Tiger Mate (Silverlake Shifters Book 3) Read online

  And Nash had been so sure Grant wasn’t targeting his pack. Surprise.

  Sophia still wasn’t moving—she was staring at Jesse with those bright green eyes, growling low in her throat.

  Jesse knelt down in front of her and looked into her eyes. “Come on,” he said. “Stay human.” Normally he’d say they were better off in wolf form, but not if she was going to go rogue. She might attack Jesse instead—or she might get stuck in wolf form and not be able to change back.

  Just when he thought he wasn’t going to be able to get through to her, she stood up and straightened her skirt. The stiletto heels on her shoes sank into the soft ground, and she looked down at them, frowning with confusion.

  Fuck Nash Jenkins and his southern belles all to hell. Why didn’t any of them ever dress in normal, practical clothes?

  Jesse put his arms around Sophia and swept her right out of her shoes. She didn’t respond, but at least she didn’t fight him. Keeping low, he moved to the end of the truck and stopped short. Three men stepped out of the underbrush, all with rifles in their hands. No. Make that two rifles, and…shit. A trank gun.

  Jesse pushed Sophia back behind the truck and flung himself at the nearest gunman, shifting as he went. His clothes slithered off him and he was on the first man before he had a chance to react. Jesse’s teeth closed on one of his arms and he dropped the rifle, cursing. Jesse slashed him with his claws for good measure, then dropped to his haunches and immediately launched himself at another one, hoping desperately that Sophia had enough awareness left to run.

  Then, behind him, he heard a feral snarl that made his blood run cold. As he leaped through the air, he caught a glimpse of orange fur, huge canines, and crazy green eyes.

  Holy shit. Sophia had turned into a tiger.

  That second of stunned disbelief was one second too many. It gave Jesse’s target just enough time to twist away from his attack, and Jesse’s teeth only grazed his rifle arm. He fell awkwardly out of his leap, and the man turned and landed a heavy kick in his ribs, cracking one.

  The tiger lunged at the third man, raking her huge claws down his torso, shredding his body armor and the soft belly underneath it. He screamed, and the tiger tore out his throat. Then she turned and crouched, lashing her tail.

  Jesse and his attacker both froze. The tiger’s eyes landed on Jesse—on the ground, obviously wounded. The weaker prey.

  There was no recognition in her eyes.

  Moving slowly, Jesse got his legs under him. His attacker’s attention was on Sophia, and the barrel of his rifle was edging upwards. One good head shot would kill her.

  Sophia’s crouch grew deeper, and her hindquarters shifted in preparation to attack Jesse. If she did that, they both would die.

  There was a soft hiss and a “thunk,” and a tranquilizer dart blossomed in the tiger’s shoulder. She gave a whine of confusion and batted at it with one giant paw.

  Three more men came out of the woods, all armed. Jesse scrambled to his feet and backed up, edging toward Sophia. He knew he was outnumbered and outgunned, but he couldn’t let them take her.

  “Get him!”

  Jesse dodged a dart from a trank gun and turned on the nearest attacker. He wished vainly that his wolf was a fighter like Kane, or Rafe, or Jace. They could take on odds like this and have a hell of a lot better chance than he did. But he’d be damned if he let them take Sophia without fighting with every ounce of his strength to save her.

  Jesse launched himself at the men with a raging howl.

  This was gonna hurt.

  He fought to the bitter end, teeth and claws, not giving up until a two darts buried themselves in his side and the darkness took him.

  Chapter 10

  Jesse woke in a brightly lit room, lying naked on a hard floor. He had the mother of all headaches, and his tongue tasted like someone had rubbed cotton in shit and then stuck it in his mouth.

  He was also mottled with bruises, and his ribs ached. But the bruises were fading from purple to green, so he must have been unconscious for hours. Long enough for his shifter abilities to start to heal them.

  Slowly, everything came back to him. They’d been captured by a well-armed, well-organized team. They’d been prepared with trank guns, and they hadn’t been surprised when Jesse had changed form. They knew he and Sophia were shifters.

  Sophia! Jesse sat up, gritting his teeth against the pain in his head. What had happened to Sophia? Was she okay?

