Mate Claimed

CHAPTER FIVE

“I’ll put down the gun when this stupid-ass wolf learns who he’s not supposed to fight,” Nell said.

The wolf snarled. Shane stood with hands on hips, face and arms covered with bloody scratches. Nell stood straight and unwavering, the large woman’s stare hard over the shotgun.

Eric stood up and planted his foot, still in his motorcycle boot, on the wolf’s chest. As he eased back to human form, he heard and smelled Graham coming up behind him.

“Put it down, bitch,” Graham growled.

Nell didn’t move. Eric kept his boot on the wolf and wiped blood out of his eyes. The wolf’s Collar still sparked but was fading, the wolf giving up the fight.

“Nell, put that fucking gun away,” Eric snapped.

Nell was high in the Shiftertown hierarchy, but she knew just how far she could push Eric. She lowered the shotgun.

Graham strode past Shane and Nell without looking at them, broadcasting that they didn’t matter to him. His gaze fixed on Eric, the only Shifter Graham considered any kind of equal. “Get your foot off my wolf, Warden.”

“After I kick his ass,” Eric said calmly. “He attacked my tracker and didn’t stand down when I told him to.”

“And your she-bear was ready to blow his head off!”

“To protect her cub and her alpha. That’s her right. But by Shifter rights, the kill is mine.”

“He’s my wolf.”

Eric met Graham’s ice gray gaze. “This is my Shiftertown, and you didn’t keep him under control.”

“Territory fights are natural,” Graham said, unflinching. “If that means one of your bears has to go down, they do.”

Nell growled. “Anyone who touches my cub gets lead in their ass.”

“Mom,” Shane, her seven-foot-tall cub, said.

“Looks like you can’t control your females,” Graham said to Eric without looking at Nell. “What kind of alpha lets women carry weapons and strip themselves for humans? How’d you stay alive this long?”

Eric took his foot off the wolf. The Lupine’s limbs flowed back to human—he was a youngish Shifter, little more than a cub, about the same age as Eric’s son, Jace. He didn’t look up at the other Shifters but lay quietly, breathing hard, his neck a mess of blood. He was naked, which meant he’d charged in fully shifted before Shane and he had even started to fight.

“Who is he?” Eric asked Graham.

“One of my nephews. Name’s Dougal.”

Eric took another step back, indicating he relinquished the disciplining to the culprit’s clan leader. As Shiftertown leader, Eric liked to let each clan take care of their own, intervening only when needed. Whether or not Graham appreciated that, Eric didn’t know or care.

“Take him home,” Eric said. “If he attacks one of mine again, he answers to me.”

“If one of yours attacks one of mine again, I’m taking him out.” Graham shot a glare at Shane before lifting Dougal to his feet by the nape of his neck. “You only have your tracker’s word that my nephew attacked him.”

Shane started to speak, but Eric signaled him quiet. Graham gave Eric one last hard stare before he shoved Dougal, still gripping him by the neck, out of the yard and back down the street.

Neither wolf looked back, but Eric heard Graham growling, “You’d better have good reason for this shit…” before they turned the corner out of sight.

Eric drew a long breath, feeling the twinge of pain around his neck that told him his payback was on its way.

The Collars were part technology, part Fae magic that sent deep pain through a Shifter’s nervous system whenever he or she got violent. Eric had been learning how to suppress the Collar’s reaction, a technique Jace had learned from the Austin Shiftertown leader and had taught to him. Once Eric had it mastered, he planned to teach it to others. He wasn’t as good as Jace yet, though he could stave off the pain long enough to finish a fight.

His shirt was ripped and bloody, his jeans and jacket as well. Only his boots had survived his half shift, because his cat feet weren’t as big as his human’s.

Shane looked contrite, but defiance glinted in his eyes. Nell still scowled, the shotgun hanging loosely over her forearm.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Eric asked her.

Shifters weren’t allowed firearms of any kind. Most Shifters didn’t like them anyway, finding teeth and claws more handy. Besides, guns took the challenge out of fighting and hunting—a naturally made kill was much more satisfying.

“Xavier lent it to me,” Nell said. “He’s teaching me how to shoot.”

“He’s an ex-cop,” Eric said. “He knows the laws—is he crazy?”

