Chapter 10
Marguerite lay on the bed beside Wren, who was still sleeping in cat form. She'd learned from Vane that the Were-Hunters as animals had full human cognition.
"If Wren won't hurt you in human form, then he won't hurt you as an animal."
That knowledge had eased her mind a great deal. It was so strange, though, to be touching a huge, wild cat and have no fear of it.
How could this animal be the man she knew?
Marguerite touched his velvety soft ears. His fur was incredibly white, and when he was in his "true" form, there were no stripes or spots on it. He looked like a big, fluffy cat. As a tiger, he had the typical black tiger markings that bisected the white fur.
She moved her hand to sink it deep in the pelt of his neck. It was like clutching the softest silk imaginable. She could feel the strength of him. It was scary and oddly comforting.
Without a second thought, she sank her face there and held him close. Poor Wren had been through so much. If she could, she would ease the pain.
But how?
All she could do was offer him comfort and hope that their plan would work. The last thing she wanted was to see him hurt anymore. Vane had told her much about Wren's childhood, about how alone he had always been. It was something she understood very well. All her life she, too, had been an outsider. Never good enough. Never what others wanted her to be.
It was a lonely place to live.
Her heart aching, she nuzzled the soft fur as she gently petted his uninjured side.
Wren came awake to the most incredible feeling of his life. Someone was stroking him...
No one had ever laid a gentle hand on him in animal form before. The hand on his side was warm, soothing. It stroked and smoothed his fur in a sensuous rhythm that wasn't sexual in any way. It was comforting. And that meant more to him than anything else ever had.
Other Were-Hunters knew better than to touch him when he was like this. Humans feared him as an animal.
And his parents... they had never been affectionate.
At least not to him.
He knew instinctively that it was Maggie who was petting him now. Her scent was heavy in his fur and he loved it.
He also remembered what he'd been about to do when the damned Dark-Hunter had drugged him.
But at the moment, suicide was the furthest thing from his mind. He just wanted to stay here and feel the delicate strength of Maggie's hand on his body. There was nothing else like the peace he felt inside. The happiness.
How he wished there was nothing else in the world except the two of them...
Marguerite gasped as Wren rolled over, changing as he moved from the tigard into a man. Those pale blue eyes seared her with heat.
She touched the healing cut on his bottom lip. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"
"Dizzy. Hazy. Nauseated."
She wrinkled her nose at his honesty. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?"
He shook his head. "I just need a few minutes to let the last of the drug burn through my system. I hate friggin' tranks."
"I can imagine." She brushed the hair back from his beautiful face. "You still planning on being stupid?"
"I don't have any choice."
"Vane says that you do. If you can prove-"
"How?" he asked. His voice sounded so very tired. So reserved and resigned to his bum fate. "There was never any evidence to show who killed my father or my mother."
She refused to believe that. There had to be something left behind to help Wren. Something that could prove his innocence. "Tell me what happened."
Wren grew quiet as he remembered the last few hours of his father's life. He'd never spoken about it to anyone before. But the nightmares still haunted him at times.
"I'd just been learning to shift forms and I couldn't hold on to anything for long. One minute I'd be human and helpless, and then in the next I was a leopard or tiger or tigard. My mother was completely disgusted by me and my appearance. It was why they never had any more children. I overheard from others that they'd gotten along well together until my birth. After that, my mother refused to let my father touch her for fear of having another thing like me."
Marguerite's heart ached for him. She couldn't imagine having her parents flat out reject her. Her father could be judgmental, preoccupied or missing at times, but he'd never been deliberately cruel.
Wren toyed with a lock of her hair as he continued talking. "My father seldom looked at me as a cub. They kept me locked away in a small cage in their house until I started going through puberty. My father knew I needed someone to train me on how to use my powers, so he hired a cousin to come in and teach me... Zack."
The one Vane said had accused Wren of the murders. But Marguerite didn't bring that up at the moment. First she wanted to understand the chain of events. "So your cousin showed you how to use your powers?"
"No. He was too disgusted that I couldn't hold a solid form, so he quit a week after my father had hired him." Wren drew a ragged breath. "So my father decided he'd have to do it himself. It was the only time in my life that he'd ever spent any time with me. At first, he was so angry at me, so cold, that I kept trying to leave any way I could. I'd run out of the room, or use my burgeoning powers to flash myself into other parts of the house or outside. Angry and disgusted, he'd drag me back and try to teach me again."
"Drag you back how?"
Pain haunted his eyes. "It's not important."
She knew better. The tightness of his body told her differently. His father's actions had cut Wren straight to his soul.
"Once I began having some degree of control, my father calmed down. He was even starting to like me, I think. It's what hurt most when he died. I'd spent my whole childhood alone, only seeing my keeper who came in once a day to change my food and my box. Every now and again, my father would come in, stare at me with a look of disappointment or hatred, and then leave without saying anything. So when he started paying attention to me, it was the most incredible thing."
He paused and looked away. She could see the memories that ached. She only wished she knew some way to soothe them.
"We'd moved me from my cage into a bedroom," Wren said quietly. "I was asleep when I heard something crash down the hall. I changed into human form to see what it was and I found him in his bedroom with his throat open. There was so much blood and bruising that you couldn't even see his face."
"What did you do?"
"I sat there crouched in human form, with my hand on his. I couldn't move, couldn't think. I'd never seen a fresh kill before. All I could do was stare at him."
"But you don't know who killed him?"
"I knew," he said in an angry tone. "I heard my mother and her lover. They were off laughing about it in another room."
Marguerite swallowed as panic consumed her at the bitter hatred in his voice. Maybe he'd killed his mother after all.
"I was so angry that I wasn't thinking. I went into the room where the two of them were toasting each other with champagne. I ran at my mother, but her lover caught me and threw me to the ground. He was going to kill me, too, but she stopped him. I found out then that that had been their initial plan. She was supposed to kill me and my father so that my uncle could take control of Tigarian Tech. But she said that she didn't trust my uncle. If I died, she was sure he'd leave them with nothing. Their only hope to keep any of my father's money was to keep me drugged and control it as my guardian."
Anger coiled through Marguerite that anyone could do such a thing, never mind to their own son. What had been wrong with his mother?
"So what did they do?" she asked.
"I'm not sure. I was trying to use my magic to get away from her lover, the next thing I knew, I woke up in a locked room as the whole house was burning down around me."
She frowned. "How did you get out?"
"The floor burned out from under me. I went crashing downstairs and a firefighter saw me and thought I was a pet. They threw a blanket over me and pulled me out right before the whole house went down. As they took me out, I saw the bodies of my mother and her lover and my father, who were lying on the lawn where they had placed them."