Tiger Eye

by Marjorie M. Liu

  “And that’s all it’s been?” Dela asked, appalled. “Fighting, being used as a weapon? In all the time you’ve been summoned, haven’t you ever known joy?”

  “They could not break me,” Hari whispered. “And so I remembered joy, and took it where I could. In a bite of food, in blue sky, the wind. I found joy in protecting my masters’ children, who were innocent. I lived, moment to moment, and that is how I survived. Me,” he said, touching his chest. “Not just my body. Me.”

  Dela grasped Hari’s hand. She felt power coil in his grip, immense strength, but his fingers were achingly gentle as they wrapped around her wrist, stroking skin.

  “And now?” she asked softly.

  “I still live moment to moment,” he said, “but now I live in joy.”

  Dela’s breath caught, warmth engulfing her, desire making her slick with hunger for Hari’s body, his heart. She had never wanted anyone so much, so fast. Electricity filled the air; stunning and hot. For now they were just holding hands, but Dela’s mouth went dry as she imagined their hands holding other parts of their bodies.

  The sounds of screeching metal cut through her ears, her head—so close both she and Hari bolted from their chairs. Hari squeezed Dela’s hand as she struggled for breath, dazed, trying to understand how the decorative railing beside their table could have come off the wall, warped and crushed like an iron ribbon.

  A lounge attendant hurried over. Dela felt the stares of everyone in the room. She met Hari’s eyes, heard his unspoken thoughts.

  You did this.

  She wanted to protest, to tell him it was impossible, that she was not so strong, but the words died in her throat. There was no other explanation. Her affinity was tied to metal. She had destroyed the railing without thinking of it. Her mind had expelled an excess of energy without focus or intent.

  Fear shivered down Dela’s spine. She had dealt with the effects of uncontrolled telekinesis during her adolescence, but even then she never had been able to break or lift things. Bend spoons, maybe—dent her dad’s car or scratch up all her jewelry.

  As an adult, she had to concentrate to make things move, and even then she was limited to metal—her art, her weapons. Which was good. Very good. Dela did not want to think about the trouble spontaneous telekinesis could get her in.

  There was no good explanation to give the lounge attendant. Dela pretended stunned amazement—not very difficult, given the circumstances. She and Hari quickly left.

  “I suppose that was unintentional,” he said, as they walked to their gate.

  “Uh-huh.” She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone had left the lounge to watch them. All clear. “I’ve never been able to break things like that. Even if I could, it shouldn’t have happened without actually focusing on the railing.”

  “There was power between us. I felt it surround me.”

  “Oh,” Dela said weakly. “I’m sorry.”

  Hari stopped walking and drew her close.

  “Do not ever be sorry for who you are,” he told her, the coarse tone of his voice softened by the genuine concern in his eyes. “This power is part of you, just as the tiger is part of me. You would not expect me to be sorry for the things I can do, would you?”

  “No,” she said immediately.

  “Then look at this as a gift.” Hari’s affectionate smile turned devilish. He leaned close, breath hot against her ear. “Just imagine, Delilah, what you might do if we kissed like mates.”

  Dela didn’t know how “kissing like mates” would be any different from regular kissing, but she couldn’t wait to find out, erratic powers be damned. Let the entire airport come down!

  Hari was still bent over her. Dela tried to kiss him. He smiled and pulled away, a finger against her mouth.

  “We should wait,” he said, and Dela—feeling very, very bad—took his finger in her mouth, sucking hard, swirling her tongue over his hot skin. Hari’s eyes widened, a deep flush staining his neck. For a moment she thought she heard him growl.

  Dela abruptly released him, smacking her lips. Completely oblivious to all the men who suddenly watched her with intense interest, she flounced off toward their gate. “You’re right,” she called over her shoulder, grinning. “We should wait.”

  When Hari finally caught up with her, he had taken off his jacket and was holding it in front of him. Dela wisely refrained from making any teasing remarks. It was going to be a long enough flight without creating more sparks. The way things were going, she might just depressurize the plane.

