Guardian''s Mate

  “Hurry up,” he growled at Carson. “You either trust me or we’re all dead.”

  “After you’ve sabotaged my ship?” Carson said, his blue eyes like pieces of ice.

  “Sabotage? When did I have the time? I’ve been chained up and locked in a cage. I can’t control the weather. That’s up to the Goddess and her friends.”

  Carson’s eyes narrowed but there was some intelligence behind his obsession. He had to concede that Zander couldn’t possibly have organized a thunderstorm or for the controls to go down.

  Carson dropped his hand to his belt, then rage flushed his face as he realized he’d never retrieved his keys from Rae.

  His brief distraction gave Zander his chance. Zander shoved his wrists at Miles, touching the chains to the man’s face. Miles let out a scream and scrambled away from him.

  Carson reacted swiftly. He had his pistol up again and pulled the trigger.

  Rae had left her seat and now bowled into him, a wolf snarl in her throat. She hit him hard, sending him to the floor.

  Zander glimpsed Carson’s utter shock and then fury as it dawned on him that Rae was Shifter. Idiot. That’s what the man got for underestimating females.

  The bullet that had left his gun went wide, embedding itself in the wheelhouse’s ceiling. Piotr had grabbed the wheel and was spinning it this way and that without much effect.

  Carson was fighting Rae, who’d managed to knock the pistol out of his hand. Zander paused to admire her technique—she might have been awkward while training with the sword but with straight wrestling, she was scrappy.

  The guard, a big, bulky man, was too busy battling his own inertia in the spinning boat, and the guard who’d gone for coffee was flat on his stomach on the deck outside. Miles, with Shifter ease, regained his feet and was back at the controls, flipping levers.

  Zander had to get out of these chains. Only one way to do it.

  He closed his eyes, drew on every meditation technique he knew, discarded most of them, and finally simply said a prayer to the Goddess.

  Don’t let this hurt too much.

  He let his bear mind overtake his human one. The polar bear woke up, shaking off the last of tranq, found his paws wrapped with thin, Fae-spelled chains, and became very, very angry.

  Zander rose, and rose, and rose, his human limbs becoming bear’s, thick white fur bursting onto his body. His clothes split and fell away. Long black, razor-sharp claws grew as his hands became giant paws. In only a few seconds, Zander’s great head touched the ceiling, and the wheelhouse suddenly filled with a gigantic, seriously pissed-off bear.

  He roared as he brought his paws apart to break the chains.

  These weren’t ordinary chains though. They were specially wrought silver, made by Fae to contain Shifters. Some of the half-Fae shits lived in this world among humans—humans didn’t know they were half Fae—and specialized in Shifter restraints. They’d made the cage Zander had been locked into below, a tiny room set aside for the purpose. Ezra had been shoved into a room down the corridor.

  The chains weren’t very thick but they didn’t have to be. The Fae spells bit pain and electric shock deep into the Shifter’s nervous system until every nerve ending, every cell was on fire.

  Zander’s roar of rage turned to anguish. He fought to break the slender but super-strong bonds, every outward push of his arms sending greater agony into him. So much for the Goddess answering his prayer.

  Zander tried to get his breath and found none. He wanted to stop, sink down, surrender, anything to take away this white-hot pain, the knife of it peeling at every muscle.

  A dim part of Zander’s mind told him that the Fae chains were designed to make him do just that—give up. The only solution was to keep fighting.

  He was a polar bear, touched by the Goddess, could heal wounds in the blink of an eye. Special, set apart, gifted . . .

  What a load of bullshit. Zander was a Shifter like every other and this fucking hurt.

  He gathered his strength and pulled at the chains again, his roars shaking the wheelhouse. More agony. Shit, these were strong. He’d never break free. Carson would recover and shoot him through his stupid bear brain . . .

  Sudden coolness cut through the fevered pain. Zander opened his eyes, his vision blurring, and looked down. Rae was next to him, her jacket open, her Collar peeping from under her shirt.

  She had her hands on his side, reaching up as far as she could as he stood on his hind legs. Rae’s hands sank into his fur, right over his aching rib cage and banging heart.

