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The mares, curious now with their leader’s acceptance,
milled around them. And though Alexia was a relatively experienced horsewoman,
she stayed close behind Blake as he pushed through the horseflesh and motioned
at her to sidle through a gate he cracked open. They entered the open side of
the barn and she asked, “How did you do that? How did you calm the stallion?”

“I simply let him understand my intent.”

“Right. Of course,” she said drily.

“There’s the loft,” Blake announced, and this time there was
no hiding the exhaustion all too evident in his voice.

She looked up at the long ladder, the moon glinting through
a glass window high above them. “Can you climb?”

She made out his nod. Her gut twisted sharply. He was in far
worse shape than he let on. And she was probably a fool for caring so much. She
didn’t know this man, had only met him hours earlier. And yet she could easily
have believed she’d known him half her life.

The twenty-second climb took him long minutes. And under the
moonlight sweat beaded on his brow, the fresh blood like ink on his shirt.
Shit. She’d read somewhere that bullet wounds didn’t always bleed heavily as
the surrounding tissues acted as a barrier—unless an artery was involved.

No, he wouldn’t have made it this far if a major blood
vessel had been severed. Still, he was swaying and silent once they’d climbed
onto the loft.

She swallowed back fear and kept herself busy by making
short work of a couple of bales of hay and spreading them apart over the wooden
floor. He let out a pained moan as she helped him lie down.

She felt his brow.
Shit
. He was burning up.

“Damn it, Blake! You’re hot as hell.” She unbuttoned his
flannel shirt and carefully peeled it from his shoulders. His t-shirt was no
longer white, though she imagined her face was as she wrenched apart the
material to expose his shoulder.

“We need to see how bad this wound is.” She squinted, but
could see little in the semidarkness and with all the blood. She only hoped the
bullet had gone clean through sinew and flesh. Her eyes lingered for a moment
on his beautifully defined body, before she forced her attention to the far
more important matter at hand. “I’ll bind it as good as I can with your shirt,
but then you’ll have to see a doctor.”

“No. No doctor,” he snarled. His face abruptly contorted,
his eyes glinting eerily red and animalistic.

Holy shit.

Her throat closed as the anxiety of before surged back into
life with a vengeance. She scuttled backward, her breath heaving and her belly
rolling. “Who are you?”

He gritted his teeth, another spasm taking hold before he
said hoarsely, “You know who…
what
I am. You’ve always known.”

Heat rose behind Alexia’s eyelids, her face clammy, her
palms wet with sweat. Her thoughts scrambled but she couldn’t make sense of the
insensible. “That’s insane! You’re…you’re talking in riddles. I’ve never even
met you before.”

He sucked in a breath, his pain stark. “I’m the proof your
father wanted but never had. I’m an
Illawatti
shifter.”

She swallowed hard, scarcely believing her eyes, her ears.
But of course she’d known. She’d always known. She just hadn’t consciously
admitted it.

Not only had Blake’s ancestor’s name been written in code on
the decaying journal found with the shifter’s remarkable bones, she’d seen for
herself his glowing eyes, the way he’d effortlessly landed on his feet from a
great height, his graceful, economical movements for such a big man.

All the signs had been there. And though he hadn’t openly
admitted his identity, they were character traits he’d never once hidden from
her.

Blake sucked in an agonized breath. The moonlight showcased
his rippling skin, his muscles that jerked and twisted. His eyes caught and
held hers. “I…I can’t stop it…the change is involuntary now. It will…it will
heal me.” He gasped, his eyelids flicking shut. “The beast needs to come
out…been cooped in my skin far too long already.”

His eyelids jerked back open. His arm shot out, one hand
clamping onto her wrist. His eyes brightened, the pupils dilating. “Don’t be
afraid, my beast would never hurt you.” His neck arched. An unnatural growl
tore from his throat as his spine popped and grated. He looked up, and she knew
then he was fighting with everything he had and then some against the change.
“Please. Stay.”

Alexia nodded, her pulse skittering. She could scarcely
believe it, the proof she and her father had wanted all along was right before
her eyes. She bit into her bottom lip. Sweat dewed her cold skin, but despite
being in the vicinity of a dangerous animal, she wasn’t going anywhere. “Yes.
I’ll stay.”

His hand dropped away, his shoulder and most of his torso
wet with blood. How much more could he spare?

Somehow he found the strength to drag his sweatpants and
jeans off. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was an instinctual reflex of
habit that he undressed with every shift so that his clothes stayed intact for
when he needed them again.

Her eyes dropped and she was caught off guard by the unmistakable
bulge of his arousal. Her breath snagged in her throat as heat poured through
her body and centered at her pussy. Lord give her strength, he was magnificent!
The perfect male in all his glory, despite the bullet wound and blood loss.

Did shifting and sex go hand-in-hand?