  Lovely. Just don’t think about having sex with Hari.

  Dela would have laughed hysterically, but there were already too many people staring at her—well, at Hari really, although she received her own speculative glances. Probably wondering how a chick like her ended up with Mr. I’m Too Sexy for this Millennium.

  The flight attendants were worse. When Hari stepped on the plane, bending over to get through the door, she thought bras and panties would spontaneously explode, or at least magically appear from beneath hastily discarded clothing. She saw one older woman fiddling with the buttons on her blouse, “accidentally” undoing several of them.

  Roland had reserved them seats at the very front of the plane. First class was almost empty, peacefully quiet except for the clink of glasses and the occasional sounds of flight attendants talking in the galley. Dela would not have been surprised if Roland had bought out most of the empty seats surrounding them.

  “This is a very small space,” Hari commented mildly, gazing around the cabin through narrowed eyes. He sat straight, rigid like there was a metal bar up his ass. Very uncomfortable. Dela remembered the elevator.

  “Just close your eyes,” she soothed. “Would you like a drink? Wine? Something stronger?”

  “No.” He wrapped his fingers around her hand and took a deep breath. “I will be fine.”

  Dela kissed his cheek. “This won’t be so bad. You can relax and sleep. Security is so tight, no one will be able to bring a weapon on board. No knives, no assassins, and I doubt the Magi thought we would leave China so quickly. Even if he can track you, we’ve at least given ourselves a head start. Anyone who has to get around town in a cab won’t be following us immediately.”

  “Perhaps,” Hari said, voice tight, eyes focused on the wall directly in front of them. His palm felt sweaty, and Dela gulped. He wasn’t going to freak out, was he? This flight was thirteen hours long.

  “Hari?” She stroked his hand as the doors closed and the plane began to move. The pre-flight informational session commenced, a deep-throated woman speaking over the intercom system, detailing safety measures and FAA regulations. Several flight attendants swished by, ostensibly to make sure everything was upright, in the locked position.

  When one overly eager woman with itchy fingers began helping Hari with his seatbelt, he came out of his claustrophobic trance, catching her hands in just one of his.

  “I will do it,” he said firmly. The flight attendant gave a little moue, cast Dela a dirty look, and returned to the back of the cabin.

  “Good call.” Dela grinned, as Hari began fumbling with his seatbelt. “Um,” she said, when he had no luck buckling it, “do you want me to help with that?”

  “Please,” he whispered. “I have not felt this incompetent since the first time I picked up a sword.”

  Dela giggled, reaching over to work on the seatbelt. It really wasn’t so easy getting the thing put together, and her face grew hot with the image of her hands fumbling so close to the noticeable bulge in Hari’s jeans.

  Holy hot rocks, Batman. Catwoman has come to town, and she means to play.

  “Why are you taking so long?” Hari growled. Dela glanced at his strained face; his mouth was set, something hard pulsing in his throat. His golden eyes were glowing. Literally, glowing.

  “Um,” she said, momentarily frozen. The buckle snapped into place and she snatched her hands away from his lap.

  “How many hours did you say we will be in here
?” The glow diminished only slightly.

  “Thirteen,” she said in a tiny voice.

  Something ragged escaped his throat. “Delilah?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you remember our discussion about control?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Good. Please do not come near me again, or else I might just forget I have any.”

  Dela shivered, her nipples growing hard against her t-shirt. Hari quickly shut his suddenly radiant eyes.

  Oh, yes. It was going to be a very long flight.

  He did not dare touch her until she slept, and even then, his fingers were careful, light. Hours into the flight, the lights had been turned down until only his enhanced sight allowed him to see with any clarity the soft lines of her face, the invitation of her lips.

  Dela was the only thing keeping him sane. The darkness, the confined space—it was too much. Hari did not recall what time spent in the box felt like—he was, thankfully, asleep—but he was still part tiger, and the beast inside him hated confinement.