  He was in a small concrete room lit by fluorescent lights, with a mattress on the floor, a few thin blankets, and a door that seemed to lead to a bathroom. Opposite that was a heavy metal security door.

  And sprawled on the floor on the other side of the room was a seven-hundred-pound tiger, passed out.

  Jesse sank to the floor. He’d failed. He hadn’t been able to get Sophia away. And he hadn’t been able to protect her. Now they’d both been captured.

  And she was so terrified, she’d shifted into tiger form. Nash had said she’d never done it before, which meant it must have been a panic change. That meant she might not be able to shift back. And she might not be able to tell her friends from her enemies.

  They were fucked. Jesse was completely fucked, because if her tiger was feral, then it would tear him to pieces in minutes. Tigers were the most lethal killing machines in the world. His wolf couldn’t stand up to a rogue tiger that weighed twice what he did and had claws like machetes. Hell, it couldn’t even stand up to his pack mates.

  The lock on the security door clanged. Jesse stood up, not wanting his enemies to see him huddled on the floor. He didn’t want to appear weak, even though fighting obviously wasn’t going to get him out of this. He wasn’t strong enough—he’d never been strong enough. His strengths were mad computer skills and tough negotiations.

  Negotiating naked wasn’t optimal, but it was what he had. He drew himself up to his full height and put some attitude into his stance.

  The door clanged open, and three men walked into the room. Two had trank guns, like the men in the forest, and long metal batons. The third was dressed in an impeccable, custom-tailored business suit. Every strand of his blond hair was in place, and he had piercing blue eyes in a handsome face. Or rather—it used to be handsome. A line of red, angry, parallel scars ran down one whole side of his face.

  Claw marks. Courtesy of Jace Monroe. The sight gave Jesse a little surge of satisfaction.

  Okay. First rule of negotiations—don’t wait for your opponent to start.

  “Alexander Grant,” Jesse said. He looked the other man up and down, insolently. “Lookin’ good, man. I see Jace’s special makeover has made you prettier than ever. Emma says ‘Hi,’ by the way.”

  He was rewarded with a red flush that traveled up Grant’s neck. Jesse already had him off balance.

  He gave Jesse a contemptuous look. “For God’s sake, put your junk away,” he said. “I don’t want to look at a grown man’s dick.”

  Jesse didn’t move. “Gosh, I think I forgot my clothes when your men drugged and kidnapped me. My bad.”

  Grant made a motion with his hand, and one of his minions tossed a gym bag at Jesse’s feet. Jesse picked it up. Inside were several sets of sweats. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and took his time putting them on, eyes on Grant the whole time.

  He did feel better clothed—a little less vulnerable, though he knew that was an illusion. The good news was that if these men were armed with trank guns, they didn’t want to kill him.

  Not yet, anyway.

  He just had to figure out what they did want.

  Grant was looking him up and down, still with that contemptuous sneer. Jesse was unimpressed. Kane had been sneering at him for his entire life, and he was better at it.

  “So,” Grant said. “This is the infamous Kane. Not what I was expecting. I thought you’d be one of the big ones.”

  What the hell? Jesse’s negotiator’s mind started clicking into gear. Grant thought he was Kane, so he knew Kane was supp
osed to be escorting Sophia back to Idaho. And Grant knew the date of departure had been changed. But he didn’t know they’d changed escorts.

  So what did that mean? Who had tipped Grant off, and why was the info incomplete?

  “What do you want, Grant?” Jesse said.

  Grant said, “Nothing you can give me, prick. Oh wait, maybe you can. You see, I want that bastard Jace Monroe—the one who did this to my face. I want Emma to know what it’s like to lose something she cares about, even if it is just an animal. And for her to remember that no one—no one—crosses Alexander Grant.”

  He paused. “And I want to make a shit ton of money. Because who doesn’t?”

  He nudged the guy next to him and laughed, and the minion joined in with a forced laugh of his own. Grant didn’t even seem to notice how fake it was. His eyes were glittering manically.

  This guy was chock-full of crazy, Jesse realized. He watched how the minions stayed out of his line of sight, not wanting to draw his attention.

