Mate Claimed

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

As they passed one of the six-paneled doors, it opened, and Jace filled the doorway, half-asleep and alarmed at the same time.

With his hair tousled, his green eyes, and his hastily pulled-on clothes, Iona marveled at how much he looked like Eric. At the same time he looked different from him; the shape of his face and set of his body had come from his mother’s Shifter family.

She wondered how he’d gotten down here—Jace had been in the living room when she and Eric had exited the bathroom and gone to bed last night. She would have woken if he’d come through Eric’s room.

“Dad?” Jace asked. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Showing Iona the vault,” Eric said calmly.

Jace rubbed sleep from his eyes and bolted in front of him. “Are you crazy?”

“She needs to see it.”

“Yeah, but, you haven’t been thinking too straight lately. Cass know about this?”

“She will.”

Jace stepped in front of them again, putting his back to the steel door. “Only mates of the pride, Dad. Only mates. Or did you have a full sun ceremony without telling me?”

“Jace.”

Eric’s voice took on a note of patience, a patience so old that Iona for the first time was struck with how long Eric already had lived. He’d lost his parents and his mate, had raised his sister and then his son on his own, had fought covertly in a war to help humans escape atrocities, had made the decision to move his family here and let humans put Collars on them, had prevented humans from torturing his son by taking on that torture himself.

The laid-back Eric, who lounged barefoot in his house or kissed Iona so sensually in the dark while he fed her chocolates, was a man of complexities and hurt so deep, she’d never understand it.

“We need her to see this, Jace,” Eric said. “She needs to understand how to help us.”

“Cass should be here, then.”

“Cass needs to rest for her cub. Leave her be.”

Father and son faced each other. Jace had the impatience of youth, Eric the calm of experience, but Iona sensed that otherwise, they were evenly matched. She wondered if Jace would ever decide it was time to take over from his father, and what he’d do then.

She saw, in Eric’s eyes, that he knew that time would come. But not today.

“Open it up for me, Son.”

Jace sighed, took a small, round disk from his pocket, and touched it to a blank space in the door. The disk, Iona saw, had a Celtic knot design on it, but she couldn’t discern any place on the door the disk fit. To her, the door looked like an unbroken surface.

A ponderous sound like gears grinding filled the little hall, and the door slowly slid back into the wall. Beyond it was, indeed, a vault.

Eric led the way inside, flicking on lights as he went. The vault was long and narrow, taking up the rest of the space under the house and heading toward Nell’s side yard.

The room was lined with shelves and niches, though, unlike in a bank, only one had a door with a lock. The rest of the shelves were open and held boxes and small glass cases, with no organization that Iona could see.

Eric gestured for Iona to look around. Jace waited unhappily at the entrance, arms folded, as Iona strolled through in curiosity.

The collection looked like a jumble. Iona took one box off a shelf and found inside a clump of little plastic dolls with large eyes and tufts of long purple hair. She started to laugh. “Trolls. I used to play with these when I was little.”

“Cass liked them,” Eric said.

Iona put the box back, wondering why on earth they’d been stored in a vault.

The next box she pulled out was lined with velvet and held about two dozen uncut diamonds.

Iona nearly dropped the box. “Eric. Where did you get these?”

“I forget. When was that, Jace?”

“Eighteen eighty-two. From Africa. Grandfather traded for them—he never went there.”

“Traded with who?” Iona asked.

“Some lion Shifters,” Eric said. “They needed resources more than diamonds, and a safer place to live. My family helped them out, and they gave us a handful of stones.”

Iona quickly set the box back into its niche. “What is all this?” she asked, waving at the shelves in general.

Eric stood in the middle of the room, as nonchalant as ever. “Things our pride and clan have acquired over the years. Some have sentimental value, others more.”

Iona browsed another niche and found an egg decorated with jewels and gold filigree set in a delicate gold holder. Holy crap. “Do the other Shifters know you have this down here?”

Jace answered. “All Shifter families have a vault. Their pack’s or clan’s most prized possessions are stored there, kept secret from humans. Secret,” he repeated with a severe look at his father.

“She needs to know exactly what her construction company needs to do for us,” Eric said. “I want her to understand why it’s necessary.”

Iona looked around in still more wonder. “You’re saying Graham and his Shifters have this kind of stuff too.”

“We all do,” Eric said. “Shifters live a long time. We watch the world change and see that the value of most things evaporates. But some things endure.”

“And some of this,” Jace interrupted, “is from clan wars.”