  Hari shifted quietly. He needed to stand, walk and stretch, but he did not want to leave Dela’s side. He did not trust her assurances of security on this strange vessel. Dela, despite her courage and intelligence, seemed rather naïve when it came to her safety. She was obviously used to a secure, comfortable world where paranoia was unnecessary to survival. Not that Hari could truly count himself an expert, either. He had never tried to keep his masters alive beyond the strictest interpretation of their commands, and because he was immortal, personal safety had never been a concern.

  So taking care of anyone was fairly new to him. His only advantage was that he had been witness to much more violence than Dela, exposed to darkness, the insidious creeping of small, cold hearts. Hari expected cruelty, betrayal. Dela did not.

  But I am the fool, he thought, reliving the terror of that morning. So stupid—he never should have let her go off alone—but the call of the mysterious shape-shifter’s scent had been too strong, a compulsion he could not shrug off. He had to follow—had been too weak to stop himself.

  And that had almost cost Dela her life.

  Too close. His heart still wanted to stop, stuttering with agony every time he recalled the sight of her assassin lifting his hand. The shout, torn from his throat, had made Dela turn—just in time, just in time.

  Hari watched her sleep, wishing he could pull her into his arms. He needed the reassurance of her cool scent, the slide of her soft skin against his own. He needed to know she was real—that this was not some strange dream. But if he kissed her now, if he touched more than her hand, he would forget himself. The beast was calling for her, hungry for her taste, her scent.

  She is human, but if I had met her in my day, before the curse, I would still have taken her as my mate. Wooed her in the shadows of the forest, away from prying eyes, under the green canopy and blue sky.

  And now? Now what would he do? He had grown used to simplicity—albeit, induced by slavery—but now he had choices. The choice, according to Dela, to do anything he wished.

  Anything, except leave her side. And for that, he was grateful.

  They did not crash, they did not burn, and thirteen hours later when the plane landed, Dela remained in a completely “ravage-free” zone. She did not know whether to be happy or disappointed. Public sexual acts had never sounded all that appealing to her, but when she thought of Hari in the seat beside her, stewing in his own juices so to speak, fornication à la first class looked better and better.

  It’s just as well, she thought, watching relief settle on Hari’s face as he stepped off the plane. The flight attendants probably would have demanded an orgy.

  She shuddered.

  Apparently, though, skin contact was okay off the plane, because Hari immediately caught Dela’s hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

  “Patient?” Once again, hysterical laughter would have been inappropriate, so Dela settled for a grin. “Maybe I should be thanking you. I’ve never made anyone’s eyes glow before.”

  The memory of his golden eyes, radiant like a sunrise, had consumed her thoughts for much of the flight. Inhuman and beautiful—she wondered what other surprises he had in store for her.

  Like now. Hari blinked, an expression of utter astonishment dancing across his features. “My eyes were glowing?”

  “Yeah,” she said, puzzled by his reaction. He acted almost as flummoxed as she had felt, seeing his eyes change. “You know, after the whole … seatbelt thing.”

  A profound quiet settled over Hari’s body. His silence made Dela uneasy. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Hari shook his head, his gaze still distant. “Nothing that cannot wait. I will tell you some other day.”

  Dela pursed her lips, and Hari sighed.

  “Please,” he said. “I must think more on what this means.”

  “All right,” she agreed, and then smiled. “For now.”

  He looked relieved, and Dela chastised herself as her curiosity burned bright. Hari would not pry into her secrets; the least she could do was show him the same courtesy.

  But still, his eyes had glowed.

  They passed through customs without mishap, though Dela’s nerves barely survived their brief encounter with the craggy agent, who gazed up at Hari with a mixture of disbelief and aloof scorn.

  “Basketball player?” he asked, just when Dela couldn’t take any more of his silent staring.

  Hari frowned, and Dela jumped in. “Martial arts,” she said.

  The agent grunted. “Even scarier.”

  He handed back their passports and waved them through.