“Xavier is discreet, and he trusts me.” Nell slid the cartridges out of the gun and put them into her pocket. “Good thing I stopped the fight, because you were about to kill that wolf, and the dominance war would have started. It’s going to be bloody when it comes, but we’re not ready yet.”

Eric’s short temper didn’t want to hear Nell being right. Eric killing Graham’s nephew would have been unforgivable.

“And what if Graham decides that since you have a gun, he’ll arm his own Shifters? Give the damn thing back to Xavier and tell him to keep it out of Shiftertown.”

Nell’s scowl deepened. “Whatever you say.”

“Shane.”

Shane raised his large hands. “Don’t look at me, Eric. The little shit came running in here and decided it would be funny to attack me. I was working on Brody’s truck, bent over the engine…”

If Eric hadn’t been so wound up from the fight, he’d laugh. “He’s not much more than a cub. Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I tried, and then it got out of hand. These wolves are barely shy of feral, Eric. They’re used to living rough.”

Which was going to become an even bigger problem when the bulk of Graham’s Shifters arrived. Graham had moved down here with a handful of Shifters, leaving his second in charge back in Elko until the mass exodus of his Shifters to Las Vegas. Like Graham, they were arrogant, impatient, and this side of feral.

“Let it go, Shane,” Eric said. “If any more of Graham’s Shifters come over, sit on them and call me. We have bigger things to worry about.”

“Sorry,” Shane said.

Eric’s anger boiled. The incident hadn’t been Shane’s fault, and now the bear felt like he had to apologize to his alpha. Graham would probably demand an apology too, from both Nell and Shane. What a waste of time.

“Don’t worry about it, Shane. Just don’t do it again.” Eric surveyed his ruined clothes as another twinge of pain raced around his neck and down his spine. “Damn it.”

“You going to be okay?” Shane asked worriedly.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

A lie, but they accepted it. Without another word, Eric walked back to his house.

He didn’t need to say anything more. Nell and Shane would know he didn’t blame them entirely, and that it was over. That was the point of forgiveness by the alpha—the subordinates could go on to the next thing without fearing retaliation.

Other Shifters who’d come out to watch the confrontation drifted back inside, understanding what had happened and taking the warning, even though they didn’t like it.

Eric entered his house, which was silent, warm, and dim after the bright afternoon. He knew without looking around that no one was home. The house felt empty, smelled empty, and besides, his family would have been the first outside for the fight—they’d have stopped it before Eric even got home.

Diego, his brother-in-law, was at work, and Eric’s sister, Cassidy, along with Jace, would be working at their ongoing task of helping the near-feral females Cassidy had rescued this spring adjust to life in Shiftertown. The arrival of Graham and his wolves wasn’t helping with that.

No air moved in the still house, the sun warming it as only the sun in Nevada, even in November, could. Eric turned on the window air conditioner in the living room, stripped off his ripped clothes, and stood naked in front of the cold stream of air.

Didn’t help. The heat that beat at him wasn’t from the sun but from the adrenaline of the fight, coupled with the frenzy that being near Iona always aroused.

He closed his eyes and thought about facing her over the desk, about the sweet tang of the honey mustard he’d licked from her lips. He again saw her hugging her naked limbs up at the cave, remembered the taste of her when he’d fed her the chocolates last spring, kissing her as she ate them. He’d have to buy her some more of those chocolates.

The first wrench of pain dragged a groan from deep within him. Eric took a long breath, trying the calming meditations Jace had taught him. But another sharp pain sliced through his abdomen, and he balled his fists against his stomach.

More pain came, hard and fast, and this time, Eric was aware of something different. He’d faced Collar payback before, but the agony that tore through him now was ten times worse. His arms and legs felt like someone was trying to yank them off. What the fuck? He hadn’t fought the Lupine that hard.

The intensity of the pain drained him of strength and sent him to his knees. Eric dug fists into his temples and suppressed the roar he wanted to let out. If he made noise, his neighbors would come running to see what was wrong, and some part of him knew he couldn’t let them see him like this—their leader beaten and weak.

What the hell was the matter with him? He wanted to vomit, to scream, to dig at the floor with his fingers.

His fingers turned to claws as he raked them across the tile, leaving gouges Cassidy would yell at him about. He willed his hands to return to human, but the claws remained, and his teeth elongated to fangs.

