Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Phoenix had no idea how to extricate himself without waking Nadirah. Despite usually being a solitary and light sleeper, he’d somehow ended up snuggling her, spooned against her backside, waking with an erection that begged for relief, and not from just anyone.
He wanted Nadirah.
Something about her attracted him in a way he’d never experienced. It went beyond her beauty, courage, and intelligence. Everything about her enticed. He couldn’t get her out of his mind—or fantasies.
Before he could muster the willpower to move away from the delicious woman sleeping in his arms, she woke. No way she didn’t notice how much he enjoyed being close to her. Would she freak?
She murmured a soft, “Good morning.”
“It sure is.” It should be noted, he didn’t immediately roll over to break their intimate connection.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Very.” A word purred against her nape, which he somehow found himself nuzzling. She shivered and didn’t shove him away. “You?”
“Better than expected.” She cleared her throat. “Um, what’s the plan?”
So many things he could have said.
Done…
But of course, someone chose to ruin the intimate moment.
“Wake. Come.” Zafira barked a brusque command from outside their tree hut.
An irritated grumble almost escaped him, and he had to bite his tongue lest he roar in annoyance.
Nadirah rolled to her back, still cradled close, and sighed. “Guess we’re about to find out our fate.”
He reached out a hand and stroked her cheek. “It will be fine.” He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
Phoenix sprang from bed and offered a hand, hoisting Nadirah to her feet and then, still holding on, kept her close a moment longer, already missing the warmth of her against him.
And then, because he had no idea what the day held, he whispered, “I don’t suppose I could ask for a kiss for good luck?”
The request obviously startled, judging by her wide eyes, but she must have been okay with it because she stood on tiptoe to brush his lips with hers, murmuring, “We must have faith everything will turn out well.”
“It better,” he growled against her mouth, “because I’m kind of wishing we had more time to do more than exchange a simple kiss.”
“Oh.” A soft sound that came with her resting her head against his chest. “I think I’d like that.”
Hell yeah. With that incentive, he had more than enough reason to make sure this day didn’t turn into a clusterfuck.
They exited from their tree hut and climbed down to find a buffet of fruits and nuts set up. Johan awaited, along with his granddaughter, Zafira, and the old woman who’d spoken up the day before.
Might as well bite the bullet. He left Nadirah by the food table and strode over.
“Morning.”
Johan pursed his lips, appearing disgruntled, but the old lady smiled.
“Hello, young man.” Her English emerged accented but fluent as she went on to say, “I trust the accommodations were satisfactory.”
“Best sleep I’ve had in ages,” Phoenix admitted. “Nice to be somewhere where I don’t have to be on constant guard.”
“We’ve done our best to create a sanctuary for the harimau. A place where they can come and be themselves. Run free. Hunt. Get in touch with their feline side.”
“Sounds like paradise,” he admitted. “In Canada, tigers aren’t seen outside of zoos, so I had to be really careful when I ended up wearing fur.” Despite the fact it required injury, he’d morphed as often as he could to test the limits of his feline. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Some have questioned if you truly can shift. While your scent is definitely tiger, they have doubts,” the woman stated while Johan wandered off a few paces to have a heated discussion with his granddaughter.
“I don’t mind showing you. I just need to hurt myself pretty bad first.”
The old woman’s expression turned thoughtful. “Have you tried other methods for changing?”
“Didn’t know there was any. We weren’t exactly given an instruction manual.”
“Fasting is popular because it’s easy, but it takes time. Meditation is slightly quicker but requires mental focus.”
“I noticed Johan seemed to simply decide to swap skins and poof.” He exploded his hands.
“Those that are in perfect harmony with their other half find it as easy and as instinctive as taking a breath.”
“Can it be learned?” Phoenix asked.
The woman’s lips pursed. “Yes, but not everyone masters that skill. Just like some cannot stop the change when injured.”
“Johan can,” he pointed out.
“Hence why he is our leader. He has perfect control of man and tiger.”
“I’m Phoenix, by the way.” He held out his hand.
“Farah.” She shook firmly. “I volunteered to take you into the jungle to test your harimau side.”
“I’m surprised Johan isn’t doing it.”
“It seemed best to have someone along who can communicate with you in English. He and Zafira will join us as observers.”
“And to make sure I stay in line,” he surmised.
Her lips curved. “Yes. They seem to forget that, despite my age, I am still one of the best hunters in our ambush.”
“Might as well get this over with. Lead the way.”
Farah conversed with him as they entered the jungle, moving away from the village, Johan and Zafira trailing behind.
He and the old woman exchanged tidbits, such as the fact she lost her parents at a young age to poachers and how one of her three children never managed to connect to their primal side.
The admission had him asking, “Does your non-tiger kid know what you are?”
“Yes. We had to explain it because her brother could shift at will from a young age and struggled with the concept of keeping that skill discreet. Usually, they are only told the truth once they’ve managed to change.”
“Does it happen often, someone born of tiger parents not having that ability?”
“Often enough, hence our caution.”
“But they’re family. Don’t you trust them?”
Farah snorted. “Just because they share a bloodline doesn’t mean the non-harimau aren’t scared or jealous.”
Fair point. “Does your non-tiger daughter have kids?”
“You wonder if the gift skipped her and passed on to them?” Farah quickly surmised his reason for asking. “And the answer is yes, hence why I spend much time with them to assess whether or not they will change.”
