throwing ornaments on a tree. But I promise to sit awhile if I get tired, okay?”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Megan quickly turned away. Mica would only get upset if she saw the tears that gathered in her eyes. Hurrying off, she drew in harsh, cold breaths as she jumped into the vehicle and sat there while it warmed up a bit. Guilt swamped her as she maneuvered on the lone paved road. All these years Megan had been cursed with the knowledge of what really ailed Mica, but there was no one she could tell. Who would believe her? That fateful morning twenty years ago Megan had awoken to find a rotten shifter cub curled up on the bed with her charge. Megan had known immediately what the pure white cub was. Siberian tiger shifter. She knew because she too was a shifter, though she had never revealed herself willingly to any of them. Not knowing what else to do, she had simply grabbed the cub by his scruff and chucked him out of the window. When she returned to examine Mica, she’d seen the bite.
Because Megan’s own mother had been killed by a shifter when she was just a baby, she had been raised by humans. As a result, she had little to no knowledge about her own people. Hell, if she hadn’t been one herself, she would have sworn there were no such thing as African tigers, shifters or otherwise. All she knew for sure was how to spot them, most of the time, and avoid others like the plague, as they all seemed to be male. Oh, and she knew as long as she didn’t shift she was safe from detection. The scent she gave off whenever she did brought voracious males too close for comfort.
Megan had no idea why the shifter’s bite had made Mica sick. Not a day hadn’t gone by that she hadn’t researched any and everything she could get her hands on, seeking that answer. Others had been bitten by shifters and never suffered more than the discomfort of an animal bite. Unfortunately, since she knew no other tigers like herself, there was no one she trusted to ask. The information she had found in far-flung villages across the world and on the internet was steeped in myth and bullshit. How many witch doctors, websites, mystics, shaman, etc., etc. had told her to her face there was no such thing as female tiger shifters? And yet here she was, living proof that was bull. Therefore every piece of information had to be treated with skepticism. And now she was running out of time. So far all she had learned about shifters had only brought more questions, not only about Mica, but about herself.
Unless the shifter that had been standing in the cabin when they got there had some answers. He damn well better have some answers; her baby was dying. She didn’t have to be Mica’s mother to love her like one. She had devoted her entire life to that wonderful girl. But the man’s strange reaction gave her something she had run out of—hope. He had to know something; he certainly acted as if he did. If that meant she had to fight him, well, she was just going to have to fight him.
And just let his family members try to get into the cabin while she was gone! She’d made sure she laced plenty of traps with catnip (which worked!); the amount of which made traveling anywhere but along the path that led directly to the front door a mistake. Over the years she had learned enough to keep her charge safe from humans and human-animal hybrids.
By the time Megan arrived in front of the general store, she had worked herself up into a fine lather. Her fangs were even showing, her claws not far from the surface. There was no point in hiding them from Valeri—he knew what she was just like she knew what he was. The only reason she hadn’t shifted and gone to his ass tiger style earlier was for Mica’s sake. That crap about Mica being healed---she wanted to know just what the hell he was getting at. For damn sure she would kill any shifter who dared set foot near her charge again. If what he said was some ruse to get close to her, she would feast
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Megan quickly turned away. Mica would only get upset if she saw the tears that gathered in her eyes. Hurrying off, she drew in harsh, cold breaths as she jumped into the vehicle and sat there while it warmed up a bit. Guilt swamped her as she maneuvered on the lone paved road. All these years Megan had been cursed with the knowledge of what really ailed Mica, but there was no one she could tell. Who would believe her? That fateful morning twenty years ago Megan had awoken to find a rotten shifter cub curled up on the bed with her charge. Megan had known immediately what the pure white cub was. Siberian tiger shifter. She knew because she too was a shifter, though she had never revealed herself willingly to any of them. Not knowing what else to do, she had simply grabbed the cub by his scruff and chucked him out of the window. When she returned to examine Mica, she’d seen the bite.
Because Megan’s own mother had been killed by a shifter when she was just a baby, she had been raised by humans. As a result, she had little to no knowledge about her own people. Hell, if she hadn’t been one herself, she would have sworn there were no such thing as African tigers, shifters or otherwise. All she knew for sure was how to spot them, most of the time, and avoid others like the plague, as they all seemed to be male. Oh, and she knew as long as she didn’t shift she was safe from detection. The scent she gave off whenever she did brought voracious males too close for comfort.
Megan had no idea why the shifter’s bite had made Mica sick. Not a day hadn’t gone by that she hadn’t researched any and everything she could get her hands on, seeking that answer. Others had been bitten by shifters and never suffered more than the discomfort of an animal bite. Unfortunately, since she knew no other tigers like herself, there was no one she trusted to ask. The information she had found in far-flung villages across the world and on the internet was steeped in myth and bullshit. How many witch doctors, websites, mystics, shaman, etc., etc. had told her to her face there was no such thing as female tiger shifters? And yet here she was, living proof that was bull. Therefore every piece of information had to be treated with skepticism. And now she was running out of time. So far all she had learned about shifters had only brought more questions, not only about Mica, but about herself.
Unless the shifter that had been standing in the cabin when they got there had some answers. He damn well better have some answers; her baby was dying. She didn’t have to be Mica’s mother to love her like one. She had devoted her entire life to that wonderful girl. But the man’s strange reaction gave her something she had run out of—hope. He had to know something; he certainly acted as if he did. If that meant she had to fight him, well, she was just going to have to fight him.
And just let his family members try to get into the cabin while she was gone! She’d made sure she laced plenty of traps with catnip (which worked!); the amount of which made traveling anywhere but along the path that led directly to the front door a mistake. Over the years she had learned enough to keep her charge safe from humans and human-animal hybrids.
By the time Megan arrived in front of the general store, she had worked herself up into a fine lather. Her fangs were even showing, her claws not far from the surface. There was no point in hiding them from Valeri—he knew what she was just like she knew what he was. The only reason she hadn’t shifted and gone to his ass tiger style earlier was for Mica’s sake. That crap about Mica being healed---she wanted to know just what the hell he was getting at. For damn sure she would kill any shifter who dared set foot near her charge again. If what he said was some ruse to get close to her, she would feast