Awakening the Shifter, page 14
Nothing had ever felt like this; he knew it with a certainty that made his mind go blank. This connection between them was so right, so natural. Everything about Sarange—her smell, her taste, her skin, her lips—had been designed to fit him. Chemistry, trust, bonding. He guessed it was all true. Mate-sex really was the best sex.
He rolled them over, lifting her on top of him. Sarange straddled him again with her knees either side of his hips. Her long braid flopped forward and her breasts bounced teasingly close to his face. Gripping her waist, he drove his hips up in time with her movements. She tipped her head back, her expression one of pure concentration as she focused on riding him.
“Khan.” Her tongue flicked out and his eyes were drawn to the sheen it left on her plump lower lip. “I’m going to...”
“Yes.” He lifted her almost all the way off him, bringing her down hard and fast onto his cock, rocking his pelvis against hers. “Come for me, Sarange. Come with me.”
Her whole body went rigid as she called out his name. He turned her onto her back again, driving into her deeper and tighter until they both cried out at the intensity of the sensation. Shuddering, Sarange clung to him as her climax stormed through her.
With her internal muscles clenching around him, Khan arched into her with long strokes. His vision went dark as he followed her into the abyss. There was only Sarange, his mate, this moment, this pleasure, this intensity. He gave himself up to it before collapsing beside her, holding her close, and fighting to regain his breath.
After several long, silent minutes, Khan drew the comforter over them. “Sleep.”
Sarange’s eyes were already closed as she nestled closer to him. “Despite everything that’s happened, with your arms around me, I think I can.”
Chapter 12
The following morning, Khan called Ged, who told him everything had been quiet at Sarange’s house since they had left. That information appeared to confirm Khan’s suspicions that Bora was watching Sarange. If she was the target, there was no need to attack her Beverly Hills home when she wasn’t there. The thought chilled him. Step out of the shadows and fight me.
When Sarange called her manager, she was greeted as though she had dropped off the face of the earth instead of having been out of touch for a day. Grimacing at Khan, she did her best to explain her absence without going into detail.
“I’m on my way to see Radin. Khan has decided to do the documentary on the blue wolves.” Since their faceless enemy wanted them in Mongolia, they had decided to call his bluff.
She ended the call sometime later. It was incredible how much her life had changed in such a short time. In the past, a call with her manager would have her making notes, firing questions, giving instructions. Now she wanted to hurry the conversation along so she could end the call and get back to what was important. The whole time the single thought I’m a werewolf persisted, pushing everything else to the back of her mind.
Almost everything. There was just the little matter of the vicious werewolves on her tail...and the man at her side. Both dominated her thoughts, but for very different reasons.
They had left Bek and Gerel’s house before it was light, not even pausing to grab a cup of coffee before setting off. Khan had decided to drive rather than fly, reasoning that, if Bora was watching them, it would be harder for him to track their whereabouts. Now, almost six hours later, having stopped for breakfast on the way, they were approaching Los Angeles.
“When Ged freed you from captivity, where exactly were you being held?” Sarange studied the noble lines of Khan’s profile as she asked the question.
“China.” She could feel the tension coming off him in waves. “In the Xinjiang region.”
Sarange knew of Xinjiang, China’s largest province. Situated in the northwest of the country, it was a vast region of deserts and mountains that bordered her own homeland, Mongolia.
“Is that where you are from?”
“I don’t know where I’m from.” Although Khan’s voice was devoid of emotion, she sensed how much it hurt him to talk of his past.
She was reluctant to push him further, but she knew the mystery of their shared past could hold the key to what was happening to them right now. Through her work with Animals Alive, she had learned about tigers in the wild. The ultimate symbol of an endangered species, the raw beauty of the tiger was captivating, its story tragic. She trawled through her memory for some understanding of the remaining habitat of the tiger. Khan, of course, was not really a tiger. He was a shifter. Just as with her and a wolf, there were similarities, but also differences between him and the wild animal.
“When you shift, you look like a cross between a Siberian and a Bengal tiger, but you are bigger than either of them.”
Khan hunched a shoulder. “Since I don’t know my parents, I can’t ask them about that.” He flicked a glance at her, the look in his eyes softening. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to talk about myself because I don’t know who I am. I call myself a Bengal, but you’re right. I don’t look a hundred percent like any tiger alive today.”
Sarange frowned. “Do you think you could be a tiger who is no longer alive?”
“I felt pretty much alive last night...and again in the shower this morning.” He quirked a brow in her direction and Sarange felt a blush heat her cheeks.
The memory of his hands on her body, of his tongue exploring every hidden part of her, of him inside her, made her squirm with renewed desire. “You know that’s not what I meant.” She forced herself to concentrate on the conversation instead of on the way he could take her to heights of pleasure she had never even dreamed of. “There are some species of tiger that are already extinct. If you have been alive for a very long time, your animal self may be one of those.”
Khan’s lips turned down in an expression of distaste. “I’m not sure I like the idea of being extinct.”
She decided on one more probe. “Is Khan your real name, or is that something else you don’t know?”
