Pride

“You think a girl on two feet could outrun a tom on four?” Calvin Malone demanded, glaring across the room at my uncle. “She had to kill the stray to keep him from killing her. She wasn’t trying to save Brett. She was trying to save herself.” He practically spat the last word, and a fresh flare of anger shot up my spine and over my neck, where little flame-tongues licked at my chin. Pain lanced through my jaw, and I gasped.

Michael turned toward me with that same warning on his face, but it drained from his features with one look at the pain on mine. “You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded, even as dread and rage churned in my stomach. Stress sent bolts of pain through my forehead, and tension made my face ache, probably from clenching my teeth.

Or maybe not. That pain was familiar, and more than welcome…

Suddenly Marc’s scent enveloped me, and he took my hand. I should have been surprised by that, but I could barely think through the throbbing in my mouth. He squeezed my hand as my jaw popped, and I turned to find him watching me intently. Watching my jaw intently. He knew what was about to happen. What would happen, if I could exploit my anger without losing my temper.

A harsh smile hovered behind his expression, and he glanced at Colin. He had an idea; I could see it. “Actually.” He spoke loud and clear, drawing glances our way. “Faythe can outrun any one of us. If she’d wanted to escape, she would have.”

I started to squeeze his hand in thanks, but winced instead as my jaw…rippled. Then Colin opened his big fat lying mouth again, sucking up all the attention before anyone could look at me too closely.

“She was trying to run. I was getting ready to Shift—so I could go fight the stray—and she took off for the front door. She was taking advantage of me trying to save Brett, and she could have gotten us both killed. She ought to be locked up for her own good. For the good of us all.”

My arms went stiff at my sides. My jaw cracked again, but I barely noticed. Colin’s lie would add another charge to the list against me, and Malone would have more ammunition than he needed to cleave my head clean off my shoulders. My good deed had become Colin’s get-out-of-jail-free card, and he was using it against me. The bastard.

Suddenly my tongue seemed to take up too much room in my mouth. It broadened and flattened, itching unbearably. My teeth rolled along my gums. I groaned as my jaw stretched, the bones lengthening. All eyes turned my way. And while everyone else stared at me, I stared at Colin, who had become the focus of all my rage and frustration.

Then, as suddenly as my face had begun to change, his did too. His pale blond hair and bright blue eyes lost some of their real-world color. The green and yellow hues in the room deepened as everything else melted into muted shades of gray.

And that’s when I realized Colin wasn’t really changing.

Cat vision and cat teeth. I’d partially Shifted in front of the entire tribunal.

I should have been delighted, having just proved I could partially Shift. And even better, that the process was unintentional. Unfortunately, I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to experience relief or pride. I felt only instinctive fear and aggression. My inner cat—now peeking out through my human face—was threatened by this tomcat and his homicidal lies.

While everyone stared at me in shock, I watched Colin, unable to look away from the focus of my rage.

Marc whispered in my still-human ear, so softly I could barely hear him. “You want to pay him back?”

I nodded.

“Pounce.” Marc’s lip brushed my earlobe, combining with his scent to add a new layer of emotion to those already fueling my partial Shift. “Pretend you want to rip his lying head off.”

Pretend? No problem. I did want to rip his head off. My rage was overwhelming. The human in me wanted justice, but the cat wanted blood. I’d spent most of my life curtailing such urges, and now Marc wanted me to indulge one instead?

I raised an eyebrow at him, not entirely sure what he had in mind, but absolutely certain it wasn’t a good idea. The last thing I needed was more trouble.

Trust me, he mouthed silently. And I did. Even after all we’d been through together—because of what we’d been through—I trusted him with my life. So I took a deep, noiseless breath, then I let my anger unfurl like a whip snapping loose of its coil.

I leapt between my father and uncle, and the floor lurched past beneath me. Startled gasps surrounded me. My feet hit the carpet, and I jumped again. I landed on my knees on Colin’s bed, straddling his shins. The mattress squealed beneath my weight. My fingers curled in the ancient afghan.

I was dimly aware of movement and frantic whispers around the room. But I left the shocked Alphas to Marc. I only had eyes for the terrified tom beneath me.

