Lure of the Fox Page 16

  “Get him!” Goode yelled.

  Push it! Shove it away! Jake barked at himself.

  He heaved with all the force he could muster, and the tiger went flying — literally flying — and crashed into a tree, where it slumped. Jake rolled to his feet then immediately staggered, grabbing his shoulder. Warm, sticky blood trickled between his fingers. His leg hurt too, and a glance down showed a ragged red line below the knee of his pants.

  Branch. Find the branch, he ordered himself, telling himself those were scratches and not gashes.

  “Whoa,” he muttered as he stooped for his makeshift club. One of the owls fluttered over him, screeching at an oncoming lion.

  Oncoming lion, his hazy mind registered just in time to poke at it with the stick. It wasn’t much of a hit, but it held the beast off long enough for the owl to swoop in, clawing at the lion’s eyes. The lion scrambled away in retreat.

  “Burman!” Goode yelled to his second accomplice.

  Jake spun, ready to take on the tiger. But it was still slumped against the tree, barely stirring.

  “Damn it!” Goode yelled. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

  Jake squinted through the throb of pain he couldn’t quite shake off. The curtains in the window behind Goode shifted, and Jake’s heart leaped to his throat.

  “Ella,” he whispered, hoping she had found a way to get free and would escape out the back.

  Then his attention jumped to Goode, who stripped his shirt off much like Patel had done before he’d turned into a wild beast.

  Jake swung the branch from side to side, steeling himself for the worst. The heat in his pocket intensified, and strength seeped into his legs. He wouldn’t kid himself about the extent of his injuries, but he didn’t mind that extra boost, wherever it came from.

  It comes from me, a little voice murmured in his mind as the gemstone sent out another bolstering shot of heat.

  Jake blinked a few times. Shit, now he wasn’t just seeing wild animals. He was hearing voices too.

  Goode threw his shirt aside and snarled through frighteningly long teeth. The lion slunk backward with its tail low; the tiger struggled to its feet and swayed. Goode hunched, groaned, and began to transform. His legs bent back at the knees, and his spine stood out as the skin around it broke out in thick fur. When he ducked and shook his head, more hair emerged, forming an increasingly thick mane.

  Jake’s mouth hung open. Fuck. Another lion? Or was that a tiger? The tawny fur took on an orange hue near its rump, and the entire body was lined with dark stripes.

  A lion. A tiger. A mix?

  “You bastard,” Jake whispered, testing it.

  Goode roared furiously, confirming Jake’s hunch. First, that Goode was in there and aware of human speech. And second, that Goode had to be some kind of bizarre mix between two species. One with a huge chip on his shoulder and no regard for human life.

  One of the owls fluttered its tail feathers as if to say, Oh, shit.

  Oh, shit was right. Goode was huge. Bigger than the biggest lion or tiger. He put one paw in front of the other, stalking toward Jake. His eyes glowed a murderous red, and he growled the entire time.

  Die, that growl said. You will die.

  Jake gripped his branch harder and showed his own teeth. But, damn. How much would a branch help? The machete would be better, but it looked farther away than ever. Even with it, he wasn’t sure how much damage he could inflict on a beast of that size.

  The owls launched themselves, one from either direction, harassing the beast. But Goode just swiped them away and strode onward, intent on Jake. The lion and limping tiger fell into step along his flanks, and they all converged on Jake.

  What are you going to do now, asshole? Goode’s growl asked.

  A softer, higher snarl sounded from behind them, and Jake looked at the stairs.

  Ella. He mouthed her name as he took in the coppery-blond fox growling from the top step. It was huge for a fox, but it still appeared petite. Feminine. The polar opposite of the felines converging on him now. The fox’s orange-brown eyes flashed, and although Jake had no idea what was going on, he knew that was her.

  “Ella,” he whispered, holding back the Run for your life part because Ella didn’t like to be told what to do.

  The fox wagged its tail. Once. Twice. And suddenly, everything made sense.

  I can’t have you, Jake. I’m dangerous to you. Was this what Ella had meant?

  The fox swung its tail and held its nose high, testing the air.

