Книга - Awakening The Shifter

Awakening The Shifter
Jane Godman


A tiger shifter falls for a werewolfBut their passion is forbidden…Rock star Khan hides his shifter status behind his bad-boy reputation. But the weretiger is floored by the combined beauty and talent of singer Sarange Tsedev…who doesn't know she's a wolf! Their chemistry is potent, but tigers and wolves don't mix. Still, Khan's and Sarange's past and present are linked; it will take their combined magical abilities to create a future together.







A tiger shifter falls for a werewolf

But their passion is forbidden...

Rock star Khan hides his shifter status behind his bad-boy reputation. But the weretiger is floored by the combined beauty and talent of singer Sarange Tsedev...who doesn’t know she’s a wolf! Their chemistry is potent, but tigers and wolves don’t mix. Still, Khan’s and Sarange’s past and present are linked; it will take their combined magical abilities to create a future together.


JANE GODMAN writes in a variety of romance genres, including paranormal, gothic and romantic suspense. Jane lives in England and loves to travel to European cities that are steeped in history and romance—Venice, Dubrovnik and Vienna are among her favorites. Jane is married to a lovely man and is mum to two grown-up children.


Also by Jane Godman (#u5e3d7f98-929b-5d28-b073-bef12f30af3c)

Otherworld ProtectorOtherworld RenegadeOtherworld ChallengerImmortal BillionaireThe Unforgettable WolfOne Night with the ValkyrieAwakening the ShifterCovert KissesThe Soldier’s SeductionSecret Baby, Second Chance

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Awakening the Shifter

Jane Godman






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-08202-0

AWAKENING THE SHIFTER

© 2018 Amanda Anders

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to my friends Gill, Karen and Andrea. I won’t embarrass them by saying how long we’ve known each other...but it’s been a long time!


Contents

Cover (#u0e5b3bef-ce6a-5351-aa09-57603476b2cf)

Back Cover Text (#ua961ae9b-dd2d-5e28-905d-8fc5381f5ea2)

About the Author (#uf8c5f045-f582-5ea7-9c77-a5e3b84f2386)

Booklist (#u3d42d811-8885-5ecb-88c5-4f0da7c01774)

Title Page (#u890d42c4-ba55-5629-959e-b1b272f1148c)

Copyright (#uaaf42694-6170-5a50-8b5b-501901802d53)

Dedication (#u85ba176c-a1e0-55f2-98c3-7f3a1966bf95)

Chapter 1 (#u7409d4bc-d06a-5399-9d97-6de335807d4a)

Chapter 2 (#ud2809e5b-4896-5e07-92a7-43d9b29f1939)

Chapter 3 (#u4b7421ce-1a61-5e70-8c6e-b78c1c132253)

Chapter 4 (#ub7a94ad9-ac28-59e0-9d7f-4db874b53d57)

Chapter 5 (#u7d8cd75f-062c-5742-bee2-0d8e9289437c)

Chapter 6 (#u1be6236e-f74a-51ef-8a1b-8fc426dd9284)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1 (#u5e3d7f98-929b-5d28-b073-bef12f30af3c)

This was where Khan felt alive. The only place he knew for sure he existed. The heavy, thumping beat of the drums pounded in time with his heartbeat. The screams of the crowd pulsed along his nerve endings. Exhilaration fizzed through his bloodstream, sending his energy levels into overdrive.

In front of an audience of thousands, or in this case, tens of thousands, with millions more watching on TV or live streaming...this was the only place his life had any purpose.

He didn’t move. Head bowed, arms outstretched. Fire and fury exploded around him, but Khan waited. Pumped up the expectation beyond fever pitch and kept it hanging. Teased and tormented until the yelling and pleading from his fans became a fervor in his blood.

When he finally raised his head, he felt his own vigor pulse through the audience. The devil horn sign was repeated over and over as far as the eye could see. Two fingers at the side of the head. The sign of the beast. Our sign. Nothing matched this...except maybe sex. The two experiences were similar, with the need for release becoming overwhelming. The climax came when he delivered his performance, poured himself into his spectators, gave them everything he had.

Dense smoke rolled like fog from the stage and, within it, colored strobe lights danced in time with the drumbeat. Giant LED screens at the rear of the stage projected alternating images of fire, close-ups of snarling animals and the band’s logo, a stylized symbol resembling three entwined number sixes. At the side of the stage, explosions went off at random intervals, shooting orange flames high into the night sky.

The other members of Beast were unleashing a storm around him. Behind his vast, gleaming circle of drums, Diablo exuded raw, brooding vitality. His chest was bare and his tattooed biceps bulged as he hammered out a manic beat, his blue-black hair flopping forward to hide his face.

At the front of the stage, red-haired Torque, on lead guitar, was all burning drama and flickering movement. The air around him glowed with life, and he matched the sweeping arc of his hand on his guitar to the explosions at the side of the stage. In contrast, Dev, on rhythm guitar, held his body statue still, the movement of his flying fingers the only sign of life. His white-blond hair and pale skin added to the illusion that he was carved from ice. Slightly to the left of center, just behind Dev, Finglas was lost in his bass guitar, a faraway expression on his face.

“Unforgettable.” Khan felt the stadium still as he elongated the word, starting on a whisper and ending on a screech. He knew the power of his own voice, knew what people said. Is Khan the best rock singer ever? Does he have the greatest vocal range of all time? Or is he just a showman?

Khan didn’t give a damn about speculation and comparisons. Tonight, in Los Angeles—and at the simultaneous concerts in Manchester, England, and in Sydney, Australia—as long as they were talking about him, that was all that mattered.

“Unforgettable” was their bestselling track from the album of the same name. As he launched into the number and the crowd sang along, Khan gave them what they expected. Throwing back his red-gold mane of hair, he swaggered, swayed and jumped around the stage in skintight leopard print pants and a flowing white shirt slashed to the waist. His voice ranged from husky purring to wild yelping, with acrobatics to match.

He ended the song in one of his favorite ways. Approaching Diablo, Khan howled out the final chorus while dry humping the drum kit. It was always a crowd pleaser. It was less popular with Diablo, whose expression became even more tempestuous. Ged Taverner, Beast’s manager, frequently warned Khan that he would one day push Diablo too far.

“When I’m asked to identify your body, Tiger Boy, there’ll be a drumstick through the center of your eye.”

Acknowledging the adulation of the crowd, Khan returned to the front of the stage. Before he could speak, he was conscious of a change in the atmosphere. A curious hush fell over the packed stadium, something Khan had never known. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Silence? Where was the validation in that?

A slender figure swept onto the stage. Sarangerel Tsedev, known as Sarange, was unmistakable. One of the few people in the world who, like Khan, needed only one name. Even if that hadn’t been so, her place on the stage was assured, her ability to silence thousands well established.

Although she was one of the most famous singer-songwriters in the world, Sarange was also the organizer of this concert. The Animals Alive Foundation was her nonprofit organization. Tonight was about raising awareness of endangered species. She had driven forward this vision, persuading the biggest names in the entertainment industry to come along with her. All across the globe people were watching this spectacle unfold and donating millions. The final tally was likely to be billions. Against all the odds, she had succeeded in uniting the world in a common cause.

It had always been the plan that Sarange would join Khan for the official Animals Alive anthem. This was the finale, the culmination of all her hard work. What was striking about this encounter was that it was the first time two of the biggest names in the music scene had met in person.

Khan had seen Sarange on screen many times, of course. He had heard her described as one of the most beautiful women in the world, and that accolade had piqued his interest. Yes, she was stunning. He had acknowledged it and promptly forgotten about her. Now, as Beast played the first few bars and she walked toward him, he realized she was a whole lot more than stunning.

She wore a simple full-length white shift dress. High-necked at the front, swooping almost to the cleft of her buttocks at the back, slit to the thigh on both sides. The evening breeze molded the lightweight material to her body as she walked, highlighting the perfection of her figure. Her waist-length hair was iron straight, its blue-black sheen emphasized by the strobe lighting. As Sarange drew closer and raised her microphone, singing the first few lines of the song she had written—a love song to the creatures of the planet—he caught his first glimpse of eyes that were like chips of blue ice.

Forcing himself to focus, he circled her, growling out his response. The audience went ballistic. Could they feel it? Sense what he had experienced the moment she walked into view?

Khan knew what was happening, knew what the legends said. It was like a mantra imprinted into every shifter’s psyche.

When you find your one true love, you will mate for life.

He had heard the stories about how a shifter instantly knew its mate. How the sudden hit of attraction and lust was like nothing he, or she, had ever encountered before. It was said to be irresistible, an injection of pure, molten heat straight into the bloodstream.

Yes, he’d heard other shifters talk about that feeling. He’d just never believed it. Until now. Until he’d seen Sarange. Breathed her in. Felt her touch his soul.

And now he was in deep trouble. For so many reasons. The thoughts tumbled over themselves as he continued to perform on autopilot. As far as the world was concerned, he was Khan, charismatic lead singer of the hugely successful rock band Beast. And that’s exactly who he was. Who his human was.

But, like all shifters, Khan had two equal sides to his psyche. They existed in harmony, the traits of one complementing the other. He was a weretiger. Half human, half tiger, he had the ability to shift seamlessly from one form to the other. Because of the life he had chosen when he met Ged—if “met” was the best word to use to describe the encounter—he spent most of his time in human form, but that didn’t mean his inner tiger had been subdued. Those instincts were as powerful as ever. For Khan, as for all shifters who chose to live among mortals, day-to-day living was a constant balancing act, a striving to maintain anonymity.

Rock star by day, tiger by night. He was the mightiest of the big cats, with teeth, claws and a personality to match, but that was his deepest, darkest secret. He wasn’t about to reveal it to anyone, particularly not Sarange, darling of the paparazzi. It didn’t matter how much she made the blood in his veins sizzle, or how much she triggered a zipper-straining reaction farther south. It didn’t even matter that she had her own, equally compelling secret.

Because, as soon as he saw her, he knew. Sarange’s secret was the same as Khan’s. She was a shifter, too. Khan had scented her before he saw her. That gorgeous face and stunning body hid the soul of a werewolf. That knowledge made everything Khan was feeling right now so far beyond screwed up he thought he might just be going crazy.

He was a tiger. She was a wolf. Cats and dogs? They were natural enemies. Put them together and the claws came out and the fur flew. Even if Khan had been able to do what the legends said—settle down, take a mate—it would never be her.

The tales about the unbreakable bond between true mates hadn’t foreseen this particular problem. They dealt only in success stories. Happily-ever-afters. It was always possible Khan’s dilemma had never arisen until now. He needed answers. Having found a mate he didn’t want, a shifter couldn’t walk away—could he? Once the bonds were forged, could they be broken?

He was about to find out.

* * *

There had never been any question about who the headline act would be. Never any doubt about who would sing the Animals Alive anthem as the concert closed. Beast was the hottest rock band in the world. Although Sarange hadn’t been to any of their concerts, or met them in person, she intended to tap into that raw power.

Even if the lead singer was a total jerk.

