Page 45 of Easy, Tiger

"The truth is going to sound impossible."

She places her hands on her hips, dropping into that patient stance I've learned means she's prepared to wait as long as necessary. "Try me."

"The tiger you saved by the creek⁠—"

"The one with the shoulder wound that perfectly matched yours?"

"That was me, Halsey."

Her eyebrows draw together. "What do you mean, that was you?"

Instead of elaborating, I create a little space and begin removing my flannel shirt. As the fabric falls away, Halsey's eyes widen. The brutal scrapes and the gash across my forehead from our fall off the bridge yesterday are already faded to faint pink scars, healing at a rate improbable for any normal human. I continue removing my boots, then my jeans. The night air bites at my skin, but the cold feels distant compared to the fear coursing through my veins.

"Nolan, what are you⁠—"

Shutting my eyes, I reach for the shift, calling on instincts older than human civilization. The change flows through me like liquid fire. The newly knitted bone in my shoulder screams in protest, sending a blinding, agonizing ache through my nervous system as bones lengthen and reshape. Muscles expand, pulling at the vulnerable tissue, and skin gives way to fur. I grit my teeth through the self-inflicted strain, seconds stretching into something that feels like hours.

When I open my eyes again, I'm staring up at Halsey from four feet closer to the ground, my left shoulder burning fiercely beneath the striped coat.

Her face cycles through disbelief, shock, and something that possibly may be wonder. She recoils at an involuntary pace, then catches herself and stands her ground.

"You're him," she whispers. "You're the tiger."

Shifting back to human form—the change far easier in reverse—I quickly yank my clothes back on. Halsey follows every movement with the cultivated patience she usually reserves for wildlife observation.

"The eyes," she says, more to herself than to me. "I should have realized. They're exactly the same."

"You saved my life that day. I was dying when you found me."

"And you've been protecting me ever since."

"Trying to."

She directs her gaze toward the treeline where the others wait, then back at me. "How many of you are there?"

"In Red Pine? About thirty. Scattered across North America? A few hundred tigers, maybe less. However, you'd be surprised by the amount of shifters there truly are."

"The entire town doesn't know?"

"Most humans can't handle the truth. We've learned to be cautious about who we trust."

Halsey processes the information with the same methodical approach she brings to her artwork. "The hunter who shot you—he's targeting your people specifically."

"He's been tracking our migration routes for years. Picking us off one by one."

"That's why you always know when I'm in danger. You can smell threats, hear things I can't."

"The mating bond makes it stronger. I can sense when you're afraid, when you're hurt."

All of her muscles go rigid. "Mating bond?"

Panic flashes hot through my veins. I've shared too much too fast, but there's no taking it back now.

"It's complicated."

"Everything with us is complicated." But she doesn't sound angry—more curious than anything else. "Explain it."

"Tiger shifters can choose partners like humans do, but finding a fated mate is different. When we find our true mate, we mate for life," I begin, the words feeling foreign in my mouth. "There's an instant recognition. A bond that goes deeper than attraction or compatibility."