  That’s Burnam, and that’s Patel, he was tempted to call out, but he didn’t want to draw their attention to her. And that ugly son of bitch in the middle is Goode.

  The fox bared its teeth and coiled, ready to attack from behind.

  On three, its intelligent eyes said.

  Jake’s eyebrows shot up. A fox running a countdown?

  Somehow, she made her plan clear with tiny movements. What she planned to do and which way she needed him to move, all subtly communicated in the way they had once in covert operations. And for about the hundredth time in Jake’s life, he wished he could tell Ella how amazing she was.

  Two, the fox’s nod signaled.

  Die, the snarling felines growled, unaware of her behind them.

  Jake showed his teeth. “Try me, assholes.”

  Three, the fox snapped as all hell broke loose.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ella launched herself at Goode with everything she had, powered by the anger and fear boiling over in her soul. That was her man out there, fighting on her behalf. Dying, if she didn’t do anything about it. Jake’s shoulder was stained red, his leg savaged, his eyes clouded with pain. Most humans looked like deer in headlights the first time they spotted shifters — not to mention shifters with a thirst for blood. Yet Jake managed to stand as solid as a rock, hefting that branch of his. A warrior to the last.

  “Jake,” she cried. But it came out a canine yelp, and he didn’t understand.

  Her wrists hurt like hell even now that she was in fox form, but that was nothing like the hurt to her pride. It had been a bitch to saw against the rusty edge of the bed’s metal frame, but she’d done it. Now, she folded her ears back, coiled her muscles, and sprang at Goode’s back. That had to be him — the sheer size gave him away. And no wonder she hadn’t been able to identify his shifter species until now. He was a rare lion-tiger mix — a liger. An unnatural mix often called an abomination because those species never mixed in the wild. The beast combined the strength and ferocity of both species in a massive body that dwarfed any pure-blooded cat.

  And damn it, he’d been toying with Jake. Well, she’d show him. No one messed with her man.

  Yes, the liger was five times her size. No, she had no reason to believe she could overcome Goode or survive the afternoon. But at that moment, nothing mattered but helping her mate.

  She snarled, digging her claws into Goode’s back and chomping down on one ear. Take that, asshole.

  The liger roared. He might have the size advantage, but she had the element of surprise. Was it sneaky coming up from behind? Hell yes. Payback for how Goode had tricked her back at the resort.

  Now he’ll pay the price, her fox snarled, shredding his ear.

  But, crap. Even that fragile part of the liger was tough as leather. How was she ever going to vanquish that beast?

  She bit harder and yanked, tearing through his flesh. The clearing erupted with the sounds of battle — snarls, roars, and her throaty growl — as Goode started to roll, intent on crushing her. Ella sprang away and rushed to Jake’s side with a quickness and agility the liger could never match. For a second, she thought Jake would smack her with that branch, but when their eyes met, his mouth cracked open, and he froze.

  Jake, she cried. It’s me. Your mate.

  She searched his eyes. Did he understand? Did he know why she’d had to push him away for so long?

  “Ella,” he whispered in awe.

  All that transpired in t
he blink of an eye before they took up positions side by side, no longer lovers but comrades-in-arms. Like the last two goddamn soldiers guarding the Alamo, knowing they were going to pay with their lives.

  She wagged her tail stiffly. Death didn’t scare her. At least, not as much as the idea of living a long life without Jake. She snarled at the oncoming felines, and Jake yelled, “Back off!”

  The massive feline shifters didn’t back off, but they did pause. Even Goode hesitated at the force in Jake’s voice. Hell, even Ella looked up. She had seen Jake shed his quieter, more reserved side in tight situations before, but never like this.

  “I said back off, and get off this land!” he thundered.

  Was that love powering him or something else?

  Love, a faint voice said — a voice as old as the mountains. My power is only a funnel for what lies within a soul.

  She stared. That voice wasn’t Jake’s, nor did it stem from one of the owls peering nervously down at the fight — distant relatives of Georgia Mae’s who had always guarded this special place. It wasn’t her inner fox either, and it sure wasn’t Goode or his men.

  When Jake pressed his right hand over his pocket, the air vibrated the way it might from a powerful bassline at a concert, except there was no sound.

