Scent Of A Mate: League Of Gallize Shifters Page 2

  Shouting erupted. The females screamed and cursed.

  Heavy steps slammed the ground fast, running close behind her. A hyena couldn’t stay with her. She heard no eerie laughing or the howl of a wolf.

  That guy chasing her didn’t sound like a bear shifter would when running.

  Glancing over her shoulder, her heart sank as the guy shifted into a cheetah. He rolled forward as he finished his change and picked up speed.

  Shit. She approached a twenty-foot drop she’d seen on her way in to find these kidnappers, leaped across the creek, and shifted on the fly, too.

  Chica burst into life, landing surefooted on the other bank without missing a step.

  Scarlett’s cat cornered hard around a stand of trees. That gave her a chance to estimate her pursuer. The monstrous cheetah on her ass chewed up ground at an insane pace, faster than seemed possible.

  Unless he had juiced on Jugo Loco, an illegal shifter drug.

  Didn’t matter. He could eventually catch her.

  Turn cheetah into rock, Chica yelled at Scarlett.

  Scarlett wanted her cat watching where she went. There are worse things than being hunted by another shifter, Chica. Just pay attention.

  If she failed to kill them all, she’d be outed.

  If she failed to die, she’d bring a higher price on an auction block than Jazlyn.

  More coming. You could help us, Chica pointed out.

  Scarlett shot back, Why don’t you focus on saving our asses?

  Doing more than you!

  Sarcastic bitch.

  Her cougar made a sharp right and barreled through thick woods then leaped on a half-fallen tree. The tall oak tree had probably lost its footing in the recent heavy weather and leaned over trees growing down a hill.

  Was that a hill?

  The sound of water trickled beneath the foliage.

  Chica immediately slowed as if tired.

  What the hell? Her cat was not out of gas. Scarlett told her animal, Get going.

  No.

  Growling followed them, growing louder as the cheetah climbed, panting with excitement.

  The tree bounced with every heavy step forward, but Chica had a firm grip and curved her thick neck to peer behind them.

  As if smelling a quick kill, the cheetah smiled, showing off his fangs. Saliva dripped from his jaws.

  He slowed, crouched, and leaped.

  At the same moment, Chica twisted to the side, shoving off the narrow trunk. She went airborne, legs sprawled like a feline daredevil and smashed into a pile of limbs, scrambling for purchase.

  Limbs snapped and cracked like gunfire.

  The cheetah, more accustomed to running in an open range, failed to land with a grip on the trunk and fell more than sixty feet. The cat howled in pain throughout the crash, then a sudden thud.

  Silence.

  Had he hit head down and snapped his neck?

  All that barely registered with Scarlett as Chica continued sliding down, claws scarring the wood, unable to make a solid grasp to save them from the same fate.

  Scarlett held her breath and silently said, I trust you.

  Chica growled, muscles bunched. Claws extended all the way out and curled, her cat fought through the limbs cracking under her weight.

  Chica slipped, then her chest slammed against a wide branch, knocking the breath from her cat, but stopping them.

  As her limp cougar body started to slide off, Scarlett yelled, Wake up!

  Chica’s head came up. She shook her head hard.

  Too late. Her feline body slid off the branch.

  Chica!

  One massive paw slapped a desperate grab at the branch. Sharp claws dug in. That ended her slide. She swung another paw up and pushed the razor sharp claws deep into the wood.

  But Scarlett could feel her animal’s claws tearing from the paw. Come on, baby, you’re the baddest cougar alive, she whispered to her feline half.

  Chica whined once as a claw ripped free. The coppery smell of blood filled her senses.

  Making a painful growl, Chica freed a paw and reached for a better hold. She swung up her hind legs next, hanging upside down while she caught her breath. While still suspended, she freed her damaged paw and licked it.

  Giving in to a moment of relief, Scarlett told her animal, That was pretty amazing.

  Chica made a happy purring sound, delighted with herself. Good cat. Fresh fish.