  Dela’s suitcase was waiting for them at baggage claim, lazily swirling around the carousel. Hari hefted the giant duffel over his shoulder, and Dela decided not to remind him the bag had wheels. He acted as though its heft were nothing, though she knew for a fact it weighed in at seventy pounds.

  Besides, he looks sexy when he’s being macho. Of course, Hari managed to look devastatingly masculine even when learning the finer points of flossing—a novelty he had become quite taken with after watching Dela perform her nighttime teeth-cleaning ritual. Apparently, even immortal shape-shifting warriors disliked having meat stuck in their teeth.

  Baggage claim was separated from the airport terminal by a set of large sliding doors. As Dela and Hari handed over the last of their customs paperwork and entered the main terminal, she noticed a young man in scuffed denim holding a sign with her name on it. He seemed to recognize Dela’s face, the sign dancing in his hands as he took a couple quick steps toward her—only to be blocked by Hari’s outstretched hand splayed against his slim chest.

  “Uh,” he gurgled, looking up at the golden-eyed tower of muscle and menace looming over him. It was a full-on “I will crush you like a bug, little man” moment. The startled youth tried to peer around Hari’s body for another glimpse of Dela.

  “Ma’am?” he called weakly. “It’s me, Eddie.”

  The voice was the same, and it matched the face. Eddie was in his early twenties, with scruffy brown hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. He was the spitting image, in fact, of one of Dela’s favorite actors—that cute elf-boy from Lord of the Rings.

  Well, no elves were going to die today. Dela tugged on Hari’s sleeve. “Stand down, Hari. This guy’s on our side. He’s one of the people guarding my home.”

  Hari immediately removed his palm from Eddie’s chest. The young man’s answering grin was faintly lopsided, and he shook Hari’s hand before it completely withdrew.

  “You’re Hari, right? Roland said to expect you with Dela.”

  Hari frowned. “Roland is Delilah’s family friend?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Eddie grinned. “I suppose you could say that.” He glanced at Dela and gestured toward the exit. “My car is parked across the street.”

  It was still early in the afternoon, and the sun burned bright and clear in an empty blue sky. The temper
ature felt cooler than the late summer heat of Beijing, a nice change. Dela took a deep breath, trying to clear her lungs of recycled air. It was good to be home, on her own soil, with the tang of familiar steel inside her head.

  She dropped her shields for just a moment—a taste was all she needed—and the airport hummed to her a tale of impermanency, unrelenting purpose and movement. Journeys and crossings.

  Dela shut out the voices, thankful for the strength of her mental shields. Metal everywhere—buildings, cars, bodies, furniture, electronics—intrinsic and necessary, all with voice, some imprint of the human spirit. Stories, deep vibrations.

  Without her ability to block those vibrations, the whispers left from human contact, Dela long ago would have gone insane. It had almost happened to her brother. Max, who was so talented at helping others learn to shield, but who could not manage it so easily for himself. It was the one reason Dela had been surprised to learn he was on a team mission in South America. Max almost always worked alone. It was easier on his mind.

  “Did Roland get my message about the information search I need done in Beijing?”

  Eddie nodded, guiding them across the exit terminal’s access road to the covered parking lot. “He’ll call you as soon as he finds anything.”

  Dela and Hari glanced at each other. Before leaving Beijing, Dela had called Roland, asking if any of his China sources could dig up information on Long Nü. What Dela already knew was next to nothing, but there might be whispers, told more readily to locals. It was worth a try, at any rate. She and Hari had left behind a lot of unanswered questions—questions Dela would normally have tried to answer on her own if the situation had not been so dangerous.

  No less danger here. But home always felt safer, even if it was just an illusion.

  Eddie’s car was a black Land Cruiser, so new the license plates still hadn’t been attached. The metal surface gleamed like obsidian, and the windows were completely tinted. “Nice wheels,” Dela commented, sliding into the front seat. She ran her hands over the flawless leather interior.