Goddess, make it stop!

Eric drew shuddering breath after shuddering breath, meditation forgotten. This wasn’t his Collar. This was something else, maybe something planted a long time ago finally working its way to the surface. Maybe him trying to learn to suppress the Collar had triggered it…

Maybe he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.

The pain eased off the slightest bit. Eric drew a long breath and forced himself to his feet, sick and shaking.

The flow from the AC was like ice on his skin. Eric shut it off with a shaking hand as his claws receded, grabbed his shredded clothes, and limped to his bedroom. His was the smallest one, narrow, with a bed, a closet, and not much else.

He pried his cell phone out of his now cracked belt, dropped the clothes, and fell onto the bed in another spasm of pain. He couldn’t stifle the moan that came out this time.

Eric punched buttons with his thumb, swallowing bile as he held the phone to his ear.

She answered. A part of Eric unclenched when he heard Iona’s dusky tones saying, “Hello?”

“Iona.”

“Eric?” She sounded startled, then a note of concern entered her voice. “You sound awful. Are you all right?”

“Talk to me.”

“What?”

“I said talk to me.” Eric closed his eyes, letting his body fold up into a fetal position. “About anything. Just talk.”

“Why? Eric, what happened? What’s wrong?”

She must be alone in her office, thank the Goddess, because Iona would never have said his name like that if someone had been there with her.

“Please, just talk. About anything. Tell me about the houses, how you’ll get them built, what materials you’ll use. Whatever you want.”

“Eric…” It was almost a whisper.

“I need to hear your voice.”

Iona went silent a moment, and then she began to talk. What she said was innocuous, about load-bearing walls, roughing in plumbing, the problem of basements in the desert. Eric only half heard it. The music of her voice, the dulcet syllables, floated through him and eased the pain that continued to beat at him.

Talking to her through a cell phone was nowhere near as good as having her next to him, where he’d be able to inhale her clear scent, to cover himself with her warmth.

Eric listened until the pain began to recede. When it finally faded enough for him to take a regular breath, he thanked her quietly and hung up the phone.

Iona stared at the phone a long time after Eric clicked off. His voice had been so weak when she’d answered. He’d sounded almost panicked.

She’d never seen Eric anything but strong and certain, but he’d been rasping, barely able to talk. Had he lost a fight, had another Shifter hurt him? The Collars were supposed to keep Shifters in check, but Iona had seen firsthand how “tamed” they really were.

Iona hit the Callback button on her phone. Eric’s rang on the other end. And rang and rang. No voice mail, no Eric picking up. Damn it.

Why should she be so worried about him? Eric drove her crazy. He was pretty much stalking her, talking about bringing her in and slapping a Collar on her, scent-marking her, mate-claiming her, whatever that entailed. Iona should not only be glad he didn’t pick up the phone, she shouldn’t call him at all.

If only he hadn’t sounded so broken…

Going out to Shiftertown herself to see if he was all right wasn’t an option. The Shifters would smell her a mile away.

Call the cops? No, that would bring trouble to Shiftertown, and maybe Eric was only exhausted from a hard day of being Shiftertown leader.

Cops. Hadn’t Eric’s sister married a cop? Eric hadn’t given Iona the details, but Iona had read a newspaper story about Diego Escobar, a cop who’d quit his job and started a private security company after he’d moved to Shiftertown to live with his Shifter mate.

A computer search now led Iona to a Diego Escobar in Las Vegas running a private security firm with his brother, cryptically called DX Security. Their website had nothing but a banner and a phone number on it.

Iona dialed the number.

“DX Security,” a male voice answered. He sounded tough, deep-voiced, exactly the kind of person you’d want if you needed someone or something protected.

“Can I speak to Diego Escobar?”

A hesitation. He must be looking at the caller ID, which would show her personal number and no name. She’d known better than to use a company phone.

The man spoke again. “What do you need, Ms. Duncan?”

Iona jumped. All right, so they were good. “To speak to Mr. Escobar.”

“Is this about the housing?”

Word traveled fast. Duncan Construction had been granted the contract for the Shifter housing only this morning.

“No. It’s not.” And I’m not about to explain to a complete stranger who I am and why I’m calling.