  They were scared of him.

  That could be bad, because it meant that Grant was unpredictable. Or it could be good, because they might be persuaded to turn on him.

  “Let me talk to Jace,” he said. “He’s a reasonable alpha. If it’s ransom you’re after, I’m sure I can get him to come to terms with you. Silverlake has significant assets.”

  They actually didn’t, except for Silverlake Mountain itself. But Grant didn’t need to know that.

  The other man snorted contemptuously. “You’re joking, right? The Silverlake pack’s entire assets don’t add up to pocket change for me.”

  But Nash’s did. Jesse realized that as soon as the words came out of Grant’s mouth. He could try to ransom them to Nash Jenkins. Which would put Silverlake in deep, deep debt to the Nashville pack. Debt Jace might never get out of.

  Jesse said, “What, you’re going to hold Nash up for our ransom? Or is it business concessions you want?”

  Grant laughed again. “Oh, either of those would be nice, but that’s not what I have in mind.” He looked at Jesse. “You’re going to be my bait,” he said. “You fucking wolves are so loyal. Jace Monroe will come for you. And maybe I’ll kill him.”

  He cocked his head as if he were thinking. “Or I could send him back to Emma maimed. Maybe missing a limb or two. And his balls. See how Emma likes him once he’s been fixed.” Grant threw back his head and laughed.

  Jesse had to work to keep his face impassive. He knew Jace would come, and bring the whole pack with him. And he would bet that they were in a very secure facility, one that would cost many lives to breach.

  He’d been right the first time. They were fucked.

  “And what about Sophia?” he said.

  “Ah,” Grant said. “Your lovely mate-to-be. Well, I could ransom her. But Nash Jenkins doesn’t care much about her, to tell the truth. I can get a lot more for her on the black market.”

  Jesse felt sick. “What are you talking about?”

  There’d been hints of a black market in exotic shifters. Rafe’s mate, Terin, had been hunted because she was a rare white wolf. They’d suspected Alexander Grant might be behind it, but they’d never found any concrete evidence.

  Was that what this place had been built for? As a holding pen for shifters? How long had he known about them?

  Grant said, “There’s a very lucrative market in shifters. Skinned, stuffed, made into rugs—quite the collector’s item.”

  Bile rose in Jesse’s throat. “If you lay one hand on her—”

  Grant laughed again, but this time it was low and evil. “I’d love to skin you and Monroe personally. In fact, I think I might. But for her—a lovely female beast like that? I have buyers that want her alive. Shifter women make enchanting pets, if they’re properly trained.”

  Jesse couldn’t help himself. He shifted and lunged at Grant.

  One of the thugs stepped forward with his baton, and Jesse felt the jolt of a taser. The electrical impulses zinged through him like bottled lightning, and his whole body seized. And then he found himself flat on the floor, in human form.

  “Funny thing,” Grant said. “I’ve found that with the exact right voltage, you can shock a shifter right back into human form. Eventually, you can teach them to shift only when they’re told to.”

  Jesse lay on the floor, quivering. “F-fuck you,” he managed.

  Grant walked over and nudged him with the toe of his expensive loafers. He had the long baton in his hand.

  “Once the trainer gets his original message across, he can go to more refined discipline.” Grant touched Jesse with the end of the baton, and another, smaller jolt of electricity arced through him. It was all he could do not to scream with the pain.

  “Like I said,” Grant told him, “proper training is everything.”

  He turned and walked to the door, his men keeping Jesse covered. Once there, he tossed the baton at Jesse. It clattered to the floor. “Here. Maybe you can keep your kitty-cat in line until Monroe shows up. It’ll be entertaining to see you try.”

  He walked out, followed by his minions.

  The door slid shut, the lock clanging like a death knell.

  And behind him, he heard the tiger stirring.

  Chapter 11

  Sophia woke slowly, feeling like her whole body had been put through a meat grinder.

  As soon as her mind was fully awake, it panicked. Danger! Attack! Danger! Attack! But her body wouldn’t obey her. Her claws went out, and she struggled, but it was hard to get to her feet. Her legs went in all directions. She snarled. Flailed.

