by Jae
Skin tore.
A satisfied growl escaped her as she felt four of her claws sink deeply into the wolf's side.
With a howl of pain, he went for her throat.
* * *
Jorie screamed.
Sharp teeth pierced the skin of her throat. Her hands flailed as much as they could, buried under the Wrasa's body. She thrust with her knee, desperate to get him to let go.
The grip on her neck lessened as the Wrasa growled.
Jorie got her hand with the gun free. Without aiming, she shoved it into the Wrasa's side. Her index finger found the trigger.
"No!" a voice shouted.
Suddenly, the weight on Jorie and the large canines at her throat were gone. Someone hauled the Wrasa off her.
Jorie lay there, dazed. Air rasped through her burning throat. Flames of pain licked across the pierced skin. She scrambled up, resting on her knees, and lifted her hands to defend herself, but it wasn't necessary. The wolf-shifters were no longer surrounding her.
Next to her, a large, dark-maned lion was fighting with the wolf that had attacked her.
Nella, still in her human form, was shouting at the Wrasa who hadn't shifted yet, trying to get them to back off. She was flanked by Max, the owner of the bed-and-breakfast, and two blond men Jorie didn't know, but who were probably members of Brian's pride.
For a moment, Jorie thought they were talking and shouting at each other in another language, but then she realized that it was just the hammering of her own heartbeat in her ears that garbled their words.
Gripping her bleeding neck with one hand, Jorie got to her knees and stared in shock. Her other hand still helplessly clutched the gun.
A hiss of pain came from farther down the path.
Griffin!
It sounded as if she was in acute distress. Had Jennings gained the upper hand?
The thought made Jorie stumble to her feet. "Griffin!" As fast as her shaking legs carried her, she ran toward the source of the snarls and growls.
"Stop!" Nella shouted after her. "Jorie! Stay here!"
Jorie didn't. Another roar of pain propelled her forward.
She half jumped, half fell over a fallen tree, not taking the time to circle it. Rough bark rasped along her thigh as she barely cleared the tree. A burning pain pulsed in tandem with the pounding in her neck.
Jorie ignored it. Crashing through a shrub, she finally reached the source of the vicious growls.
Griffin and Cedric Jennings were rolling around the forest floor in a blur of fur and flashing canines. They careened down a hill, moving too fast for Jorie to aim the gun and be sure she wouldn't hit Griffin. She watched helplessly as Griffin's heavier weight carried her right into a tree and left her dazed for a moment.
The wolf lunged forward, aiming for Griffin's throat.
His furry back appeared in Jorie's line of fire.
It was the opening she'd been waiting for. Her only chance.
Jorie squeezed the trigger.
A strong hand came out of nowhere. It wrapped around her wrist and forced the gun's barrel away from the wolf despite Jorie's desperate struggles.
The bullet sliced into a nearby tree, showering her with splinters.
The fingers tightened around her wrist like an iron shackle.
Pain numbed her fingers, and she lost her grip on the gun.
With a shout of surprise and anger, Jorie whirled around, ready to face yet another attacker.
Instead, Nella stood before her.
"What are you doing?" Jorie yelled. "He's killing her!"
"He won't! She's bigger and stronger. He's got no chance," Nella shouted. Her eyes were wild, and she was visibly struggling not to shift and attack Jennings herself.
Jorie bent down and searched for the gun she had dropped.
"No!" Nella's tight grip on her elbow stopped her. "If you're really a dream seer, there can't be Wrasa blood on your hands. If you kill one of us —"
"I don't care!" There was just one thing Jorie cared about: Griffin's survival. Blood rushed loudly through Jorie's ears. She was close to losing control and hitting Nella. "If he kills Griffin —"
The loud crunching of bone and a gurgling scream interrupted them.
Jorie whirled back around.
The liger was crouched over the wolf, her blood-smeared muzzle clamped around his neck in a stranglehold. The wolf's choking sounds and the twitching of his limbs slowly stopped, but Griffin didn't release her grip. Her blood dripped onto the white fur of the dead wolf.
