Catalina
Catalina watched from the cave entrance as Shane lured the bear into the woods and out of sight. His panther was so beautiful, fierce and lithe and sleek. Apart from the stab of fear she’d felt when the bear had knocked him down, she wasn’t worried about him. He was obviously much faster and more agile than the grizzly, not to mention that he had human intelligence. He’d be back once he’d led the bear far into the woods and then ditched it.
Then a wave of ice-cold terror washed over her, making her hands shake and her guts clench. She suddenly knew Shane was in danger. She had to help him.
Catalina scrambled into her clothes and shoes, then grabbed the tranquilizer guns and ran out of the cave. Shane and the bear were nowhere to be seen, but she was certain that she knew which way to go to find him. Catalina bolted toward the woods.
Fear for Shane, the conviction that he was in trouble, and the hope that she could save him drove her as she ran down the hillside and toward the forest. Then, a few feet short of the woods, all those feelings evaporated like a drop of water on a hot pan.
She stumbled to a halt, confused. What had she been thinking? Why had she been so convinced that Shane was in danger? He’d had the situation completely under control the last time she’d seen him. She hadn’t heard any yells or had anything else happen to make her think something had gone wrong.
And even if something was wrong, why would she just bolt out without even taking supplies? If Shane was injured, he’d need bandages, maybe a splint, and certainly a fire to keep him warm and ward off shock. She could easily pack everything they had into the medical kit and take it with her.
“Weird,” Catalina muttered. Maybe love did strange things to you, like make you suddenly lose your mind when the man you loved turned into a panther and ran off into the woods.
She hesitated at the edge of the forest, wondering if she should go back to the cave to fetch supplies, or back to the cave and stay there. She was tempted to search. But he was almost certainly fine, and if she started wandering around the woods, she’d probably get lost. She might even run straight into the grizzly he’d gotten rid of. It didn’t seem like a good idea.
She started to turn to go back, but the skin on the back of her neck prickled an alert. Catalina spun around.
A man stepped out of the woods. It was the shifter who had gotten her scent at the base. The dim light bleached his pale skin to the color of frost, and his hair and eyes were black as midnight.
The tranquilizer guns were in her hands. Catalina fired at him as he rushed her, hitting him once— twice— three times in the chest before he closed with her and wrenched the guns from her hands.
“Shane!” Catalina yelled.
Iron-hard hands yanked her arms behind her back and clamped her wrists. She struggled, then relaxed, realizing that there was no need. She’d hit him three times. He’d collapse any second now.
But he didn’t. Instead, he started pushing her forward. She stumbled, off-balance with her arms locked behind her back, and nearly fell.
The man let out an exasperated breath and released one of her arms, but kept a firm grip on her other wrist. Immediately, Catalina tried to stomp on his foot. She moved fast but he moved faster, jerking his foot to the side. She whipped around and tried to punch him in the face.
He caught her wrist before it could connect, holding it in an unbreakable grip. “Fight me again and I’ll shoot you with the dart gun. It’s no trouble for me to carry you back.”
She stopped struggling. It was obviously hopeless, and she had no hope of escaping if she was unconscious. “Fine. I surrender.”
He released her right wrist but held on to her left. With one hand, he plucked three darts from his chest and dropped them to the ground.
Catalina looked from the darts to his chest. He was wearing a T-shirt, not a bulletproof vest. “Just my luck to get three defective darts.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the darts,” he said. “They don’t work on me.”
“How come?”
“Adrenaline invincibility.” At her blank look, he elaborated, “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. I won’t feel pain, and I won’t go down unless you shoot me in the head. With a bullet.”
“Oh,” Catalina said, enlightened. “I’ve seen that. A guy who’s high on meth or PCP will just keep coming, no matter what you do. It takes five or six people to strap them down in the ER, and then it takes triple doses of sedatives to knock them out.”
The man looked annoyed. “I’m not high. It’s my ultimate predator power. Well, one of them.”
Stalling for time but also sincerely curious, Catalina asked, “What’s the other one?”
“Tracking. You know that.”
“I thought any shifter could track by scent.”
“Maybe. But it’s not by scent. If it was, you’d have lost me— well, delayed me, anyway— when you went through the creek and climbed those trees. Once I touch you, I can find you anywhere. It’s not here.” He indicated his nose. “It’s here.” He tapped his temple.
“That’s cool. What does it feel like?”