Iona was about to hang up, deciding this a bad idea, when the man said, “Hold on.”

The next voice she heard was smooth and rich. “Ms. Duncan? I’m Diego Escobar. What can I do for you?”

“Check on your brother-in-law,” Iona said.

“What?” Diego came alert, curiosity giving way to wariness.

“I just talked to Eric,” she said. “He sounded bad, and now he won’t answer his phone.”

Silence. Oh, for a webcam. She’d love to know whether he stared into space or was busily looking up information about Iona Duncan of Duncan Construction.

“Sounded bad, how?” Diego’s voice betrayed no worry, but then, he wouldn’t be good as head of a security company if he let himself sound anxious.

“Weak, tired. Not like himself.”

More silence. Iona wished she could see what he was doing on the other end of the line.

“Ms. Duncan?”

“Still here.”

“Thanks for calling,” Diego said. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Good. Thanks. I just wanted to…”

“Yeah?” He sounded impatient, ready to go.

“Nothing. Thanks. I hope he’s all right.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Good-bye, Ms. Duncan.”

She echoed his good-bye and hung up.

There. She’d done something about it. Diego Escobar was Eric’s family, and he’d make sure all was well.

But Iona was restless. She told herself it was none of her business whether Eric was running around, healthy and fine, or passed out in his bed. The only thing she should be concerned about was having to work with him to build the houses.

So why did she itch to jump in her truck and charge to Shiftertown to see if he was all right?

Iona tried to get back to work. She had accounts to go over and bills to pay, but she found herself sitting at her desk with her fingers unmoving on the keyboard, staring at the numbers on the screen without seeing them.

“Iona, I found the shoes.” Nicole breezed in with a big shopping bag, talking before she even got inside the door. Nicole was a younger version of their mother, with her same dark brown hair, blue eyes, compact body, and round face. “I was going to get the ones we saw at the bridal store, but then I walked by this boutique, and they had the perfect shoes in the window. They’re not really wedding shoes, but I don’t care. I fell in love with them.”

Iona got up and walked around the desk, forcing herself to pay attention. “Doesn’t matter. For your wedding, you should have what you love.”

The shoes were gorgeous, high-heeled white Mary Jane’s with tiny pink rosettes across the straps, the exact color of the flowers Nicole had chosen. Nicole held up one shoe, cradling it in her hands.

Any other time, Iona would be all over them, but worry about Eric was distracting her. “Nice,” she said.

Nicole’s face fell. “You don’t like them. I knew I should have bought the satin ones—I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll take them back…”

“Nicole. Nikki.” Iona stepped in front of her sister and rubbed her shoulders. “Stop it. I love the shoes. Really. They’re great.”

“That’s not what your face said.” Nicole dropped the bag and the shoe. “Iona, I’m so scared I’m going to screw something up. This is supposed to be the happiest time of my life, and I keep changing my mind about everything and wanting to break down and cry every five minutes.”

“Nicole, you’re getting married and planning a big wedding. Give yourself a break.”

“I run a business with you and mom, a man’s business. I know all about stress. Why am I getting so crazy?”

“Come here.” Iona opened her arms and pulled her sister close. Nicole rested her head on Iona’s shoulder, letting out a little sigh.

Iona had always found great comfort in embracing her mother and sister. The calming power of the hug, she’d always said. Whenever Eric hugged her, though, Iona found herself torn between drinking in the comfort and wanting to jump his bones.

Eric had nudged Iona’s Shifter sense of smell awake this afternoon. She hadn’t been able to shut it off since, and so as she hugged Nicole, she scented, loud and clear, that Nicole hadn’t only gone shopping on her lunch hour. Her very long lunch hour.

Iona smelled Tyler, Nicole’s fiancé, along with the sticky sweet smell that came with sex. She wanted to smile. Nicole and Tyler had met for a nooner.

She also scented something else. She didn’t exactly recognize it, but the panther instinctively knew what it was. Maybe she sensed a shift in Nicole’s hormones, maybe she could already scent the second life inside her sister, or maybe this came from Iona’s mating instincts ready to come out and play.

Whatever it was, Iona knew that her sister’s urge to cry came from more than stress.

“Nicole,” she said carefully. “Maybe you should have a checkup before the wedding.”