"Griffin," Jorie murmured. She needed to get Griffin to let go and shift back. As far as Jorie knew, it was shifting shape in either direction, not being in animal form that stimulated the healing process, so Griffin needed to shift back before she bled to death. Jorie took a step toward Griffin.
"No!" Nella held her back with a strong grip around Jorie's arm.
Jorie yanked her arm back and tried to break free, but Nella hung on stubbornly and with superior strength. "Let go, dammit! Don't you care about your daughter at all?"
"Of course I care!" Nella yelled back. "I'm only doing what Griffin would want me to do. Griffin risked her life to save yours. She wants you alive. All Griffin went through will be in vain if you get killed because you approached her at the wrong moment. Imagine how she would feel? Do you really want to put her through that?"
"She won't hurt me," Jorie said, struggling to pull her arm away.
Nella's grip tightened. "You naïve little human!" She hissed at Jorie. "She's a predator who just made a kill, and you think you can just stroll up to her? Only a pride mate would be able to approach her now without being attacked — and Griffin is not a part of any pride. Even Brian and I might be in danger if we stepped up to her now."
There was no close bond between Griffin and her parents. At least not in the past. Is there a bond between Griffin and me? They had been through a lot together, and Griffin had proven her trust in Jorie when she had followed her up the ladder to the hunter's lookout. Still, that had been the two-legged, rational-thinking Griffin, not the large liger snarling at them now.
Blood dripped down the golden-striped fur.
No time for doubts.
"She fought and risked her life to protect me. She won't hurt me," Jorie said again, willing herself to believe it.
Nella's upper lip curled back. "Are you willing to bet your life on that, human?"
"Yes!" Jorie yanked and almost fell when Nella suddenly let go of her. She stumbled down the hill and slid to a stop a few feet away from Griffin.
The liger swiveled at her approach, dragging the wolf's limp body around with her. A growl of warning rumbled deep in her chest.
Jorie shivered as she got a glimpse of bloodstained canines and took in the sightless blue eyes of the wolf. You almost shot him. This is no different, she sternly told herself. Griffin has the instincts of a predator, but she's no bloodthirsty killer. "Griffin," she said as calmly as she could. Her voice trembled, though.
The liger's ears moved around, now no longer laid back in silent warning but listening to her.
That's good, Jorie told herself.
"Let go of him, Griffin," she said. "He's no longer a threat. You need to shift." She inched closer.
Bones crunched as Griffin's grip around the wolf's neck tightened. Another growl warned Jorie to back away.
"Jorie," Nella called. "She might think you're trying to take away her prey. Better move away from her."
Jorie hesitated. Her gaze darted back and forth between a worried-looking Nella and the giant cat in front of her. The cat stared back, the expression in the whiskey-colored eyes as wild and predatory as Jorie had ever seen it.
The liger lifted her upper lip and snarled again. A scarlet drop of blood trembled on Griffin's whiskers and splashed to the ground.
This is crazy. Doubts slowed her approach. What woman in her right mind would voluntarily step up to a liger who's still throttling her prey? How can I be sure that Griffin will even k
now me?
Brian, now in his human form again, joined them while keeping an eye on the edge of the clearing, where barely human-sounding howls started as Cedric Jennings's pack members mourned the death of their leader. "Yeah," he said. "Come here, and stay next to me until Griffin has calmed down enough to shift."
A part of her — the part that was scared to death — wanted to take his advice. While her rational mind told her approaching an angry liger was crazy, her instincts insisted that she was perfectly safe.
"But she's hurt," she whispered. Blood was dripping from at least three different deep wounds that Jorie could see, mingling with the blood that already stained the wolf's once white fur. "What if she doesn't have time to calm down on her own before she loses too much blood?"
"She'll be fine," Brian said. "Once she shifts, she'll be as good as new."
Helplessness clawed at Jorie. She still didn't know enough about the Wrasa to judge how dangerous the wounds were for Griffin. Brian is a Wrasa and a doctor — and Griffin's father. Surely he wouldn't lie to me about this?
"Slowly step away from her," Brian instructed. "No fast movements. Don't trigger her hunting instinct."
Images of being chased by a large predator flashed through Jorie's mind. A shiver of fear raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck.
