White Tiger

The Feline stiffened, coming up from bending over his bike, snarling softly. He seemed to know the man, however, because he stopped and listened as the man began to speak.

Ben had no idea what hoodie-guy said or what the Feline replied. They were a long way across the parking lot, traffic was roaring by on the highway, and Ben didn’t have Shifter hearing.

Should have dropped a bug into the Feline’s pocket. Oh, well. Live and learn.

Ben couldn’t tell if the man were Shifter, human, Fae, or a whatever. While Shifters could scent the distinction, Ben couldn’t—not that even a Shifter could smell much over the stench of Dumpsters and loose trash, oil, and exhaust.

The conversation ended. The Feline, not looking happy, climbed onto his bike, started it, and flowed away out of the parking lot. The man watched him go.

Ben couldn’t see the guy very well, or hear his voice or smell him, but he recognized a stance of pure arrogance when he saw it. He didn’t think the guy was Fae, though. They had a certain body shape that had been imprinted on Ben’s mind from all the persecution his family had suffered from the hoch alfar shits.

That left human or Shifter, one who had something going on with the Feline but had waited to catch him alone. Hmm.

The man turned to fade back into the shadows, but for a moment, Ben felt a gaze resting on him. A pause, a stare, then a shake of head, and the man was gone.

Ben turned away to leave and found another Shifter directly in front of him. It was a Lupine but not the one who’d been in the bar. He wore a Collar and needed a bath.

“Dylan’s pet,” the Lupine said.

Ben decided to play stupid. “What are you talking about, man?”

“Shit,” the Lupine said, his lip curling. “What are you? You stink.”

The Lupine smelled like alcohol, whatever he’d been eating, and the strong odor of unwashed Shifter.

“Could say the same,” Ben said.

“Dylan’s a hypocrite, and you’re a fucking Fae.”

Ben scowled, fists clenching. This Lupine was spoiling for a fight. Ah, well, Ben would have to teach him a lesson.

“Never call me a Fae.” His words hard, Ben swung his fist and contacted the Lupine’s drunken face.

In the next moment, a sharp pain burned him in the abdomen. Ben glanced down in surprise to see a knife hilt sticking out of his stomach.

“A knife?” Ben asked incredulously. “Shifters don’t fight with weapons. Have some self-respect.”

As he spoke, fuzzy blackness took over his vision and he collapsed to the trash-strewn asphalt. At the last minute, Ben cast a spell that wiped the encounter from the Lupine’s brain.

The Lupine blinked, looked around in bewilderment, and stumbled away.

Ben clapped his hand to his abdomen, pain washing through him. He managed to pry his cell phone from his pocket and press the name at the top of his speed dial, before he proceeded to pass out.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“What happened?” Addie demanded as she hurried out onto the porch, clad in the T-shirt and shorts she’d bought to sleep in.

Seamus and Tiger were carrying the recumbent form of Ben from the truck they’d taken him out of and up to the house. Kendrick, fully dressed, met them halfway, and helped them get Ben onto the porch. They laid him on blankets Kendrick must have already fetched.

“Ben,” Kendrick said, touching the man’s face. “Who did this to you?”

“He’s pretty out of it,” Seamus answered. “I got a call from him, but he couldn’t speak more than a word or two. I tracked the phone—with a little help—to a bar outside Houston. There he was, stabbed half to death, left in a pile of trash.”