Burning Bright

by A. Catherine Noon

  Grig whipped forward and TJ went heavily to one knee, blood dripping from his face. Sasha hadn’t even seen Grig draw a knife, and then he looked down to see Grig’s claws.

  “Get back, Doc.” TJ shoved him in the hip with one big hand. He stood, blocking Sasha’s view of Grig and the rest of the room.

  “Grig.” Paul’s voice rang out from the kitchen.

  Everyone froze, except Grig. Sasha watched the hunger in the visiting weretiger’s eyes. He played right into the big man’s hands, dammit. He went cold from his stomach out.

  TJ whirled and grabbed him. “Keep Dillon safe, Doc.” TJ shook Sasha, his eyes frightened.

  Sasha blinked and glanced at the werefox, watching the fight with huge eyes.

  “I will,” Sasha promised. With a howitzer, he added in his mind. He backed up the stairs, taking Dillon with him.

  Paul stepped forward. “Knock it the fuck off,” he growled.

  Grig grinned, his head back and chest puffed out. “Or what?”

  One of the twins took a step closer and grabbed Dillon’s arm, hauling him out from behind Sasha. The werefox yanked back but couldn’t dislodge him. His face flushed and he started crying, but more from anger than fear, Sasha could feel through his empathy.

  “Knock it off,” Paul shouted.

  Along with his voice came a wave of heat that tingled all up and down Sasha’s arms. He’d never sensed anything like it. The shifter gasped and dropped Dillon’s arm, and stepped away from him for good measure.

  Grig, though, walked forward. He strained against Paul’s energy, Sasha could tell by the way his muscles corded, but he didn’t look like he’d stop.

  And then Neal walked in.

  “That’s it,” Neal snapped. “Let’s settle this for once and for all. Grig, upstairs, now.”

  “I—”

  “I’m not asking!” Neal roared.

  Grig glared. He said nothing, just walked over and stabbed the elevator button with an angry finger.

  Looked like the cavalry arrived.

  Dammit. Sasha’s stomach growled again, now that all the excitement was over. He clenched his jaw and turned to Dillon. “Let’s go.”

  Stomping up the stairs satisfied him, but he’d better get food right away.

  Or, he might change his mind about being vegetarian. Tiger meat sounded pretty good, right then.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Leader of the Krug

  Sasha walked up the stairs and Dillon came with him, but stumbled on the top step. He made a sharp noise, like a sob, and Sasha glanced over. Sure enough, Dillon kept crying, anger and frustration pouring off his slender body in waves.

  The werefox didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Sasha pretended he didn’t see and kept going.

  “Use my place,” TJ said from behind him.

  Sasha turned. “You sure?”

  TJ nodded. “He can get to the internet from my computer, or relax.”

  “Thanks, Teej,” Dillon said softly.

  TJ didn’t answer, just slipped past them and went up the stairs to Neal’s floor, clearly on his way to the vacant area to keep an eye on the fight.

  Dillon, clearly frustrated, sighed. “You gonna watch the fight?”

  “I’d like to, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Dillon soothed. “You should go.”

  All the tigers would be upstairs, watching the fight. No one would want to trouble Dillon, not while Grig and Neal fought each other. No, even the twins would want to see the outcome. Of course, if Neal lost, it would be a different story. But that would never happen.

  Sasha made up his mind. “Make sure you lock the door.”

  Sasha took the stairs two at a time up to the third floor. All the tigers gathered in the large, undeveloped space. He stood inside the door, away from the fight but where he could see easily. TJ, on the other side of the doorway, glanced at him and then back at the fight. On the other side of TJ, Anton and the two boys stood watching. Mitch, leaning to the wall beyond them, seemed bored.

  Neal’s apartment was the only finished section of this floor. They never needed more room and stopped renovating. Instead, mats like at a martial arts dojo were spread around to practice on. Sasha could tell at a glance that this didn’t qualify as a friendly practice match.

  Neal wore only black cargo pants. His bare feet gripped the mat like a second pair of hands and his torso gleamed with sweat. Gods, but he looked good.