  The touch of a mate, a tiny voice in Zander’s subconscious whispered. The most magical touch of all. It healed, soothed, freed.

  The Fae magic was strong, Zander’s pain horrific, and Rae’s touch could only do so much against it. But it made all the difference.

  Zander’s breath poured back into his lungs. He let out another ferocious growl and jerked his paws apart.

  The chains broke with a bang that rivaled the next thunderclap. The energy in them was so vast that the chains flew across the room and crashed through the window, shards of glass everywhere. The chains landed with a clank on the deck outside, skittering down it as the boat rocked.

  Zander brought his paws together, his fur bloody. Rae moved her touch to just above the bleeding creases. He felt her anguish for him, her compassion.

  To think, he’d almost refused point-blank to let her come onto his boat.

  Zander shook himself. He lowered to all four paws and Rae’s hold slid away. But she was at his side again, resting her hands on his back.

  “You all right?” she asked in trepidation.

  Zander gave a bear mmph then he let himself shift back to human. That was going to be a bitch, too, but he did it.

  Soon his protective fur was gone and he was on hands and knees, his wrists running with blood, his breath labored.

  The cabin was dark but for what little light came in through the fogbound and rain-streaked windows and the occasional blinding streak of lightning. Miles must have gotten some emergency generator going, because the boat beneath Zander was vibrating.

  In the next lightning strike, Zander saw the guard who’d gone for coffee in the cabin again, his gun aimed at Zander. Aw, for crap’s sake.

  Zander snarled and ran at him, twisting the pistol from the man’s hand. Zander trained the gun on the guard, whose eyes lost the hardness of a paid killer and took on fear as he saw his intended victim about to kill him.

  “You know what I like about being Shifter?” Zander asked him. He turned the pistol sideways in this hands. “It lets me do things like this.”

  Zander bent the metal in half. The gun popped and broke, and bullets rained to the floor.

  Zander tossed the useless pieces aside and punched the guard in the temple. The man quietly slid down the wall, his legs splaying.

  Zander turned and punched the other guard, who was trying to sneak up on him, and took his gun away from him. Another break, another pistol rendered useless, another guard knocked out.

  “I hate guns,” Zander said with a growl.

  “Zander!” Rae called in warning.

  Zander turned to see Carson, who’d faded into the shadows, emerge again. He had a tranq rifle in his hands, the cabinet behind him broken open, and no fear in his eyes.

  Before Zander could duck, Carson shot. The tranq dart flew rapidly and surely across the room to bury itself in Zander’s bare shoulder.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Rae watched, her heart pounding, as Zander studied the dart sticking out of the solid muscle between his arm and shoulder.

  He said, “You son of a bitch,” took hold of the dart, and yanked it out.

  Rae expected Zander to fold up and collapse but he only took a deep breath and steadied himself on the nearest wall. As Carson stared at him over the scope, Zander dragged in another breath and lurched toward him.

  Carson threw aside the tranq gun and went for his pistol. Rae started for them but she knew she’
d never reach Carson in time.

  Zander did. He snarled and half shifted, his bear paw knocking the pistol from Carson’s hand before the man could raise it. Zander lifted the dart still in his fist and jammed it into Carson’s arm.

  The man blinked, then wobbled as the fast-acting tranq took effect. His legs shook; he swung a fist at Zander and missed. Zander caught Carson as he went down and gently lowered him to a bench. Piotr caught up the tranq rifle, loaded it with another dart from the cabinet, and used it to cover Miles and the limp guards.

  Zander turned around and pinned Miles with a dark gaze. “Any more?”

  Zander was stark naked, his clothes all over the floor. Miles was dressed and facing Zander with military bearing, but Zander dominated here. Shifters didn’t equate nudity with vulnerability—they equated it with being able to defend themselves. A Shifter’s greatest weapon was his or her animal, and clothes only got in the way.

  It was cold, though, in this early Alaska morning, and Zander’s human body would soon begin to shiver. His wrists ran with blood where the chains had torn his flesh. He didn’t notice at the moment, his adrenaline high, but after a while, he’d have to wrap up, hunker down, and heal.