She had watched enough footage of the band over recent weeks to reach a simple conclusion. Khan was a strutting, narcissistic show-off. She knew better than anyone that that was the perfect qualification for a rock star. Unfortunately, there was enough evidence to prove he was exactly the same offstage. She’d been hoping to enlist Beast’s continued help after the concert. It made sense. Beast. It had the potential to be the perfect partnership. Their name combined with hers, their pulling power, the two contrasting audiences...between them, they could have taken awareness of the plight of endangered species to a whole new level. Having watched interviews with Khan and done her research into his lifestyle, she’d changed her mind. Promiscuous, arrogant, conceited, he just about summed up everything she disliked in a man...in a person. Khan described himself as “the guy who dived head-on into hedonism.” Yeah. He was a jerk.

As she walked out onstage, she gave herself a firm reminder. This was for the Animals Alive Foundation, the non-profit organization she had founded. Its mission was to maintain the environments of endangered species through fundraising and education. All she had to do was get through one song. Five minutes out of her life to get the attention of Beast’s followers. She didn’t have to like this guy to sing with him. Performing was what she did best. She achieved a melting expression as she sang the first lines of the anthem that meant so much to her.

Sarange was used to crowds, but this was an emotional high like nothing she had ever experienced. This was the culmination of over two years of hard work. Of being told it would never happen. Big fund-raising gigs were last century. Austerity measures meant there was no spare cash. People, not animals—that was the way nonprofit worked these days.

Kicking open slammed doors. Pulling down barriers with her bare hands. It was one of her strengths, but it had been hard. Fighting the establishment one interview and rally at a time. If we don’t care for animals, how can we care for each other? When they are extinct, your regrets will be worthless. Sound bites. Slogans. Pins. Banners. Every album she made, every photo shoot, every gig...like a general rallying her troops, she used each as another opportunity to get more people on her side.

But the feeling that tore through her as she reached Khan had nothing to do with the triumph or relief of this night. It had nothing to do with viewing figures or pledges. It was about him. Something crackled in the air between them and around them. It was electrifying, thrilling and scaring her at the same time.

The film footage she had watched hadn’t done Khan justice. He was startlingly handsome. Tall, with a lithe, muscular grace, his features almost perfect. He had high, carved cheekbones, a straight nose and breathtaking amber eyes. Almost perfect because his mouth was too full and sensual for perfection. But those eyes...they were mesmerizing. Set under slanting brows, they reminded her of a cat’s in the way they drew her in and refused to let her go. As he closed the gap between them, he was staring at her with an expression she couldn’t fathom. He could have been playing a part for the audience, but, if he was, he was good. Frighteningly good. Because she was instantly swept away by the hunger in his gaze.

This song wasn’t supposed to be sexy, for God’s sake. But the way Khan was standing behind her, not touching her, but almost touching her, his body moving in sinful time to the music...nothing had ever affected her this way. It was as if he was an illegal high and she was dragged into addiction after her first hit.

As they sang the last verse, Sarange was barely aware of the other acts who had performed throughout the course of the evening joining them on the stage. This night would go down in history. It would be remembered as the night she had alerted the world to her cause. And in her own life it was the night everything would change because she had met Khan.

When the song ended and the sound of Khan’s voice died away, she felt bereft. He still hadn’t touched her. Not once had he placed a hand upon her. She closed her eyes, willing him to do it now. To wrap his arms around her waist as he stood behind her on the stage. To let her feel the warmth of his body as they swayed in time to the music.

She opened her eyes to see a close-up of her face projected onto the giant screen at the rear of the stage. To the watching millions, the look of enchantment in her eyes had to do with the concert. Only Sarange knew the truth. She wondered if Khan had guessed. He was the reason for her rapture. Turning her head, she sought his gaze for confirmation.

She didn’t get it. Khan had already left the stage.

* * *

Because of the number of acts performing in the stadium, there hadn’t been enough dressing rooms for everyone, and Beast had been forced to share. They had arrived in Los Angeles that morning at the end of a three-month tour. Now that the concert was over, their tour bus would be taking them to New York, where the band was based. Predictably, the roads around the stadium were blocked. Their security team had advised them to remain in the dressing room, and they faced a lengthy wait before they could depart.

It was always the same when they were together for any length of time. At least on the bus there were sleeping compartments where they could escape each other’s company. Now there were five massive egos competing for space in a small room.

“This sounds like the start of a bad shifter joke,” Dev said.

Diablo scowled at him from under lowered brows. “What does?”

“Us, all crammed into this room. You know. A tiger, a dragon, a black panther, a snow leopard and a wolf...” Apparently sensing he had lost his audience, Dev shrugged and lapsed into silence.

The atmosphere had reached the point where sizzling tension was about to become boiling animosity, when Sarange burst through the door and jabbed a finger into Khan’s chest. “You arrogant jerk!”

Khan, who was stretched full-length on the only sofa in the room, opened his eyes as she leaned over him. Although her presence made his pulse soar, he managed to hide the effect she had on his emotions.

“I’m an arrogant jerk who is trying to get some rest.” He closed his eyes again.

“How dare you walk off that stage like it didn’t matter? Like you had someplace more important to be?”

Khan sighed and uncurled his limbs. Stretching, he got to his feet and looked down at her. Her hands were on her hips, and her lips were drawn back. Werewolves generally steered clear of confronting him. The hierarchy that existed in the animal world also applied to shifters. Tigers outranked wolves. It was a simple matter of superior size, strength, razor-sharp claws and lethal teeth. Even so, Sarange was displaying clear signs of wolf rage. Snapping and snarling. Normally he found it so unattractive. On her it was hot as hell.

“I thought I was a volunteer out there on that stage.” Khan kept his voice light, knowing how much it would annoy her. He needed to infuriate her further if he was going to push her away. “Pardon me for not realizing I signed up to the slavery option.”

Her indrawn breath was so harsh it sounded like a growl. He had to grip his hands hard at his sides to stop himself from shoving her up against the wall right there and then before hauling up the hem of that too-sexy dress.

“I think this is our cue to leave.” Torque jerked a thumb in the direction of the door.

“Really?” Dev looked from Sarange’s furious expression to Khan’s watchful one. “Looks like this could get interesting.”

“No need to go, guys.” Khan tossed the words over his shoulder without breaking eye contact with Sarange. “Our visitor isn’t staying.”

He saw Torque wince at his dismissive tone. That distaste was the effect Khan wanted to have on Sarange. He needed to drive her away. Right away. Make her view him with hatred and contempt. If he couldn’t make this aching, burning longing go away, he could at least make sure nothing ever came of it.

Although she was looking at him with scorn, Sarange wasn’t going anywhere. She had come here with a purpose, and with classic wolf tenacity, she was going to see it through. His bandmates had clearly recognized her intention and, following Torque’s lead, were heading for the door. Khan couldn’t even call them on it. Couldn’t question their loyalty. Over the years, his relationship with them had become the closest thing he had to friendship. But he was a tiger. A big cat loner. Powerful, sensual, selfish and controlling. His need to dominate the group was far greater than his human need to be liked.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Sarange was back on the attack. Like a beautiful wolf gnawing on a bone. “I was warned about you. Narcissist. Playboy. Jerk. That’s what I was told. I don’t know why I thought you’d be different.”

“Nor do I.”

A strangled sound of fury issued from her throat. “You are the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.”

He laughed. “This is nothing. I can get a lot worse.”

She drew a breath. “You made a commitment to this concert. You were the headline act. When you walked out on the finale, you gave a message to the audience that it didn’t matter—”

He flapped a hand at her. “I get it. Let it go, wolf girl.”

Her brow furrowed. “Wolf girl? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Khan stared down at her, incredulity jolting him out of his attempted nonchalance. She appeared genuinely confused. What the hell reason could she have to pretend not to be a werewolf? Was it possible Sarange didn’t know she was a shifter? He’d never heard of that happening before, couldn’t believe it was conceivable. Yet she was looking at him as though he was crazy.

Maybe that was the explanation. He might just be crazy after all. Had he gotten this all wrong? Could it be that she wasn’t a werewolf? He dismissed that thought instantly. Khan’s shifter instincts were pure and true. Beneath the expensive perfume she wore, the scent of Sarange’s skin made his nostrils flare. She smelled of female wolf. Of lichens and berries, frost and pine. Of dark, sharp evergreens and ice-hard ground. It was an aroma that should have been alien to his inner cat. Instead, it was making his mouth water.

He wanted to taste her so much it hurt. And Sarange felt it, too. It was there in the depths of those unusual light eyes, in the flare of her nostrils, the way her nipples tightened and pressed against the thin cloth of her dress and in the warm, honeyed scent of her arousal. In the way her breathing came hard and fast as she faced him with a mixture of confusion and passion clouding her features.

Sarange moved first, wrapping her arms tight around Khan’s neck and pulling his lips down to hers. She kissed him hard and hungry, claiming his lips as anger and lust powered through them both. Khan was helpless. No matter how hard he tried to resist, his need for her was too strong. His large hands seized her toned buttocks through the cloth of her dress, squeezing hard as he pulled her tight against him.

It was more conflict than kiss as Sarange squirmed desperately in his hold, her hands clawing at his shoulders. Their mouths clashed, tongues fighting, caressing, battling for supremacy. Khan was instantly rock hard, harder than he’d ever been. As he pressed his erection into the soft curve of her belly, Sarange moaned and broke free.

A dozen conflicting thoughts chased around in Khan’s head as, breathing hard, they glared at each other.

Tigers and wolves...cats and dogs. How can she not know?

Make her leave.

Beg her to stay.

Kiss her again. This time make it last forever.

Just as he lifted a hand to slide it behind her head and draw her back to him, Sarange stalked out of the room.


Chapter 2 (#u5e3d7f98-929b-5d28-b073-bef12f30af3c)

Sarange didn’t know what she was feeling. So many emotions were competing for dominance inside her she couldn’t begin to single out or categorize any individual one. Generally, her temperament was even. She didn’t have mood swings. Yet after one brief encounter with Khan, her senses were swaying like a barometer needle in changing weather.

It was a relief to reach her dressing room without encountering anyone who wanted to talk to her. As the concert had approached, the demands on her time had increased. In the past few weeks, she had barely had a minute to call her own. Tonight had been a whirlwind of questions, requests and suggestions, all of which appeared to require her personal intervention.

Sarange had endless patience. It was part of her makeup. Her birth parents, whoever they were, must have bequeathed it to her with their genes. But right now she didn’t want to cope with someone else’s problems. Even for the sake of Animals Alive, the organization that had been her life’s work for so long. The thought caused her a pang of guilt, and she managed to quell it. Just for once, she was going to put duty aside. She was going to spend a little time alone analyzing what had just happened to her.

How had she managed to let the most arrogant, infuriating man she had ever met get to her? And by “get to me” I mean turn me on so much I almost burst into flames. Just the thought of how Khan made her feel had her breath catching in her throat and a renewed thrill of desire pulsing through her body.