Inch by inch, she moved away from Griffin. Her shaking knees didn't allow for faster movement anyway.
A sound rumbled up from the liger's chest, muffled by the grip the massive jaws still had on the wolf's neck.
Jorie stopped. Was that a growl of protest? Doesn't she want me to go? Or is she warning me to back out of her personal space?
The whiskey-colored eyes watched her closely, but Jorie couldn't read the expression.
"Don't stop. Come over here." Nella's warning voice sounded right behind her. She reached out a hand to drag Jorie back.
The liger let go of her prey and crouched low, getting ready to pounce.
No, Griffin. Please, no.
"Get back!" Nella grabbed Jorie from behind and pulled her back with her.
An angry roar made Jorie's heart slam against her rib cage.
The liger didn't leap, though. In midpounce, she changed direction and was now trying to circle Jorie and reach Nella.
"Nella! Let go of Jorie!" Brian's baritone shouted over the liger's furious growls. "Griffin thinks you're attacking her!"
Nella's grip suddenly disappeared, and Jorie lost her balance. Leaves cushioned her fall, but not before she landed face-first on the forest floor. Earth crunched between her teeth. She wanted to spit it out and sit up, cursing, but fear kept her shackled to the ground.
She felt the giant cat lurk behind her, crouched just above her vulnerable neck. An image of the bloodstained canines throttling the white wolf to death flashed through her mind.
Hot breath made the fine hairs on her neck tremble. Or maybe it was her whole body that was trembling. Jorie flinched as the liger's saliva spattered against her bare skin.
A massive paw appeared in Jorie's line of sight.
Her heart raced. If only her feet could race like this too. She wanted to flee, to run as fast and as far away as possible, but with the liger crouched above her, escape was impossible. Jorie closed her eyes. This is how a mouse must feel when it's cornered by a cat.
Dimly, she was aware that Brian and Nella were murmuring softly, trying to calm Griffin down.
Not that it was doing any good. The liger ignored them.
The paw came forward.
Jorie's vivid imagination let her already feel the crippling pain as the claws slashed through her flesh, but she stubbornly clung to the hope that Griffin wouldn't hurt her. Her eyes squeezed shut. A tear trembled on her lashes.
A gentle paw, claws sheathed, thumped against her shoulder.
Caught between hope and fear, Jorie opened her eyes and stared at the reddish-golden paw that touched her again.
Oh, God! I've seen this before. Her cats used the same maneuver to see whether the mouse was dead or would run if they touched it.
Jorie wanted to run but knew there was no mousehole for her. Nowhere to hide. Playing dead was not an option either. Dead women didn't tremble uncontrollably.
The massive paw lifted again. Thick fur brushed along Jorie's bare neck. She felt the warmth of the pad against her skin.
Fear squeezed her insides. Her stomach roiled. Was the liger holding her down, making sure she wouldn't struggle as she searched for the best spot to place her canines?
No sharp teeth slashed through her, though. No claws pierced her skin. Then the warm touch was gone.
Jorie tried to rein in her trembling. Get yourself together. Never show weakness to a predator.
She waited, trying to calm her frantic breathing. Was Griffin gone?
Seconds ticked by.
Finally, she couldn't stand the waiting any longer. Slowly, careful not to give the big cat that might still be crouched over her any reason to attack, she rolled around.
Her gaze collided with the liger's only inches away.
It's me! It's me, she wanted to shout. She had gambled her life on Griffin recognizing her as a friend, not as prey, but suddenly, she wasn't so sure anymore.
The liger looked down at her, her mouth wide open to take in Jorie's scent.
Please, please, please. Jorie wanted to look away, but the cat's gaze held her captive. She lay still and prayed that Griffin's scent was covering her like a protective shield.
The big head lowered toward Jorie. Ivory canines flashed just inches away.
Fear made her feel as if she were trying to breathe underwater. Jorie felt faint. "Griffin," she whispered.
The massive jaw snapped open. Warm breath hit her.
Jorie's fingers dug into the cold earth. "No. Please."
A rough tongue rasped over her cheek.
