Taming Her Mate

by Kathy Lyon

  Both of them? What the hell—

  He gestured to the open doorway where Frankie’s third cousin Wade was standing with a gun. He had it pointed casually down at Hazel and was obviously waiting for a pause in the action to shoot. The break came all too soon as Hazel froze, panting hard.

  “Do I carry you, Hazel?” he asked. “She can snap your arm in half right now if you fight her. And she will.”

  “Stay back,” Hazel said, and her words held strength for all that she was out of breath. “You can’t drag me out of my own home.” Oh God, the quiet defiance in those words broke Frankie’s heart. Because they obviously could.

  “You want to walk on your own two feet?”

  There was a long pause as Hazel obviously considered her option. “Stay back,” she repeated.

  Damn it, the woman was fucking stubborn, warning Frankie to stay away, but she had a point. Even with all of Frankie’s new abilities, she didn’t think she could take on a werewolf and a gunman at once. Certainly not from all the way up the stairs. Wade would shoot her before she got three steps.

  Then Delphine had to go and make it worse. She shook her head—teeth still deep in Hazel’s arm—making the older woman cry out in pain.

  “Come on, now,” Wade said, his voice calm. “Please help us keep you safe.”

  “This is safe?” Hazel asked, her voice bitter. The community center couldn’t be any worse than getting her arm torn up, but Hazel despised being told by anyone where to go or what to do. She created PLACE so women couldn’t be forced to do anything they didn’t want.

  “You’re the one being stubborn,” Wade returned.

  Eventually Hazel nodded. “I’ll go. Just…let me get my purse.”

  “You won’t need it,” Wade said. Then he held out his hand as if he were a gentleman instead of a brute.

  Hazel wouldn’t touch him, so he grabbed hold of her free arm without her consent. And then Delphine released her jaws. Hazel hissed in pain, but she glared at the wolf.

  “Stay back,” and this time the message might have been for the wolf. Didn’t matter. Wade hauled her to her feet, then all three marched out the door before Wade pulled it shut behind them.

  Damn it!

  Frankie twisted out of Kennedy’s grip then rushed downstairs. She got to the door in time to see Hazel climb into the backseat of Delphine’s car, her expression pale but still defiant.

  Damn, damn, damn! What the fuck did Raoul want with Hazel? She was still considering her options when she heard a heavy clatter upstairs. Oh hell.

  She dashed back upstairs to find Kennedy toppled half on the cot, half on the floor. His strength had finally given out.

  Chapter 7

  Frankie dropped down next to Ryan and saw that he wasn’t just out cold. He looked like he was dying. His skin was gray, his breath shallow, and…she tried to feel for a pulse. Damn it, her own was racing so hard, she couldn’t figure out what was his and what was hers.

  Hazel was the one with medical experience, and she’d just been taken for God only knew what reason. Probably to get leverage on Frankie. She was the only one who threatened Raoul’s control of the pack. Imagining the things Raoul might do to her had Frankie fighting panic, but she couldn’t help her best friend right now, and she could help Kennedy.

  But how?

  He was just exhausted, right? She’d seen shifters push themselves too far. Hell, it was practically routine among the teenagers in her pack. So what was the procedure there? It took three breaths before she could remember. Her mind kept skittering back to what her brother might be planning for Hazel.

  Focus!

  First step, get Kennedy into a comfortable position. That meant rolling him onto his back, elevating his feet, and making sure he was warm enough. It took her a moment, but she managed it. Even got a pillow for his head and a blanket to cover him. A shame to cover all that muscled glory, but conserving his heat was important.

  Second, check his vitals. He was breathing, but shallowly. When she pressed fingers to his neck, she couldn’t find a pulse. But he was breathing, so his heart had to be beating, right?

  She needed help. There wasn’t anyone of her own pack to call. They’d kill him immediately and then tell her father that she was disobeying orders. She looked at the detective badge still around his neck. She wondered if the man slept in it. She ought to call the police or 911 for an ambulance, but exhaustion like this was unique to shifters. The wolves had learned long ago that what hospitals gave for exhaustion didn’t help shifters. There was a nutrient or enzyme or something that shifters needed, and it wasn’t in normal hospitals.