  There was her easily distracted cougar. As if Scarlett didn’t indulge her as it was. She laughed and said, Yes, you get your second favorite dinner, but we have to get out of here first.

  Oh, Chica said and stretched her head, looking everywhere then down. Her cougar gave a loud yeow, a sound she made when she liked what she saw.

  Scarlett heard it as wow.

  The sprawled body of the cheetah lay upside down across the jagged rocks. All four legs flopped to the sides. His chest made tiny movements. He’d live, but he’d have to heal a broken back. That was no fun.

  Scarlett grinned. Chica had earned her meal.

  A hyena’s loud laughter blended with a wolf howl.

  Rallying her short-attention-span animal, Scarlett told her, Get us to the ground. I’ll kill the scent trail when we cross the creek.

  She’d use that gift when she believed it would only confuse someone and not finger her as different.

  Let this bunch of traffickers wonder how a cougar shifter had escaped.

  Chica lowered her legs to a limb and twisted until she could climb down the tree. In the next minute, they left the wolf and hyena in their dust.

  While her cougar ran at a comfortable pace toward the exit point, Scarlett started planning. The truck would arrive by six. Because the shifter had said “come back” to Longtown, she took that to mean the town in South Carolina, east of Ridgeway. With current time close to three in the morning on Tuesday, she calculated them driving to Atlanta then back and deduced the time period to be evening.

  Tonight, to be precise.

  This sounded like a larger operation than she’d originally planned to do alone, especially if these guys were dropping more captives.

  She couldn’t free that many on her own and wouldn’t risk their lives trying. To save a group that size, she needed serious muscle.

  With her paw healing, Chica’s stride smoothed out. She asked, What about women?

  Scarlett admitted, We can’t do this one alone. I’ll call in a marker from that Gallize Guardian.

  Tiger owes us.

  What? No. Scarlett didn’t need a freakin’ messed-up tiger to get in her way. She’d gone with a Gallize teammate to save Gan’s sister and witnessed the Gallize Guardian call a monster Siberian tiger out of Gan. Those men met their animals as adults, often with no idea they were not born entirely human. Gan had been a captive his entire life and hated shifters. He had not been happy.

  Had he figured out how to manage that tiger by now?

  Or had he been put down, the only option if he couldn’t gain control. Her heart squeezed at that possibility. With one penetrating look, he’d dragged up a reaction she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Her cougar purred, Want tiger.

  Scarlett snapped out of her momentary insanity. No. Don’t be a hussy. Gan was a jerk. I would only call him if I had a dire emergency!

  Make emergency. Tiger will like me.

  You hated the last tiger.

  Bad choice. Your fault. Not mine.

  Scarlett didn’t need this crap right now. She ignored Chica and returned to thinking through her next move.

  The Gallize Guardian had negotiated ally status for her with his bunch of apex predators.

  But which shifter would be the best to take with her?

  They were all as powerful alone as any alpha backed by a pack or pride. She didn’t fear them, but their Guardian gave her pause. Those shifters were loyal to their boss and would not follow her orders if he overruled her.

  The Guardian lived in a black and white world.
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  Scarlett couldn’t afford that luxury.

  Jaz had saved Scarlett’s ass one time and performed a huge favor a second time.

  Scarlett had to take someone with her. Which Gallize shifter could she work around to free Jaz?

  Gan, Chica reminded Scarlett.

  I am not asking for Ganbaatar, Scarlett replied silently. Besides, he’s supposed to be out west at some compound learning how to manage his tiger. He’s probably killed everything in sight by now.

  Chica sighed. He will help. He smelled nice.

  For all her cougar’s faults, her animal had occasional clairvoyance and shared random information she gleaned. She possessed a stronger ability in clairolfactance where she perceived knowledge via smell.

  She’d been purring over his scent from their first meeting.

  Scarlett had no place to say much. She hadn’t forgotten the smell of fur and wildness that shot straight south to her core.

