Her parents had doted on her but had not skimped when it came to her education—both in her tiger form and in her human shape. They taught her how to live as a tiger, how to hunt and how to survive. They taught her the same things in human form too, along with other skills like self-defense and evasion. All this, before she’d even become a teenager. It had been fun to learn those things at first—when she hadn’t realized the deadly game had very real consequences.
But after an attempt on her father’s life while they were on one of their rare trips abroad, where friends had died in the course of saving her family’s lives, she’d learned the truth. She’d learned the true nature of the world and how her family was hunted simply because of what they were. Hunted by humans. Hunted by their own kind who wanted her father’s power.
After that, she’d become more serious about learning how to defend and even attack should it become necessary, in both her forms. Her father had been her teacher. He was a skilled fighter who kept in shape, training with his friends, the loyal Royal Guards who had come with him into exile.
There hadn’t been an attempt on his life in many years. Of course, that was probably because they were so well hidden, none of their enemies could find them way up here.
After a couple of hours keeping up her one-sided dialog, Gina found it impossible to stay awake. The cabin was warm and Mitch was in the only real bed. It was big enough that she could lie down next to him and not touch. She doubted he’d wake easily from his unconscious state, but she wanted to be nearby just in case. It wasn’t entirely professional, of course. She’d never even entertained the idea of sleeping in the same bed with any of her other patients. Still, the extreme situation called for extreme measures.
She lay down beside Mitch and closed her eyes. She was asleep before she took another breath, so great was her exhaustion.
Sometime later, in the middle of the night, she woke to a great shaking. Fighting through her sleep fog, she realized quickly that Mitch was in distress. His whole body was shaking as he fought through another round of convulsions.
“Dammit,” she cursed, sitting up on the bed, reaching over Mitch’s straining body to the night stand where she’d put the medical supplies. She had to get more of her blood into him to counteract the tenacious residual poison.
She swung her leg over him and sat on his thighs, trying to hold him in place so he wouldn’t hurt himself. Gina checked to make sure his airway was clear and placed a small stack of wooden tongue depressors between his pearly white teeth to give him something to bite down on.
“Hold on, Mitch,” she spoke to him while she prepared to take the blood from her arm. “I’m going to give you a bigger dose this time,” she thought aloud as she stuck herself. “I’ve never given even half this much to anyone before, but you’re big enough to handle it, I think. I’ve never had to dose anyone more than once before either, but with you I’m hoping the third time will be the charm.”
She filled the syringe with as much blood as it would hold while his body shook under her. It was an all-or-nothing strategy and it had to work this time. It just had to.
She lay across him to keep his arm still while she administered the injection. His convulsions were a little less violent than the last time, when they’d still been in the city, in the apartment. That gave her hope. Perhaps his body was fighting back a bit more now, though whatever he’d been poisoned with had to be something fierce. She’d never had to give anyone this much of her blood. Never.
She shot the dose home, into his arm, using all her weight to keep him still enough for the procedure. His muscles clenched, making her job a bit more difficult, but she found a way to get the life-saving substance into him. It was either that or watch him die—and she absolutely refused to do that under any circumstances.
Within moments, the convulsions subsided, though his hands began to shift shape and his skin sprouted fur. Mottled orange, black…and white?
No way.
Gina looked more closely. No doubt about it. A small portion of his fur was white. Not the normal tawny tones of a tigre d’or. Now wasn’t that interesting?
“It’s probably a side effect of the large amount of my blood in you right now. Maybe it’ll go away once you recover.” She shrugged, holding his arm down as the partial shift stopped and he returned to a fully human form once more.
He didn’t shift again, which was a good sign, and his body stopped convulsing and dropped into an exhausted sleep. On closer examination, this sleep seemed more normal than the state he’d been in before. His breathing was easier and at a more natural rhythm and pace. His pulse was healthy and strong. His pupils responded and he even batted one hand at her forearm as she shone her small penlight into his eye. He hadn’t been able to do that before.