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