What is wrong with me? She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, releasing a long sigh. Despite his devastating looks, Khan was not her type. She didn’t like overtly dominant men. Sarange had no desire to settle down. Now and then, she speculated about the reason. Did she have abandonment issues linked to her strange past? By ensuring she was the stronger partner in any relationship, was she making sure she couldn’t be hurt? Although it made a strange kind of sense, she didn’t feel it was a valid explanation for her choices. Perhaps she was just cold-hearted? It wasn’t something that affected her strongly enough to probe deeply.

Now she thought about it, her brief relationships had all been with men who conformed to a certain category. Undemanding was the first word that came to mind. Did she deliberately choose partners who wouldn’t challenge her? It wasn’t a question she had considered until now, and she didn’t like it. Didn’t want to start psychoanalyzing herself just because Khan had strutted onto her horizon. So what if, up to now, I’ve chosen sweet, considerate guys? The sort any woman would have no problem taking home to meet Mom and Dad?

Not that Sarange had a mom and dad. She had an uncle and aunt who did the same job. She tried to picture taking Khan home to meet Bek and Gerel Tsedev. The thought made her choke back a laugh. It was never going to happen, but the image was amusing.

It wasn’t just his arrogance that triggered a warning about Khan. It was the way he stripped away her control, and did it with such relish. Wolf girl. That was what he had called her. What had he meant by it? One thing was for sure, it wasn’t a compliment. The tone of his voice had been scathing, while the look in his eyes had scalded her. She assumed he meant she liked to be in charge. He had judged her on first impressions, likening her to the leader of a pack. It was a curious analogy, but their encounter had hardly been conventional. If she hadn’t walked out when she did, heaven alone knew what would have happened next. She had a feeling it would have led to passion beyond her wildest imagination followed by a world of regret.

Hadn’t she been equally guilty of basing her opinion of Khan on sensational reporting and the antagonistic, thrilling clash from which she had just walked away? She pushed herself off from the door and made her way to the refrigerator. Snagging a bottle of water, she drained half its contents in a few quick gulps.

This violent attraction she felt toward Khan, this uncertainty and angst about her feelings, the burning restlessness that made her want to turn right back around and finish what they’d started...it was all new to her. New and frightening. She didn’t like feeling this way. Sarange’s life was neat and tidy. She liked it best when everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing and no one deviated from the script. This felt wild and unrehearsed. Khan had thrown her so far out of her routine she couldn’t see a way back. And the scary thing was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Her whole body was still trembling with a combination of excitement and outrage. Curiously, she felt as though the electricity coursing through her veins was there to stay. How could that be so? The answer was simple. It couldn’t. Put a little distance between her and Khan and she could forget him, get back to normal. It wasn’t as if he could have any sort of lasting effect on her life. Was it?

A knock on the door startled her into spilling water down the front of her dress. Instantly, she wondered if it was Khan, and her feelings went to war over the possibility. Excitement trilled through her at the thought of opening the door and seeing him again. At the same time, anger flooded through her. There could be only one reason why he would follow her. He must be confident she would fall into his arms again.

And won’t you? She hated this. Hated the way her body was pulling her in two different directions. Because she had no idea what she would do if she opened that door and Khan was standing on the other side of it. There was a strong possibility she would launch herself at him, but whether the outcome was a kiss or a punch remained to be seen.

With a hand that shook slightly, she turned the handle and opened the door. Her initial reaction told her everything she needed to know about her feelings. The man who stood there was most definitely not Khan. Shorter, slighter, with dark hair and sharp features, his smile oozing charm. It wasn’t his fault Sarange wanted to slam the door in his face because he wasn’t the person she longed to see. Her heart gave an uncomfortable downward lurch. She had a wretched feeling it was a signal. A warning that no one else would ever be good enough. From now on, the only person she would open a door to with a willing smile would be Khan.

This was straying into the realms of the absurd. This man, whoever he was, had begun to regard her with a slightly bemused expression. “Your manager said this would be okay. I’m Gurban Radin, owner of Real Planet Productions. We spoke on the phone last week.”

Forcing herself to concentrate, she dredged up a memory of the conversation. “Of course.” She held out her hand and he shook it enthusiastically. “Come in, Mr. Radin.”

“Just Radin, please.” He stepped into the dressing room. “I wanted to stop by and congratulate you on the success of tonight’s concert. After what I’ve just seen, I’m even more keen for us to work together on the project we discussed.”

Sarange nodded. “I’m looking forward to making the documentary with your company. Obviously, returning to my home country of Mongolia will be exciting for me. Even more important than that will be the focus on the plight of the blue wolves. They are one of the most endangered species on the planet.”

Radin paced the small room excitedly. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it...if you’ve had time to check yet?” He held up his cell phone. “But the response to your duet with Khan has been phenomenal. Social media is going wild. The electricity between the two of you was incredible.”

“We are performers. That’s what we do.” Sarange hoped her voice didn’t sound too cold, but at the same time, she wanted to dampen some of his enthusiasm. And maybe some of her own. She also had no idea what her performance with Khan had to do with the wildlife documentary she was supposed to be making.

“Exactly.” Radin’s eyes shone with zealous light. “We need to use that, and also capitalize on the public enthusiasm.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Sarange had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“By getting Khan to make the blue wolf documentary with you.”

* * *

Being a rock star meant living on his nerves. The life was high-energy, high-profile and high-stress. Khan was permanently in the public eye and on someone else’s agenda. He had known how it would be when Ged helped him escape from captivity. This was the life Ged had offered him, and he had embraced it with gratitude. Khan was good at it—the best—but it didn’t always suit his big-cat temperament. His inner tiger craved solitude and supremacy. Juggling the two sides of his persona wasn’t easy, and he had been looking forward to this time after Beast’s tour as a chance to unwind before they started work on their new album. It hadn’t happened.

It had been weeks since the Animals Alive concert, and the intervening time had taken the madness of his fame to a whole new level. The entire concert had fired the public imagination, but his duet with Sarange had been the highlight. The chemistry between them had been tangible to those watching. Rumors of a romance between the bad boy of rock and the world’s most glamorous singer had persisted ever since. They couldn’t look at each other that way and not be in love; that was the argument that pervaded every website, magazine and TV program.

Always the subject of paparazzi attention—the press was desperate to catch him out in bad behavior...and they often succeeded—Khan had been unable to move out of his New York apartment. Ged had advised him to lie low.

“Something else will come up in a day or two to attract their attention, and this will all be forgotten.”

It hadn’t happened. Kha-range—Khan wanted to put his foot through the TV screen the first time he heard that celebrity fusion name—had become a media obsession. Hotels and restaurants, keen to boost business, fanned the flames by hinting at sightings and bookings. Engagements, weddings, a secret baby, breakups...the whole range of stories had hit the headlines in the last few weeks.

And the job offers had rolled in. The moneymen, seeing the opportunities in a collaboration between Khan and Sarange, had come up with an eye-watering range of ideas. Films, TV specials, a record deal, interviews, photo shoots, advertising, even a book.

Khan had lost count of the number of times he had said no. Today was different. Today he would get to say the word to Sarange herself.

“No.” He tilted his chair back so he could rest his shoulders against the wall. At the same time, he placed his feet on the glossy glass surface of the meeting table. The gesture was calculated to annoy Sarange. From the way her light blue gaze grew even icier as it dropped to his scuffed biker boots, he guessed he’d succeeded.

“I don’t think you’ve quite grasped the concept.” Gurban Radin, the guy who was in charge of the production company, leaned forward earnestly, resting his clasped hands on the table. “What we’re proposing is unlike anything that’s ever been done before. Two major stars being filmed as they travel together to a remote region of Mongolia to see the blue wolves in their natural habitat—”

“What part of ‘no’ didn’t you understand?” Khan had no problem being rude to this guy. He hadn’t asked for this meeting. He’d started out polite, but now they were taking up his valuable rehearsal time, and they still weren’t listening to him.

“The Animals Alive Foundation would benefit from your contribution.” Ged’s eyes held a play-nice warning. Khan saw that look on his manager’s face on a regular basis. Sometimes he felt a pang of pity for Ged. He worked so hard to keep Khan, his most famous client, out of trouble. He didn’t always succeed.

“I’ll write a check. Name your price.” Khan yawned. “The answer is still no.”

He could see Sarange fighting to keep her temper under control. He could read her emotions, even though he didn’t want to feel that connection to her. Part of the reason he had agreed to this meeting had been to test his resolve. The last few weeks had been torture. Every minute of every day, his body craved her. It wasn’t like going cold turkey on an addiction. It wasn’t getting easier as time went by. He didn’t have any periods when he didn’t hunger for his fix. If this was the rest of his life, he was screwed.

He really shouldn’t be here. Keeping away from her would have been the wisest move, but the rest of the world was conspiring against him. Even Ged was giving him some powerful reasons why he should consider this latest offer. In the end, Khan had taken a break from precious rehearsal time so he could look at Sarange and see how she was coping with the whole fated-mates, enforced separation situation. He hoped she was doing better than he was. And he wondered if she’d gotten a handle on her inner wolf yet. Because that whole denial thing was seriously weird.

Now that he was up close to her, he could see she was suffering. His gaze lingered on her face, drinking her in. Today her hair was drawn back in a thick braid that hung to her waist and she wore a crisp white shirt. Her jeans were tucked into soft leather boots. Even in casual clothing she managed to look like a Mongolian princess. Her face was heart-shaped, with flat high cheekbones tapering to a pointed chin. A broad, arrogant nose and full mouth added to the regal look. The only giveaway to her werewolf heritage was her eyes. Set under thick, soaring dark brows, they were twin chips of blue ice. Khan could see pain and confusion in their depths. Unlike him, he could tell Sarange still had no idea why she was hurting.

Life could be hard, and Khan knew from experience that went double for shifters. He experienced a brief, dangerous pang of sympathy for Sarange. Someone should sit her down and explain how these things worked. Not him. No way was Khan going there. But he wanted to take away that lost, hurt look in her eyes and replace it with the cynicism she would need to develop if she was going to survive as a werewolf in the human world. Maybe Ged could talk to her. The guy who had dedicated his life to rescuing damaged shifters had the experience and the skill.

“Are we done here?” Khan placed his hands on the table, indicating he intended to leave. Because he couldn’t put his body under this strain for much longer. There was only so much torment he could endure. And fighting the need to drag Sarange into his arms was just about the worst torture he had known. Coming from Khan, a weretiger who had endured capture, imprisonment and near death, that was quite an admission.

“Wait.” Sarange’s voice was quiet, almost pleading. When she raised her eyes to his, it was as though there was no one else in the room. “Just hear me out. Please?”

In spite of the voice in his head urging him to get right away from her and do it fast, Khan sank back into his seat. There was a tiny flare of gratitude in her eyes. And, in that instant, he was lost. He understood how medieval knights of old felt when they performed heroic deeds to prove their worth. Climbing beanstalks, defeating dragons—although the only dragon he knew was Torque, and he was generally harmless—and breaking magic spells. She wasn’t going to ask him to do any of those things. But he knew she was going to test his resolve.

“After to the red wolves, the blue wolves of Mongolia are the most endangered in the world. This pack has been gradually decreasing over the years so that now there are fewer than a hundred left.” Her voice was low, passionate. It was obvious how much this cause meant to her. “I agreed to travel to the region to make a documentary to raise awareness of their plight. Now the production company—” her eyes flickered to Radin “—have said they will withdraw the funding...unless you and I make the film together.”

