Page 19 of Ignited

He Changed back. To human. Butt naked in the snow, with a pissed-off tiger on top of him. Worst. Decision. Ever.

Karisma’s eyes went wide with shock.

“Hey,” he said faintly. “It’s me. Boomer. Good kitty. No bite?”

She didn’t. Slowly, she sniffed the side of his face, her whiskers tickling his chin. He guessed that was a good sign?

“Remember me?” he said. “The guy from the carnival, the night of the fire. I probably don’t look the same—I’m even hotter now. But I let you out of the cage. I saved your life.” He swallowed hard, remembering the flames coming at him. “And you saved mine.”

She stared at him, unblinking. Boomer held his breath. Then… she licked him. Her tongue was like slobbery sandpaper, but it was better than the teeth.

“Thanks,” he wheezed. “Can you let me up?” He pushed on her giant paw, which was even now probably crushing his sternum to powder.

Reluctantly, she backed off.

Boomer sat up. His butt crack filled with snow and he swore he heard his balls squeal in protest. He rose to a crouch.

This was not how he’d imagined this night going.

“Okay,” he said in his most soothing voice. “That’s better. Now, what’ve you got here, in your leg? I bet it hurts.” This was crazy. He had no idea how much she could understand in the state she was in.

Slowly, he reached out to the dart wound. The magic tingled on his skin, but it didn’t seem to affect him. Holding her injured leg with the other hand, he carefully dislodged the dart. The tip was barbed, and coated with something that smelled toxic. It still shimmered with magic.

Boomer wanted to take it with him and have it analyzed, but as a wolf he’d have no way to carry it except in his mouth, which was not happening. He shoved it under a rock, burying it in the dirt.

Karisma licked the wound, which immediately made her go woozy again.

“Stop doing that!” Boomer said. “It’s poison.”

She looked at him uncomprehendingly, but she stopped licking it, so good.

Now, to get her somewhere safe—before she passed out and he had to drag four hundred pounds of tiger back to civilization.

Boomer flicked a tiny hidden button on the edge of one of his dog tags, to open a voice channel. “Yo, Life Alert. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”

“That wasn’t funny the first twenty times you said it.” His brother’s voice came back, so low it would take shifter hearing to pick it up. “I’ve disengaged from hostiles and left the club. Where are you?”

So he’d gotten away from the FBI agents. And they weren’t following Boomer and Karisma, or he’d have said.

One good thing in this shit show of an evening.

The tiger had pricked up her ears at the sound of the new voice, and gave another growl. She walked a few steps to the east, still unsteady, and looked back at him.

“No,” he said to her. “That way.” He pointed south, toward where his brother would be with their ride.

Karisma took another step, looked back at him, and growled.

“Stand by,” he said to his brother. He walked up to Karisma and said, “Look, I don’t speak tiger, so I don’t know what you want. I’m not following you to who the fuck knows where. You want my help—and believe me, you need it—you come with me. I’ve got us a ride.”

She hesitated, staring at him.

He sighed. He didn’t know what she’d been through, but it looked like most of it had sucked. And yet she was still standing. And judging by the take-no-prisoners joy she’d taken in their fight, her spirit hadn’t been broken.

He looked into her eyes and saw himself—fucked up by his past, but still out here. Still giving the world the finger. “Look, I know it’s been a long time,” he said. “I’m not a kid anymore. But I’ll still help you if I can.” He walked up and put his hand on her furry cheek. “Trust me.”

After a long moment, she shoved her head up against his hip.

“Watch the dangly bits,” he told her, rubbing the top of her head. “No biting.” To his brother he said, “Coming south from this location. No sign of pursuit. Ultimate destination unknown. Tiger is furry, stubborn, and drunk from getting halfway tranked.”