  Between plotting this intel trip on the female shifter trafficking ring and battling to stay alive, Scarlett had enjoyed a short reprieve from thinking about him.

  That damn arrogant tiger.

  Even in human form, he had a feral look with dark hair sticking out in all directions, gold speckles in his brown beard, and a thundering voice. The look in his crisp blue eyes when he’d blatantly ogled her had been stuck in her head for weeks.

  Bad enough to deal with him haunting her when awake, but the jerk showed up in her dreams at night.

  Dream tiger, Chica cooed.

  More like nightmare cat, Scarlett corrected.

  Liar.

  Scarlett dismissed the hussy and returned to the question of which Gallize shifter.

  Gan did owe Scarlett for playing a major role in rescuing him and his sister. But why call in that debt when she had an open IOU from the Guardian?

  The Gallize had other shifters just as powerful as that tiger.

  Gan had only been a shifter for a few weeks. He would be a bad choice.

  Chica purred, Sexy tiger.

  Right. Scarlett didn’t need two cats who wouldn’t listen.

  Time to test her alliance with the Gallize.

  But she would not allow anyone to take Jaz.

  Chapter 2

  Bighorn National Forest, Wyoming

  Gan lay flat on his stomach against the smooth boulder he’d picked for a lookout point. He held still as death, barely breathing in and out. Crisp air ahead of snow season brought him a mix of scents from evergreens to rich soil to small animals playing farther away.

  He rarely thought of his new life as a shifter with any pleasure, but he did enjoy his heightened sense of smell.

  It had been August when he arrived just over two weeks ago. In that short time, the temperature had become more tolerable.

  A bison calf romped and played thirty feet below.

  Gan’s tiger banged his insides. He dug his fingers hard into crevices in the rock, shaking with strain to hold his human form.

  Change now! his tiger shouted in his head. The animal shoved so much energy through his body to force a change that muscles bulged in his arms until veins stood out.

  Nooo! Gan ground out silently. Every time he freed that maniac, he fought the beast nonstop. The tiger would inevitably win the battle for control, but only until he tired. Once the beast rested, Gan would force the change.

  But that only lasted until Gan reached exhaustion.

  He hated shifters and hated having a tiger inside him.

  As if life hadn’t been bad enough, his tiger had started talking to Gan in his head.

  Like now. The beast shouted his favorite word. Kill.

  Talking to the other part of him amused Gan when he wasn’t struggling to keep his human body intact. Just to distract the crazy tiger, he silently asked, Kill what?

  Calf.

  Gan asked, You hungry?

  Always.

  He didn’t believe the animal. That beast had blood lust. It would kill for entertainment.

  Gan said, You lie, tiger.

  Weak man. Tiger strong!

  Shut up, bastard, Gan snapped at the crazy animal.

  His tiger snarled and roared, still slapping at his insides with Gan grunting in pain.

  If that bison and its mama could hear the uproar going on in his head, they would be long gone.

  Maybe he should yell and send them away.

  Not yet.

  He only had one day until the Guardian returned. He had to convince that eagle shifter he could be trusted around humans. Only then would the Guardian free him.

  If he failed to prove he had control, he’d either be put down as a rabid animal or left here longer ... then put down.

  Bad possibilities all around.

  He never asked to be a Gallize shifter, but he was stuck with this four-legged Siberian misery inside him.

  His insides quieted except for a low rumbling growl that never went away.

  Sweat streamed down his face and soaked his beard. The cool breeze did little to help in spite of being naked.

  He hadn’t cut his scraggly hair or shaved since being locked in this compound. Why should he? The Guardian told him to relax and enjoy the great outdoors of Wyoming.

  “More like great prison,” Gan muttered under his breath.

  His muscles slowly eased, but he kept them ready in case the tiger forced a fast change.

  Had he not allowed that beast to run free for hours last night and yesterday? Had he not encouraged him to feed well, to take down a big elk?

  Any food, as long as it was not mama or baby.

  Tiger must understand rules.