  “How did you do that?” Rae asked him.

  Fire flickered in Zander’s eyes and ignited the ones inside her. “Which part?” he asked.

  “All of it. Those chains were spelled—I smelled it. And the dart. Why didn’t it knock you out?”

  Zander shrugged. Blood trickled from his wounds and spattered to the floor. “He miscalculated the dose. I’m a polar bear, bigger than most Shifters. Takes more to bring me down.”

  “But it knocked you out on your boat.”

  Amusement entered his dark eyes. “Not so much. It was the only way to get over to this ship and commandeer it.”

  “You faked it?” Rae’s anger surged to mix with her relief. “Why didn’t you tell me? Here I was all worried about you.”

  “Were you?” Zander shot her a grin. “Aw, that’s sweet. See, we need to get to the mainland and my boat doesn’t have enough fuel or stamina to make it.” He patted a beam above him. “But this one does.”

  “Hey, I can’t just let you take over the boat,” Miles said.

  Zander studied him. “True. You could fight me. You’d lose, but you can try. Then I can either lock you into one of the cages below or let you stay up here and help me sail this tank.”

  Miles sized him up, calculating his odds. “Where are you heading?”

  “The lower forty-eight, though we can dock in Canada if we have to. I know people in Vancouver.”

  “Of course you do,” Rae muttered.

  Zander heard her, and his lips twitched. “How about it . . . whatever you are. Follow me? Or hunker in a cage trying to keep yourself from screaming every time you touch Fae metal? You’re only part Shifter so it might not affect you as much, but I bet it will sting.”

  “Who are you off to kill?” Miles asked, his eyes hard.

  Zander looked surprised. “No one. I’m a healer, not a killer. Right now, I need to heal a sword.”

  Miles’s suspicion deepened. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Sword of the Guardian. Haven’t you heard of them? Rae, show him.”

  Rae wasn’t certain she should drag out the broken sword and display it to a Shifter who hunted other Shifters but she went to the locker where Carson had put it. A sift through his keys let her find the right one after a few false tries, and she opened the cupboard. She removed the broken top piece of the sword and held it up.

  The blade flashed in the dim light but Rae heard no hum, saw no impish glitter of the runes. Dead.

  Miles’s gaze went to it, his face screwing up as though he tried to remember something.

  “My mom used to tell me stories when I was little,” he said. “Something about a magic sword that healed Shifters.”

  “Doesn’t heal us,” Rae answered. She thought about Ezra’s father, drifting down into dust. “The sword frees our souls. I suppose that’s healing, in a way. Sends us out of pain into the afterlife.”

  “I thought they were just stories,” Miles said. “My mom also talked about mists and passages to other worlds. I figured she had a wild imagination.”

  “Didn’t she tell you about the Fae?” Rae asked him.

  “Not really. I didn’t grow up Shifter. My dad was human. He was a good guy. I tried to be like him. My mom didn’t expect me to be like other Shifters, so we didn’t talk about it much. I don’t even know what Fae means.”

  “Must be nice,” Zander said. “Lesson one: Fae are evil shits. Lesson two . . .” He stopped. “Nope. That’s about it, really.”

  Rae slid the blade into the sheath inside her coat, where the bottom half already rested. “I need to have it fixed. That means we don’t have time to let someone like this Carson guy capture us.”

  “Come with us?” Zander asked Miles again.

  Miles’s dark eyes held anger and uncertainty. “Go with you to what—find a bunch of Shifters? They’re killers.”

  “Not all of them,” Zander said. “Some are annoying as hell, but they’re not deadly. Well . . . not usually.”

  Rae sent him a glare. “Not helping.”

  Zander ignored her. “The thing is, Miles—you gotta take Shifters as they are. Humans are just as deadly to each other, more so, in my opinion. Shifters fight for territory or their cubs and mates, maybe even for revenge, but not so much nowadays.”

