“You’re good to take care of the little ones,” Addie said. “Are they your, what—cousins?”

“We’re not related,” Robbie said without changing expression. “They’re Feline. I’m Lupine.”

“I’m not sure what that means, honey.”

Robbie pointed at the sleeping tiger cub in the passenger seat. “Feline—big cats. Lupine means wolf.”

“Oh.” Addie studied him. “That’s why you have such nice gray eyes, I bet. You take care of them well.”

“Kendrick takes care of me,” Robbie said. “It’s the least I can do.”

He was far too young to speak in phrases like that. Addie had grown up fast, but not that fast. She’d still had a childhood, thanks to her sister.

“Why don’t you stretch out there while we wait,” Addie said. “I have a blanket—we can pull that over you, make you all cozy.”

Robbie obeyed and lay down, but Addie suspected it was to please her, not because he wanted to. He was tense, waiting, much like Kendrick had been when he’d crouched in the kitchen, just before he’d launched himself through the pass to fight to the death. Cats jumped like that, she realized.

Addie pulled an old wool afghan from behind the driver’s seat and tucked it around Robbie’s small body. He didn’t say anything and didn’t close his eyes, only stared into the darkness.

Poor kid. Addie smoothed his hair, which he didn’t fight, and left him alone.

Fifteen minutes later, a motorcycle headed out of the darkness at her. Addie clutched the steering wheel, ready to gun the car and race away if she had to. As the bike slowed and turned into the empty parking lot, she saw the flash of Kendrick’s white and black hair in the moonlight, the sword on his back.

The cubs woke as soon as they heard the motorcycle. Both tigers bounced to Addie’s lap, put paws on the open window ledge, and started yowling.

Kendrick swung off the bike with easy grace, balancing the sword without trouble. The cubs scrambled onto the window ledge as he reached the car, then hurled themselves at him. Kendrick caught them in his arms, cradling them with his big, gloved hands.

It was an interesting sight, the large, tall biker, holding two little white tiger cubs.

Robbie had sat up and now climbed out of the car without a word. He went straight to Kendrick and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist. Kendrick smoothed Robbie’s hair the best he could with an armful of cub.

“Addison, thank you.” Kendrick’s eyes held true gratitude.

He gazed at her for a moment longer, as though wanting to say more but not finding the words. Then he abruptly turned away, still carrying the cubs.

Addie scrambled out of the car. She knew that when he rode out of here, she’d never see him again. No way was she about to let him race off into darkness without answering a few questions.

“What happened?” she demanded. “Who were those guys? Why did they want to kill you? You stuck the sword into him and he disappeared. Where did he go?”

“To the Summerland,” Kendrick said, cutting through her jumble.

“Oh?” Addie planted her hands on her hips. “What the hell does that mean? If you stuck that sword into me, would I become a puff of dust too?”

“He was Shifter,” Kendrick said. “So, no.”

One thing Addie had learned about Shifters in the documentaries was that they wore Collars, with a capital C. The Collars were designed to shock them and shut them down if they grew violent. Control them—humanely, the documentary had claimed.

Addie had seen nothing around Kendrick’s throat when he’d stood up, unclothed, in the diner. The Shifter who’d run into the diner hadn’t had a Collar either.