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Cain entered the basement, stopping in front of the half-shifter’s cage. He studied his subject—his father’s pet project.
The female cheekbones protruded sharply, and her limbs looked like a skeleton’s. Her dull, matted black hair was a rat’s nest and her skin was a mosaic of colors; white from lack of sun and shades of yellow and blue from healing and fresh bruises. And she was gripping her bulging stomach, panting. The guard had been right. She was in labor.
“You are ready to give me the child already? Wonderful! I have everything in place.” The female glared back. Cain’s chest tingled with anticipation. He motioned for the guard to open the cage.
“Bring her to the treatment room.” Turning, he left to change into scrubs. Birthing was such a messy process. He chuckled, hearing her screams and protests, then the slap of flesh hitting flesh.
“Don’t knock her out,” he yelled back at the guard. “I need her conscious enough to push that baby out of her.”
“Yes, sir.”
Just a few hours and he will have his new project in his arms.
Five hours later, Cain stood at his office desk, watching the female groan and thrash on the birthing bed. The long chains attached to the wrist and ankle cuffs clanked against the metal bedframe. He had allowed the longer chains, allowing her some movement.
“You know, I thought the females knew what to do instinctively in this situation. But every time I watch a birthing, I doubt Mother Nature knew what she was doing.” The glare coming his way made him chuckle. Another contraction hit the female, and she panted through the pain. Cain rose, walking to the bed. He placed a hand on the female’s rock-hard belly. She lunged for him.
“Don’t fucking touch me!”
“Now, now, don’t be angry. I just want to help. If you don’t let me check you, I’ll shorten the chains again. Remember the discomfort of not being able to change position?”
Another contraction came. Cain pulled on clean latex gloves and moved to the foot of the bed. He parted Sheila’s legs, checking the dilatation of her cervix.
“Perfect ten. You are ready. Push with the next contraction.”
“Never!”
Cain chuckled. “You don’t have a choice. You either deliver the baby naturally or I’ll cut it out of you.”
The door of the room slammed open.
“Sir, the felines are attacking!”
Cain straightened slowly, glaring at the soldier. “What?!”
“They are attacking!”
“Then don’t stand there! Stop them! Kill them! Find Rusty and tell him to get his ass over here!” He was so close to his goal! Panic rode him fast.
“Yes, sir!”
A chuckle brought Cain’s attention back to the laboring female.
“He’s coming for me.”
The screams and animalistic roars reaching them from outside drowned out her whispered words. Cain cursed. He had to gather his latest data. “He’s too late,” he sneered. Then he rushed to his office.
The female was secured. She wasn’t going anywhere. Five minutes. He needed five minutes to take his drivers and set the auto destruction of the compound. If he had to, he would take the female with him and deliver the baby in the helicopter. And where the fuck was his second in command?
*
Sheila didn’t know what was worse, the heat or the pain splinting her body apart. Her blood boiled in her veins, her head pounded like someone wanted to split it open and the pain of the labor went on and on.
Weak after months of malnourishment and treatments to kill any trace of her cat, she fought for her baby. She was sweaty and panting for every breath. She knew she wouldn’t survive to see her and Logan’s cub grow.
Another contraction hit, and it didn’t stop. Sheila screamed, hoping Logan would hear her. The urge to push overwrote anything else.
She was alone. Her mate wasn’t there, her cat was gone, and Cain had rushed out of the room. Scared, and in debilitating pain, she listened to the only thing giving her instructions—her body. Fisting the sheets, she bore down. The movement of the baby through the birthing canal hurt even more that the pain of the labor.
Crying, Sheila took a breath and pushed with the next contraction. A moment that should have been one of joy for her, Logan, and their families had become a nightmare. She wanted her mother there to hold her hand. She screamed for her mate, wishing he would be there to soothe her. All her childhood dreams have burned to ashes.
The pressure of the baby’s head at her cervix took her breath away. She didn’t have time to gather her strength. The urge to bear down came again and with the next contraction and a long, exhausting push, her baby came out of her body with a whoosh of liquid.
It was at that same moment when the pain in her head exploded. Had a blood vessel ruptured? Was her brain bleeding out? Was she about to die without the chance to hold her baby?
Through the agonizing pain, Sheila felt the rise of her beast. It wasn’t dead! Joy and sorrow battled for her soul. The pain intensified. Sheila’s scream turned into a roar of fury and the world turned gray.
She had only played dead! The feline gave that information to the woman, letting her know her determination and power. The feral cat rushed to the surface. It looked around. The enemy wasn’t there. Ties kept the human body prisoner. It roared. The adrenaline rush gave it the strength to break the metal ties.
