Tagging Her Lynx (Alaska Lynx Clan) (2 page)

Chloe
huddled down on the floor, closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around her middle,
and waited. Any second, and she'd transform into the animal inside of her.

The
screams out in the parking area stopped. She dared a peek out between the
aisles of cages to see the outcome of the fight. The attacked man lay on the
ground, the lynx gone from her view.

On
hands and knees, she crawled out far enough in time to see the other man drag
his friend to the truck and heft him inside the cab. The injured man lay dead
to the world, and she wondered if he'd survive. Even if he held on to life
until the other man got him to a hospital, the chance that infection would set
in and claim his life was likely.

The
muffled spin of the truck tires and the roar of the throttle hitting the floor
preceded the vehicle's move. She sat back on her butt. Whether he lived or died
didn't matter.

Any
news of an animal attack would have the proper authorities sent in to
investigate. Because of her previous illegal transactions with the men, the
future of her beloved refuge depended on the authorities believing her side of
the story. No way would they allow her to continue her operation if they didn't.

Her
father's track record for running a clean refuge and her continued upkeep would
go up in smoke. She protected everything she and her father had invested in the
refuge, and to have it all blow up in her face over a couple of fools caused a
pain deep in her chest that threatened to cripple her on the spot.

Using
the boxes she hid behind for leverage, she pulled herself up. She held out the
palms of her hands, touched her face, and clenched her toes inside her
insulated boots. Nothing changed.

She
was still Chloe Barrant. She frowned. Why hadn't she shifted?

She
always transformed after the urge came upon her. She'd never been able to stop
the process, although she tried many times. She'd never wanted to have another
person witness the grotesque way her body betrayed her.

The
only person who knew her secret was her dad, but even then, she hid from him
whenever the desire came. He'd walked up on her once years ago when she was in mid-transformation,
and freaked out in horror. She never wanted to make that mistake again.

She
sniffed and shook her head to forget the memory of that dreadful time.
Maneuvering around the objects in her path, she halted in mid-step. The lynx
that attacked the man outside sat in the aisle of the enclosure, licking his
paw and running it over his face to clean the blood dotting his fur.

She
scooted over to the nearest cage, reached for the shovel propped up against its
door, and wrapped her hand around the handle. The cat acted too calm now that
his display of rage was over.

"You
can put the shovel down. No harm will come to you."

Chloe
glared and gave her head a tight shake without moving her gaze off the lynx.
She swore the animal talked, but his mouth didn't move. In fact, he now sat
completely motionless, with the innocence of a house cat on his face.

"My
name is Granger, and I'm a shapeshifter like you. We have the ability to talk
to each other telepathically."

The
shovel fell from her grip, and she jumped back at the clatter of the handle
skimming the chain links of the cage. She hurried over to the other side of the
aisle and stood with her back against the wires.

Her
coat caught on the metal, and puffs of downy feathers billowed out from the
snags. She gnawed on her bottom lip and stared, not wanting to believe the
voice in her head. There was no way that lynx had just spoken to her.

"It's
true. We are from the Lynx family. I've seen you shift and run through the
woods, keeping to the deep shadows, too afraid of discovery. I've bided my time
in coming to you, but unfortunately those men meant you harm and forced me to
come out of hiding."

"Go…go
a-away. Scat!" She motioned with her arm for him to take off.

His
chuckles filled her head. She froze, her lips pursed in disapproval. Why did
she even contemplate the reality of the cat laughing in a very masculine, husky
voice? She even heard a hint of tenderness in his teasing.
This is crazy.

"You're
not crazy. I'm your mate, and together we have the ability to communicate
telepathically. I can explain everything to you. Is there somewhere we can go,
sit down, and I can transform back into my human form? What I have to tell you
will answer many of the questions that have troubled you lately."

She
shook her head. Not possible. This was all in her imagination. A…an aftershock
from watching the lynx tear apart another person. She raised her gloved hand
and rubbed her forehead.

The
action flipped her hood off, but she didn't bother tugging it back on. She
glanced back at the cat. He sat on his haunches and studied her with a critical
eye. Forget this.

She
strode past the lynx without giving him another look. She turned her head to
the wolf's cage, but he slept peacefully after she magically healed his body
during the attack.

She
glared over her shoulder at the lynx. He sat staring at her exit. She wanted to
blame him for all the trouble that landed on her doorstep today. Damn it!

She'd
have to hurry if she wanted everything in order for when the authorities came.
And they would come. She'd be lucky if she didn't lose the house and property
along with all the animals.

"You
have no reason to worry. I've called my brothers in the clan. The authorities won't
get any farther than the end of your driveway. I can promise you that. No one
will even be aware of the attack. Your refuge is safe."

"What're
you talking about? What will your clan do?" She smacked her forehead. "Oh
God, I'm losing it."

Chapter
Two

Muttering
to herself, Chloe marched the shoveled path to the house and slammed the door.
She fell back against it, closed her eyes, and concentrated on breathing deeply
to calm her rapid heartbeat. She found it impossible to grasp what the lynx
told her. Could he be like her?

Not
wanting to become upset on the off chance that she changed forms, she willed
herself to relax, to forget about the cat outside. She swallowed. What if he
spoke the truth? God! What if there was someone like her who could shift from
human to animal too? She'd have a friend to talk to about the crazy shit that
has happened to her.