  Sasha’s heart sped up, though, watching the hungry look on Grig’s face as he paced around Neal, looking for an opening. Grig’s chest hair lay lank to his body, sweaty and curling, and he had several bruises already. He spun and kicked Neal’s hip and the big Marine staggered. Grig moved in, but Sasha had practiced the same feint and rooted for Neal. Sure enough, the minute Grig got within range, Neal swept his feet from under him and the tiger went flying onto his back.

  Grig rolled, though, and got out of Neal’s reach. He tried another roundhouse kick and Neal caught his foot in his hands, his muscles bulging. He yanked Grig forward, off balance, and threw him bodily across the mat.

  The tiger rolled and growled, a low and threatening sound that raised every hair on Sasha’s arms.

  His empathy awakened and he could see Grig’s tiger juxtaposed over the man, his tail lashing with anger.

  “What do you see?” Mitch asked from his elbow, startling him.

  “Shut up, Mitch,” Sasha snapped. “I’m concentrating.”

  “Is he cheating?”

  “What?” Sasha glanced at him. “How?”

  “I don’t know, by using magic or something?”

  “No. Shut up and watch the fight.”

  Neal crouched, his arms out, and beckoned Grig forward. “Let’s dance, cowboy.”

  Grig snarled and his hands lengthened into long, black claws. He threw his head back and roared, the sound deafening in the enclosed space.

  “The neighbors are gonna freak,” Mitch muttered. “They’re not gonna keep believing it’s television.”

  Sasha glared but didn’t look at him. He gazed at the fight, wishing he could help Neal by watching. Grig rushed forward, claws flashing. Neal dodged and used the other tiger’s momentum to flip him over his hip. When Grig sprang up it was into Neal’s waiting fist. The younger tiger staggered several steps away, shaking his head.

  “Grig’s getting tired,” Mitch told Sasha in a quiet voice. “Won’t be long now.”

  As though Grig heard Mitch’s comment, he snarled. His fangs appeared. He tried to slash Neal’s face, but Neal dodged and whipped forward. Neal landed a solid punch, the sound like a boxer hitting a heavy bag, and scarlet sprayed from Grig’s split lip. The watching shifters roared in reaction as Neal drew first blood. What made it more impressive was the fact he did it without the aid of claws.

  Grig seemed unwilling to concede. His face darkened with anger and a low growl came out of his mouth. He leaped forward and Sasha gasped, his heart in his mouth. Neal caught him with an audible smack and threw him onto the floor on his stomach. Straddling him before he could react, Neal rubbed his hips back and forth. Grig roared, sounding just like a tiger, and Neal’s hand clamped on his neck. Neal held him down, Grig’s face pressed flat against the mat, and squeezed.

  “Let it go, son,” Neal grated. “Don’t make me do this for real.”

  Grig shrieked and he struggled, but while Neal’s body bounced, Grig couldn’t dislodge him.

  “He’s got him,” TJ murmured, relief in his voice. “It’s over.”

  “Fuck you!” Grig screamed. “Fuck you!”

  Neal bent forward and whispered something in Grig’s ear, and the Russian squirmed, small noises coming out of him. Finally he stilled, and all the fight left his body. He lay under Neal, motionless.

  Neal released him and stood up. “Anybody else messes with my people, and I will put you down,” Neal stated flatly. Then he threw back his head and roared, a fully formed tiger bellow.
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  Sasha didn’t know whether to fuck him, or run for his life.

  Neal caught Sasha’s gaze and tipped his head toward the door. Sasha nodded shakily, and followed Neal across to their apartment. Neal locked the door and stroked Sasha’s hair. “I’m gonna take a shower, okay?”

  Sasha nodded, his head bouncing a little too quickly.

  Neal cupped his head in one big hand. “Hey. I’m all right.”

  “Yeah.” Sasha laughed shakily. “I never doubted it.”

  Neal snorted and turned to the bathroom, unfastening his pants as he went.

  Sasha trailed after him and leaned against the bathroom doorway as Neal stripped. He watched as Neal kicked the pants away and leaned in the stall to start the water. A few bruises were beginning to bloom on Neal’s skin. Sasha discovered it added to his arousal. The sweat and a little blood, Grig’s, he noted with pleasure, made the Marine the image of a true warrior. Neal stretched, rolling and unknotting muscles still tense from the fight.