“When Ged found me—when he dragged me from the cage where I’d been imprisoned—I was close to death.” His voice when he said the words stirred something in her, a pain so sharp it made her want to cry out. Instead, she gripped the sides of the seat hard and let him continue. “I could barely speak, but I said one word. Khan.” He shrugged. “Ged assumed it was my name and that’s what I’ve been called ever since.”
“Although Khan is a common name across the world now, it was originally Mongolian,” Sarange said. “It means ‘leader’ or ‘ruler.’”
“In that case, it was a useful name for the lead singer of a group of misfit shifters.” Khan’s reluctance to continue the conversation was evident.
They completed the remainder of the journey in silence. Real Planet Productions was located in a large gleaming office block in West Hollywood. Occupying an entire floor, Radin’s small but successful production company was gaining recognition as the creative force behind several powerful wildlife films and documentaries.
Sarange looked up at the facade of the building with the sun reflecting off the windows. “If Bora is following us, aren’t we exposing Radin to danger? Should we warn him?”
“If Bora turns up, we’ll deal with him.” Khan paused at the entrance to the building, catching hold of Sarange’s forearm and halting her before she walked inside. He surveyed the revolving door for a moment or two before taking her hand and walking in at her side.
Sarange had called ahead and spoken to Radin’s personal assistant. She and Khan had discussed the potential hazards involved in the move. On the one hand, by making an appointment, they were giving the enemy a heads-up about their whereabouts. On the other, they needed to be sure that Radin would be available to see them. In the end, they had decided that arranging to see Radin was the best option. The mysterious Bora seemed to know their every move anyway. One phone call wasn’t going to make any difference to whether he had a welcome party waiting at Radin’s office or not.
Now they were here and it appeared to be a regular working day in a prestigious office block. There was no pack of snarling werewolves awaiting them in the black marble and mirrored lobby. They were able to take the elevator to the tenth floor without being accosted. Once there, they were greeted by Radin’s personal assistant, Maria, a coolly efficient young woman who pretended not to notice that the story the world had been waiting for was standing in her reception area. Khan and Sarange were holding hands right in front of her.
“Radin had an unexpected visitor, but he asked me to let you know he won’t keep you waiting more than a few minutes.” She gestured to the office just behind her desk. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
They both declined and went to stand near the window, looking out at an uninspiring view of similar buildings.
“We will get through this. Together.” Khan’s voice was low enough so that only Sarange could hear. It felt like there had been other times when they had stood this way, just the two of them, facing a very different view. And he had made the same promise.
“But then they took you from me.”
“Pardon?”
She shook her head, unsure where the words had come from, experiencing a sensation of utter desolation. It felt as if Khan had been torn from her side by hostile hands. Was that what had happened to them? Back in the mists of time? She thought of the shifter love story Bek had told. Of how, against the odds, the Caspian tiger and Chinua, the leader of the blue werewolves, had come together and created their own unique dynasty. When he was taken from her the blue werewolf had vowed to search for him forever, but her body had grown weak and finally faded away.
Had Chinua been reborn? The thought was like a thunderbolt of realization. More than that. It was one of certainty. Sarange tilted her head back, gazing up at Khan as she saw it all. Or most of it. The day she found Sarange, Golden Wing had left her tribe for a reason. But it was not the one she claimed. The shamanka had not gone to commune with nature in solitude. She had gone in search of the werewolf child she knew she would find on the vast, frozen tundra. And, having discovered Sarange, she had taken her back to the tribe and raised her as a human child. Without ever telling me who I was.
Why was that? Why had Golden Wing allowed her to grow up never knowing the truth about herself? Not only that she was a werewolf, but that she was the reincarnation of the great blue wolf leader of Mongolian legend? There were so many unanswered questions chasing around in Sarange’s mind. How had her werewolf instincts remained subdued for so long? Why had Golden Wing insisted on sending her to America when her destiny was clearly tied up in her home country of Mongolia? Why was this time in her life the tipping point for so many momentous changes?
“You are a Caspian tiger.” In her work with Animals Alive Foundation, she had heard of the largest tigers ever known. There was an ambitious conservation plan under way to bring them back to their natural Central Asia habitat.
“You sound very sure.” Khan cast a glance over at the desk where Maria had her head bent over some papers.
“Not just any Caspian tiger. You are the Caspian tiger.” Emotion made Sarange’s voice husky. “My Caspian tiger.”
He stared down at her, realization and acceptance dawning in the golden depths of his eyes. “And you are my blue wolf. My Chinua.”
Tears pricked the back of her eyelids. “Do you remember?”
“Some of it. Enough to know it’s true.” He ran a hand through his hair. “As crazy as it sounds, I remember us.”
She laughed. “So do I. A little. It’s still blurred, like I’m looking at it through cracked glass, but—” she lifted a hand and touched his cheek “—my God, Khan. The story Bek described as one of the greatest love stories ever told...that was us, wasn’t it?”
Before he could reply, there was a shout and a crash from Radin’s office. Without pausing, Khan leaped across the reception desk and flung open the door. Sarange was just behind him. The sight that met her eyes as she entered the office brought them both to an instant halt.