  Spirit Stone, her fox whispered in awe. It has to be.

  But how? Jake didn’t know the Spirit Stones existed, and Silas never would have loaned him one of the five kept safe at Koa Point.

  Not a Spirit Stone, the voice whispered. I am their maker.

  Ella’s eyes went wide. Holy shit. The Keystone? Where had Jake found it? How? Why?

  The voice didn’t reveal anything, but in her heart, she knew. Destiny. It had to be destiny.

  She wagged her tail hard enough to swat Jake’s leg and lifted her chin. Okay, destiny. You got us this far. Now get us the rest of the way.

  The ancient voice rumbled, Destiny only puts events into motion. The rest is up to you.

  She could have screamed, because the rest was a tiger, a lion, and a massive liger, all out for blood.

  Goode roared in a Get her kind of way, and the trio surged forward.

  Jake used his height to swing at them with superhuman strength. Ella was the lowest to the ground, and she used that to her advantage, ducking under the rushing tiger’s claws and snapping at his neck. She sank her teeth deep into his flesh and hung on. The tiger shook and roared, trying to claw her off. Screeches filled the air as the owls dive-bombed their foes. Jake grunted and swung the branch, sending the lion flying against a boulder with a bone-crunching thump. Ella darted away from the tiger and circled back to Jake’s side.

  Keep your back to the tree, she told him in a fox whine.

  “Get out of here, Ella. Go,” he murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

  She swatted his leg with her tail and growled. Like hell, she would.

  Goode slunk forward, swiping at Jake with a paw, but Jake batted it away. For a moment, they were at an impasse, both sides staring each other down. The tiger circled one way while Goode circled the other way. Ella and Jake circled too, communicating wordlessly, forming a team.

  Goode flicked his tail and curled his lips into a cruel smile that said, I will crush you, little one.

  Ella snarled hard enough to make her throat ache. It’s not the size of the dog in the fight. It’s the size of the fight in the dog.

  And all of a sudden, she was soaring through the air at the liger, only realizing what had happened a second later. Goode hadn’t leaped at her. She’d leaped at him, initiating the next attack. A pang of oh, shit terror hit her in midair, but a second later, all she felt was a rush. She’d fought for just causes before, but love superseded all that.

  Love makes us stronger, her fox said, aiming for Goode’s ear.

  Ironic, but true. Ever since she’d met Jake, she’d worried that falling in love would make her weaker. But the opposite was true.

  You messed with the wrong fox, Goode, she snarled, sinking her teeth into his fur, hoping Jake would understand her plan. Her teeth wouldn’t pierce the liger’s thick ruff, but if she dragged his head down to one side…

  She missed, pivoted, and chomped down on his ear, yanking down with all her might. And, thwack! Jake hammered down with his branch, and Goode staggered.

  Perfect! she wanted to cheer.

  But there wasn’t time, because the second she stumbled away, the tiger — Burman — chased her down. He roared, spread his front paws wide, and then smacked them together to trap her. But Jake whacked the tiger’s haunches while the owls harried its ears, allowing Ella to make a terrifying, out-of-the-jaws-of-death escape. Terrifying, yet exhilarating at the same time. She turned on the twice-her-size tiger, snapping wildly at its neck. The beast scuttled backward with a what-the-fuck look of surprise, and Ella turned back to Jake.

  No! she barked as Goode rose on his back legs to tower over Jake. She could see it already — the liger crashing down on her fearless mate, crushing and tearing. Not content with killing Jake but ripping him to shreds.

  Jake wielded his branch like a club and sidestepped, motioning toward the house. “Over there!”

  She wanted to scream. No, she was not going to make her escape while Jake sacrificed himself. And no, she wasn’t going to go after Burman, who was slinking away into the woods. She was going to fight at Jake’s side.

  “Get it!” he yelled.

  She did a double take. Get what?

  Goode roared and dove for Jake.

  No! she screamed.

  “Get it!” Jake yelled, more desperately this time.

  His words were so adamant, she looked around, trying to locate what it was. The hoe leaning against the side of the house? The chipped flowerpot on the porch?

