blood rage was upon him, hot and sweet. Hari batted aside the weapon and sank his teeth into the man’s throat. Blood spilled into his mouth. The beast savored the taste.

Thunder—pain riddled his ribs, but it was nothing—nothing—and he whirled on the men shooting him, claws arcing in the fading light, ripping and tearing into flesh. Distant cries filled his ears, and men dropped weapons that glowed red-hot. Artur, Dean, and Blue rolled out from behind the Land Cruiser, guns trained on the unarmed men. Eddie followed close behind, drenched in sweat, his eyes dark with concentration. The guns continued to glow. Up on the hill the snipers stopped shooting.