She looked away, despising her sudden and unwelcome lewd
thoughts when suffering was stamped onto every crevice of his face. His lips
whitened, then braced against a drawn-out groan as his bones crunched and
snapped like twigs, his skin stretching and pulling. When Blake’s chest heaved,
his head falling back and his jaw locking tight, she bit into her bottom lip,
feeling so damn helpless and more than a little afraid.

No wonder he’d withstood being hit by the bullet, his pain
threshold had to be sky-high to endure this torture.

A minute or two later, Blake’s transformation was complete.
At some time in the latter stages he’d passed out. And now in his big cat form,
he lay unconscious still.

She stared at him with something between awe and alarm. He
was much larger than any panther or cougar she’d seen in any zoo or wildlife
documentary, but he paid a high price for the privilege of being a shape-shifter.
His pain had been shocking, awful to watch. She could only imagine the depth of
his suffering.

She sucked in a shuddering breath. He’d asked her to stay
and she wouldn’t go back on her word. But she wasn’t about to pretend it was
because she was selfless. Seeing Blake shift was a breakthrough of the highest
caliber, one her father would have given everything to have witnessed for
himself.

She closed her eyes for a moment
. I’m sorry, Daddy, that
you aren’t alive to see this, I only hope you’re here with me now in spiri
t.

Blake’s bleeding had at last all but stopped, caking his
shiny midnight coat at the top of one shoulder like rust. She reached out a
hand, touching his dense fur. Despite herself, she was beyond intrigued. They
shared a connection. And that was even before they’d kissed in order to evade
their would-be murderers.

One thing was certain, when all this crazy stuff was behind
her she’d be finding herself a man for a night or two to give her body the
release it so obviously craved.

Yeah, but will you be thinking of this man when lying
with another?

Her fingers trailed up along his neck, sinking into his soft
and glossy coat. She shivered, but she was no longer afraid. Not one bit. It
was the chill of the inland night air crawling through her clothes that raised
goose bumps on her arms.

Being cold was a stark reminder that she was only human.

She lay down, snuggling beside the too-warm big cat as the
cold press of dewy night air closed around them. She caught her bottom lip
between her teeth. Seemed self-preservation had wholly overcome her fears of
the big cat. She closed her eyes that were gritty and burning from the long
ride and lack of sleep. She was too damn tired to dissect every thought. She’d
been operating on less than three or four hours of sleep a night since her
father’s death. And now she was paying the price as wave after wave of
tiredness descended.

With a yawn, she wrapped Blake’s flannel coat even tighter
around her, taking great pains not to breathe in deep of his tantalizing spiced
scent. The last thing she needed was to fall asleep with his scent permeating
her senses and causing erotic dreams.

* * * * *

She woke to the warm touch of sunlight on her face, and the
hot stare of a now-human Blake, prickling her senses.

She sat, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands before
looking up at him towering above. He was dressed once again in his jeans. His
sweatpants, and his bloodied and ripped shirts were rolled up into a ball and
thrown a few yards away. She swallowed at the sight of his bare, hard torso
that was lightly defined with muscle, a dusting of hair disappearing inside his
pants as though an invitation to touch…to stroke.

Clearing her throat, she asked huskily, “It was all real,
wasn’t it?”

Blake turned to retrieve a tray with bottled water and
snacks from a hay bale nearby, placing it within her range on the warped and
aged floorboards. “Yes.”

Her stare traveled over his perfectly proportioned body
that’d been cleaned of blood. Her womb tingled with warmth. “You’ve shifted to
human again.” Nothing like stating the obvious, but surely she would have woken
to his painful change? “I’m sorry, I…I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Don’t apologize.” He sprawled beside her, his expression
intent, and she had to swallow past the instant dryness in her throat at his
closeness. “You’ve done nothing wrong. And shape-shifting is only excruciating
when I fight against it and leave the shift for too long.”

Her breath caught. “You fought against it last night?”

He nodded. “Yes. I wasn’t sure if you could handle the
truth.”

He’d gone through hell because he thought it might be
she
who fell apart? How could he have possibly fought against what she imagined
would be a shape-shifter’s natural impulse? Something deep within melted and
warmed, like ice beneath an unrelenting sun. She swiped a hand over her face,
as if to clear her mind. “How is your wound?”

He smiled satisfaction. “When I shifted, my internal muscles
pushed the bullet out, making regeneration a lot simpler and faster.” Her
fascination must have been obvious because he went on to explain, “Shifting
shape automatically heals my body as each cell alters.” He shrugged. “Painful
when one fights against the instinct, but often life saving.”

She swallowed. She didn’t want to contemplate just how close
to death he’d been before he’d shifted. “This kind of near death thing happens
often?”

He shrugged. “At least once or twice, especially when our
first change comes upon us in our late teens. And as we live a very long life,
four centuries or more as each shift repairs our aged cells, it’s to be
expected that occasionally we have no choice but to withhold the shift and
suffer the consequences.”

Her mind froze, then rewound.
Four centuries or more?