Radin was lying on the floor, apparently unconscious. The room looked as though a struggle had recently taken place. Papers spilled from the desk onto the floor, and a chair had been tipped over. There was no one else in the room.
“How did he get out of here?” Khan barked out the question to Maria while Sarange dropped to her knees beside Radin, checking his pulse.
“I don’t know.” Maria’s face was white as she looked at her boss. “This is the only door.”
Radin opened his eyes, blinking at Sarange and wincing as he lifted a hand to the back of his head. “What the hell...? He hit me with my own award.” His hand shook as he pointed to a bronze statuette lying on the floor. He sat up slowly, his gaze wandering around the room before fixing on the desk. “And my laptop is gone.”
“Gone where?” Khan was standing by the open door, his expression thunderous. “I still don’t see how he—whoever he is—got away.”
Sarange sat back on her heels, her head spinning. She guessed she already knew the answer to her next question, but she felt obliged to ask it anyway. “Who was in here with you?”
“A guy I’ve been working with on an outline for a new film. Today was the first time we’ve met.”
“And his name is Bora.” Khan’s face was grim as he spoke.
“How did you know?” Radin frowned, whether in surprise at Khan’s words or in pain, Sarange couldn’t be sure.
“Call it a lucky guess.”
* * *
At Khan’s insistence, they moved fast. “I’m supposed to be recording a new album,” he said, overriding Radin’s protests about scheduling. “We do this now, or we don’t do it at all.”
Radin, having waved aside Sarange’s suggestion that he should seek medical help, was seated at his desk, his fingers tented beneath his chin as he studied them. “What made you change your mind?”
Khan flapped a dismissive hand. “Let’s get down to business. Sarange and I will be on our way to Mongolia later today. You can email us the details of when and where your team will meet us. Unless the documentary is no longer an option now that you’ve lost your laptop?”
Radin bristled slightly. “Everything is backed up. It’s an inconvenience, nothing more.”
Khan couldn’t get rid of the twitchy feeling that something was wrong. He almost laughed out loud. Something was already very wrong. His instincts were telling him that something more was wrong. It must be Bora’s lingering scent, or the knowledge that his enemy had been close.
He prowled the room, his gaze going to the full-length window and the street below. How the hell had Bora gotten out of here after he attacked Radin?
“And you’d never met this guy before today?” He swung back around to face Radin.
“I already told you that.” Radin was starting to sound slightly irritable. “Twice.”
“To be fair—” Sarange’s calm voice cut across the exchange “—Radin has just been hit across the head.”
Her gaze locked on Khan’s. It had been quite a day already. There had been the revelation that they were the legendary lovers of Mongolian wolf-lore, then the realization that Bora had been in the building—just feet away—and had somehow eluded them. Khan wasn’t good at appreciating the feelings of others, but he could read the message in Sarange’s eyes. She wanted him to go easy on Radin. He supposed it was only fair. The guy was human, injured and shaken.
With a sigh, he took the seat next to Sarange on the opposite side of the desk to Radin. His protective instincts were on high alert, pushing everything else to the back of his mind. His focus was Sarange. Always Sarange. But he didn’t like Radin. There was nothing he could pinpoint about the other man to justify that feeling. It was possibly based on a certain warmth he detected in Radin’s eyes when they rested on Sarange, a widening of his smile when he looked at her. His expression was... Khan struggled to find the right word. Awed? She was one of the most famous women on the planet, for God’s sake. Millions of people looked at her that way.
“What was on your laptop?” Sarange asked.
“Everything. My whole life.” Radin gave a snort of laughter. “But I back my work up, so, although the guy who took it has details of everything I’ve done, I have copies.”
“Why would he want to steal your work?” Sarange frowned. “I’m sorry if this sounds ignorant, but has he taken anything of value?”
“Yes. He’s taken my original ideas, and those of my clients.” Radin shuffled one of the piles of papers on his desk as though attempting to get them back into some sort of order.
“We all know that’s not what this is about.” Khan had hidden his impatience for long enough. “This is about the documentary you want to make with Sarange. I take it all the details were stored on your laptop?”
Radin nodded. “Everything was finalized. Location, script ideas, timings. We have an experienced wildlife camera crew who have worked with wolf packs in other parts of the world. We were ready to go when, or should I say if you were?”
“You must have been confident I’d change my mind,” Khan said.
His intention had been to make Radin squirm, but, although the other man appeared to have trouble maintaining eye contact, he didn’t back down. “I’d worked hard on the planning. If you weren’t going to do it, I was going to get someone else.”
Radin was lying. It was coming off him in waves. He wanted Sarange for this because of her Mongolian heritage and because of who she was. She would light up the screen with her beauty and she was an animal ambassador. Her passion for endangered species would shine through. Put her in his documentary and Radin was guaranteed a success. Then he’d seen her and Khan together onstage and the dollar signs had appeared before his eyes. He wanted to use the chemistry between them and the rumors about their relationship to make money from his venture. On one level, Khan admired his astuteness. On another, he remembered that this was supposed to be about a species of wolf that was threatened with extinction. What the hell happened to ethics?
