The chains weren’t very thick but they didn’t have to be. The Fae spells bit pain and electric shock deep into the Shifter’s nervous system until every nerve ending, every cell was on fire.
Zander’s roar of rage turned to anguish. He fought to break the slender but super-strong bonds, every outward push of his arms sending greater agony into him. So much for the Goddess answering his prayer.
Zander tried to get his breath and found none. He wanted to stop, sink down, surrender, anything to take away this white-hot pain, the knife of it peeling at every muscle.
A dim part of Zander’s mind told him that the Fae chains were designed to make him do just that—give up. The only solution was to keep fighting.
He was a polar bear, touched by the Goddess, could heal wounds in the blink of an eye. Special, set apart, gifted . . .
What a load of bullshit. Zander was a Shifter like every other and this fucking hurt.
He gathered his strength and pulled at the chains again, his roars shaking the wheelhouse. More agony. Shit, these were strong. He’d never break free. Carson would recover and shoot him through his stupid bear brain . . .
Sudden coolness cut through the fevered pain. Zander opened his eyes, his vision blurring, and looked down. Rae was next to him, her jacket open, her Collar peeping from under her shirt.
She had her hands on his side, reaching up as far as she could as he stood on his hind legs. Rae’s hands sank into his fur, right over his aching rib cage and banging heart.
The touch of a mate, a tiny voice in Zander’s subconscious whispered. The most magical touch of all. It healed, soothed, freed.
The Fae magic was strong, Zander’s pain horrific, and Rae’s touch could only do so much against it. But it made all the difference.
Zander’s breath poured back into his lungs. He let out another ferocious growl and jerked his paws apart.
The chains broke with a bang that rivaled the next thunderclap. The energy in them was so vast that the chains flew across the room and crashed through the window, shards of glass everywhere. The chains landed with a clank on the deck outside, skittering down it as the boat rocked.
Zander brought his paws together, his fur bloody. Rae moved her touch to just above the bleeding creases. He felt her anguish for him, her compassion.
To think, he’d almost refused point-blank to let her come onto his boat.
Zander shook himself. He lowered to all four paws and Rae’s hold slid away. But she was at his side again, resting her hands on his back.
“You all right?” she asked in trepidation.
Zander gave a bear mmph then he let himself shift back to human. That was going to be a bitch, too, but he did it.
Soon his protective fur was gone and he was on hands and knees, his wrists running with blood, his breath labored.
The cabin was dark but for what little light came in through the fogbound and rain-streaked windows and the occasional blinding streak of lightning. Miles must have gotten some emergency generator going, because the boat beneath Zander was vibrating.
In the next lightning strike, Zander saw the guard who’d gone for coffee in the cabin again, his gun aimed at Zander. Aw, for crap’s sake.
Zander snarled and ran at him, twisting the pistol from the man’s hand. Zander trained the gun on the guard, whose eyes lost the hardness of a paid killer and took on fear as he saw his intended victim about to kill him.
“You know what I like about being Shifter?” Zander asked him. He turned the pistol sideways in this hands. “It lets me do things like this.”
Zander bent the metal in half. The gun popped and broke, and bullets rained to the floor.
Zander tossed the useless pieces aside and punched the guard in the temple. The man quietly slid down the wall, his legs splaying.
Zander turned and punched the other guard, who was trying to sneak up on him, and took his gun away from him. Another break, another pistol rendered useless, another guard knocked out.
“I hate guns,” Zander said with a growl.
“Zander!” Rae called in warning.
Zander turned to see Carson, who’d faded into the shadows, emerge again. He had a tranq rifle in his hands, the cabinet behind him broken open, and no fear in his eyes.
Before Zander could duck, Carson shot. The tranq dart flew rapidly and surely across the room to bury itself in Zander’s bare shoulder.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rae watched, her heart pounding, as Zander studied the dart sticking out of the solid muscle between his arm and shoulder.
He said, “You son of a bitch,” took hold of the dart, and yanked it out.
Rae expected Zander to fold up and collapse but he only took a deep breath and steadied himself on the nearest wall. As Carson stared at him over the scope, Zander dragged in another breath and lurched toward him.
Carson threw aside the tranq gun and went for his pistol. Rae started for them but she knew she’d never reach Carson in time.
Zander did. He snarled and half shifted, his bear paw knocking the pistol from Carson’s hand before the man could raise it. Zander lifted the dart still in his fist and jammed it into Carson’s arm.
The man blinked, then wobbled as the fast-acting tranq took effect. His legs shook; he swung a fist at Zander and missed. Zander caught Carson as he went down and gently lowered him to a bench. Piotr caught up the tranq rifle, loaded it with another dart from the cabinet, and used it to cover Miles and the limp guards.
Zander turned around and pinned Miles with a dark gaze. “Any more?”
Zander was stark naked, his clothes all over the floor. Miles was dressed and facing Zander with military bearing, but Zander dominated here. Shifters didn’t equate nudity with vulnerability—they equated it with being able to defend themselves. A Shifter’s greatest weapon was his or her animal, and clothes only got in the way.
It was cold, though, in this early Alaska morning, and Zander’s human body would soon begin to shiver. His wrists ran with blood where the chains had torn his flesh. He didn’t notice at the moment, his adrenaline high, but after a while, he’d have to wrap up, hunker down, and heal.
“How did you do that?” Rae asked him.
Fire flickered in Zander’s eyes and ignited the ones inside her. “Which part?” he asked.
“All of it. Those chains were spelled—I smelled it. And the dart. Why didn’t it knock you out?”
Zander shrugged. Blood trickled from his wounds and spattered to the floor. “He miscalculated the dose. I’m a polar bear, bigger than most Shifters. Takes more to bring me down.”