Mate Claimed (7 page)

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.

I
ona 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.