“If you kill a shifter in a direct challenge with claws and fangs, you’ll be protected,” Keane explained. “But if you shoot a shifter in the back without warning . . . you’re going to jail, Charlie. And then there will be no one but Max to protect Stevie. And that stuffed toy Stevie calls a boyfriend.”
“Don’t pick on her panda. She loves him, and he’s good for her, but I see your point.” She shrugged. “Okay. I’ll wait to kill her.”
Keane nodded. “Good plan.”
Finn, eyes wide, snapped, “No, it’s not!”
*
Mira stared into the room where her granddaughter slept on top of a feline. She was still in her badger form and was snoring. The feline, recovering from a neck wound, was under a medically induced sleep and would not be shifting any time soon, not until his body was done healing.
When Mira had sent her grandchild on this assignment, it never occurred to her Emily was in any true danger. At least no more danger than she would be on any other rescue mission assigned by her grandmother. Rescuing one of her many cousins was something Emily had done quite a few times over the years, for both sides of her family. This should have been a simple smash-and-grab . . . except with people.
But then that call had come from Tracey Rutowski. As soon as Mira had gotten that warning, she knew her grandchild was in danger, and she’d moved accordingly; but by then things were already in motion and it was too late to pull Emily out of harm’s way.
So here her grandchild was. Hurt. Recovering. And who knew if she’d sustained any long-term damage. The doctors certainly didn’t know yet. Neither did the MacKilligan girl who had pumped her grandchild up with so much venom, Emily could wake up babbling about dancing pink polar bears like Mira’s Uncle Jakub. He used to drink Polish vodka with Vipera Berus venom. Of course, so did all her other uncles and aunts, but Jakub drank it all day and into the night. Just sipped, sipped, sipped until the low-potency venom eventually damaged his brain. After that, he used to see pink polar bears that liked to dance. Sometimes her uncle would join in. It made for interesting Shabbats, but she did not want the same for any of her grandchildren. Especially Emily. A brain like hers needed to be protected because it would do great things one day when she stopped wasting her time on dumb American sports and worthless friends.
But those were thoughts for another day. Right now . . . Mira had to admit something to herself. Unlike pacts between warring countries and taking down dictators, she finally had to accept that she couldn’t handle this situation on her own. Because now civilians were being harmed. True, it was just an oversized house cat but it was the principle of the thing. She had no desire to harm the undeserving. Mira kept her ire for those who had earned it. House cat or not.
Which meant only one thing . . .
Letting out a long sigh, she hit redial on her phone and waited.
“What?” was the reply she got, and she rolled her eyes at the massive disrespect.
“You were right,” Mira grudgingly admitted. “And I think you should get involved.”
“Me?” was the response, and Mira could easily imagine the smirk on that face when the question was followed up with, “Or me and my friendsssss?” She drew the S out on “friends” so that the word sounded like it was coming from an actual asp.
Mira gritted her fangs—because they were out now, in annoyance—and said, “Yes. You and your”—she let out a sigh—“friends.”
“Hey, guys,” Tracey Rutowski yelled away from her phone, “she wants all of us!”
And the annoying, undisciplined badgers drunkenly cheered back, “Friendssssssss!”
Unable to tolerate another moment, Mira ended the call and snarled so viciously, her half-conscious granddaughter on the other side of that thick, protective medical glass raised her badger head and hissed back.
Chapter 5
When Shay opened his eyes he knew three things . . .
It was morning.
He’d almost died.
And someone’s head was resting on his penis.
If he hadn’t almost died, he would simply go back to sleep and be just fine with someone sleeping on his dick. But this was weird because he had almost died. He could see all the hospital equipment, smell all the shifter breeds that were roaming around, and feel the wound that was still healing on his neck. This was not a time when he would go out and get himself a girlfriend. Maybe the fever had gotten the better of him, but he didn’t think so. Shifter nurses didn’t let their feverish patients run around hospitals trying to fuck each other. So then what the hell?
Carefully, aware he didn’t want to undo the work that had been done on his throat, Shay lifted his head just enough so he could view the end of the bed . . . but all he saw was an amazing bare ass. Just resting there. Within touching distance of his hand, but he knew better. Shifter females were like any full-blood predator. They didn’t like to be touched without their explicit permission, and a guy was taking his life in his claws if he tried anything else.
The problem at the moment was that the owner of that perfect ass was waking up and rubbing her face against the very thin sheet covering his dick.
Closing his eyes, he tried to get control of the one uncontrollable thing about him, but nope. It got hard. Because she wouldn’t stop rubbing her face against it or growling.
The growling! It was definitely the growling.
Unable to stand another second without embarrassing himself, Shay barked, “Hey!”
He immediately realized that perfect ass was attached to Tock Lepstein, whose gorgeous curly hair briefly covered her face as she turned to look at him. With a quick twitch of her head, the hair moved and she blinked dark brown eyes at him.
“Shay?” she asked, frowning in confusion.
“Hi, Tock.”
She placed her palms on his thighs and used her arms to raise her torso so she could look around.
“Where are we? What happened?”
“You don’t remember anything?”
“No.” She made a smacking sound with her mouth and glanced back at him. “Why do I taste cobra?”
“The snake? That kind of cobra? I do not know why you would taste that. I also don’t know why you would know what king cobra tastes like.”
She shrugged. “It’s a little gamey. But with a nice sauce and fileted—”
“I can’t listen to this now,” he cut in before she could keep going. He didn’t want to start retching while his neck was healing. “I am asking you nicely to please get off me.”
“What?” She looked down and, after a brief pause, began crab-crawling away from the raging hard-on making a tent of the sheet. But that meant her ass was backing up right toward his face.
“Tock . . . Tock!” he barked, a little panicked.
She stopped, looked at him over her shoulder. All he had to do was widen his eyes and she quickly realized that he was inches away from having his nose buried in that ass. Something neither of them were comfortable with at the moment.
Gasping, she scrambled off him, which he appreciated. But then she grabbed the sheet and yanked it off. Leaving his hard dick exposed.
With a growl, he grabbed the pillow out from under his head and slammed it over his crotch.