Blood in Her Veins (Nineteen Stories From the World of Jane Yellowrock)

That was a lot more intimate than we usually got, but Eli had been a Ranger, which meant that he was a lot more knowledgeable about medical matters than your average Joe. Rangers and other special forces types often did their own battlefield medicine, saving lives on the run. I raised my shirt hem to the bottom of my bra and looked with him. The bruise delivered by the arcenciel, Opal, had spread across my belly, dark angry red with a purple point in the very center, spreading to paler red, and then to pinkish beneath my ribs.

Eli pointed to the spot between my ribs. “The xiphoid process is a little spear-shaped bone right there, just above where that thing hit you. If the process gets hit in just the right way, it can tilt in and puncture your liver.” He stepped closer and put a hand on the back of my head and pulled down my lower left eyelid. He frowned, a real frown, with wrinkles on either side of his mouth. “Your lids are too pale. You’ve lost blood. You need to shift. Now.”

Eli pushed me toward my bed and said, “Now, Jane. I’ll sear a steak and slip it in when you tap on the door.” He closed my door, leaving me alone.

I looked back at my belly. It didn’t look that awful, but I did feel kinda . . . weird. Tired. Playing with time on top of fighting an arcenciel was probably stupid.

I pulled the T off and tossed it and the jeans and the undies to the floor. Sitting on my bed, I thought about Beast. I used to have to wear my mountain lion tooth or be holding mountain lion bones, giving me access to the RNA and DNA in the marrow, using it as a guide to find the proper shape and form. But since Beast and I had merged on a deeper, more spiritual, metaphysical, and purely physical level, I hadn’t been stuck with that limitation. Now, though I still needed genetic structure to work with to shift into other animal forms, I could shift into Beast form most anytime I wanted. Easy-peasy.

The silver energies rose around me and I closed my eyes. Reached inside, to the strands of RNA. Once upon a time, I’d had a double strand, just like all other humans, and when I shifted into another animal, it was into its double strand. Now, Beast’s genetic makeup and mine were inextricably paired into tripled strands, each coated with silver and blue-green energies, each sparking darkly.

The change was almost, but not quite, pain this time, as my bones bent and snapped. Pelt sprang out on my arms and legs. My back arched, then threw me forward. Air wheezed from my lungs.

In a matter of seconds, I was Beast, crouching on the bed. I stopped Beast from extruding her claws. My linens do not need holes.

She snarled back and stood, stepping slowly to the floor. On the hardwood, she extruded her claws and stretched, almost sitting, to pull on shoulders, then lifting up to pull herself forward, her belly scraping the floor. She extended her back legs and lifted the right one, stretching from front paws to back toes. Then she did the other leg. Languid and svelte, she moved to the door and lifted a paw.

No scratches!

She snarled again and deliberately extended her claws, dragged her paw down the doorjamb, putting deep grooves in the paint.

Oh crap. Eli just painted the moldings.

She chuffed with amusement.

When he gets mad at you, don’t blame me. He’s the one who brings you steak these days.

Eli is good hunter. Brings good cow meat. She stared at the damaged door. Her appetite was growing at the thought of bloody meat, a totally different kind of cramping in her belly, the cramping of hunger from the energy used in the shift. Beast needs sharp claws. Eli will not see.

Eli sees everything.

A knock came at the door and I/we stepped back. The door opened and Eli bent inside, placing a platter on the floor. As he was rising, he stopped, his eyes on the scratches. For a long moment he didn’t move, halted half-bent-over. Beast looked away, offering to him her profile in a cat’s utter disinterest. “I’m going to let it go this time. I’m going to repair it. I’m even going to make a scratching post for your damn claws. But if you ever do that again, I’ll start cooking your steak well done. Charred. Are we clear on this?”

Beast sat, front paws close together, as if posing, but she snarled at him, eyes slit, lips pulled back, showing killing teeth.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Jane, are you better?”

I dropped my head down and back up in a human nod, which felt all wrong but was the best way to communicate with Eli in this form.

“Good.” He closed the door.

Beast maintained the disinterest and indifference until we heard Eli’s footsteps recede to the kitchen. Beast then picked up the largest chunk of raw steak and half chewed it before swallowing it and taking the next.