Night of the Tiger
Page 5
This time when she landed, she didn’t move again.
The tiger took over, tipping over the edge to fury; quick slapping paws brought him face-to-face with the bear’s open jaws. He tumbled away in a twisting dodge and launched back again, in spite of the new background shouting, the demands to stand down—the sudden baffled look on the bear’s face, the sudden insulting sting of a dart in Scott’s flank.
The strength drained from his legs as the bear fell away. His vision tunneled in and he folded down, just enough left in him to stagger over to where Marlee lay, so still, and rest his heavy head beside her hand before the tranquilizer took full effect and his eyes drifted closed.
Chapter Nine
Scott opened his eyes to white acoustic ceiling tiles, one of which was painted with a big classic yellow smiley face. He closed his eyes and groaned, fully prepared to again give way to the lassitude in his body.
“Hey.”
His eyes popped wide open again; he turned his head to find Marlee curled up beside him, her lower arm, hand and wrist encased in a cast and bruises mottling one side of her face. Her short hair was scruffed every which way, and her eyes were rimmed with red. Somewhere along the way, her clothes had been replaced with dark blue scrubs.
Somewhere along the way, Scott’s clothes had simply disappeared.
“—The hell—!” he said, not understanding any of it.
“It’s okay,” she told him. “We’re okay.”
“The hell—!” he said again, remembering her hands on him, remembering his hands on her, squinting to remember—
The bear. The tiger. Marlee, swatted across the room to land in a heap. He jerked upright, learned instantly what a terrible mistake that had been, and fell back to the firm surface with enough force to jar every aching bone into complaint.
“Well,” Marlee said, and she still hadn’t moved. She was curled up on a gurney close to his, cozied up to a pillow and looking sleepy and most likely medicated. “We were all right.”
“The hell,” he muttered, just to say it again. He moved more carefully this time, propping up on his elbows to survey the parts of him that were visible above the sheet in the cool room. Bruises bloomed dark over his ribs, claw marks healing with Sentinel speed over top them. He lifted the sheet, found more signs of healing, ugly wounds already cleaned and medicated. And he remembered the sting of that dart with annoying clarity. “Dammit, they tranked me!”
“And him.” Marlee nodded to the other side of him, and he found Drake Williams—still sedated, as naked as Scott but far, far hairier. He, too, bore healing wounds. Scott couldn’t help his satisfaction to see that Drake had gotten the worst of it.
He settled back down to the gurney, wishing for a pillow. Hell, wishing for a set of his own scrubs. “Your bracelet,” he said. “They were already on alert for you. When the bracelet came off…”
“They came running,” she agreed.
“And took me down,” he grumbled—and then shot a quick glance over to Marlee, realizing how bad it would have been for her to be caught in the middle of this mess, her guilt predetermined. He glanced at her wrists, half-afraid he’d find handcuffs.
He didn’t. But she already wore, on her uninjured wrist, another locater bracelet.
She shrugged, somehow hardly moving at all. “I’m still a traitor. Nothing will change that.”
He swore again, this time more sharply. “They understand that you helped catch our furry friend? That you were working with me?”
“It was pretty clear he wasn’t any friend of mine.” When Scott just looked at her, she said dryly, “If a Sentinel healer can’t tell the difference between bear and tiger claw marks, she’s got no business being here.”
“Claw marks?” he said, and felt the anger start to build again—a different kind of anger than before. Not bitter, but inescapably protective.
“Oh, stop,” she said. “It’s over. We got the bad guy, Scott—they found Core amulets in Williams’s toolbox.”
“We got the bad guy,” he said, absorbing that. No more little accidents in brevis medical; no more lurking threat.
“And you found your tiger.”
“You saw me,” he said, grateful at that—knowing it had taken her belief in order to awaken his own. She said nothing, only watched him, and he extended a hand to touch the tips of her fingers where they emerged from her cast. “As it happens, Marlee Cerrosa, I see you, too.”
“I guess I’ll just have to get used to that.” She sounded rueful, as if she hadn’t expected anyone to ever see beyond what she’d done to who she really was. She hesitated, then voiced her thought anyway. “I think things will be a little better for me, now. Anyway, you and your tiger…you’ve shown me what it’s like to be safe.”
Maybe Scott was still dopey—or maybe he saw what he thought he did in her eyes, in her expression. What he hoped he did. “I’ll always do that,” he told her. “Always, Marlee.”
She watched him with an expression that looked as hopeful as he felt—and seeing something there that made her relax, a little smile at the corners of her mouth. “Good,” she murmured. “Now reach over here and pull me closer.”
His hope turned into a rakish grin. “Always,” he told her, and did just that.
Don’t miss the other spooky and sensual NOCTURNE BITES, available at www.ebooks.eharlequin.com and wherever ebooks are sold. Titles include:
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Looking for more paranormal romance? The sizzling and spine-chilling books of Harlequin Nocturne are available at www.Harlequin.com or your local bookstore.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-8278-0
Night of the Tiger
Copyright © 2011 by Doranna Durgin
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