  She had to call the Griz. His own people would know what to do, but the moment she did that, her anonymity was shot. Worse, it would mean publicly picking a bear over her own pack. No way would the bears keep her secret. They had no discretion.

  At best, she’d become a werewolf outcast. At worse, they’d kill her for the aberration. Either way, she’d have no power whatsoever in her pack. No way to stop her brother or the poisoning of Detroit. She’d already garnered a lot of support to end her brother’s influence on her father. She was close to a tipping point in numbers. But if she threw in with the bears, all of that would end. Worse, anyone who ever supported her would become suspect, and her brother would be vicious in pressing the advantage.

  God, how the hell had it come to this? That she was choosing between a bear’s life and stopping her brother? She swallowed. She should let him rest and hope for the best, except he didn’t look like he was getting better. And every minute that she sat here with him was another moment that Hazel was left to manage on her own.

  This was insane. She’d been raised from birth to weigh consequences, to check loyalties, and to never, ever betray the pack. Problems were managed from within, never from outside.

  His breath rattled in his chest. Oh shit. That was bad. That was really bad.

  She dashed downstairs to get her phone, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn’t even consciously decided to act when she found herself already doing it. She snatched up her phone and started dialing. It was a stupid phone number, a leftover from the old Griz alpha, but maybe it would still work. It was her only hope because she didn’t know any other way to contact them.

  1-800-THE-GRIZ.

  A woman answered on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  Frankie spoke low out of habit and because she was panting from sprinting back up the stairs. “Is this the Griz?”

  “Yes, who’s this?”

  “You have to come.” She rattled off the address as she set her hand to Kennedy’s neck. Was that a pulse? “I think he’s still breathing,” she whispered. Yes, there was a definite rise to his chest. Maybe. “It’s Detective Kennedy. Exhaustion, I think, from shifting too much. You know how to deal with that, right?” Wolves had an IV concoction specifically for that. Nutrients, calories, she didn’t know what all was in it, but it worked great for their teenagers. She didn’t have any of it here. “You have to bring an IV. He’s bad. He’s really bad.”

  “What IV? I don’t understand.”

  Frankie winced. Didn’t the damn bears know anything? “A nutrient IV for shifter exhaustion. Don’t you have doctors?”

  “I’m sending an ambulance.”

  “They can’t help!” God, just how backward were these bears? “He needs the shifter IV with the enzyme or whatever. He’ll die without it!” She was practically shouting at the end there, grabbing at the words that would most spur them into action. But the moment she’d voiced it aloud, she knew it was true. He was dying. Right there in front of her. His skin was ashen. There was more and more time between breaths. She couldn’t feel a pulse.

  She knew what she had to do. Even if the bears had exactly what he needed, there wasn’t any more time. He was dying, and she had no choice. But, God, he was going to kill her when it was over. Assuming he survived at all.

  “We’re on our way!” the woman on the other line said.<
br />
  They wouldn’t get here in time. Not unless Frankie did what was necessary.

  She thumbed the phone off. She’d need two hands for this. She waited a moment longer, scanning him from head to toe, praying that she would see signs that he was getting better. That he would hold on.

  Was he breathing? Didn’t look like it.

  She ran into the back bedroom and used her nails to dig up the floorboard. Even Hazel didn’t know this was here. A pouch with a vial and a hypodermic needle. The green goo in its injectable form. Earlier formula, thirty times more potent than what was being dumped in the water.

  She knew the dosage. At least what it had been for her. So, with shaking hands, she inserted the needle and drew out the goo. She gave him a few more cc’s because he was a lot bigger than she was. Then she ran back to his side just in time to hear the rattle. The body’s last attempt to breathe on its own.

  No more time.