“Clan wars? You have clan wars?”

Jace snorted with laughter at her amazement, and Eric answered. “We used to. After the Fae-Shifter war, when we found ourselves free of being fighting slaves for the Fae, our dominance fights began. Shifters being Shifters, we couldn’t help but battle it out to see who’d be in charge.”

“Fights between species, and between clans,” Jace finished. “Bad fights, over which clan would dominate the others. We stole from each other, killed each other. In quieter times, we traded with each other, but there weren’t many of those.”

“But…” Iona looked around, bewildered. “If you have loose diamonds hanging around in a box, why do you say Shifters were starving and dying in the wild? Why let humans put you into Shiftertowns?”

“It’s complicated,” Jace said.

“It is,” Eric broke in. “Jace is the clan historian and our keeper. He knows all the nuances. The simple explanation is—it’s hard to buy bread with an uncut diamond. If humans knew we had something like that, they wouldn’t stop until all Shifters were eliminated, and they had the diamonds.”

“Not to mention the Fabergé egg,” Iona said.

Eric nodded. “Not to mention the Fabergé egg.”

“Given to you by Fabergé?” Iona asked, joking.

“Yes,” Eric said, perfectly serious. “What you’re looking at are long-term solutions. We were starving and dying because we were fighting each other and turning feral, mates were scarce, cub birthrates were low. We came to Shiftertown to save ourselves. For now. We keep these things for what comes next.”

Iona remembered what Cassidy had said to her the other day—that Shifters saw their stint in Shiftertown as a short blip in their history. They’d use their stay in Shiftertowns to right themselves, then they’d go on.

“No wonder Graham is so cranky about having to move here,” Iona said. “That’s got to be tough, to require all his Shifters transport things like this, without the humans being the wiser.”

“Exactly,” Eric said. “It’s why he doesn’t want to double up with my Shifters. We could share houses in a pinch, but never vaults. The secrets of each pack, pride, and clan need to remain hidden.”

But members of families and clans could move in with each other, already knowing what the clan as a whole had stored, Iona realized.

“That’s why no one wanted me to take the boxes all the way into the houses,” she said. “I thought one woman was going to claw me when I suggested helping her unpack. I thought she just didn’t like half Shifters.”

“She was protecting her family secrets.” Eric gestured to the contents of the vault. “This is what I need you to understand.”

To protect Shifters that weren’t even under his command, Eric was telling her, he was willing to trust Iona, to make her understand how to help them. He needed her. Hell, Graham needed her.

“Is this why Graham wanted to mate-claim me?” she asked. “For my expertise on house construction?”

“Probably part of it,” Eric said. “He wants to control you. Mostly, he’s a shithead who’s looking for any leverage over me he can get.”

“Including whatever is causing your debilitating pain.”

Eric’s humor left him. “Yes.”

“We have to find out what it is and how to cure you,” Iona said.

Eric came to her. “You’re an amazing woman, Iona.”

He was amazing. Iona couldn’t help moving closer to his warmth, his heat and scent so right. “I’m practical. I don’t want Graham to beat you. And I don’t like to see you in pain.”

“Good,” he said softly.

Eric no longer looked ancient and wise as he studied her with hot green eyes. He looked hungry for her.

Jace was no longer there. The smell of something delicious from the kitchen drifted down the stairs, and Iona’s stomach rumbled, her insatiable hunger raising its head again.

Eric cupped the nape of her neck, his hand strong. Iona didn’t resist as he leaned down and kissed her, his mouth a place of heat. Iona sought him, needy, hungry, a growl in her throat. His kiss opened her, his hands stroking down her back, promising sin.

“Eric!” Cassidy’s voice rang down to them.

The word was steady, almost calm, but even Iona recognized the tone that said, Get up here now—something’s wrong.

Eric had Iona out of the vault in two seconds, pulling the door securely behind him. He did nothing to lock it, but she heard the mechanism grate back into place.

She saw how Jace had descended without her knowing about it, because there was a second door in the wall that led to another staircase, which spilled them out into Jace’s bedroom. Eric kept his hand firmly around Iona’s as he led her out of Jace’s bedroom and through the now empty kitchen.

Graham stood on Eric’s back porch. He was accompanied by two Shifters Iona hadn’t seen before, all three carefully watched by Diego, Jace, and Cassidy, and by Shane, Brody, and Nell in the yard behind Graham.

Graham’s glare was only for Eric. “Warden!” he bellowed as soon as Eric made it to the back door. “What the fuck have you done with my wolves?”