Nicole’s head popped off Iona’s shoulder. “Why? You think there’s something wrong with me?”

“No, no,” Iona said quickly. “But I think you should.”

Nicole took a step back. “What’s wrong? Your eyes have gone all…Shifter.”

Iona blinked, trying to make her eyes behave. Any trigger of adrenaline and her pupils would become catlike, slits of black in light blue irises.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I promise. Everything’s right.”

“Iona, when you get weird like this, you scare me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Her sister’s distress poured off her in waves. She cried out for reassurance, the scent of that stirring Iona’s protective instincts even more.

Iona put her hands on Nicole’s shoulders again. “You’re pregnant.”

Nicole stared in shock. “What are you talking about? I am not.”

“Yes, you are. Don’t ask me how I know. I just…know.”

“You have to be wrong. Tyler and I agreed to wait to have kids.”

Iona grinned. “Well, the kid didn’t wait to have you. Go get a checkup. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong.” But Iona wasn’t. She knew it in her bones.

“How can you possibly tell?” Now Nicole looked angry.

“I told you, don’t ask me. But kids are what happens when you have sex. It’s kind of the whole reason sex was invented.”

“But we’re being so careful…” Nicole nearly wailed.

Iona hugged her sister again. “Tell Tyler to check his condoms for holes. Don’t be so upset. This is a wonderful thing.”

“I still think you’re wrong.”

“Doesn’t matter what I think. Go have the damn checkup.”

Nicole burst out laughing. She picked up the shoe she’d dropped and put it back into the bag. “Okay, I’ll call my doctor. I think you have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re right. Better to make sure before I drink all that champagne at the wedding.”

“Not to mention the shots at your bachelorette party.”

“Good point.” Nicole picked up the shopping bag and peered again at Iona. “You’d better go home if you can’t keep your eyes under control.”

“I’ll think about it. I have a lot of work to do.”

“I’ll do the work. Get out of here.”

Iona saw that her sister wasn’t going to budge. Protect Iona had been the watchwords in the family since she could remember.

No one in the world had known about Iona’s Shifter side but Penny, Nicole, and Howard, Iona’s stepfather. They’d understood why they needed to keep the secret, and they’d done it. But keeping the secret sometimes entailed making sure Iona was out of sight.

“Fine. Want me to take the shoes and drop them off at your house?”

“No, I want to show Mom. Go on, before someone comes in.”

Iona went. She hugged Nicole again, giving her a kiss on her cheek, then put on her sunglasses as she stepped outside, in case her eyes didn’t change back.

She started her red pickup, then ended up with her hands on the wheel, dragging in deep breaths. The wild thing inside was clawing its way up, wanting out, needing release.

Iona still worried about Eric. Diego would look in on him, she tried to reassure herself, but Eric’s voice, his distress, pulled at her. She needed to see him.

No, she needed to stay away from Shiftertown.

But she needed to see him.

Iona clenched the wheel. Her hands sprouted claws, black fur rippling down her fingers. Damn it.

She forced her claws to be fingers again, put the truck in gear, and backed out of her place. She sped out into thick traffic, the commuters from Las Vegas heading home to Henderson and outlying areas.

Iona strove to drive carefully, but every time someone cut her off or tried to shove her out of her lane, the beast in her snarled.

This wasn’t road rage—she wanted to kill. She could taste it, felt the need to have hot blood filling her mouth.

Her hands changed to panther again, and Iona lost hold of the wheel. Shit. Iona grabbed it again, willing her hands to change back to human.

Hold it together, hold it together.

Eric’s visit had roused the Shifter in her. Iona had tried to keep the Shifter side of her quiet and out of sight all her life, suppressing the animal so she could live in peace and safety. Eric was goading that animal to become part of her everyday life, whether Iona liked it or not.

He’d showed her how to open herself to her sensitive sense of smell. Now scents poured in at her so thick and fast she couldn’t process them. Iona glanced at the man in the car next to her, and knew that, if she decided to, she could break through his window, grab him, and rip out his throat.

Just get home.

Iona drew a breath, slid her pickup into the quieter side streets of her neighborhood, and made it to her driveway. She shut off her engine, peeled her fingers from the wheel, and let out a long sigh.

Home. Safety.