The muscles in her belly tightened. “Wait. What? You’re
the
Blake Powell from the ancient journal?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.” Holy crap. Her mind whirled as more
revelations dawned. Humans would be after his kind at any cost and without
mercy if they discovered shape-shifters’ existence, discovered their near
immortality. Cancer. Disease. Aging. She could only imagine what
scientists—anybody—would do to gain such knowledge in the fight against death.

Her voice rose an octave. “Is that why you went into hiding?
Why those people broke into your apartment and were shooting at us?”

Except, why would they shoot at the man whose very existence
might well be the cure for every human disease on the planet? A man whose
ability to shift shape was the stuff of legends.

“I went into hiding when your father confirmed our existence
to a faction of people who already believed we were real. They just needed
someone to do the legwork for them to find us…to find me.”

She hugged her knees and closed her eyes. “No one else knew
your name.” She blinked, focused on him once more. “I led them straight to
you.”

He nodded. “You did.” A smile curled his lips, softening the
blow. “I was shocked, to say the least, when you turned up on my doorstep.” He
shook his head. “Your father did amazingly well deciphering any of the
journal’s old-world text.”

Her eyes misted. “He was an academic with out equal.”

Blake reached out, for a second or two covering her nearest
hand with his own. “And an honorable man too.” Exhaling softly, he said, “But
enough talk. We’ve been here too long already. We need to eat. Then we need to
get moving.”

He gestured toward the tray. “Luckily for us no one was at
the farmhouse. I was able to grab some snacks.”

Her belly gurgled. When
had
she last eaten?

His laugh was deep and delicious, warm honey drizzled over
brandy. “I’m glad I can at least satisfy your hunger.”

She had no doubt he could satisfy her in every way, but she
wasn’t about to tell him that. After this crazy mess was all behind them she’d
never see him again. She brushed aside the sinking feeling in her belly that
had nothing to do with hunger and all to do with the man…shape-shifter. “How
long have I been asleep?” she muttered, somehow annoyed at her all too human
frailties.

“According to the house clock, it’s around three o’clock in
the afternoon.”

She’d slept that long? She blew out a breath. “Why didn’t
you wake me?”

“You’ve been through hell these past few days. You needed
the sleep.”

Her heart fluttered, and she scraped her teeth over her
bottom lip before saying gently, “You know, for a big bad cat, you’re really
quite thoughtful.”

His lips ghosted into a smile. “Just don’t let anyone else
know, hmm?”

He opened a bottle of water and handed it to her. She
accepted it with a grateful nod. Her throat sandpaper dry, she gulped down some
greedy mouthfuls before tipping some onto her hand and arm to wash Blake’s
dried blood off her skin. She gave the nearly empty bottle back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said huskily before he swigged the last
of the water from the bottle.

She sat in silence while they shared some nuts and dried
fruit, watching him as he ate and wondering how any one man could be so
beautiful. It wasn’t just his film-star good looks. He possessed a powerful
charisma that drew the eye to his long, lean body corded with muscle. His jaw
with its shadowed beginnings of dark stubble was a sharp contrast to the
honey-gold skin of his face and throat.

He looked up then, his arresting yellow-gold stare snaring
hers. “I take it you approve?” he asked huskily.

Oh, yes.

“Are all your kind beautiful?” She couldn’t look away, and
her pulse leapt as she added inanely, “Like…like you?”

“All five of us, yes.”

Five? Her mouth dropped open. Of course! The other four
encrypted names. Jesus, had she been so distracted by Blake that nothing else
had even entered her mind? Exhilaration fired through her system. Who cared?
Her father had been right! Suddenly she wanted to shout out her joy, sing
victory over the rooftops, grab a microphone and holler, “My father told you
that shape-shifters were real!”

Blake raised a dark brow at her ever-widening smile. “Want
to share your thoughts?”

She stood, pacing back and forth while laughter at last
spilled free from her lips. “Dad’s critics were so wrong!” She gasped for
breath, dropping onto her knees before him and cupping his face. “That journal
was only part of the proof he needed.”

Of course he could have revealed to the world the cave’s
whereabouts. But he’d been horrified at the thought of droves of people
defiling the sacred place, or worse, vandalizing and destroying it. He’d felt
attuned there, revered its primordial history.

Blake covered her hands with his own and her smile hurt her
face as she took in his features and said breathlessly, “You are the proof
staring me in the face. You are how I’ll show those skeptics they were wrong
and my dad was right.”

His face darkened. He removed her hands and snarled, “You
wish to exonerate your dad by trading me to the very people who disbelieved?
You expect me to willingly be locked in a cage inside a lab, under constant
observation while my blood is extracted and drugs pushed into my veins—all in
the name of science?”

Her smile died a quick death, her high diving straight to an
all-time low.
Shit.
How could she have been so stupid and selfish? She’d
only recently comprehended how dangerous it would be for humans to find out
about Blake’s existence, and yet she’d allowed the comeuppance of her dad’s
critics to take priority.