  Sasha’s cock sprang to attention as he did it, but Neal seemed too focused on the shower. Neal looked over his shoulder and smirked at him. Sasha stuck out his tongue and watched Neal’s eyes darken with desire.

  “I could wash your back?” Sasha offered.

  Neal shook his head. “I need to meet up with Vadim to discuss details. You ‘helping’ me will not save time.”

  “What details?”

  “They want to move the fight forward from Saturday to tonight. I’m agreeing. The sooner we start and finish, the sooner I can send the tribe tigers back.”

  Nervousness began to build inside of Sasha, but he willed it away. He nodded his understanding and turned his back, trying to hide his reaction. His stomach growled, reminding him of his original purpose. Sasha closed the door and headed to the kitchen instead of into the shower after his lover.

  Sasha tried to focus on throwing together a salad but kept dropping things. The tomato made an almighty mess on the floor, as did the avocado pit when it jumped out of his hands and bounced under the table. He dropped it three more times as it kept slithering out of his hands.

  Covered in avocado pulp, he managed to get the kitchen sink started.

  “What are you doing?” Neal asked, a smile in his voice. He leaned past Sasha’s shoulder and turned the faucet on.

  “I need to rinse my hands,” Sasha muttered. “Why are you rubbing yourself all over me?”

  Neal chuckled. “Teasing.”

  “Yeah. Maybe I’ll go let Steve take the edge off.”

  Neal kissed him and then pulled away to gaze at him from inches away. “I want you to stay with him during the fight, okay?”

  “Sure. I’ll get a few things prepped, just in case.”

  “Good idea.”

  Sasha finished making them sandwiches and set them on two plates.

  “I’ll carry mine,” Neal told him. “I’ve got to meet with the others.”

  “I’ll walk you down, okay?” He took a big bite of sandwich first, still starving.

  They emerged to find Vadim waiting for them downstairs in Neal’s office. Neal kissed Sasha at the doorway. “I’ll see you later.”

  “I can walk around now without an escort?”

  “Yeah, if they try anything now they know I’ll kill them.”

  Sasha nodded and squeezed Neal’s ass as he walked in. Vadim said nothing, just watched him with cold blue eyes. The door closed on their conversation and Sasha stood a moment, his hand still on the handle, feeling heavy in all his muscles.

  Finally Sasha stirred and went back upstairs. He tossed the rest of his sandwich away, his stomach too knotted with stress. Worrying wouldn’t accomplish anything. Instead, he gathered every medical supply they had and set up an infirmary in the vacant area they’d used for the fight.

  Better use for that area any day. He stomped up the stairs, adrenalin giving him a needed boost. He organized what he already had until a tiger announced the jaguars’ arrival. Felipe brought an ambulance and parked in the employee lot. His huge soldiers, silent and hulking, brought even more supplies upstairs and put everything exactly where Sasha ordered them to.

  After a while, Sasha started to enjoy bossing them around.

  Even better, he kicked the new tigers out of their beds and sent them downstairs. He needed their cots for his makeshift infirmary. Their attitudes were very respectful around him now. He liked it.

  The clock moved without slowing, despite Sasha’s wishes. Some of the windows in this corner looked out over the roof of the abandoned building across the street. Neal owned it, it turned out, and both sides agreed to hold the fight there. Sasha tried to ignore the squat concrete presence below the windows as he organized bandages, tape and sutures. Since the vacant building only stretched two storeys, as long as he didn’t look out the third floor window too close to it he could pretend it didn’t exist.

  “They’re here,” Felipe announced.

  Stomach clenching, Sasha straightened from counting gauze rolls. “Now?”

  Neal, standing across the open area from him, met his gaze. “Time to rock and roll.”

  Steve, who sat in a chair by a folding table to sort out medications, looked over at Sasha. “Waiting’s the hardest part.”

  “No kidding.” Sasha broke eye contact and turned away, fists clenched.

  Neal’s familiar scent enveloped Sasha, and then strong arms circled him. “Hey, Doc, it’s gonna be okay.”

  Neal’s body bulked harder than normal and Sasha turned. “What are you wearing?”

  “Kevlar.”

  “I thought there were no guns.”