Her next-door neighbor’s cat bounded over, a sleek black-and-white with a black patch over one eye. He jumped onto the hood of Iona’s truck and let out a meow.

Iona slid out of the truck and reached out to give Pirate a stroke as she went by. He liked Iona—most cats did.

Pirate drew back in alarm, flattened his ears, and hissed, before leaping down from the truck and running back home.

Hissing was defensive behavior, what a cat did when it perceived a threat. Pirate had seen the aggressor in Iona, even though she’d meant to caress, and had decided to get the hell out of there.

Iona hurried inside the house, shutting the door firmly and locking it with shaking fingers. She pulled out a bottle of merlot and poured a tall glass while she tried to think of something for an early dinner.

Except she wanted only meat, cooked rare if at all. Or maybe fish. She found herself diving through her freezer, searching frantically for something to satisfy her hunger, finding nothing.

“Fresh vegetables,” she said, pulling out bags from her crisper drawer. “Just why?”

Takeout. She could get takeout. But she didn’t trust herself to drive somewhere and pick up the food. She grabbed the phone and called her favorite pizza place, ordering three of the all-meat specials. “Having a party, Ms. Duncan?” the order taker asked.

She practically knew the kid, since she ordered from there all the time. “Yes,” she lied. “Can you rush those?”

“Sure thing.”

The pizza took twenty minutes, fast for delivery pizza. Even so, Iona nearly ripped open the door when the car arrived, remembering at the last minute to shove on her sunglasses. She grabbed the pizzas and threw money at the guy, too much, but he deserved a big tip. She slammed the door on his startled expression, and ran back into the kitchen.

“I’m just hungry,” Iona said out loud. “Eric ruined my lunch.”

Eric.

The thought of him brought new hunger, a rising frenzy that wanted her to take Eric by the neck and pull him down to her, to let his body cover hers, to feel his sweat on her skin, his mouth on hers.

“Eat,” she said to the empty kitchen.

The pizzas were slathered with hamburger, sausage, pepperoni, and Canadian bacon. It should have been called The Carnivore Special.

Penny had taught Iona how to eat healthy, nutritious meals. Right now, Iona could care less.

Eric had said, If you were in your panther form, you wouldn’t worry. You’d gulp it down and spit out the paper.

Substitute pizza boxes, and he was right.

Iona got out a plate and napkins before she dumped the pizza onto the plate. She could be civilized.

She growled. The mirror in her dining area told her that her eyes were still Shifter. She moved quickly through the house, closing all the blinds, then tossed off her clothes and let her panther take over.

Much better. Iona padded back into the kitchen, put her paws on the counter, and gulped down the pizzas. All three of them, all that meat and cheese going down fast. The tomato sauce and the crust tasted a little weird to her, but it was a small price to pay for the greasy, hot, spicy meat.

When the boxes were empty, her panther tongue licking up the last bit of cheese clinging to the cardboard, Iona burped. Then she sat down and started washing her whiskers.

The pizza filled her up and made her sleepy. Iona didn’t generally remain in her shifted form long, in case someone came over to catch her, but right now, all she wanted to do was curl up on her sofa and sleep. She went slowly to her living room, climbed onto the nice cushy sofa, and let her body go limp.

Iona jumped awake to find everything dark. She lifted her head, startled to find herself still panther. Her claws had dug a deep gouge in her sofa, she saw with her cat vision. Crap.

She stepped down from the sofa and stretched. She was supposed to feel better—fed, rested, the worry of the day behind her.

Instead, she was restless, pacing, growling to herself. She needed to shift back to human.

And found she didn’t want to. She wanted to run, to hunt, to kill. She needed to.

She remembered the scent of lovemaking on Nicole, the heightened warmth of the baby inside her, and started to wind up again. Iona needed that, the smell of sex, the heat of a male body on hers, wanted to press her hand to her own abdomen and know that life was growing there.

She needed it now.

Iona forced herself back to human. The shift took a long time, and hurt, more so than usual, her panther reluctant to let go.

She stood in the middle of the hallway between living room and kitchen, shaking. The mirror there showed her black hair a mess, her eyes enormous and still Shifter.

Iona snatched up her phone and started punching numbers.

He answered this time. Thank God.

“Eric,” she said frantically. “Eric, I need you.”