Then, something else drew its attention—the slowing flutter of a heart. The beast looked down. A small human cub lay between her legs. Her baby. Her cub!
Taking it with care not to slice the fragile slippery skin, the female placed the infant on her chest, purring to reassure the baby. Moments passed and panic rose in the female’s heart. The small heartbeat was stopping.
Frantic, the cat licked the baby’s nose, clearing the obstruction there. Another moment passed and a small whimper came from the child. Then a loud cry.
At that moment, the enemy entered the room. The half-shifted panther rolled out of bed, keeping the baby close to its chest. She backed up, hissing and growling at the enemy. He had tried to kill her. He would take her cub!
The human man smiled and raised a hand. The cat recognized the thing he held. A human weapon. From outside, snarls and growls rose to the room.
“Give me the child.”
*
In the forest, Logan’s tigers, the panthers John had brought, and some wolves they had saved, fought Cain’s army of human mercenaries.
The attack had launched at dusk. The foliage above turned the forest into the perfect hunting ground. Rusty had showed them the path, then he retreated toward the main house.
Before letting loose the tiger, Logan had gripped the human’s arm, stopping him from leaving the formation. “Where are you going?”
“I need to stay with Cain.”
“Why?”
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, tiger. If I’m with him, I can save some lives. Few, but it’s better than none.”
Logan had understood. The human had left for the main house while they started fighting their way through the traps the humans had placed. One hour later, they had reached the first line of defense. The mercenaries were skilled, but shifters had the advantage of night-sight and speed.
A bullet grazed the tiger’s side. He snarled, leaping for the man aiming at him like he was a wounded animal to be put down. Claws raked the man’s body and the tiger’s jaws gripped the man’s throat. Fangs entered the man’s neck like a heated knife in butter. The screams turned into gurgles, then nothing. The mercenary was dead.
Both human and animal were exhausted. The thought of killing the scientist who took his mate was the only thing giving them the energy to continue. Sheila’s smiling face appeared in his mind like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. It was the image he held on to for sanity. Logan prayed she was still alive. If not, he would go with her to the other world. His life meant nothing without her.
Leaving the dead body behind, the tiger turned to face the incoming threat. Another shot of adrenaline washed through him. As the enemy approached, the tiger rushed to the main house. His pride and allies could deal with the mercenaries. He had to find Sheila.
He tried to sense her, but couldn’t. The bond they had shared was too thin. They haven’t had time to strengthen it and now he couldn’t use it.
The beast ran faster, dodging bullets. Logan’s mind surfaced enough to communicate with his Beta.
“Trick, I’m heading for the house. Kill every fucking mercenary.”
“You bet, Logan. Go get our Alpha-female.”
“Do your best and don’t get killed. I need you to stand as my best man at the mating ceremony.”
“Mating ceremony!? Have you asked her?”
“I don’t need to ask. She’s mine.”
Trick’s mental chuckle seemed out of place in their current situation.
“You’re asking for trouble, man. Make sure you have a few wounds to complain about. It might make her feel sorry for you and go along with the mating ceremony.”
Logan didn’t answer. Speeding up, he reached the main house in minutes. The tiger broke through the three-line and had to dodge the rain of bullets. A snarl and a scream came from the house. A panther screamed in fury. The shots stopped. The scent of blood rose like a heat wave from the ground, making it hard to find the particular scent of his mate.
A human bursted through the front door, chased by a black panther. The man screamed but didn’t make it far. John’s panther leaped, and the scream cut off. The tiger left them behind, entering the house. Blood smeared the hallways. The bloody handprints on the walls transformed the place into a horror show. Bodies lay lifeless, the eyes sightless, but fear still marking their faces.
But through all the blood, the tiger caught the scent of his mate. It roared, following it up the stairs. It reached the first floor. His enemy came out of a room, fired and ran down the corridor. The tiger crouched, avoiding the bullets, but the human disappeared through another door.
Baring his fangs and hissing in rage, the tiger rushed toward the end of the corridor. He stopped midway, catching the strong fragrance of his mate. The room it came from also had the powerful scent of blood. Fear struck the Alpha. He leaped inside, roaring a challenge. He was prepared to find his dead mate. Instead, he came face to face with the most beautiful being in the entire world.
The half-shifted form of his mate stared back at him, purring. Her pink-tinted eyes shined with tears. Mesmerized and purring in pleasure at seeing his female, the tiger prowled closer until he almost touched his mate.
A babe’s cry broke his trance. He looked down at the bundle of fabric his mate had on her legs. He sniffed. The scent made the tiger take a step back, and the man rose to the surface, shifting. On his knees, the man gaped at his grinning mate.
“Sheila? What is...?” He couldn’t finish.
“Our baby,” she sighed.