Awakening The Shifter. Jane Godman

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