  Finally she got herself upright. Cage. Locked in. Door. She struggled to the door and threw herself against it. Once. Twice. Three times. But it was solid. Wouldn’t budge. Have to get out. Danger! Danger!

  She threw her head back and gave a wild roar. Get out! Now! Now!

  Suddenly she heard a soft, soothing voice behind her. She couldn’t understand what it was saying—she was too frightened. Had to fight. Enemies! Enemies everywhere!

  She swung around. Man. She sniffed. Man-wolf. Not pack. Enemy. Enemy. He was holding a shock stick, like her alpha. She crouched down, growling. Tear. Bite. Hurt. Kill.

  The man didn’t back away. But he didn’t threaten. He stood very still. His voice was kind. Soothing. Not afraid. He smelled afraid, but he sounded nice.

  But he had the shock stick. Sophia stared at it, giving a soft snarl.

  The man saw her looking at the shock stick. Slowly, he crouched and put it down on the floor behind him. He stepped forward, away from it.

  Sophia eyed him. Enemy, her inner voice said. Not pack. But he was still talking. His hands were at his sides, palms out, relaxed. She liked the sound of his voice. It made her feel better. Calmed her inside.

  As she got calmer, she could make out the words.

  “You’re okay, sweetheart. Don’t be scared. Everything’s okay. We’re going to be fine. Come on back, and we’ll figure this out together.”

  She blinked, her muscles relaxing bit by bit. She stopped growling, and she felt her tail stop lashing.

  He took a slow step toward her. She cocked her head. Was he dangerous? Maybe not. He’d put away the nasty shock stick. Maybe he would keep talking. Maybe he would be nice. Not hurt her.

  “That’s it,” he was saying. “You’re okay. You’re Sophia, remember? You like high heels and nice clothes. And…um…baking. Remember baking?”

  She struggled to remember. She knew the words, and the words gave her good feelings.

  “You told me last night,” he said. “You’re going to try making baklava next. Layers of pastry, and butter, and honey. Honey’s good. Nice and sweet.”

  The memory of a taste flooded her mouth. Suddenly the picture of a baklava burst into her head. Pastry and nuts, and honey on her hands.

  She was supposed to have hands.

  She looked down at herself. She had paws. She knew she could have hands if she wanted, but she couldn’t remember how.
/>   The man had walked right up to her now. Jesse. His name was Jesse. She remembered mating with him. He smelled wonderful. So good. He made her feel safe.

  He slowly reached out his hand to her. She butted her head up against it, loving his scent. She felt a purr start in her chest.

  “That’s it,” he was saying, stroking her fur. “You’re okay. You can come back now.”

  She remembered what it felt like to be in his arms, to touch him with her hands. Her lips. She looked down at her paws again, and remembered how to make them into hands. The fur rippled and retreated, and she felt the bone-crunching, body melting of the change. In a moment she was a woman again, huddled on the cold concrete floor, naked and shivering.

  She felt Jesse’s muscles sag with relief. “Geez, that was close,” he muttered. He crouched down to her eye level, hand still on her hair, and put his forehead against her bowed head. “You okay?”

  She nodded silently, but it was a lie. She wasn’t okay. She’d gone tiger, like a crazy person, and she didn’t know what she’d done when she was changed. It was all a blur—blood and pain and fear, men and guns and teeth and claws. She couldn’t remember anything clearly, except that she’d almost attacked Jesse a minute ago.

  The thought of ripping into him with her claws, blood and muscle and bone, made her feel sick.

  And he was still holding her, as if she deserved his sympathy. As if she wasn’t a rogue monster that should be put down.

  “You sure?” he asked. “Panic changes can be terrifying. And Nash said your tiger’s never manifested before. It’s okay if you’re freaked out.”

  A surge of relief swept through her. He didn’t realize she’d changed to tiger before. He didn’t know her secret.

  She took a deep breath. “It was awful,” she said. That part was totally true. “I can’t really remember most of it, but I remember wanting to attack you. My tiger was so scared she couldn’t understand what you were saying at first. She didn’t even know who you were. That you were a…a friend.”