Tiger's Heart Read online

  Tiger’s Heart

  Liz Craven

  © copyright by Liz Craven, December 2009

  Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, December 2009

  ISBN 978-1-60394-393-2

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Dedication

  Wendy, once again, thank you for everything. Amanda, Anne, Michelle, and Myra, thank you for taking me into your group and under your wings.

  Chapter One

  Jan stood shaking on the front porch, staring at the house before her, and feeling like a fool. She had no business bringing her problems to Caitlyn’s doorstep. Guilt assailed her at her selfishness—and her weakness.

  She took a step back, but before she could pivot, the door opened, spilling light across the porch. Caitlyn’s husband, Damien, appeared wearing the trademark snarl he gave everyone, but his wife.

  While she’d never disputed he was the sexiest man alive, she’d been more than vocal in protesting his marriage to her former roommate. The CIA could take lessons from the man on secretiveness.

  And no one should get married after only knowing someone a month.

  Of course, knowing a man eight months before getting engaged hadn’t done her any good.

  Anger melted from Damien’s features to be replaced with shock and then concern. “Jan?”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” She shuffled backwards so quickly, she tripped over a groove between two planks and would have landed hard on her ass if Damien hadn’t caught her. Unfortunately, his large hand closed around an even larger bruise. She swallowed a scream, but it came out a strangled squawk.

  He dropped her arm, alarm in his eyes. “Jan—”

  She held her hands up as if she could block his concern. “Never mind. Don’t tell Caitlyn I was here.”

  “I can’t let you leave,” he told her gently. “You know I can’t. That’s why you’re here. Come in and tell me who did this. We’ll protect you.”

  Something told her the “we” wasn’t he and Caitlyn. She shook her head, ignoring the pain and vertigo it caused. “I shouldn’t have come. Don’t tell Caitlyn.”

  God, she hated hearing the plea in her voice.

  “Damien, what are you—oh my God! Jan?” Caitlyn emerged behind her husband, their two-month-old daughter, Patrice, in her arms.

  Breathtakingly beautiful, Caitlyn would make a supermodel feel homely—and Jan was no supermodel. Worse, Caitlyn had a big heart and a soul as beautiful as her face.

  All but shoving Patrice into her husband’s arms, Caitlyn enveloped Jan in a gentle hug. “Who did this to you? Is he in jail? If not, I’ll kill him. Come inside this minute. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  In moments, Jan found herself ensconced on a soft, gray couch, wrapped in an old quilt, and warming beside a crackling fire. Caitlyn banished Damien to the kitchen for something hot and “Irish” for Jan to drink. Once he’d left with Patrice tucked into the bend of one arm, Caitlyn sank gracefully to her knees, a fluid move Jan imagined had made the former stripper a great deal of money. Caitlyn took Jan’s icy hands into her warm ones. Tears brimming, she asked, “Who did this to you?”

  Jan caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the far wall. A gray bandage splayed across her forehead and down a nose swollen to three times its normal size. Lovely cotton rolls stuffed into her nostrils were a stark color contrast to her two black eyes. Other bruises blossomed on her cheeks and chin.

  Shame curled in her stomach. “I fell—”

  “Don’t. Don’t lie to me.” Caitlyn’s voice cut her off sharply.

  “I’m not—”

  Two gentle fingers traced the mottled bruise on Jan’s throat. The bruise she’d forgotten. The one that held the distinctive shape of a man’s hand.

  Jan pulled her neck away from Caitlyn’s probing touch.

  “Talk to me,” her old friend pleaded on a whisper.

  She gave a negligent shrug. “Met a guy, seemed great, things went south.”

  Caitlyn’s eyes searched her face. “I’m so sorry. Is he in jail?”

  “No. I pressed charges, got a restraining order. He made bail and … a piece of paper won’t stop a fist.”

  “They didn’t re-arrest him?”

  “The hospital called the cops, but he was long gone by the time they went looking for him.”

  “Well, you’ll just stay here until they put that bastard away.”

  Jan let out a bitter laugh. The hospital had called in a social worker. A no-nonsense woman who’d explained the system to her. “He doesn’t have a record. In fact, he’s Mr. All-American. It’s my word against his, and even if he were convicted, he’d never spend a night in jail.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “First offense.”

  Caitlyn’s eyes searched her face, but she didn’t argue. “You’ll stay here. We’ll protect you.”

  Jan shook her head. “I can’t do that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t dump my problems on your shoulders. Especially with a baby in the house.”

  Her eyes swept the windows along one wall. Beyond them lay miles of forest, a perfect vista for someone to sneak up and attack the small family. The thought of the baby being hurt, or worse, because of her had Jan’s stomach churning with dangerous signs of upheaval

  “If I thought for a minute your being here would put my daughter in danger, I’d never have let you in the door. I’m asking you to trust me.”

  Jan closed her eyes and wanted to drift away on the cloud of nothingness behind them. Her mind tried to pull her under, away from the exhaustion and pain. She forced her lids apart. “I’ll stay the night.”

  “You’ll stay until it’s safe.” Damien strode into the room sans child.