Her
fingers curled, and she opened her eyes. She tilted her head and looked down,
unable to move the hand on her own. Her fingers formed the exact position of
someone holding her hand, but she stood all alone. Warmth flowed throughout the
palm. She pulled, but whatever invisible force had a hold of her wouldn't let
go.

"Listen
to my voice. You'll be okay. I'm here to help you, protect and care for you.
Never again will you have to travel through life alone now that I'm here. I'm
your life mate, Granger. My clan lives north of here, out in the bush where no
one can find us. We guard our area and protect everyone so that our kind can go
on living. We have a few women. I think you would enjoy meeting them. We can
help you understand."

The
hand holding hers trailed up to stroke the inside of her wrist. Her shoulders
relaxed, and she grew warm inside her outer clothes, but she didn't want to
move and undress in case the voice left. He brought a sense of belonging to her
that she hadn't felt since before…before the incident.

"I
would love to come in, talk to you, but as you know, I'm in my cat form, and I
don't have any clothes to put on. I can promise that no harm will come to you.
I think inside you know this too, Aningan, even though no one has ever told you
before what you're hearing now. I can help you come to terms with who you are,
to celebrate our uniqueness."

"Oh
God."
She swallowed.
"Can you really hear inside
my head? And why did you call me your life mate?"

"Yes.
I've shown myself to you. From now on, we will never be apart. A continent can
separate us, but here, inside our heads, I'm only a second away. You'll never
be alone again. Paired lynx have a special bond from the very start. Our hearts
beat as one. That only happens between life mates. You know you feel the
difference."
He purred.
"Listen to your lynx,
Aningan. She's telling you that we belong together."

Wondering
why he called her a by different name, she walked through the living room, down
the hall, and entered the master bedroom where her father slept when he was
alive. Unable to deal with going through his things and throwing out the
belongings she no longer needed, she kept the door closed since the day she
buried him. Out of sight, out of mind—she wasn't ready to open the wound that had
begun to scab.

Opening
the middle dresser drawer, she removed a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
On the way back to the living room, she tried to wrap her head around
everything this lynx—this supposed man—told her this morning. She never
realized there were others like her, but it brought a sense of excitement to
know she wasn't alone.

"I'm
putting the clothes beside the front door and unlocking it. I'll be in the
kitchen. Please let me know when you're dressed, and go sit on the couch
afterward. Stay on that couch, or I'll kick you out. Understood?" The
words spoken aloud, she bit the inside of her cheek at how stupid she sounded.

"Thank
you."

She
hurried out of the room. For a flashing moment her curiosity won out, and she
turned back to peek around the corner, but his soft laughter in her head
stopped her cold.

"I'm
sorry. You may look. I won't laugh anymore."

She
tried to not imagine what kind of man lived inside the lynx. Yet whoever he
was, he made her feel more alive than she'd felt the last few weeks mourning
her dad. Something about him excited her, and it went beyond his voice, his
soothing manner, or the idea of kinship with someone that turns into a lynx
like her. Granger was right. She did feel the magnetic pull toward him.

Growing
up in the bush of Alaska, she lived a more sheltered life than others did. She
understood that most people lived with neighbors, television, phones. Not here,
though. She lived without modern conveniences and with no electricity. Once a
year she traveled into Fairbanks, and even doing that turned into an all-day
trip if she picked up groceries and supplies.

After
she started shifting, she avoided those trips with her father. Now alone, she
relied on a family who lived about ten miles farther north to stop by and offer
to bring her back supplies. She didn't want to chance a transformation while in
the presence of others.

Powerful
fingers crawled up her spine and spread warmth throughout her body. Flustered,
she realized that she still wore her outside clothes and quickly shed them. The
warmth didn't leave with her clothes. Lush tingles of delight washed over her
breasts, and she crossed her arms.

She
was not a stranger to her own desires, but nothing about this day should have
had her craving a private moment on her bed with Mr. Finger. She glared down at
her clothes sprinkled on the kitchen floor. Somewhere between the fight outside
and inviting the lynx inside her house, she lost control.

"I'm
dressed and sitting on the couch, Aningan."

The
idea of meeting the first person who claimed to live with the same affliction
she did made her anxious and nervous. She glanced down at the clothes she was
still wearing and groaned. She stood in a pair of white long johns with tiny
pink flowers and an oversize T-shirt with the logo "Bears do it in the
woods" that used to belong to her father.

She
ran her hands through her hair, trying to remember if she had brushed the usual
rat's nest that she woke up with each morning before heading out and doing
morning chores. Feeling self-conscious, she licked her lips and ran her hands
down the front of her shirt to try to stretch it farther down to cover more of
her legs.

"Come
on out. It does not matter what you have on. When I'm near you, I sense every
curve of your body, your scent, your moods. I know you inside and out like I
know my own body. Anything that you wear will please me."

"Ugh,
I'm not worried about what you'll think of me."
She sighed and muttered, "Pig."

She
stepped out of the kitchen.

That
was as far as she walked. Rooted to one spot, mouth open, she stared. Whatever
she expected was not what sat on the couch.

Dark-skinned,
he resembled the Inuit people of the area. His hair hung past his shoulders in
one full, thick length. The corners of his mouth lifted in a knowing smile, and
his eyes…his eyes shone darker than the Alaskan sky in the wintertime and
danced with amusement.

"Come,
sit down. We will talk." He hadn't put on the sweatshirt she left out for
him, but he did put on the sweatpants. His bare feet even brought an
uncomfortable…no, an unsettling sensation to her lower stomach.

"Breathe.
Nothing is going to happen. I just want to talk with you."