  Neal’s hand cupped his cheek. “Never hurts to be careful. The Russians are going to cheat, and we need to be ready. Don’t worry, babe; I’ve got Mario on the roof with a compound bow.” He smirked. “It’s not a gun. I’ve left a message for Kiril, but he hasn’t responded yet.”

  Sasha crushed Neal to him. “Be careful.”

  Neal stroked his hair and then pulled out of his grasp. He walked away without looking back and tears sprang into Sasha’s eyes.

  Ten minutes went by with no sound or any indication from anywhere that the fight started. Driven to distraction, Sasha finally threw the roll of cloth tape onto the table. “Gods.”

  “Doc, it’s—”

  He whirled and Steve broke off mid-sentence. “If you tell me one more time that it’s gonna be okay, I swear to the Gods I will personally kick your ass,” he all but screamed at his lover.

  Steve gaped at him and they both burst out laughing.

  “Jesus, Doc. Grow a pair, didja?” Steve muttered.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna go make us something to eat.”

  “I’d love a burger,” Steve said wistfully.

  Sasha blinked. “I’ll do that, then.”

  “Where?”

  “Mario won’t mind. I know where he keeps everything.”

  Steve’s eyes widened. “I never thought of that.”

  “Good thing you have me then,” Sasha murmured as he walked over. He kissed Steve’s forehead. “Why don’t you pop over to Neal’s and lay down for a sec? You look tired. We have time. Anton says there’s lots of formal stuff before the fight can start. When the wounded arrive, we’ll be busy.”

  Steve looked wistfully at the window. “Maybe I could help at the window with a rifle.”

  “Nope, big guy. No guns allowed. We don’t want to be the ones breaking the rules first. And we got a special clause that your injured status exempts you. From what intel said, we found out Kiril actually has a reputation for being honorable.” He ignored Steve’s disappointed look. “I’ll be right back.”

  Steve grinned. “You’d better.”

  Sasha bounced down the stairs, burning off some of the adrenaline in the process. The kitchen lay empty, echoing and huge, and he regretted not grabbing them sandwiches from Neal’s apartment. Instead, he tried to focus on his work. He grabbed the ground sirloin first and set it to cook, then went back to ret
rieve the veggie burger patty.

  Turning back to the stove, he froze. Kiril, the leader of the Russian bears, stepped out from the wall by the door, a smirk on his face. “You cook?”

  Sasha swallowed his heart back down into his chest, where it belonged. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I came to see you.” Kiril said it like it was obvious.

  Sasha backed up, and Kiril took a step forward.

  Crap.

  Chapter Thirty

  Kiril

  Sasha whirled, intending to get the Hades out of there, but Kiril caught him before he’d even gotten three steps. Kiril’s hands closed on his biceps, huge and hot. Bears had one weakness: their nose.

  He whipped his head back to slam it into the big man’s face.

  Kiril grunted and then laughed.

  Sasha squirmed, and Kiril released his right arm. Sasha spun, kicking at Kiril’s knee, but Kiril moved too fast to see.

  The shifter backed Sasha with his hips into the wall. Pinned next to the door, Sasha struggled and Kiril’s hand closed on his throat.

  “Stop,” Kiril said softly. “I’m not here to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

  Sasha swallowed, his skin moving against Kiril’s palm. “I’m not part of this.”

  “Promises have been made, little one,” Kiril purred. “And you smell good.” He inhaled.

  Sasha barked a laugh that bordered on hysteria. “It’s shampoo and soap.”

  Kiril smirked, an arrogant tilt to his head. “I think that’s not all of it, though, is it?” He leaned forward, aiming for Sasha’s mouth. “Is it?”

  Sasha turned his head and Kiril’s face came up against his cheek. Kiril’s nose buried Sasha’s ear, the bear sniffed him with a loud snuffling noise. His breath warmed Sasha’s neck and sent prickles of fear down the front of his body.

  Stomach cramping, Sasha resisted flinching, but only just. “Please. I’m not part of this.”

  “They promised you to me,” Kiril murmured against his skin.

  “What? Who? Does Neal know about this?”

  “Neal is not important now.” Kiril cocked his head. “And if you’re not with me, Ivan will kill you for Petya.”