Rakshasa Book I, Part #2: Aurora by Alica Knight

Prologue

    The Jaws of the Beast

    He was a Rakshasa. A were-tiger. A tall, imposing creature with the head of a great cat, bright green eyes and powerful muscles, and standing right in the middle of my apartment in the dead of night. His long, thin tail whipped back and forth as he regarded me, sizing me up. Every one of us had a second name; a Rakshasa name. He’d called himself Eclipse, but in my mind he was the serial killer in the news, the Champawat Tiger.
    Eclipse. An eerie coincidence, given my dreams of late.
    I locked gazes with him, his dark green eyes glinting in the poor light of my small apartment. “What do you want?”
    “What I want with the other Rakshasa-fledglings I find.” Another chuckle, this time with a little more energy, and the Rakshasa took a step forward.
    “To kill you.”
    With a growl he leapt forward, faster than I thought possible, closing the distance between us in a split second. I saw his right hand go back, more a paw than a human hand, the appendage ending in long, sharp claws, reaching for me.
    The tiny kitchen left me nowhere to move. In a panic, I reached out for the closest thing I had to a weapon, one of the chopping knives I had resting on the counter.
    Time seemed to slow down. My vision was filled of bared teeth and claws that ended in wicked points. There was no way I could escape them.
    It was more correct to say, though, that there was no way Libby could escape them. Libby the Loser was going down. She was Rakshasa dung that hadn’t been digested yet.
    Aurora , though, my Rakshasa side, had other ideas.
    The blade struck the Champawat Tiger right in the centre of his chest. The humble human steel slashed a great gash across his shirt but the skin underneath was unharmed. The metal blade dragged across his chest and bent, snapping off at the hilt. He was unharmed, his charge unimpeded.
    That was just a distraction though. My left arm swung out wide, blocking the oncoming claw with my forearm. With a roar that boomed from my throat, raw and primal, I halted his charge; the force cracked the tiles under my feet and I swore, for a moment, I could feel the entire building groan with the stress.
    The Champawat Tiger’s face was mere inches away from mine. “A strong one,” he growled into my face, seeming pleased by this notion. I pushed him back and he snarled, a brief stalemate held. He was cautious now; regarding me warily, but with confidence, as though finding a way to slay me was merely a matter of solving a fairly easy puzzle. “I’m going to enjoy snapping your neck.”
    He pushed me back, then swung at me with impossible speed. There was a sudden, fading sting in my left arm and I fell back, smacking into the door of my fridge and crumpling the metal. I barely felt the impact on the fridge, though I was stuck; I struggled to get back onto my feet.
    “Libby?”
    A voice from the door. Ishan Kari’s voice, the lover from my dreams. The two locked eyes for a moment and, as though there were a momentary recognition between the two, a tense silence where nobody said or did anything.
    Suddenly Ishan was between the killer and I, faster than I could blink. His shirt tore away and instantly he was taller, stronger, his body covered in white and dark brown tiger stripes. The Champawat Tiger took a step back, growling at us both, but I extracted myself from the ruined fridge and stepped up beside Ishan, shoulder to shoulder.
    The large Rakshasa’s eyes flicked between us both, sizing us up with a cool, calculating logic. Ishan was strong and now it was two against one. “I’ll be back for you,” the Champawat Tiger growled, raising a claw towards me, backing up into my living room, turning and leaping over the balcony rail, then disappearing off into the night.
    Ishan and I ran after him, but by the time we arrived he was gone.
    “Are you alright?” Ishan asked me, suddenly turning to me, his Rakshasa form melting away as he became a human once more.
    I threw my