“Why would they do that?” Even as Khan asked the question, he knew the answer.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sarange gave a bitter little laugh. “They’ll draw a huge audience because of the recent public interest in us.” She said the word “us” the way Khan thought it. Within bitter quotation marks. “It all comes down to money.”

Radin spoke up quickly. “We will, of course, be making a substantial contribution to the Animals Alive Foundation.”

Sarange ignored him. “Even if this film gets made, it may be too late for the blue wolves. The prediction is that they will be extinct within five years. But if we can raise awareness, begin a breeding program...who knows? There may just be a chance we can save them.”

“Why not make the film yourself using Animals Alive Foundation funds?”

“We couldn’t allow that.” Radin’s voice was smooth. “My company owns the rights to the documentary. How it is made is our decision.”

The sensation of being trapped was beginning to prickle along Khan’s spine. They thought they had him. Conscience, publicity, environmentalism, guilt...they thought they’d pressed all the right buttons and gotten him where they wanted him. Even Ged, his friend Ged, was expecting him to agree.

Well, to hell with this. Swinging up from his seat, Khan stalked out of the room without saying another word.


Chapter 3 (#u5e3d7f98-929b-5d28-b073-bef12f30af3c)

“Can I show you something?”

Sarange was so angry she wanted to barge past the man who spoke. She wanted to do a lot more than that. She wanted to eradicate anything to do with Khan from her life. If only it was that easy. Ever since she’d met him, it was as if he’d taken control of her thoughts as well as her body. For weeks now, she had been functioning only in relation to him. He was the first thing she thought of on waking, and the last image in her head at night. He occupied her whole attention in between, and then she dreamed of him while she slept. Her entire being burned with longing for this man. A man she had met once. A man she intensely disliked. It was the wildest, scariest, most wonderful feeling she had ever known.

Coming here today, knowing she would be seeing him again, had made her feel like a school kid with a crush. For days, she had been battling the butterflies in her stomach and the clamminess of her palms.

Will he remember the kiss? Does he wish it had ended differently? She had repeatedly tried to force her thoughts onto the most important thing. Can I persuade him to change his mind about collaborating?

When Khan had first walked into this meeting room, the roller coaster of her emotions was almost too much to bear. She had nearly convinced herself that her imagination was playing powerful tricks on her. She couldn’t possibly have fallen as fast and as hard for Khan as her body was telling her she had. The guy was an overbearing, conceited jackass. No woman in her right mind could find him attractive. Okay, his face and body were incredible...oh, heaven help me, I’ve been taken in by his pretty face and mouthwatering biceps.

Sarange had been at the pinnacle of fame for over a decade. If good looks and muscles were what she wanted, she could have taken her pick. And, now and then, that was what she had done. Brief, pleasant relationships that had ended without regret or recrimination. But what she felt for Khan? This wildness? She had no idea what it was. All she knew for sure was she had to fight it. If she didn’t, it would take over her life.

This issue with Radin and the documentary was a complication she could do without. Over the years, the Animals Alive Foundation had grown beyond her own desire to protect the endangered species about which she cared. Sarange’s driving passion had become a global nonprofit organization, her primary function. Recently, her singing and songwriting had taken second place to her role as a wildlife ambassador.

Even so, she couldn’t explain why she was so drawn to the plight of the blue wolf pack. What the hell is wrong with me? First there was this restless longing for Khan. Now she wanted to storm in and help a subspecies of wolf that was probably doomed anyway. There were bigger challenges facing the animal world. Ones that would attract far greater attention. Elephants, pandas, tigers...fight the sexy fights. It was no good. She didn’t understand why, but the blue wolves called to her. Sarange would do what she could to save them.

It was her desire to protect the blue wolves that had brought her face-to-face with Khan again. She tried to tell herself that was why she had flown from Los Angeles to New York for this meeting. It wasn’t out of any overwhelming desire to see him. And he had just rejected her. Again. She had created a situation in which he could storm out on her like a moody teenager...

She drew a deep breath and forced her focus back into the room and onto Ged Taverner. As he rose from his chair, Ged kept unfolding until his big, muscular body towered over her. As she looked up at him, it occurred to Sarange that she could have felt intimidated. Although her bodyguard was standing by the door, this guy looked like he could wrestle a bear with one arm tied behind his back. Instead, Ged radiated a curiously protective aura.

What was he saying? He wanted to show her something?

“I’m sorry. I don’t have time...”

“This won’t take long.” He placed a hand under her elbow, his touch gentle but firm. The sensation of being swept along by forces beyond her control took over again. What was it about these people? Ever since she had encountered Khan, her life hadn’t been her own. Did that extend to his whole entourage?

They left the meeting room and Ged led her to the elevator. As he gestured for her bodyguard to wait, Sarange tried another protest. “I’ve wasted enough time traveling to New York for a meeting that has proved pointless. I can’t see any reason to hang around.”

“Five minutes.” She capitulated, nodding to the guard to meet her at the car. Ged smiled as he pressed the button for the basement. “Thank you.”

After exiting the elevator, they followed a short corridor. “Although the members of the band come from all over the world, once Beast became famous, they all moved here to New York. We tried a number of different recording studios before we settled on this one.”

“If they come from all over the world, how did they get together?” Sarange didn’t want to be intrigued by Beast. Didn’t want anything to do with the world’s greatest rock band and its purring, strutting, infuriating frontman, but Ged’s words interested her in spite of herself.

“I brought them together.” Why did she sense a huge story lay behind that simple statement? In spite of their dynamic personalities, Beast didn’t give much away about their private lives. Biographical details about the band members were scarce. In the past, Sarange had curled her lip at what she believed was a publicity ploy. The enigmatic tough guys of rock. She wondered for the first time what they were hiding.

Ged held open a door, motioning for her to precede him. When Sarange stepped inside, she was in a recording booth. From behind a clear glass panel, she could see a small, circular stage. Khan was seated on a stool in its center. He had drawn his wild mane of red-gold hair back with a simple elastic band, and his head was bowed as he clutched a microphone to his chest. His whole attitude was despairing.

Sarange turned to regard Ged. This didn’t feel comfortable. It felt a lot like she was intruding on Khan’s privacy.

“I’ve known him to spend hours perfecting a single note.” Ged’s voice was quiet as he looked over her head at the lone figure on the other side of the soundproof glass. “This side of Khan doesn’t fit with his public image. The stage persona, the guy who’d laugh in the devil’s face? That takes a hell of a lot of hard work.”

He flicked a switch as he spoke and Khan’s voice filled the booth. The song wasn’t one of Beast’s. It was an old love song, with a sweet melody, haunting in its intensity. Khan didn’t apply any of his usual vocal fireworks to this performance. Alone, unaware of his audience, and with no backing music, he closed his eyes, pouring his heart into the song.

As she listened, tears burned the back of Sarange’s eyelids. What was it about this man? Where had this invisible thread that pulled her to him come from? And how the hell was she going to sever it? She didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry that Ged had shown her Khan had another side to him. Would it have been easier to walk away believing he was shallow and self-absorbed? Khan had given her no choice. She had to walk away. It was never going to be easy.

Ged waited until Khan had finished singing before he spoke. “His vocal range is unique. Khan can sing opera just as easily as rock.”

As if to demonstrate, Khan started to sing again. The same ballad with a slightly different emphasis. There was something rawer in the emotion this time. God, he could tell a story with that voice! The last version had made her think of unrequited love. This one was a whole lot hotter. It conjured up visions of steamy sex and crumpled sheets...and it made her whole body burn.

“Who is he?” She tilted her head back to look at Ged. The question, coming out of nowhere, surprised her.

Ged didn’t falter. “He is Khan.” Ged said it as though it clarified everything. And maybe it did. Khan was one of a kind, defying explanation. “This campaign you have with the blue wolves, is that because of your own heritage?”

“I certainly have an interest in their plight because I was born in Mongolia, but that’s not the only reason I want to help.” She still wasn’t sure why she felt so fiercely about this pack of wolves. Her homeland, heritage, Mongolian folklore...none of those things could quite account for the intensity of emotion this cause aroused in her.

“You must know that’s not what I meant.”

Sarange frowned. “What else could you possibly mean?”

Ged’s expression was unfathomable. It reminded her of the look in Khan’s eyes when he had called her “wolf girl” just before she initiated that devastating kiss. What is it with these people and wolves? Was it to do with the name Beast? Were they looking to use wolves for some sort of gimmick? Ged was staring at her as if she was an alien being. As if he couldn’t make up his mind what to do about her.

Enough was enough. Whatever his problem was, she really didn’t have time to spend analyzing it. On balance, she decided she was glad Ged had shown her this other side of Khan. Although her pride was still stinging, it helped to know he wasn’t the one-dimensional jerk of first appearances.

She turned toward the door. “You’re Khan’s friend. Why does he hate me?”

Ged took a last look at the lone figure. “Khan doesn’t really do friendship. And it’s not you he hates—” he flicked the switch, and the booth went silent “—it’s himself.”

* * *

Beast had won Best Band at the Rock the World Awards for the last two years. This year, when they burst onto the stage to receive the award for the third time, Khan looked out at the sea of faces in the vast audience with a feeling close to apathy. The great and good of the music industry were gathered under one roof to honor their own, but there was only one person he wanted to see. He already knew Sarange wasn’t there. If she’d been there, he’d have felt her.

They were in her town, yet she’d stayed away. It was her message to Khan. He knew she felt this invisible, unbreakable thread as powerfully as he did. By not attending this prestigious ceremony, she was showing him she was stronger than he was. She didn’t need to see him. Didn’t need the buzz that came from his nearness. This was what he’d wanted, yet the despair he felt was like a giant rock sitting on his chest. How could he miss what had never been his? All he knew was there was an aching hole in his life that could only be filled by Sarange. How was he ever going to learn to deal with this constant gnawing pain?

Beast was closing the award ceremony with a number from its new album. It was time to don his rock star persona and do what he did best...drive this crowd wild. Doing it when his heart had just been ripped out and his limbs felt like lead? That would be a new experience.

The way the band played together had always been creative and intuitive. Each member was individually talented, but when they came together they became so much more. Maybe it came down to what they’d all been through before they got together. Their music did the talking because their emotions had been shredded. From Khan’s raw yipping, screeching tones, through Diablo’s wild drumming to Finglas’s haunting bass lines, their unique sound pulsed with primal energy.

Physically they complemented each other perfectly as well. Each member of the band had his unique, onstage personality. Khan was all strutting, purring egomania. Diablo was solitary, stealthy and quick tempered. There was Torque with his quick-fire restlessness and Dev, in contrast, who remained cool and aloof. Finglas was the newest addition to the band. The young Irish werewolf had replaced Nate Zilar, the long-standing bass guitarist, and was just finding his place among the big personalities. Finglas often appeared detached, but he could raise as much hell as Khan when the mood took him. As a cast of characters, the band came together with a power that couldn’t be manufactured. Beasts in the true sense of the word, they were one of a kind.