  All he’d asked of the beast was to stay under control until Gan got out of here and escaped the Gallize. If the tiger worked with him, Gan would find a place where the animal could run free and not harm humans.

  Or baby bison.

  Gan sighed. The foolish little animal wandered near the perfect ambush spot.

  His tiger came alert immediately, banging and roaring until Gan waited for his head to explode.

  For the fourth time in fifteen minutes, he locked every muscle he could to keep from changing. His tense body trembled hard against the rock.

  If he could keep his animal from breaking free to kill the little bison, Gan could claim he had control of the tiger and it would be true.

  If not, the Guardian and his shifters would smell a lie.

  Hate you, his tiger sent back and railed against being locked up.

  Gan breathed through his nostrils to keep from making any sound. His heart thumped wildly with the effort to remain in human form.

  He told his beast, Did not ask for you to be inside me. You unhappy? Your fault. I did nothing wrong. I spend whole life as prisoner, then escape only to end up shifter. Now I am stuck with you and prisoner again.

  More snarling and ripping up Gan where no mark would show.

  On his next deep inhale, he sniffed the air.

  All safe for now.

  He might be a monster, but he did not harm babies. No one had protected his brother, killed along with their mother.

  Gan had never known, until recently, that he’d had any family or that his mother had been a tiger shifter. It should not hurt to lose someone you never knew, but he’d wondered his entire life why someone had not saved him.

  He’d survived a village slaughter in another country. The Gallize Guardian told him the place was called Ukraine. His family had moved there from Russia to hide, but crazy people with powers, known as the Cadells, found them and attacked the village, killing all but him as an infant. He went from baby to adult being sent from camp to camp where jackal shifters kept him a prisoner.

  This Wyoming land was no different.

  Still a prison.

  No place would ever be home until he was free to live as he chose.

  The mama bison strayed twenty yards away to a trickling creek where soft green leaves lured her to nibble. Her two-month-old calf noticed and headed her way. It ran un
der a low-hanging branch and jumped away, startled, then eyed the gently swaying branch as if it had been a threat.

  He could teach that little one about true danger.

  But the baby bison had more freedom than he had. Any natural animal could trot out of this area, right through the magic wall that stopped him.

  While that bothered the hell out of him, he wished the mama and baby would move along and get out of here before his tiger pushed too hard and broke free.

  A low snarl reached his supernatural hearing.

  Oh, no.

  He cut his eyes to the right, in the downwind direction from the calf that had no idea what evil headed his way.

  Lifting inches off the rock where he’d been lying since his last shift, Gan eased up on his knees. His tiger surged. Gan almost lost his balance while trying to hold the beast in.

  He leaned forward. Dug his fingers in, desperate to hold his position.

  Energy buzzed along his skin and through his chest.

  Sharp claws extended. Ah, hell.

  Stop! Gan ordered.

  The furious energy inside him wound tighter.

  Everything overhead quieted. No birds chirped. No squirrels scrambled through the trees.

  Even the wind paused as if sensing that death approached.

  The bison calf weighed maybe a hundred pounds now. It pranced around clueless and might as well have an arrow pointed at it that said Come and Eat Me.

  Gan’s chest ached from his internal battle.

  Sweat ran down into his eyes.

  A tiny sound of movement from the right rode along the light breeze.

  No natural animal or human would have heard it, but he had. His tiger hissed and clawed harder. Gan tightened his muscles, struggling to hold the beast at bay.

  He tossed a fast glance at the little bison, then to the mama busily chomping the leaves across the creek.

  In the next second, a blur of brown slashed into view from Gan’s right.

  He reacted without thinking.

  Diving head first into the setting, a fourteen-hundred pound Siberian tiger exploded out of him before reaching the ground. Too fast. His insides felt ripped in four directions.

  The bison calf lifted its head and froze.

  Its mama bellowed and pounded across the creek.

  Gan slammed into the massive preternatural wolf just before it reached the calf. The collision sent his tiger and the wolf rolling in a mangled ball of gnashing teeth and claws tearing skin.