  She twisted Kennedy’s arm and injected it straight into his vein. Then she dropped the hypodermic to the side and started CPR.

  “Come on, you stupid bear,” she huffed as she pushed down on his chest. She stopped and dropped down to his mouth. Was he breathing? She tilted his head, sealed her mouth over his, and breathed. Once. Twice. Back to chest compressions.

  Was he breathing? Was his heart beating?

  She was sweating as she tried to check. Pulse? Breath?

  Come on, Kennedy!

  She cupped his face again, tilting his face. One breath. Two. Then back to chest compressions. The goo couldn’t help if his heart didn’t pump it to every part of his body. She would have cursed him if she had the breath. Curse, threaten, plead, anything to keep him alive.

  Fight for your life!

  Back to his mouth. One breath. Two—

  His gasp was dramatic as his whole body arched with the inhalation. He banged his head against her, and she reeled backward, her eyes watering from the pain.

  She saw his body ripple as the blanket fell to the side. His naked body pulsed, and she watched it glow with a shift, even sprout fur, but the bones and structure of a man were visible beneath. That didn’t happen normally as he seemed to be everything at once: bear, man, and some in between state of energy. Fluid. Changeable. Beautiful.

  His eyes found hers. She met his gaze, thinking to look for intelligence there. She had to know if he retained his mind. Was there sanity inside?

  Instead, she found herself sinking into the golden depths. Swirls of blue and gold, patterns of energy coiling into infinity and bursting back out. She saw it, but she couldn’t believe it. She remained transfixed by the sight.

  What had she done to him?

  Then came the roar. Agony made sound. His mouth stretched wide as his body convulsed. Grizzly furor, human aggression, an energy that jangled and beat at her skin. That was new, too, and it pervaded the entire room, but it was centered on her.

  She scrambled backward in terror. She wanted to help him, but she didn’t know what he was. Man? Animal? Something else entirely?

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  The glow faded, and he looked fully human, but she saw his nostrils flare, and his expression tightened into something predatory. She’d lived with animals, and she knew the look. Hunger, desire, need—it all compressed into a single expression of body and mind. He stalked around the room.

  When had he found his feet? When had he stood up while she cowered against a wall like a child?

  “Kennedy,” she bellowed, “get it together!”

  She wanted to sound forceful. She wanted to declare her birthright as the daughter of an alpha. But no matter how strong her voice was, the power was an illusion. She was nothing when compared to him. He was prowling toward her. She could barely find the strength to stand. Her knees were shaking, and her heartbeat was spiking with adrenaline.

  She would fight him. She had to.

  He lunged for her, and she dodged.

  “Ryan!” she cried. “Ryan!”

  She had to reach the intelligence inside the beast, but he didn’t seem to be listening. And while she took breath to say something else, he leapt again.

  She scrambled, but he was faster. And he’d been expecting it.

  He caught her around the waist and caged her against the wall.

  Trapped.

  No holding back. Not with his body pulsing with a new energy that seared her. Not with his mouth open and teeth that seemed to elongate with fangs. She let loose. Every part of her that she kept carefully hidden, every secret she held under strict control, every restraint she had for her safety and everyone else’s—she let them all go.

  Her body seemed to explode with power. Her face changed, her arms furred, and her hands became claws. The room filled with her scent—a defensive smell that would make him ill—and she roared in his face like the monster she was.

  Full hybrid. Full fight.

  He grinned—the joy of a man with normal teeth—as he inhaled the scent deep into his lungs.

  WTF?

  Then he came for her. She fought. She was well trained, and she gave it all to him. She began with swipes with her claws, which he batted away as if they were nothing. She punched with her elbow, ducked and kicked at his vulnerabilities. He blocked her. And when she was too fast, he simply absorbed the impact as if it were no more than a pesky fly.

  He kept coming. Closer with his mouth stretched into a grin. Faster with legs that were stronger and quicker than she expected.