Colin stared at me in horror. His jugular vein jiggled madly in his throat. The stench of fear trickled into my nostrils, and I realized my nose had Shifted too. Or maybe the scent sensors in my brain had changed.

“Get her under control, or I’ll do it myself!” Malone shouted. But I neither heard nor felt movement in the room around me.

“Calvin, look at her face,” my uncle ordered softly, and I caught a twitch of movement in the mirror on the edge of my vision—someone moving to better see my reflection.

Fine, let them see. Turning my head, I bared my canines and hissed into the glass without actually looking at my face. I was oddly pleased by the resulting gasps. My smaller stature would afford them no advantage this time; if I caught an arm between my jaws, my cat teeth would cleave straight through to the bone in a single bite. No one seemed willing to risk that. Yet.

The blankets moved beneath me, and my attention snapped back to the bed. Colin edged away from me slowly, cautiously, his legs sliding between my knees. He scooted until his spine hit the headboard. A growl of warning rumbled from my throat, and he jumped. Sweat trickled down his bare chest.

Bloodlust surged through my veins. Chill bumps burst to life on my arms as some distant, still-human part of me understood what was happening—what my cat-self wanted—and was horrified. But before I could impose logic on my feline brain, Colin glanced to his right, clearly considering an escape, and the sudden movement triggered my pouncing instinct.

A roar ripped free of my throat. I lunged the last few feet. Something heavy landed on the bed behind me. Strong hands grabbed my upper arms, holding me inches from my goal. Marc’s scent washed over me. “Good,” he murmured in my ear. “Let it loose. I’ve got you.”

Not at all sure we were still playing, I struggled and lunged again, pulling him with me. My pointed, feline teeth snapped closed an inch from Colin’s nose.

“Take her down!” Malone shouted, anger and panic saturating his voice.

“Don’t move,” my father ordered with his usual quiet confidence.

Marc ignored them both.

Colin whimpered like a little bitch, and my not-so-inner cat soaked it up. His eyes flicked from mine up to Marc’s. “Call her off!” he sniveled, this time careful not to move.

Marc’s grip tightened on my arms, and I struggled instinctively. Cats hate being restrained. “I can’t,” he said. “She’s strong when she’s pissed off, and I can’t hold her for long. If you want to calm her down, give her what she wants. Tell the truth. And do it fast. If I lose my grip, she’ll go straight for your throat. She’s done it before.”

Ohhhh. Suddenly I understood Marc’s plan—a bit late, considering it was well under way. He was fucking brilliant! And surely if my brain weren’t foggy with cat-thoughts, I’d have gotten it earlier.

Colin glanced at me and I let loose the growl I’d been holding back, confident now that even if I lost control of myself, Marc wouldn’t.

Colin opened his mouth, hesitated, then finally spat, “That is the truth.” His gaze shifted to someone at the foot of the bed. “The bitch is crazy! See?”

“Jace, get me a syringe,” Malone ordered.

Jace must have refused silently, because I couldn’t hear him. But I heard Malone loud and clear. “Fine, I’ll get it myself.” Harsh footsteps stomped out of the room.

Another slow, soft growl trickled from my throat, and a bead of sweat rolled down the side of Colin’s face, over the purple lump on his chin.

“Can you get her off the bed?” Paul Blackwell asked hesitantly. It sounded as if he’d backed toward the door. Colin wasn’t the only one buying our act.

“I’ll try,” Marc said.

The bed shifted beneath me, and Marc let his hand slip on my arm. Taking my cue, I sprung at the injured tom again, probably more surprised than he was when my teeth raked his nose.

Marc jerked me back again, but it was too late. Blood ran from a jagged cut on the end of Colin’s nose to drip down his chin.

Shit! That wasn’t supposed to happen.

The scent of blood exacerbated my bloodlust, and this time when I growled, it wasn’t on purpose. My fists clenched around the afghan on either side of Colin’s knees. My toes curled in the rough cotton yarn, stabilizing my body for another lunge.

Colin’s eyes widened, then his focus shifted to something over my shoulder as footsteps shuffled on the carpet. One whiff of the air told me Malone was back. A tiny pop, and I knew he’d uncapped the syringe. The sharp chemical scent of the sedative stung my nose. “Hold her still.”

“What is that?” Dr. Carver asked from my right. I hadn’t heard him come back in.