Behind them, giant LED screens played recordings of their signature three-sixes logo, roaring flames and the snarling jaws of wild animals. The cheering audience enthusiastically demonstrated the horned sign of the beast by pointing their fingers at the sides of their heads. The number ended on a wild note when Khan climbed to the top of the lighting installation at the rear of the stage, hanging perilously by one hand as he howled out the final verse.

He sprang back onto the stage, landing in a crouch at Torque’s feet.

“And that, my friend, is how to bring the house down,” Torque said, as they walked off the stage. “I thought it might be literally. That set didn’t look very stable.”

Khan shrugged. “Remember Moscow?”

Dev caught up to them. “How could we forget? Although I blame Ged for booking us into a theater with balconies. He must have known you’d climb into them.”

“How was I to know that building was unsafe?” Khan scowled.

Torque draped an arm around each of their shoulders. “Those were the days. Collapsing balconies. Irate Russians. Hot women. Cold vodka.”

“Talking of which—” Dev steered them toward the bar at the back of the vast auditorium “—Ged is waiting for us. Best behavior, guys. The press is out in force tonight, always looking for the money shot of Khan in a compromising position.”

Khan cursed under his breath. He wasn’t in the mood for socializing, and he was never in the mood to have his behavior regulated. Over time, he had learned to strike a balance between his human and tiger personalities. On occasions like this, he drew on his human need for company, suppressing his cat desire for solitude. And there were usually compensations. On a night like tonight, he could generally find an outlet for his wild sexual appetite. The problem was, his body had decided it had found his mate, meaning his desire for sex with anyone other than Sarange had deserted him. It was a highly inconvenient side effect to an already out of control situation.

Until now, Khan’s sexual instincts had mirrored those of a tiger in the wild. He supposed humans would call it promiscuity. Tigers would call it common sense. Find a female, have sex with her as often as possible within a short time frame until she was carrying his cubs, then move on to the next female. It was a simple rule for big cats in nature to ensure fertilization. As a human, of course, Khan was meticulous about using protection to ensure that didn’t happen. Thankfully, his inner tiger didn’t take over completely.

Monogamy wasn’t part of the tiger social structure, but despite his inner cat, Khan wasn’t all wild animal. He didn’t get to be that lucky. Being a shifter, he got to live within a set of expectations that applied to all shifters. Ones that said he needed a mate. It seemed there was no right of appeal. Even though there were so many things wrong in this case. The mate the Fates had selected for him was the wrong species. She didn’t know she was a shifter. And don’t get me started on who I am...

Khan bit back a smile. Monogamy without a partner? Wasn’t that called celibacy? That should keep Ged happy. At least there would be no sensational kiss-and-tell stories tomorrow morning.

“Come and join me, Tiger Boy.” As if in answer to his thoughts, Ged appeared at Khan’s side. He was carrying a bottle of brandy and two glasses. It was always serious when Ged got the brandy bottle out.

By some miracle, they found a quiet corner table and Ged sloshed brandy into the glasses. Around them, celebrities were getting drunker and noisier. Finglas was locked in an embrace with one member of a girl band, while her bandmate wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.

“That guy is after your reputation as the bad boy of Beast.” Ged tilted his glass toward Finglas.

“The way I feel right now he’s welcome to it.” Khan leaned back in his seat, draining his glass in one gulp.

“Does this newfound apathy have anything to do with Sarange?”

Khan stared at his manager, the man who had rescued him from a cage and given him his life back. For long, unblinking seconds he said nothing. Then he sighed. If Ged wanted information from him, he would get it. He might as well cut out the part where he tried to resist.

“You’ve heard some crazy shifter stories in your lifetime, Ged. Shall I tell you a new one? One that takes screwed up to a whole new level?” He dropped his voice, glancing around to make sure they were the only ones who could hear. “How about I tell you the story of a tiger who fell for a wolf? If that wasn’t bad enough, it gets even crazier. It turns out she didn’t know she was a wolf.”

Khan reached for the brandy, planning to pour himself another glass. To hell with it. He drank long and hard straight from the bottle, wiping the neck on the tail of his designer shirt when he finished. “I know.”

Khan’s eyes narrowed. “You know what?”

“I’ve met Sarange. I know she’s a werewolf.” Ged took the brandy from Khan and tilted the bottle to his own lips. “And I agree with your assessment. She has no idea what she is.”

Khan slumped down in his seat. “Has that ever happened before?” If anyone was going to know the answer to that question, it would be Ged.

“Not that I’m aware. Violet, Nate’s wife, lost her memory for a while.” Violet was a werewolf who had joined them on tour recently. When she and Nate got married, he had left the band. “Part of that memory loss meant she forgot how to shift. That was temporary, but this is different. Sarange seems unaware that she has ever been a werewolf.”

“What I don’t understand is how she can be a shifter yet not want to shift. It’s the most powerful urge we have. Right up there with breathing and sex.”

Ged had been about to take another drink, but he lowered the bottle. “Judging by some of the situations I’ve had to bail you out of over the years, I’d say sex is the strongest urge you have.”

Khan stretched his long legs in front of him. “I’m a cat. We enjoy the hunt.”

“Yet you’re not hunting tonight?” Ged raised a brow.

Before Khan could tell him to butt out, the music was lowered and the sound turned up on the big screens that were located on each wall. “You might want to listen to this, guys.” Torque came to lean against the wall next to them.

The screens were all showing the same news story. The announcer’s voice filled the room. “We’re returning to our main story. Earlier this evening a group of four men broke into the Los Angeles home of singer, songwriter and animal rights activist Sarange—”

Khan was on his feet in an instant, his heart rate kicking up to explosive new levels. “What the...?”

“—although the men fled when the singer’s bodyguards came to her aid, Sarange sustained minor injuries in the attack. It is believed the intention was kidnapping—”

Khan didn’t hear any more. He couldn’t think straight. Someone had tried to abduct Sarange. She had been hurt. His mate had been in danger and he hadn’t been there to protect her.

Ged’s hand was firm on his shoulder. “Go to her.”


Chapter 4 (#u5e3d7f98-929b-5d28-b073-bef12f30af3c)

How many different ways was she supposed to answer the same question? Tiredness and frustration were getting to Sarange now. It was beginning to feel like she was the suspect as the detective waited with his notebook open and his pen poised.

“I’ve already told you, Detective Kidd.” Sarange thought she did a pretty good job of keeping the annoyance out of her voice. “They came into my bedroom through the balcony.”

He tapped his pen against his teeth. It was a mannerism he’d already used a few times. If it continued, he might find himself eating that pen before too much longer. “See, that’s where I’m struggling.” He shook his head, and Sarange decided he’d modeled his mannerisms on various TV cops he’d seen. “You’re saying that four men climbed up the front of the house and in through the balcony to this suite in broad daylight without being seen and without triggering the alarm system?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Sarange had decided not to go to the Rock the World Awards. She hadn’t declined, she had just decided she wouldn’t turn up. Even though it was one of the biggest nights in the music world’s calendar, she wasn’t going to put herself through the humiliation of seeing Khan again. She might spend every private minute fighting the cravings, but she didn’t have to do it publicly. She couldn’t trust her emotions around him, and no way was he going to get another chance to humiliate her.

Even if he didn’t reject her this time, what did she anticipate would happen between them? A one-night stand? She shivered at the thought. Spontaneity, stepping outside the boundaries, seizing the moment...they were all alien to Sarange’s nature. She played by the rules. That, and the fact that she lived her life in the full glare of the public eye, were probably the reasons she’d never hooked up with a stranger. I don’t do wild. An image of Khan came into her mind, bringing with it a surge of longing to break free of her self-imposed constraints. Although she thought she knew her own mind, her treacherous body kept giving the idea of a one-night stand an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Her resolve had held firm. Vowing to avoid social media, she had spent the day in her office, doing her best to focus on Animals Alive paperwork. The attempt had been futile. The white-hot desire and almost insane longing for Khan weren’t going away, no matter how hard she tried to push them aside. Knowing he was in the same town made it so much worse. It was as if an endless recording that could not be turned off was playing inside her head. Khan had entered her soul like a mind-altering drug, meaning she was no longer responsible for her actions.

Eventually, she had succumbed and checked her cell phone. Almost with a will of their own, her fingers found images and recordings of Beast arriving at their hotel. And there was Khan. Her heart melted at the sight of him. Glittering, feral, predatory. With his usual grace, he bounded from the limousine ahead of his bandmates. The sunlight turned his hair to burnished copper as he acknowledged the shouts of the crowd with a wave.

Who was she fooling? Of course she was going to the awards ceremony. There was no way she could stay away from him. That invisible thread that drew them together was pulling her to him harder and stronger than ever. It had been as she was in her dressing room, trying to decide what to wear, that the men had burst in from the balcony.

Sarange could understand Detective Kidd’s confusion. It matched her own. Her luxurious home was secure. She lived in a gated community. She had three live-in bodyguards. Her security system was the best, and most up-to-date, that money could buy. There was no way four men should have been able to get close to her house, let alone inside her personal suite. She should not have a sprained ankle and a bruised cheek because she had fought them as they tried to drag her back out onto the balcony. It was only because she had her cell phone in her hand, with its personal attack alarm enabled, that she had been able to summon Marco, her head of security.

Her bodyguards had rushed into the room while calling the police. With remarkable agility, the intruders had vaulted back over the balcony wall and scattered through the grounds before they could be caught.

“I didn’t imagine them.” She was tired now. Yet surely she should feel more traumatized by her experience? Instead, her overriding emotion was disappointment that she wouldn’t get to see Khan. “My bodyguards saw them, too.”

The detective consulted his notes. “And these men made no attempt to hide their faces?”

“That’s right. I’ve already given your colleague a description.” Sarange resisted the temptation to sigh.

“Tall, muscular, medium brown hair, amber eyes, sharp features.” His eyes probed her face. “That’s your description...of all of them?”

“Yes.” They had been through this. Several times. She knew how weird it sounded. “They could have been quadruplets.”

Before he could say anything else, she heard a commotion. It sounded like it was downstairs, possibly in the entrance hall. Disturbances didn’t happen in her house. In her life. She paid people to make sure of it. Now, twice in one day, her ordered existence was being tilted off course. But this time, she knew the reason. She could feel it...him. Khan was close by. She had no idea how she knew he was the source of the fire and fury taking place elsewhere in her home. She just did. This connection they had transcended normal rules.

Detective Kidd turned his head to look at the uniformed officer who was standing by the door. “Find out what’s going on.”

Before the police officer could move, Khan strode through the door, instantly filling her bedroom with his presence. Those hypnotic eyes, golden and fiery, fixed on Sarange as though there was no one else present. “They tried to stop me seeing you.”

Sarange’s head of security burst into the room behind Khan. His shirt was torn and a scratch on his face oozed blood. “I’m sorry. He was like a wild animal...”

“It’s okay, Marco.” And it was. Suddenly, it was as though she had been wrapped in a protective blanket. Without words, Khan had managed to do what the police and her bodyguards couldn’t. Just by being there, he had reassured her that she was safe.

“Call me if you need anything.” With obvious reluctance, Marco left the room.

