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His eyes changed, until they were no longer human. His lips peeled back in a silent snarl, baring his teeth.
I stared at him, suddenly fearing for my life. Surely he wouldn't transform and devour me here, in a public place! Even as that thought crossed my mind, I realized that the thick shrub would prevent anyone from seeing us.
I opened my mouth to scream for help, but all that emerged from my throat was a pathetic sob.
And then, in the blink of an eye, Rafe was there.
“Let her go.” His voice was mild, but there was nothing the least bit passive in his expression or the taut line of his body. His eyes glowed red, and when Cagin didn't release me immediately, Rafe's lips peeled back, displaying his fangs.
Feeling like a rabbit trapped between two predators, I glanced from Rafe to Cagin and back again. Would Cagin let me go, or would I be caught in the middle of a fight between two Supernatural creatures, either one of which could destroy me in a heartbeat?
“I said let her go,” Rafe repeated, and though his voice was still soft, I heard the steel underneath.
Apparently, Cagin did, too. With a growl, he shoved me aside.
I fell hard, scraping my knee against a decorative rock, but I was hardly aware of the pain as I stared at the battle being silently waged in front of me.
I told myself to hightail it out of Dodge while the getting was good, but I couldn't move. I could only huddle there in morbid fascination as Cagin transformed into a beast. It was an awesome thing to see. He shook off his clothing and kicked off his sandals as he changed. Fear tore at my heart. Surely Rafe didn't stand a chance against a Were-tiger! But even as the thought crossed my mind, Rafe's body was also changing shape. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered the fact that his clothing simply disappeared. An instant later, a large panther stood in Rafe's place, its coat sleek and black.
The two creatures came together in a rush, teeth and claws rending fur and flesh as they rolled on the ground.
I scrambled out of the way, my heart pounding with dread.
It was a fearsome sight, mesmerizing in its intensity; frightening, yet beautiful, like a savage ballet. I backed up another step and realized I wasn't alone. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Rafe's grandmother standing behind me, her eyes glowing red as she watched the battle.
“Do something!” I cried. “Can't you do something?”
“I could,” she replied, “but Rafe would never forgive me for interfering.”
I wondered how she could be so calm when her grandson's life was in danger.
The creatures parted for a moment. Panting heavily, they stared at each other. Blood smeared their mouths and dripped from the numerous bites and scratches that appeared on both of them. Cagin seemed to be favoring his right foreleg.
I held my breath, hoping the fight was over. Both were injured. Both were bleeding.
Rafe took a step toward Cagin, his lips peeled back in a silent snarl.
He froze, as did Cagin, at the sound of voices coming toward us.
Between one heartbeat and the next, Cagin and Rafe resumed their own forms. Cagin turned and disappeared into the darkness between the two houses. Rafe vanished in a swirl of silver mist, as did his grandmother. If Cagin's clothing hadn't been scattered on the ground, I might have thought I imagined the whole thing.
Tossing Cagin's clothing under a bush, I quickly made my way up to Susie's front porch and knocked on the door as if nothing untoward had happened and I was merely stopping by for a visit.
On the sidewalk, a man and a woman strolled by, completely unaware of the life-and-death struggle their presence had interrupted. I wished I could thank them.
As soon as they were out of sight, I ran down the street and didn't stop running until I was at home behind a locked door.
With a sigh, I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the wood.
“Kathy.”
Rafe's voice, so soft I thought I had imagined it. And then I heard it again, louder. Opening my eyes, I turned around, and he was there, his clothing stained with blood, his face, neck, arms, and no doubt the rest of him, covered with nasty-looking bites and deep scratches. Even as I watched, the smaller wounds were healing, fading, until only a deep laceration across his left forearm remained.
I stared at him, at the faint red glow that lingered in his eyes, and knew what he wanted. I waited for him to ask, and as the seconds ticked by, I realized he wasn't going to. I was going to have to offer.
My legs were shaky as I walked to the sofa and sat down. I was acutely aware of his gaze on my face. Leaning my head back against the sofa, I closed my eyes.
“Just don't take too much,” I said, and my voice was every bit as shaky as my legs had been. He had bitten me before, but his desire then had been fueled by passion, not physical need. I wondered if there would be a difference. Would his bite still bring me pleasure? Did he see me now not as a lover, but as prey?
My hands clenched as he sat beside me. His knuckles stroked my cheek, the length of my neck. Kisses followed in the wake of his touch, and then I felt the prick of his fangs at my throat. Pleasure flowed through me. I felt lighter than air, felt as though I could soar through the heavens. I wondered what he was feeling, and no sooner had I done so, then it was as if I was walking in his mind. There was pleasure there, too, mingled with an easing of physical pain. I felt his strength returning, and with it, his desire.
I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me. His eyes were no longer red; the wounds that I had seen had healed, leaving no trace of a scar. Amazing, I thought. He looked strong and fit while I felt light-headed and a little disoriented.
Muttering “stay here,” he went into the kitchen.
I closed my eyes, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep, though I was certain to have nightmares after what I had seen.
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Rafe was shaking my shoulder, pressing a glass of orange juice to my lips, insisting I drink. When I emptied the glass, he filled it again and coaxed me to drink that, too.
“I'm all right,” I said. “Don't look so worried.”
He stroked my cheek. “What am I to do with you?”
“Anything you want,” I murmured.
I closed my eyes. Had I imagined it, or had I heard Rafe whisper, “No bad dreams tonight” before I slid into welcome oblivion?
That night, I dreamed a wonderful dream. In it, Rafe and I were holding hands as we walked along a sandy beach. A full moon cast silver highlights on the surface of the water. The sand was warm beneath my bare feet, the air tangy with the scent of salt and surf, but it wasn't the ocean or the night that held me in its spell, it was the man beside me. He wore nothing but a pair of black trunks, and I couldn't stop looking at him, couldn't stop admiring his well-muscled physique. I was jealous of the moonlight that danced in his midnight black hair and caressed his tawny skin.