  There. That, her fox cried.

  A ray of sunlight angled through the clearing and glinted off a metal blade. The machete left in a stump by the porch.

  Ella rushed forward, making the fastest shift of her life. Her four-footed sprint became an upright, human run. Her paws widened into hands. In one furious movement, she yanked the machete free and turned back to the fight.

  “Jake!” she yelled, rushing at the faint stripes of Goode’s back.

  Jake was punching at the liger’s muzzle, but the beast had him pinned to the ground. Goode spread his jaws wide. His teeth showed a pure, terrifying white.

  “No!” Ella screamed, swinging the machete.

  The liger’s ear flicked, distracted just long enough for Jake to heave him away. Really heave with uncanny strength that sent the beast rolling. Jake followed with his body until man and beast were both tangled and wrestling.

  Ella resisted the temptation to chop at the liger’s thrashing legs. That wouldn’t end this fight. Only a mortal blow would, but Jake was too close to Goode’s chest for her to attempt that now.

  Jake, she screamed in her mind. Get clear. I need you to get clear.

  She could picture him giving her that chagrined look he did so well. I’m trying.

  Goode’s claws sliced into Jake’s shoulder, and he let out a muffled grunt. One of those tough-soldier cries that hinted he didn’t have much left.

  “Jake!” she yelled, putting every promise, every hope into her voice. “Now!”

  Jake shoved, pushing the liger off-balance. Goode rolled sideways, his chest exposed. Ella dove in the split second she had and stabbed the machete deep into the monster’s heart. Goode roared and clawed at her, but Jake wrestled him back.

  Twist it, her fox screamed. Turn the blade.

  Ella wrenched the machete sideways and closed her eyes, hanging on. There was never any satisfaction in killing, not even a beast like Goode. A gruesome death was even worse, the kind likely to haunt her long after the thrashing ceased and the choked pants died out. But there was no other way. Goode had killed ruthlessly before; he would kill again unless she stopped him. So she twisted the blade and held on until Goode bled out past the point shifter healing could repai
r. Even after his chest fell for the last time and went limp, she hung on, hating what that evil creature had made her do.

  For a second, the clearing went totally quiet except for the uncertain Hoo of an owl. Then something twitched under her body, and she panicked that Goode wasn’t dead.

  “Ella.” It was Jake, dragging himself out from under the beast and whispering her name.

  For the space of three heavy heartbeats, they stared at each other. Then she pulled him clear and smothered him in a hug.

  “Jake.” She moved her hands helplessly over his body. Blood soaked every inch of his tattered clothes, and her heart cried. Would Jake bleed to death too?

  He held her tightly — really tightly, and for a moment, she feared it was the clutch of a dying man. But when his hands moved, it struck her that his muscles were tight with life.

  “This is what was keeping us apart?” Jake whispered. Then he grinned wildly, as if he barely felt his injuries, the way she’d seen soldiers get high on the adrenaline rush of a life-or-death fight. “You think I’d let four feet and a tail keep us apart?” He looked down at Goode’s lifeless body. “If I’m not hallucinating. Tell me I’m not hallucinating.”

  She shook her head. “We’re shifters, Jake. Goode and his men, too. And not just them. Kai. Hunter…”

  His eyes went wide. “Kai is a tiger?”

  She gulped. Was Jake ready to hear about dragons? “There are all kinds of shifters. But, Jake, that’s not all.”

  He winced, and she couldn’t tell whether his injuries were registering or whether he dreaded whatever she had to say.

  “So, tell me,” he insisted. “Damn it, Ella. If we can beat this, we can beat anything.”

  He motioned around, and her stomach roiled. This was the shifter fight, and Jake’s injuries were deep. Worse, they were inflicted by shifters. A tiny minority of humans wounded by shifters became shifters too, matching their attackers’ species.

  Her inner fox whimpered. Jake, a liger?

  Shit. She hated the idea of Jake turning into the kind of monstrous hybrid Mother Nature had never designed. But that was better than the alternative — death. Most humans died from shifter-inflicted wounds in the same process that killed the majority of human males who mated with shifter females. Their bodies fought the change too much.