  “Patrice—?” Jan began.

  “—is asleep in her crib,” he informed her, extending a steaming mug with melting marshmallows.

  She accepted the offering automatically, even murmured her thanks, but eyed the “Irish” hot chocolate with suspicion.

  “Drink it,” Damien ordered, and she had a moment to wonder if he ever didn’t give orders. His expression softened. “It’s not spiked.”

  “Damien, she needs something,” Caitlyn protested.

  “Lucas is on his way over. He’s bringing his bag.”

  “Lucas?” Jan asked.

  “He’s the local vet.”

  Damien gave his wife an exasperated look. “Lucas went to vet school before he went to med school. He’s a doctor.”

  “I’ve already seen a doctor.” Her hand touched the bandage on her face of its own accord.

  “And you’re going to see another one.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are resisting the help you sought from us. I want to make certain you aren’t taking unnecessary chances with your health. And I can smell your pain. Lucas can give you something for it.”

  He could smell her pain? She almost laughed. Who knew Damien could be so melodramatic? “I’m fine. I don’t need anything.”

  “Humor me.” Damien’s words brooked no argument.

  Normally, she would have argued just for the satisfaction of tweaking him. People tended to jump when Damien said jump. She’d always taken a perverse pleasure in the frustration she caused him by refusing to do so. For the moment, she lacked the energy to annoy him. Not that it would have done any good. There was something … immovable about his demeanor. Something harder than she’d ever seen.

  For the first time, she understood Caitlyn’s inexpli
cable trust in the man.

  Chapter Two

  Stifling a yawn, Lucas jogged up the stairs to the Alpha’s house. Following his shift at the hospital, he’d been called to help a friend’s mare with a complicated delivery. After spending the last few hours with his arm shoved up a horse’s vagina, the last thing he’d wanted to do was take care of some stray human.

  He let himself into the house and called an obligatory greeting.

  “We’re in the back parlor,” Damien called back.

  The exchange was for the humans. He’d known where his Alpha was, and Damien had heard him long before he’d reached the front door.

  He walked into the room, and nodded his greeting.

  Caitlyn rose and took a step back, revealing a smaller figure huddled on the couch. Other than the bruises and swelling, there was nothing remarkable about the woman on the couch. She had shoulder length brown hair and murky-brown eyes. He knew that when the swelling faded, her features would be plain. She was short, neither fat nor thin.

  Still, something about her arrested his attention, drew him to her. He sat the black bag on the coffee table and plopped down on the magazine beside it, ignoring the irritated look Caitlyn shot him.

  “I’ve already seen a doctor,” the human announced. “I’m sorry we disturbed you.”

  “I can see that.” He studied the bandage on her face. If they’d packed her nostrils, it was a bad break. “Where are your post-treatment instructions?”

  “In the car.”

  “I’ll get them,” Damien volunteered and strode from the room.

  Lucas studied her in silence for a few minutes. His temper boiled and his tiger stalked closer to the surface. It echoed and magnified his fury. He’d seen a lot of abuse in the ER over the years, but unlike most of his colleagues, he’d never managed to become immune to its horror.

  He wondered if that were because of his tiger or his vet training. He’d noticed vets didn’t tend to become callused to animal abuse the way doctors did to human abuse.

  His beast took a few moments to settle. They both wanted to demand the bastard’s name and eliminate him from her life—in a permanent and preferably bloody manner.

  She shifted under the weight of his stare. “I’m afraid there’s nothing for you to do here. I can write down my address for you to send me a bill for your time.”

  “You haven’t filled the scripts they gave you?” He knew she hadn’t because he couldn’t smell them. Even if she hadn’t taken them, he would have been able to scent them through the child-proof lids.

  “No, she hasn’t.” Damien held a few sheaves of paper, a sample of antibacterial ointment, and two small squares that had been torn off a prescription pad.

  “It was too late to go to the pharmacy,” the woman defended. “Besides, I don’t like the way the pain pills make me feel.”

  “The pharmacy at the hospital is open twenty-four/seven.” Lucas pointed out, taking the papers from Damien. “And even if you refused the pain meds, you need the antibiotics.”

  “I wasn’t at the local hospital. I was down in Carey,” she defended.

  “You drove over two hundred miles and never passed an exit with an all-night pharmacy?” Carey was three hours south, and a much larger town. Something clicked. “You had time to arrange for a rental car, but couldn’t go to the pharmacy at Carey Memorial?”

  She flinched, not that he blamed her. No one liked having their prevarications called. “The rental company delivered to the hospital. How did you know I rented a car?”

  The black, swollen tissue around her eyes made it impossible to read the exhaustion he knew lurked behind them. That exhaustion clearly dulled her faculties. “I saw the car on my way in.”

  She tried to sniff and choked instead. If it hadn’t exacerbated her pain, it would have been amusing.

  “It could be my car.”

  “Not with the rental sticker and eight-hundred number on it.”

  She blinked at him. “Apparently, my intelligence quotient is plummeting.”

  “Pain will do that,” he assured her.