  She redoubled her efforts. She landed blows on his chest, drew blood on his forearm, and she damn well slammed down hard on his foot. It was what she’d been taught. When he tried to grab her, she rolled with the flow of his attack until she’d twisted free.

  And when she came up, she was grinning. Her animal was in full force now. Her human mind told her to run. It was the safest choice, but the monster inside her wasn’t going anywhere. It wasn’t afraid. It was happy, and that threw her human mind for a loop.

  He sprang forward, she dodged. Or she thought she did. Instead, he caught her feet with his. Fouled her footing and entangled their legs until she crashed down on her bottom.

  He pinned her before she could draw breath. And though she squirmed and fought, he was larger, stronger, and he…

  He was licking her neck.

  Instead of taking out her throat, he was scraping his teeth along the underside of her jaw.

  WTF?

  The shock of understanding briefly stilled her frantic movements. This wasn’t an attack. This was animal courting, and now he was skating tiny licks across her collarbone. Nips as his teeth went lower.

  Primitive urges surged forward, meeting and matching his. She was new to being a shifter, and when the animal exploded in her mind like this, she didn’t know what to do. Hard enough to fight him, but when her own wolf nature tried to take control, she ended up fighting herself, too.

  “Let go of him!” a voice bellowed.

  Her gaze shot up to the doorway while Ryan bared his teeth and growled. He leapt off her and launched himself at the intruder. Another pair of footsteps sounded heavy on the stairs. Ryan already had the intruder plastered against the wall.

  “Don’t you fucking do it!” the other voice bellowed.

  Frankie was on her feet now, too, rushing to face the other intruder. She had no thought except to defend herself and Ryan. She was nearly on him when she saw the gun, but it didn’t stop her. She simply batted it aside as she closed with the enemy. The scent told her he was a hybrid. The shock on his face said he hadn’t expected her to attack. And all of it was about to go ugly.

  Chapter 8

  Ryan fought against a cyclone of forces that tore at his mind and body. Words like “protect” and “mate” whispered through the maelstrom, but they were a pale shadow compared to the feelings that gripped him. The meaning was the same, but the reality of his needs was so much more powerful than two tiny words. He tried to fight the onslaught. At least beat
it back so he understood what was happening.

  He failed. The best he could do was ride the wave and hope to come out the other side.

  He’d been on top of her—his mate—and then they’d been interrupted. He attacked, launching himself at the interloper. Some part of him heard the words. Something about getting away. Staying back. He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter.

  He protected the female, and no rival was allowed near.

  More sounds. Another male, this one a hybrid. He would take care of that one, too, but there was no need. His mate was strong, and she leapt upon the second interloper. She would dispatch him, and he would praise her with his body and his seed.

  A sound cut through the air and his mate screamed. Electrical charge. A Taser. He knew the word and its meaning, but the message was drowned out beneath the fury. They attacked his mate. They would die.

  He saw her crumple to the floor, her body twitching while the smell of ozone gave a bite to the air. He roared and rounded on the one with the Taser, but he had underestimated the first one. He’d thought the first one was defeated because the defense was weak. But the moment Ryan turned, strong arms gripped him about the neck and squeezed.

  He fought. He snarled. He meant to kill, but the two worked together to stop him. One blocked his attacks, the other continued to choke him. And they both boxed him in tight in the hallway so that there was no room to maneuver. No way to fight. And all the while there were words.

  “Calm down! Ryan!”

  “I’m your alpha. Shut down. Damn it, stop!”

  Part of him heard the words, but the forces gripping him were too strong. He had to protect his mate and he couldn’t do that with them on him. He couldn’t save her with his breath choked off.

  Stars gathered around the edge of his vision. Sounds echoed weirdly. Darkness crept in.

  He surged forward. Nearly escaped.

  And then electricity shot through his body. He didn’t even have the chance to scream.

  Black.

  Or maybe not so black because though he couldn’t see or move, he could hear. And he could smell. The interlopers were breathing hard, but they didn’t seem to be attacking. And she was breathing as well. Quiet, but strong. As if she were asleep.