Khan was about to cross to the bed when he appeared to notice Detective Kidd and his companion for the first time. “Why are these people here?”

“The detective wants to ask me some more questions.”

“I think not.” No one could do arrogant like Khan. As he turned that feline gaze on Detective Kidd, the words of protest died on the police officer’s lips. Moving to the door, Khan held it open.

“There is something very strange about this incident. If you think of anything else, give me a call.” Tossing a look of dislike in Khan’s direction, the detective and his colleague left.

Sarange barely had an instant to wonder why Khan had come here. After taking so much trouble to show her he didn’t want anything to do with her, why was he in her bedroom right now? And why was he gazing at her with that look in his eyes? Within a second or two of the door closing, he had crossed the room and dropped on one knee beside the bed, catching hold of her hand and raising it to his lips.

“I wasn’t here to protect you. I will never forgive myself for that.” The antagonism was gone. His voice throbbed with genuine regret.

This should be weird. That was her first response to his words. She should run a mile from a man who spoke to her that way. She definitely shouldn’t tangle her hands in his hair, or utter a sound that was midway between a laugh and a sob. This shouldn’t feel like the best thing ever to happen to her. Yet, as she touched Khan, she could feel strength and heat flowing from him and into her body.

This is real. Whatever it is, this is happening.

“Who were they?” Khan lifted his head. “Did you know the men who broke in here?”

Sarange shook her head. “I’ve never seen them before. They didn’t speak to me, so I don’t know what they wanted. They were trying to drag me out of the house when I raised the alarm. Marco and my other bodyguards burst in. They called the police, but the intruders had already gone.”

Khan raised a hand, his touch featherlight as he traced the bruise on her cheek. “They hurt you.”

“Because I fought them.”

There was a flash of fire in the depths of his eyes. She glimpsed something in him then, something raw and animal. It called to an answering part of her own character. A part she hadn’t known existed until now.

“You are safe now. I’m here.” His smile was pure insolence and undiluted mischief. “You no longer have to rely on second-rate protection.”

“I get a rock star for a bodyguard?”

He got to his feet, and she looked up at him. He was breathtaking. “You get Khan.” The words should have been conceited. Instead they comforted and scared her. Was it possible to feel those conflicting emotions at the same time? It seemed Khan could make her feel the impossible.

Khan pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat in it. Resting his feet on the mattress, he leaned back with his arms folded across his chest. Sarange turned on her side, drinking in the beauty of his profile. “You can’t stay there all night.”

“How else will I make sure you are safe?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest he could join her, but she stopped short of saying the words. This wasn’t a fling, or even the start of a brief relationship. This was beyond anything she had ever known. There was magic between them, but there were barriers as well. She still had no idea what this attraction was about. She suspected Khan knew and was fighting forces that went way beyond her comprehension.

She spent the night content to drift in and out of sleep, enjoying the deep contentment his presence brought. Strange snippets of dreams gripped her as slumber pulled her deeper into its embrace. Four men who all looked alike. Blue Fire. Great Tiger. Golden Eagle. The words meant nothing and everything. Each time she stirred and opened her eyes, Khan was there, watching over her.

Her life had just changed forever, and she didn’t know whether fear or excitement was her strongest emotion. She only knew she had never felt either with such intensity.

* * *

Sleeping was one of Khan’s favorite activities. Fortunately, he could do it pretty much anywhere. When he was on stage, he expended huge amounts of energy, and afterward his inner tiger took over to restore his energy. While on tour, he had been known to spend half the day sleeping. It wasn’t considered unusual among his bandmates. Diablo and Dev were also werecats. No one flinched when Finglas bowed down before the full moon, Torque took to the skies or Ged disappeared into the forest for hours. There was mutual respect among the group for the diverse traits of the individual members.

So sleeping in a chair at Sarange’s bedside shouldn’t be a problem for him. Physically, it wasn’t. He could curl his long limbs into a comfortable position and, catlike, be asleep in seconds. Even though they hadn’t spoken about her attackers and their motivation, the possibility that they might return was at the back of Khan’s mind. He wasn’t afraid of that. They wouldn’t sneak up on him while he slumbered. Khan didn’t know who these people were, but he could go from sleeping to waking in an instant. The slightest sound, movement, scent, even a shift in the air would alert him to danger. His every sense would power up and be ready to take on the enemy. His fingers curled into the shape of claws as he looked forward to the prospect of confronting them.

No, it wasn’t the physical practicalities of sleeping in a chair that bothered him. It was the problem of being so close to Sarange and not touching her. He had crossed a line tonight. Resistance had become acceptance. He had been fighting his attraction to her so hard that he had ignored another part of his role as a mate...protection. Alongside the admission that he had a duty to care for her, some of the barriers he had worked so hard to erect had come tumbling down. He couldn’t remain antagonistic toward her when he needed to be at her side 24/7. He didn’t know what the future had in store, but the present held a new rapport. Khan could snarl about the quirk of fate that had brought them here, but he was honest enough to admit he liked it. A little too much.

Although why watching Sarange sleep should bring him so much pleasure, he had no idea. She lay curled on her side in the huge bed, with one hand under her uninjured cheek. Her braid hung like a glossy rope over her shoulder, and the bedclothes had slipped down to reveal her pink pajama top. Her features were relaxed, her long lashes shadowing her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. And, alongside the fire in his blood, something softer bloomed within him.

He’d had enough torture. There was only so much nobility one person could stand. Slipping off his shoes, he leaned over Sarange and pulled the comforter up to her shoulders before lying down next to her. He was fully dressed. She was beneath the bedclothes. Resisting temptation would be a new experience, but he was prepared to try it.

Holding his breath in an attempt not to disturb Sarange, he settled his weight, turning on his side and mirroring her position. This was the problem with being a solitary being living among social creatures. Khan was used to doing what made him feel good without considering others. He stopped short of breaking the law and tried not to hurt anyone—either physically or emotionally—in the process. Even so, he had a lot in common with the ultimate hedonists who had colonized this human world. Like a domestic cat, Khan sought his pleasures, took them and only considered others as a means of getting what he wanted.

Right now his perfect pleasure was lying next to him...but he wasn’t going to take her. His life had changed the moment he saw Sarange. The fabric of who he was comprised a unique pattern, woven by his experiences. It was ever-changing with old colors and textures fading and disappearing and new ones emerging. Even Khan had no idea how long he had been alive, or where his life had begun. Held in captivity in China, he had been in his tiger form when he was captured. The darkness, despair, hunger and weakness of his imprisonment had lasted many lifetimes. His captors had used silver to weaken him, but they couldn’t kill him. He was unique, and that frustrated them. Now and then, he suspected his captors might have been werewolves, but he had no idea why they wanted him. A weretiger against a group of werewolves? It should have been no contest. That had been his last coherent memory of his capture until he was rescued by Ged.

Kept in a cage barely larger than a large dog kennel, deprived of natural light and half-starved, Khan had been close to death when Ged, acting on a story passed on by one of his informants, found him.

Ged was an enigma, even to his closest friends. A werebear of giant proportions, in his human form he poured his considerable talents into the day job. How he balanced managing one of the most successful rock bands in the world with his other persona was a mystery. Ged helped shifters who were injured, damaged or at risk of harm. Khan knew very little about his rescue work, only that Ged was the founder of an international team. Like the Red Cross for shifters.

Ged had always hoped that, once Khan was restored to full health and the trauma of his captivity had receded, his memory would return. It never had. There were snippets now and then. Of stalking deer along thicketed watercourses. Of vast, arid deserts. Of peering into shoreline bracken. Of crawling through a latticework of tangled low shrubs, emerging into willow and poplar forests. Nothing of himself, of who he was. Who is Khan? He had no idea.

Yet lying here, breathing in time with Sarange’s rhythm, inhaling her sweet scent, he felt something stir inside him. Barely enough to call a memory, different to the bonds that bound him to her physically and emotionally. Certainty. That was what it felt like. A confidence that this woman was part of who he was. That pattern in the fabric of his life? The vibrant threads Khan didn’t recognize had been woven by a different hand. Hers.

He didn’t know how that could be so when Sarange believed herself to be human. She had no memory of herself as a shifter, let alone a shifter whose life had intersected his own. They both appeared to have a remembrance short circuit. Now that they had met, was it possible they would trigger each other’s memories?

On that optimistic note, Khan draped an arm over her waist and rubbed his cheek against the silken mass of her hair. Sarange murmured in her sleep and he smiled as he closed his eyes. This was the only pleasure he needed.

* * *

Sarange came awake abruptly, unsure what had alerted her to danger. Moonlight streamed in through the light drapes as her eyes searched the darkened corners of the room, seeking confirmation of what she already knew. Someone was in the room. No, not someone, there was more than one person, standing just inside the balcony doors. Before she could do anything, the strong arm around her waist tightened its grip and a hand moved up to cover her mouth. Her first instinct was to struggle, but then she remembered.

Khan. He was signaling for her to stay silent. Sarange gave a slight nod to show she understood and he moved his hand away. Although his touch reassured her, she couldn’t help being concerned. If the same men had returned, it would be four against one. Surely it would be better if she used her cell phone alarm and got security up here?

With a stealth that amazed her, Khan slid from the bed. Noiseless and unerring, he made his way across the room. His night vision must be incredible. A crash and a cry signaled that he had reached the intruders.

Sarange weighed her options. She could lie still and speculate about what was happening. Or she could find a way to go to Khan’s aid. Switching on the lamp at the side of the bed, she froze in horror at the scene unfolding in her luxurious bedroom.

The four men who had tried to abduct her earlier were back. Even as fear kicked in and her heart rate soared, she took a moment to notice all over again the weirdness of their similarity to each other. She had fought them; she knew they weren’t in disguise. They didn’t just look alike. They were identical. Were they quadruplets? Clones? She swallowed hard. Was it possible that they weren’t human?

Unsure where that last thought had come from, she snaked out a hand for the cell phone on her bedside table. Khan was going to need help after all.

“Don’t call security.” Khan’s voice was like a whiplash. He was half-turned away from her, but he must have seen the movement out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve got this.”

One of the men was already bleeding hard from a cut across his cheek. Did Khan have a knife? Sarange couldn’t see anything in his hand. She remembered when Khan had burst into the house earlier. Marco had tried to stop him from seeing her and had suffered scratches to his face as a result. The wound on this intruder’s face was too deep to have been caused by fingernails...

She slid from the bed, trying to scour the room for something she could use as a weapon while also keeping her eyes on Khan. The four men began to circle Khan, their manner predatory. She didn’t like the matching smiles on their faces. It looked too much like they were snarling.

One of the men lunged and Khan was on him in a blur of movement, fighting like a wild animal. He didn’t adopt a conventional style. Feet, fists, teeth and nails all went into the attack. His opponent went down fast under the onslaught.

The other intruders joined in, leaping on Khan. As incredible as it seemed, he kept going without pause. Swinging, slashing, powering into them. It was like watching a giant beast taking on a group of lesser creatures.