"Oh, Jesus Christ." Jorie laughed hysterically as her adrenaline high finally ebbed. "Griffin, cut that out." She tried to squirm away, but the liger was thoroughly cleaning the wounds on Jorie's neck.
Finally, the licking stopped.
Now it was relief that made Jorie tremble. She felt like a prisoner on death row who had been pardoned at the very last second. She reached up and scratched softly behind one of Griffin's ears, careful not to touch the wounds that covered Griffin. "Griffin," she murmured as a rumbling purr began.
"Try to get her to shift," Brian's voice intruded into the private world that consisted just of Jorie and the liger.
Jorie blinked and looked up. "How?" she asked. Now that it was finally time to communicate and get Griffin to shift and heal her wounds, Jorie realized she had no idea how to do it.
"Just talk to her," Brian said. "She'll want to understand what you're saying, and part of her knows that there's just one way to do that."
Carefully, Jorie got up on her knees. "Come on, Griffin," she said softly. "Enough cat-and-mouse games for today. It's time to shift back."
The liger turned her head, offering Jorie her other ear to scratch too.
"No, not scratch. Shift." Jorie shook her head and with a hint of regret took away her scratching hand from the warm fur. She gestured at her own, human body. "Shift."
The big head nuzzled her, almost sending Jorie tumbling into the leaves again. Then the liger stood still, her gaze directed at something that only she could see. Blood-crusted fur slowly receded. Her wounds were already beginning to close as naked skin appeared.
Groaning more with exhaustion than with pain, Griffin collapsed.
With a sigh of relief, Jorie gave in to the demands of her exhausted body, sank into the leaves next to the shifting Griffin, and closed her eyes.
She opened them again when long fingers threaded through her own. A feeling of peace flowed through her. She turned her head and met Griffin's tired smile. "You know there's something I've been meaning to tell you," Jorie said.
"Yes?" Griffin prompted, clearly too tired to say much more.
Jorie nod
ded. "Your cat form could use a breath mint."
In a smooth move that belied her tiredness and her injuries, Griffin rolled around and leaned over Jorie. "Oh, yeah?" she asked huskily.
Suddenly faced with six feet of naked Griffin, all thought fled Jorie's mind. "Oh, yeah," she confirmed, staring up into the swirling whiskey-colored eyes.
"Still think so now?" Griffin asked. She lowered her head until her breath warmed Jorie's face.
"Think w-what?" Thinking wasn't a priority right now.
Never closing her eyes or breaking eye contact, Griffin lowered her face until her lips touched Jorie's, just connecting, not invading.
Jorie allowed herself to enjoy the tender contact for just a moment, then pulled away.
"What is it?" Griffin asked. Her lips curled into a charming smile as she winked at Jorie. "You're not afraid I'll turn into a frog, are you?"
It was a line of dialogue from her novel. Jorie grinned, charmed, but then saw the concern in Griffin's eyes. She's afraid I'll reject her, and she's hiding behind a joke. "Oh, no," she answered with a reassuring smile and a line from her book. "I know it takes more than one tiny kiss to accomplish that. It's just that we're both exhausted and in need of some medical attention; you've got blood all over you, and your parents, Max, a few members of the pride, and half a dozen angry-looking Syak are watching us."
Griffin's warmth disappeared from above Jorie as she sank back into the leaves. "Great," she grumbled. "That's what I get for getting my parents involved. I bet if you wrote this scene, the heroine wouldn't be denied a proper kiss after she heroically risked her life and beat the bad guy."
Now clad in a half-shredded pair of pants, Brian joined them. "Don't complain. We saved your sorry asses." He knelt down next to Griffin and examined her wounds. They still looked very raw, but the bleeding had already slowed to a trickle. "Let's get you two back to the bed-and-breakfast before Jennings's pack decides that avenging their leader is more important than following council orders."
* * *
Every muscle in Jorie's body was screaming at her. Scrapes and bruises all over her body suddenly came to life. Exhaustion gripped her, but she refused to give in to it before Brian finished his examination of Griffin and told her she would be okay. She leaned back against Nella's couch and watched as Griffin, sitting on the other end of the couch, flinched when Brian pressed against one of her wounds.