“And if they do? Then what?”
Her lips turned down. “If at least one of the parents isn’t harimau, then the child is removed.”
“And the parents don’t argue?”
“Not when they think they’re dead. A fake accident that leaves no body behind is common in those cases. The youngster is then fostered with a harimau family member.”
“That seems cruel,” he exclaimed.
“Crueler than their family finding out and ostracizing them? Crueler than our secret being revealed and leading to possible genocide of our kind?”
The sobering revelation led to him asking another question, one closer to home. “What if a tiger shifter falls in love with someone who isn’t? Is that allowed?” Or would their relationship be doomed, like Romeo and Juliet?
Farah’s bright smile returned. “Yes, it’s allowed, even encouraged. Bloodlines are stronger when the pool of mates is wide.”
“But doesn’t that mean there’s a bigger chance the child won’t be harimau?”
“Surprisingly, no, and often if the young ones show the gift early, the non-shifting marital partner, if deemed trustworthy, will be let in on the secret.”
“You mean, they otherwise don’t know?” Phoenix gasped.
“We’ve survived this long by following strict rules about who is allowed in on our secret.”
“How do they usually react when they find out?” Nadirah had taken it well, considering, but Phoenix imagined some would feel blindsided.
“Either they accept, or they die.” A blunt response.
“Harsh.”
“Necessary. We cannot afford to be exposed.” Farah exited the jungle onto the bank of a river that flowed rapidly, churning over rocks. “You will show us your tiger here.”
He could have asked why there, but the location didn’t matter. Given he didn’t have any spare clothes, he shoved his embarrassment deep and stripped bare before he glanced around, looking for a way to hurt himself.
“I don’t suppose I could borrow a knife?” he asked. Cutting would be quickest.
Farah shook her head and then turned to ask Johan and Zafira in Malaysian. No surprise the latter came armed. A machete, sheathed down Zafira’s spine and hidden by her shirt, emerged, but she didn’t hand it over. Rather, she held it poised to strike.
“No move, else miss, and cut head off,” Zafira ordered.
Determined to not show any weakness—despite knowing it would hurt—Phoenix held still as Zafira slashed him across the belly, a deep cut that sent him to his knees in breathtaking agony that lasted mere seconds before he swapped into his stripes.
Phoenix stood on four paws and shook out his fur before cocking his head.
Farah inspected him while Johan frowned. Zafira appeared surprised. She honestly thought he’d lied. Ha. He showed her.
A murmur of conversation had Farah running a hand over his flank and seemingly pointing out stuff to Johan.
He crouched and placed his fingers against him, and Phoenix would have sworn he measured the width of his stripes.
Not too surprising, as Nadirah had mentioned his weren’t the same as the Malaysian-born tigers.
After a time, Farah addressed him. “Could you show us what you can do?”
He made a noise of confusion.
“Can you climb a tree? Swim? How fast can you run?”
The first proved easy. He bounded over to the nearest trunk and hooked his claws in the bark, hoisting himself to reach the highest bough that would hold his weight.
Then he leapt from that branch and raced for the river, soaring from the bank to splash into a deep spot.
He misjudged the strength of the current and struggled to swim to shore.
He emerged panting and shaking his bedraggled fur. To his surprise, while he’d been gone for his dunk, Zafira had changed into a tiger. She scratched the ground and glanced up the shoreline, an obvious invitation to race.
While it had been a while since he’d stretched his four legs, he rose to the challenge, his surefootedness streaking him across the uneven ground, his focus on the lone tree half hanging over the river.
He reached it and had time to sit before Zafira joined him, looking miffed she lost the competition. Rather than walk back, her tail between her legs, she chose to throw herself into the current and let it float her back to her grandfather.
Since it seemed like fun—not to mention refreshing—he followed suit. Only when he reached shore, while Zafira managed to switch right away, Phoenix remained a wet kitty.
Farah crouched in front of him. “You require injury to change back?”
He nodded. He’d not yet revealed his shameful allergy to meat while in his tiger shape.
Farah glanced at Zafira, who seemed almost gleeful to be cutting him again. It hurt just as much as the previous time, but thankfully, he quickly shifted.
As he dressed, Johan muttered, “Same, but different.”
“Are all the harimau in your ambush the same variety?” Phoenix asked, sliding on his shoes.
“Yes,” Farah replied for Johan and paused before adding, “But my grandfather did tell a story about a foreigner, who, like you, was a tiger not native to our land.”
“Indicating there might be other tiger ambushes.”
“It seems likely, but like us, they remain well hidden.”
“So now what?” Phoenix asked, since once more, Johan and his granddaughter both had their heads bent close, whispering as they headed back to the village.
“Now we advise the others that you are indeed a tiger.”
“Meaning no more talk of killing me?” He sounded a tad too hopeful.
“Some will still insist, but hopefully, those of us with calmer heads will prevail. I will remind them that having fresh blood and perspective might be beneficial.”
He almost blurted out he didn’t plan to stay long, only to hold his tongue, because, in truth, where else did he have to go?
Canada, with its cold winters and lack of tigers?
And, then there was Nadirah. He wasn’t entirely ready to say goodbye yet, especially once he saw her bright smile of welcome when he returned to the village.
She raced for him and flung her arms around his body, whispering, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
He was, too. Although, he’d really have to do something about the ache in his blue balls.