But something was happening. As if acting on an unseen signal, the four men were changing. It was swift and subtle. One second their human bodies were being tossed around by Khan as they attempted to bring him down onto the expensive cream-and-rose rug. The next, their facial features had elongated. In place of a nose, they each had a snout. Instead of a mouth, they had huge jaws with sharp snapping teeth. Their limbs stretched, becoming lithe and muscular. As they shook off the remains of their clothing, Sarange saw thick brown fur covering their bodies. A new scent pervaded the air. Like animal fur and carrion, it reminded her that she wasn’t dreaming.

Wolves? Sarange shook her head in an attempt to clear it. These were no ordinary wolves. There are four werewolves in my bedroom.

As if in confirmation of that thought, one of them threw back his head and gave a single, triumphant howl.

Even as she tried to process why four werewolves had come for her and tried to abduct her, Sarange’s thoughts were on Khan. This took the danger to a whole new level. He might have been able to fight four men—although that must have taken some kind of superhuman strength—but this? Four sets of lethal canines trying to rip out his throat? Four sets of claws aimed at his belly?

Khan didn’t seem concerned. On the contrary, he was smiling as he faced the werewolf pack.

And...oh, my goodness. This can’t be happening.

Yet somehow she knew it was going to happen. The transformation was over in the blink of an eye. Khan’s clothing burst apart. Beneath the remaining shreds there was brilliant orange fur slashed across with diagonal stripes, each as thick, black and straight as a hand-drawn charcoal line. In his place, a giant tiger reared on its hind legs, lips drawn back in a snarl that revealed white fangs almost as wide as Sarange’s wrist.

The attitude of the werewolves changed in an instant from aggression to fear. Whimpering, they abased themselves, pressing their bellies into the floor and flattening their ears.

Khan dropped onto all fours. Even by the dim light provided by the moon and the lamp, Sarange could see the ripple of pure muscle beneath his thick pelt. And why am I noticing his muscles when there is a tiger in my bedroom? A tiger in place of the man who had his arm around me minutes ago?

The sound that filled the room was a soft, echoing rumble of pure menace. Originating in the depths of the tiger’s deep chest, it shook every part of Sarange’s body, even though she knew it wasn’t intended for her.

How do I know that? How do I know he’s not going to turn on me once he’s finished with those werewolves?

The answer was simple. He was Khan. And he was hers.

At the sound of the tiger’s growl, the wolves scrambled into action. Heading for the open doors, they couldn’t scramble over the balcony rail fast enough. Khan followed them, his movements deceptive. That big body appeared to barely expend any energy, but he covered the space between him and the werewolves in double time, staying just behind them.

As Khan sprang from the balcony, Sarange ran to see what was going on. From her vantage point, she watched as the security lights below, triggered by movement, came on. The alarm remained silent, and she guessed the intruders must have disabled it and the security cameras before they broke in.

Below her, the elegant patio resembled a scene from a movie, as four werewolves crouched behind deck furniture to avoid the prowling tiger. Eventually, they broke free and headed across the lawn toward the pool. Khan was after them in a bound. The last view Sarange had was when he caught up with them on the extreme edge of her property.

With a shaky exhale, she turned on the lights and sat on the bed, waiting for his return. Because he would return. And when he did, he had some explaining to do.


Chapter 5 (#u5e3d7f98-929b-5d28-b073-bef12f30af3c)

Khan knew the werewolves wouldn’t be able to outrun him. He’d never come across another shifter that could match him for speed. The problem was, once the werewolves leaped over the perimeter wall surrounding Sarange’s property, they did exactly what he expected them to. They split up and ran in four different directions.

Wolf instincts. He could never understand it. They would sacrifice one for the sake of the pack.

Khan’s inner tiger was prompting him to kill, but his human senses were urging caution. He could catch one of the werewolves, but forcing the guy to shift back and start talking? That needed privacy and time. And a tiger in the heart of Beverly Hills didn’t have the luxury of either of those things. He faced a choice. Risk bringing chaos and carnage into the heart of the human world, or let the werewolves go.

The two halves of his psyche went to war. While his tiger was pushing him to hunt and kill, his human was arguing for restraint. Because he was in tiger form, it would be easy to go with the voice of his inner animal. His tiger instincts were strong, but he fought them. Reluctantly. Now was not the time. This was definitely not the place.

The werewolves had been given a powerful warning. They knew what they were dealing with. They would be back—tenacity was one of wolves’ strongest traits—but Khan would be ready for them.

With a feeling of resignation—a tiger always knew when to give up the hunt—he turned back toward Sarange’s house. He should shift back before he was seen. That way, his only problem would be that he was a naked man in the heart of Beverly Hills. That, and the fact that he needed to talk to Sarange about what she had just witnessed. He had hoped to ease her in gently to his shifter status. The werewolves had taken that opportunity away from him.

Shifting back, he kept to the shadows. Even in his human form, he retained elements of his inner cat. They showed through in his strength, speed and agility. When he had fought the four men back in Sarange’s bedroom, there was no hesitation. He had known he could take them on and beat them. Just as he knew now he could scale the wall surrounding her house. Nimble as his inner cat, he pulled himself up and over the wall, dropping into a crouch on the other side.

Khan’s eyes scoured the darkened yard, his keen vision easily picking out the security cameras. Sarange had live-in security, but no one had been roused by the arrival of four intruders. The werewolves had somehow bypassed her security system. His protective instincts went into overdrive again, his hands curling into the shape of tiger claws. If I hadn’t been here...

He forced his breathing back to a regular rhythm. He had been here. He would be here. But they still didn’t know what the werewolves wanted from her. All they knew for sure was this wasn’t a robbery. This was about Sarange.

Using the ornate shrubs and flowers as cover, he made his way across the yard. Stepping onto a patio table, he climbed from there onto the balcony. Swinging himself over the rail, he looked around for something to cover his nakedness. He couldn’t see anything. Maybe that was because his gaze was immediately captured by an ice-blue stare.

Arms folded across her chest, Sarange was standing in the doorway, blocking his entrance to the room. “You can start talking now.”

“I was hoping to shower first. Maybe find some clothes.”

“You turned into a tiger.” He wasn’t sure whether the wobble in her voice was caused by anger or shock. It didn’t matter. She kept going, coming toward him until he was pressed up against the balcony rail and she had to tilt her chin to look up at him. “I need to know what’s going on.”

He caught hold of her upper arms, and as soon as he touched her, she collapsed into his arms. The feel of her body against his drove every other thought out of Khan’s mind, and a harsh groan of surrender was dragged from him. His whole body was entranced by her. His eyelids half closed as if weighted and he lowered his head, compelled by a force beyond his control to graze Sarange’s lips with his.

I don’t want to control this.

The instant his mouth touched hers, their ragged breathing united in a single rhythm. Sarange melted into him, nuzzling his lips with her own. He clutched her tighter to his wildly beating heart, deepening a kiss that left Khan reeling. Achingly tender, it should have been unique. So why the hell did it feel so familiar?

His body was on fire, his arousal in danger of reaching epic proportions. Khan needed to regain control of the situation. But he was naked, with a beautiful woman in his arms. Restraint, never easy for him, was getting harder by the second.

“I’m hungry.” He murmured the words into her hair.

“I can tell.” She glanced down at his erection. In the moonlight, he could see a blush staining her cheekbones.

Khan groaned as temptation almost got the better of him. He pressed his forehead to hers. “No, I really am hungry. For food. Shifting affects me that way.”

“Shifting?” She wrinkled her brow. “Is that what you call it when you change?”

“Yes. I’m a shape-shifter.”

She was silent for a moment. When she raised her eyes to his, the anger was gone. He wasn’t sure he could name the emotions that replaced it. There was a healthy dose of understandable confusion, but he thought he could see acceptance. Of what, he wasn’t sure. His shifter self? Or of them?

“Take a shower. The security guards have spare uniforms. I’ll see if I can find something to fit you. Although—” there was that blush again “—you are very big. Then we’ll go down to the kitchen. You can talk while you eat.”

* * *

Khan had already eaten the remains of a cold chicken, a quiche and a bowl of potato salad. He had washed this feast down with a half quart of milk. Now he was prowling the kitchen, opening cupboards and regarding Sarange with a look of dismay. “No cookies?”

“I don’t really eat sweet things.”

“Let me guess.” He pointed to the chicken carcass. “You’d rather eat the meat than the salad. You like your steak rare. No one ever quite cooks it bloody enough for you, am I right?”

She blinked at him, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling slightly. On one level, it didn’t matter how she liked her steak. On another, it was scary that Khan could somehow get inside her head and know that much detail about her.

“Is your special tiger sense telling you that?” What else is it telling you? Is it telling you who those men—those werewolves—are, and what they want with me?

Khan came to sit on a stool next to her at the counter. “I’m not sure I have a special sense. Maybe it was a lucky guess.”

She shook her head. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“I know.”

He gazed into space, gathering his thoughts, and she took a moment to study him. The sweatpants and T-shirt she had found were stretched tight over his bulging muscles, and his hair was still damp from the shower. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she could see the tiger in the man. It was there in the tawny tint of his hair, the broad, arrogant nose, the fiery gold eyes. In the lines of his body, she could see the coiled strength of the mighty beast, the long, lithe sinews and the powerful muscles. Most of all, she could see it in his mannerisms. Khan was a cat. He was the ultimate rebel. His movements were all stealth and grace.

He was breathtaking, and yet...he was the opposite of everything she had believed she wanted in a man. In the past, she had never admired flashy good looks and strength. She’d have run a mile from a promiscuous narcissist like Khan. So why did it feel like everything, her whole life, her next breath—who I am—was wrapped up in this man?

Was that why she had accepted his shape-shifting, if not with ease, at least with composure? Although her mind was still struggling to make sense of what she had seen, she had felt no real surprise or skepticism. Instead there had been a sense of “So that’s what this is all about.”

Yet a man to whom she was attracted—more, this was so much more than straightforward attraction—had changed into a tiger before her eyes. She should be cowering in a corner at least. Probably there should be screaming involved. Sitting next to him, gazing at him as if her whole world hinged on his next breath, was possibly not the most sensible approach to how this night was unfolding.

Sarange had a feeling she had waved goodbye to sensibility around the time she first set eyes on Khan.

“I’m not an expert on the history of shape-shifters.” When he turned back to face her, the smile in his eyes undid her. Took everything she was and unraveled it. Sarangerel Tsedev came apart and became...just his. “You would need to talk to Ged if you want an in-depth analysis.”

“I want to know about you. Anyone else can wait. Start by explaining what you meant when you said you are a shape-shifter.”

“It means I can take on the physical form of an animal while maintaining my human consciousness.” He regarded her warily, as though unsure of her reaction.

“Can you do it any time you want?”

Khan nodded.

“But you control it? It doesn’t just happen without warning?”

Another nod.

“Can you become any animal you choose?”

“No, I’m a weretiger. My DNA is part human, part tiger.” There was a note of pride in his voice. “With an extra shifter-something thrown in for good measure.”

“Were you born this way?” She had so many questions, but no uncertainty. He was telling the truth. Even if she hadn’t seen the evidence for herself, she would know it.