  “I’ve seen them battle,” Miles said, scowling. “I’ve seen them slaughter. So don’t be telling me Shifters are touchy-feely, warm-fuzzy do-gooders.”

  Miles had obviously had a bad experience, but he couldn’t have from any Shifters Rae had known. Shifters did get into fighting frenzy, needing to work off steam, but that’s why they had the fight clubs.

  Zander turned his head and sent Rae a meaningful look. “So what do you think, Rae? Someone needs a hug?”

  Rae did. She was aching for Zander’s touch to soothe her and stop the shivering inside her. If he put his arms around her and pulled her against his strong body, she knew everything would be all right.

  He wasn’t talking about her though. “Yeah, I agree,” she said. “But I don’t think Miles is going to let you near him.”

  “Why not?” Zander’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong with me? Okay, I probably smell a little right now but that’s his fault for letting Carson lock me up in a cage.”

  Miles looked back and forth between them. “What are you guys talking about? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Come on.” Zander opened his arms wide. “You’ll feel better and you know it.”

  “Zander,” Rae said as Miles backed away. “He might be more friendly if you weren’t standing there with your junk out.”

  “Yeah?” Zander kept his eyes on Miles. “I don’t think that’s the problem. You really are afraid of Shifters, aren’t you?”

  “After what I’ve seen them do? You bet.” Miles backed away faster, nearly tripping over Carson’s inert body.

  Zander drove Miles backward, heading him directly for Rae. Rae understood what Zander wanted her to do. She caught Miles when he found himself pinned and wrapped her arms around him from behind. Miles reached for his pistol but Rae was in the way.

  Zander gathered Miles into a crushing bear hug. His arms took in Rae as well, squashing all three of them together.

  Miles did fight. Rae sensed the terrible fear in him, which went beyond reason. Zander didn’t overpower him; he simply stood in place, the bulk of him impossible to move.

  Rae felt the tingle of Goddess magic in Zander, the incredible power that let him heal. He was healing Miles, she realized. Digging into whatever horror Miles had witnessed, easing his memory of it, helping him release it.

  Miles was stiff, struggling. Rae sensed the darkness inside him, inky fingers of it paralyzing him with fear. She also sensed Zander’s magic and his compassion that blazed as large as he was
.

  Rae knew in that moment, as the compassion entered her through his touch, that Zander didn’t heal simply because the magic compelled him to, because he did a grudging duty. He truly wanted to help people, to make them whole again.

  It cost him. Rae remembered how he’d lain in the yard at Ezra’s house, cramped with the pain he’d absorbed from Ezra’s father, Robert. He’d done that so Robert could die in peace.

  Why then, why, was this generous and largehearted man all alone?

  Same reason she now was, Rae supposed. Shifters were a superstitious bunch. They liked the idea of Guardians and healers but didn’t want their weird magic anywhere near them on a good day.

  Miles kept shaking, growling as Zander pulled him closer. Rae kept her arms tight around Miles as well, her forearms crushed between both men’s firm abdomens. Zander laid his head on Miles’s shoulder, looked down at Rae, and winked at her.

  At the same time, Rae felt Miles give a great shiver, then start to shrink.

  Rae released him in alarm, sliding her arms out from under Zander to back away. Zander kept hold of Miles until the man shrank rapidly out of his grip.

  Zander stumbled forward and fell against Rae, who steadied him. He nuzzled her cheek. “Hmm. Not a bad place to land.”

  Miles squirmed out from between them, leaving his clothes and his pistol in its holster behind. What popped out from the mound of jeans, T-shirt, and jacket was a gray-furred, long-tailed fox.

  “Whoa,” Piotr said, moving the tranq gun to it. “Where did that come from?”

  “Miles,” Zander said. “He’s a Shifter.” He gazed down at the fox, who glared back up at him. “And he’s kinda cute.”

  “He’s adorable,” Rae said, dropping to one knee.

  Miles’s fur was a dark gray all over, except for a pattern of lighter gray across his head and around his pointed muzzle. His graying hair as a human, she realized, didn’t come from age, but the markings of his fox. He had a little red fur in him too, around his chest and down into his front legs.