  “Can you give her something?” The Tigrine asked, moving behind him.

  “I’ve never seen anyone actually do that?” the wounded woman mused.

  “Do what?” Caitlyn asked, alarmed.

  “Wring their hands. That just looks strange.”

  “I’m not wringing my hands,” Caitlyn announced, twisting her hands against each other.

  “Are too.”

  “I can’t give her the antibiotics. I don’t carry them with me.” His voice cut off Caitlyn’s response, which he feared would have been “am not.” He glanced at the name on the hospital paperwork, before fixing her with a stern expression he normally reserved for recalcitrant mules. “Jan, I can give you something for the pain tonight, but the antibiotics are more important.”

  “I’ll send someone to get them filled,” Damien said from the chair behind Lucas.

  The tone of voice and Damien’s behavior toward the human told Lucas that the Alpha was taking her under the protection of the pride.

  “I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” Jan protested.

  He felt her alarm and tasted guilt on the air. She didn’t want to burden anyone. She was the type that needed to be in control. He didn’t bother to tell her that was impossible with Damien.

  Damien snorted and an argument erupted. Lucas ignored the two of them in favor of reading through the hospital report. Fortunately, the human, Jan, was filing her own insurance—or was uninsured—because the hospital had provided the detailed—yet—concise information forms insurance companies required. The justification of expense gave him enough information to understand her injuries and surmise the treatment provided.

  She also had copies of various forms and reports from social services and the police. He pieced the timeline together and realized she’d been beaten over twelve hours earlier.

  He opened his bag and extracted an ampoule—one of the few he carried weak enough to be safe for humans—and a syringe.

  “I most certainly—what do you think you are doing with that?”

  He winced. She’d hit a pitch he’d have sworn could only be reached by nails raking down a chalkboard. “I’m going to give you something for the pain.”

  “No, you’re not.” Eyes as big as dinner plates fixed on the needle he held.

  He ignored her protest. “Are you allergic to any medications?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which ones?”

  “All of them.”

  “Jan—”

  “No needles.”

  “I know five-year olds who don’t act this childish at getting a shot.”

  “Then go torture one of them.”

  “It’s only a little sting for a second,” he cajoled.

  “No.”

  “You’d rather suffer the pain of a broken nose, cracked ribs, and multiple contusions than feel a quick needle prick?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Caitlyn, do you know if she’s allergic to any meds?”

  Jan began to sputter with outrage and he hid a smile. Whoever hurt her hadn’t damaged her spirit.

  “I don’t know.” The Tigrine worried her lower lip. “Can’t you just give her a pill?”

  “I don’t have any.” Pills didn’t work nearly as well on Tigre. “Damien, I need to see those prescriptions.” A glance at the one for a narcotic had him smiling. “Same drug family.”

  She shrank back into the corner of the couch. “You can’t treat me without my consent.”

  “I don’t need your consent. I have Damien’s.”

  “What—?” she strangled.

  “You can take this in the arm or the butt.”

  “No.”

  Caitlyn sat on the edge of the sofa. “Jan, you are being ridiculous.”

  “I know that.”

  “So stop.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “I swear to god, you are the most stubborn, irrat
ional person I know.”

  They argued like sisters and Lucas could feel the tug of the string that switched on the light in the cartoon bubble above his head. If Caitlyn considered her family, then Damien could consider her part of the Pride by extension.

  Caitlyn apparently decided to take matters into her own hands and began trying to unbutton her friend’s shirt. Jan slapped ineffectually at them.

  “Enough.” Damien didn’t raise his voice, but let his power leak into the word.

  Lucas felt the pull of the command. It agitated his tiger, which began to prowl through the metaphysical realm that tied it to his soul. Caitlyn and the human felt the force of Damien’s power. Though without a tiger, they’d feel it in a different way.

  “Stop fighting us. Take your medicine and get some rest.”

  Jan subsided, but continued to glare at Damien. Lucas admired her spunk, and waited patiently for Caitlyn to help her out of her shirt, revealing a cute pink lace bra splattered with dried blood and a torso wrapped to protect her ribs.

  He opened an alcohol pad before drawing the necessary CC’s and flicked the side of the syringe. Depressing the plunger sent a thin squirt of liquid into the air.

  Shifting forward to wipe her arm, he heard the magazine cover tear and reached for her arm. When his skin touched hers, his tiger roared in his head.

  Mine.

  Chapter Three

  Jan opened her eyes and quickly discovered something more painful than taking a beating … waking up the next morning. She turned her head and squinted at the alarm clock. Make that the next afternoon. She bit her lip and focused on the slight sting rather than her body aches as she rolled off the bed onto wobbly legs.

  Afternoon light filtered softly into the room, suggesting it faced south. Thick carpets alongside the bed and before the door protected her bare feet from the cold hardwood floors. Her bladder shrieked its discontent and she shuffled towards the small doors opposite the bed.

  A voice filtered through the main door and Jan paused at Caitlyn’s words.

  “I was just going to check on her, but I think you’re wrong. I think you can tell her the truth about who you are.”