He pulled in a long, slow breath. “Most shifters are born with their abilities. Rarely, they are converts. That means they are turned by a bite. It can happen in conflict. If a shifter leaves a victim close to death but still alive, that person will himself become a shifter.”

“Like the horror stories of werewolves?” Sarange thought of the movies that had scared her when she first came to America. Although nothing could have prepared her for the scene that had played out in her bedroom a few hours ago.

“Exactly. It’s a big responsibility. But shifters living in the human world are peaceful. Conflict is rare. The other way a human can convert is voluntarily.”

“Really?” Sarange couldn’t imagine a situation in which that would happen. “Do you guys hold recruitment drives?”

He laughed. “No. When a human falls in love with a shifter, he, or she, might choose to take the bite of his mate.” Ah. A little bit of electricity crackled through the air briefly. “But I believe I was born a shifter.”

“You believe it? That sounds like you don’t know.”

“I don’t.” He was on his feet again. Restless, noiseless, stealthy. Opening the blinds to peer out at the darkened yard. Rearranging the utensils on the rack. Taking the knives from the block and testing their sharpness against his thumb. “I don’t know anything about my early life.”

Sarange slid from her perch on the high stool and went to him. Standing close, she reached up a hand and ran it through the thick mass of his almost-dry hair.

Khan ducked his head, pushing back against her touch, a smile curving his lips. “I know what you’re doing.”

“You do?” She hadn’t thought about what she was doing. Had just acted on impulse to try and soothe him.

“You’re stroking me.”

“So I am.” She continued the movement, pushing her fingers through his hair, watching in fascination as he visibly relaxed.

“Just so you know—” his voice was almost a purr “—catnip doesn’t work.”

She laughed. “I’m glad you told me.” She looked into those incredible eyes. “Can you talk about it?”

He hunched a shoulder in a half shrug. “There isn’t much to talk about. I was rescued from captivity by Ged about ten years ago. I can’t remember anything before that. I don’t even know exactly how I came to be captured.”

As he spoke, every part of his body tensed once more. She could hear the pain in his words, felt each one being dragged out of him. “I know Ged is you manager, but what else does he do?”

Without knowing it, she had found the right question. At the mention of his manager’s name, Khan relaxed. “Did you ever read the stories of the Scarlet Pimpernel?”

Sarange wasn’t sure where this was going, but she nodded. “He was the fictional hero who rescued French aristocrats before they could be sent to the guillotine. He pretended to be a bumbling Englishman, but in reality, he was a quick-thinking escape artist.”

“Ged is the shifter version of the Scarlet Pimpernel,” Khan said. “By day he is long-suffering rock star manager Ged Taverner. By night he is a werebear who rescues shifters from danger.”

Sarange shook her head in an attempt to clear it. “This night keeps getting stranger.” There were still so many questions that needed answers. She decided to start with the obvious. “Those men who came into the house earlier? They were also shifters. Do you know who they are?”

“No. They are werewolves, but I’ve never seen them before. I didn’t manage to catch up with them to find out why they were here, but they’ll be back. It’s the wolf way. Tenacity is in their blood. Once they have a mission, they won’t give up.” His eyes scanned her face as though seeking a response.

What do you want from me, Khan? I know nothing about werewolves, but you’re looking at me as though I have the answer. I don’t even know the question.

“And now that they know what they’re up against, they’ll reinforce the pack.”

Sarange cast a scared look over her shoulder. “What shall we do? They’ll tear my human security guards apart.”

Khan stretched his arms above his head. “Right now? We’ll get some sleep. They’ll need time to regroup. Wolves don’t do anything spontaneously.” His smile managed to reassure her and heat her blood at the same time. “Tomorrow we’ll bring in a few reinforcements of our own.”

* * *

While Sarange slept, Khan walked the house and grounds, learning the layout. Getting to know his territory. He had napped briefly, but he was conscious of danger nearby, threatening his mate.

Tigers don’t mate for life.

It was an insistent little voice in his head, warning him to keep his distance. He didn’t need any more warnings. This whole situation couldn’t get any more screwed up. He was a shifter who couldn’t remember anything prior to his rescue ten years ago. Sarange didn’t even know she was a shifter. To make things worse, they were from different species. Just about as opposite as two beings could get. Unfortunately, no one had told their raging hormones about the obstacles. The instincts drawing them together were stronger than anything driving them apart. As if we were free to mate and be together for life. The thought caught him hard in the chest, knocking the breath from the lungs. It wasn’t a good idea to indulge in if only. And at some point, he was going to have to tell Sarange that. How the hell he was going to begin that conversation, he had no idea.

Tigers don’t mate for life, but shifters do.

That was the problem. Now that they’d found each other, he had a feeling there would never be anyone else. For either of them. How do you tell a werewolf, who doesn’t know she’s a werewolf, that she can’t mate with a tiger? Those cute internet pictures of domestic cats and dogs snuggling up together? Not the same thing as lifelong mates. Lions and hyenas? Leopards and jackals? Tigers and wolves? It didn’t happen.

Oh, hell. I need Ged here. This is a halfway-down-the-second-bottle conversation.

Luckily, Ged was on his way. When it came to reinforcements, there was only one group of people Khan trusted. Beast members bickered their way around the world. Their competing egos didn’t allow for true friendship. Khan knew he was a big part of why that was true. Put a tiger at the center of any group and the grandest of the big cats was always going to stake his leadership claim. Khan shook his head. The idea that he would ever back down and let anyone else take his place was so ridiculous it wasn’t worth considering.

There were other big, alpha male personalities in the band. The next fight was always only a snarl away. The peacekeepers—Ged and Torque—had their work cut out, particularly when Khan and Diablo clashed. But when it mattered? Khan would trust his bandmates with his life.

“Let me get this straight.” Ged was used to getting “bail me out” calls from Khan at any hour of the day or night. Even so, his voice had been a sleepy rumble. “We were due to fly back to New York at noon. Now you want us to change our plans. Instead of working on the new album, we’re going to move into Sarange’s house and take an extended vacation while we do bodyguard duty.”

“There are plenty of recording studios in Los Angeles,” Khan had said. “We don’t have to stop working.”

Just as Khan had known he would, Ged had agreed. Because that was how it worked. No questions, no explanations, no protests. His friends—because that was the closest word he could find to describe what they were—would have his back. And when the time came, Khan would do the same for them. When Ged brought Beast together, they had been a collection of lost and damaged souls. Each of them had a horrific story to tell. Joining the band had been their rehabilitation. Maybe it was their redemption.

As Khan walked through the grounds in the early morning light, the foul werewolf stench of the intruders lingered. It was strange how that worked. Khan hated the smell of werewolves. Even in their human form, he could barely stand to be in the same room with them. He had built up a sort of immunity to the scent of his bandmate Finglas. He could tolerate his aroma, without liking it. Almost as if the guy wore an obnoxious cologne. So why was it that Sarange smelled like the sweetest thing in the world? She was a werewolf. Khan should detest her scent. Instead, he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to nuzzle her, sniff her skin, lick her all over...

He looked up at the balcony that led to her room, picturing her asleep in that big, ridiculously opulent bed. He couldn’t help the leap of joy his heart gave every time he thought of her. Dogs and cats. Had there ever been a time in the past? Could the first time be now?

Those werewolves had come after Sarange for a reason. Why now? What was going on in her life right now that meant four werewolves wanted to abduct her? Diablo would sneer at Khan’s first thought.

“The world does not revolve around you, Tiger Boy.” It was Diablo’s favorite phrase.

Diablo was wrong, of course. And Khan delighted in telling him so. “Try telling the world that.”

Right now, when he was examining what was happening to Sarange, Khan’s entry into her life was one thing that could have triggered the werewolf attack. Why? He had no idea. He was simply considering the possibilities.

The only other things he could think of were the Animals Alive campaign and Sarange’s determination to save the blue wolves. Again, when it came to trying to establish a link between either of those things and the intruders, Khan came up with a big, fat nothing.

He was tired of thinking. It was still early. The world wasn’t fully awake. There was only one place he wanted to be. Up close to Sarange. Pressed so tight against her even a sliver of light couldn’t get between them. That sounded like a plan. Breaking into a loping run, he retraced his steps back to the house.


Chapter 6 (#u5e3d7f98-929b-5d28-b073-bef12f30af3c)

Sarange had given orders to her housekeeper, Henry, about rooms and food, and requested that Marco liaise with the manager of the gated community about the tour bus. People always assumed that she was a loner, but that wasn’t her choice. Sarange liked having others around her. Being alone was just the way her life had worked out.

Having Beast around? That was going to take some getting used to. It was like her cool, luxurious home had been turned into a snow globe. Shaken up, it was now a blur of noise and color. In addition to Khan, there were now five other big, muscular men taking up every corner of her space. They had been there half a day and she was already tripping over guitars, boots, jackets, empty take-out boxes and beer bottles. They didn’t seek each other out to have a conversation. They yelled from one end of the house to the other. And they spoke in a strange shorthand only they understood. One minute they were snickering at jokes no one else was part of. The next, they were exploding with rage over an imagined slight.

“We are an acquired taste.” Torque, the lead guitarist, smiled at her with sympathy in his unusual eyes. Just when she thought they were dull and gray, they appeared to change color, reminding her of opals as they shimmered with iridescent light.

“After what’s happened over the last few days, I’m happy to acquire it.”

It was true. She’d take noise and mess if they brought her safety...and Khan. Although she still wasn’t sure what benefits Beast brought over a team of security guards. Khan had admitted that Ged was a shifter. Did that mean...? She cast a sidelong glance in Torque’s direction. If he was a shifter, she couldn’t figure him out. What was his alter ego? Something with quicksilver movements and lightning reflexes.

“Dragon.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s what you were wondering, isn’t it? I’m a weredragon.” Torque grinned at her dumbfounded expression. “But don’t worry, I promise not to burn your house down.”

She was still wondering if he was joking when Khan called the band together in the sitting room, outlining why they were there. He turned to Finglas. “Have you heard anything about these guys?”

Finglas gave a long-suffering sigh. “You say that as though I hang out in werewolf bars, or I have wolf informants.” Khan frowned and Finglas held up a hand in a gesture of peace. “No, I don’t know anything about these guys. But werewolves who are prepared to draw attention to themselves by going on the attack? That’s not normal.” He turned to Sarange. “And they all looked alike?”

“Identical. Their hair was a medium brown color, their eyes were light—sort of a golden brown—and they all had the same features. I got a good look at them. Both times.”

“And they’re not a pack you know?”

Sarange frowned at the strangeness of the question. A pack she knew? Just how many werewolves did he think she was familiar with? Being a lycanthrope himself, Finglas possibly thought everyone had shape-shifter acquaintances. Before she could answer, Khan took the conversation in a different direction.

“These guys didn’t come here to rob or kill Sarange. They were trying to abduct her. Someone wants her. I brought you here to protect her, but I need to find out who that someone is.”

“That’s a dangerous move.” Ged’s deep, calm voice held a warning note. “If you want information, it means when they come back we have to keep at least one of them alive. Even then, getting a werewolf to betray his leader won’t be easy. A wolf’s loyalty is second only to its stubbornness.”





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