Night Shift

by Nalini Singh

  Bastien hoped he was wrong. His mate had been alone so long—he wanted her to have a family, a pack. He was ready to offer his own in a heartbeat, but he also knew she’d have questions about her past, her existence as a lynx that he and his packmates wouldn’t be able to answer.

  “Bastien?”

  Having been stirring the protein-rich stew he’d made for her, he turned to find Kirby sitting up in bed, blanket wrapped around her body. Warm and soft with sleep, she was so perfect his heart ached. “There you are, little cat.” Turning off the cooker, he went to the bed and, taking a seat, cuddled her into his lap.

  A yawn, her nose warm as she nuzzled at his throat. “I really am. A little cat.”

  “You’re a Canadian lynx,” he said, his leopard rolling around in the sweet and wild taste of her, her two different scents now gorgeously combined into a single strong and unique thread. “Cute tufted ears and all.”

  She froze, a dark shadow passing over her face. “A lynx?”

  “Hey.” Fisting his hand in her hair, he rubbed his nose over her own. “What’s the matter?”

  “C-can we still be together?” Kirby forced herself to ask, the idea of losing Bastien making her cat—a lynx!—hiss and snarl. “If I’m a lynx?” Not that it mattered; she would fight for him until her claws were bloody and her body broken. He was hers.

  “Did I ever tell you about Mercy’s mate?” Bastien said with a slow smile that made her abdomen clench.

  “Yes. His name is Riley.”

  “He’s a wolf.”

  Kirby’s cat sat up inside her, shook its head. Kirby felt like doing the same. “A wolf?”

  “Yeah, that’s what my brothers and I said.” A scowl. “Planned to beat him up for it, too, but he adores Mercy so we tolerate him.”

  Kirby saw right through the bluster. “You really like him,” she said, joy bubbling through her.

  “Maybe.” A playful bite of her jaw, his teeth grazing her skin.

  “Grr—”

  Laughing from deep in his chest when she slapped a hand over her mouth, he drew away that hand to drop a tender kiss to the center of her palm. “You need to eat, my ferocious lynx,” he said, but seemed powerless to stop himself from dipping his head and running his lips up the sensitive line of her throat.

  She arched into the caress.

  “You’re all pretty skin and curves and luscious heat.” A wet kiss to the point just above her pulse; it made her shudder and curl her hand around his nape.

  “I want to push off this blanket”—another kiss—“and spend all night exploring every delicious inch of you.”

  CHAPTER 9

  An hour later, dressed in one of Bastien’s shirts and a pair of panties from her overnight bag, Kirby finished eating and decided she could cheerfully murder the man beside her. Despite his aroused body and erotic kisses, he’d made it clear he had no intention of going any further, regardless of her repeated assurances that he would in no way be taking advantage of her.

  “I feel gloriously, vividly alive,” she said as he fed her a thin slice of ripe pear, the dark, masculine scent of him making her breasts swell, her cat rubbing up against her skin in an effort to get closer to him. “It’s as if I’ve only been half-awake this entire time.”

  She let him slide a second slice of succulent fruit between her lips, a drop of juice dripping down her chin. Bastien leaned over from where he was sprawled in the chair next to her own, still wearing just those well-loved jeans that hung distractingly low on his hips, and licked it off. Her breasts strained further, the place between her thighs damp. When his eyes went to half-mast, night-glow green glinting at her as his chest rose in a deep inhale, she had to fight to withhold a whimper.

  “I’m going to do bad, bad things to you in a minute,” she threatened when she could speak, toes curling at his unrepentant smile.

  “Open that pretty mouth.” He painted her lips with another juicy slice, then, pupils dilated, watched her act on his request oh-so-slow.

  Kirby swallowed the first bite he offered, came back for the last of the slice, licking her tongue over his skin to get every bit of the juice. Neither woman nor cat was impressed when he withdrew his hand.

  “Go a little higher,” he purred . . . and only then did she realize she’d cut through denim with her claws, was digging into the skin of his thigh.

  Skin pulsing as her blood rushed to it, she retracted them. “I’m so sorry.” Control was obviously a learned skill. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Want to kiss it better?”

  Kirby’s eyes dipped to the erection straining the zipper of his jeans and, heart kicking, she decided to take the dare. But she hadn’t even lowered her head an inch before he halted her with a kiss that tasted of ripe, juicy pear and Bastien.

  Moaning, she melted into it, her entire body humming in anticipation. She’d been waiting for him so, so long and now she ached. “Bastien!” An infuriated cry, his lips no longer on her own.

  “What’s the rush?” He fed her another bite. “I want to play.”

  Swallowing the fruit, she decided his idea of play might make her certifiable. She’d about decided to pounce on him and damn the consequences, when the solar-powered comm built into the wall chimed an incoming call.

  Bastien turned lazily to glance at the code . . . and was on his feet with feline quickness. “Emergency code,” he said, answering the call.

  Out of view of the camera where she sat at the table, Kirby was still able to see the scared girl on the viewscreen—a girl, who, it turned out, had crashed her car and needed a ride home.

  “I broke the rules,” she admitted, voice trembling, “and went to a new club on my own. There’s no one else around.”

  Kirby glimpsed the dark street behind the teenager, felt her stomach knot.

  Bastien, however, didn’t lose his calm. First, he made certain the girl wasn’t injured, then got the exact details of her location. “I’ll have someone there ASAP.” He was already pulling out his phone as he spoke. “Will the car need to be towed?”

  “Yes.”

  In the next few minutes, Kirby heard Bastien arrange a rescue with a man named Teijan, as well as a tow, all the while reassuring his anxious young packmate. He kept her on the comm line until she was safely picked up by a handsome, dark-eyed man in a crisp black-on-black suit.

  “Thanks,” Bastien said to the other male. “Sorry to interrupt your date.”

  “No problem—it was going downhill anyway.” A lithe shrug. “I’ll get your misbehaving cub home.”

  Call ended, Bastien finally sat back down.

  Feeding him a slice of pear, Kirby said, “Is she a relative?” She was curious to know everything about him but wary of pushing too hard, even though her newly awakened cat rolled its eyes and said she was being silly. It was hard for her to trust instincts that had been dormant for a lifetime.

  Bastien coaxed her into straddling his lap before saying, “Not blood, but she’s pack, and pack’s family.” A simple statement that encapsulated so much. “I’m one of the emergency contacts for her year group.” He pretended to bite her fingers when she fed him a second slice. “I also happen to be the one least likely to tear her a new one during the assist—I wait till after.”

  She went to pick up another piece of fruit from the plate to find he’d already snagged the last slice. “So,” she said, the feel of his thighs beneath her a slow seduction, “you have the right to discipline younger packmates? I thought that was up to the alpha.”

  “We all take responsibility for the cubs.” He touched her lower lip with the slice in his hand, coating it with juice before licking the stickiness off in a very feline way, all flicks and licks. “This time, the offense is bad enough that she’ll be brought up before the maternal females.” He shuddered. “I’ve been there, and it’s not a comfortable place to be.”

  Kirby had so many questions, about these “maternals,” about life in a pack, and when Bastien didn’t seem annoyed or tired by
them, she kept asking, kept learning.

  “Will I have to be part of your pack now?” She’d fallen in love with DarkRiver through his words—to be part of such a close-knit “family” . . . she couldn’t imagine it.

  Bastien went motionless, his focus acute and eyes human—yet she could feel the cat brushing up against her. “Normally, no,” he said. “You’re lynx, and from outside the territory.”

  Disappointment crushed the hopeful joy in her heart. “Oh.”

  Seeing the way Kirby’s shoulders slumped, the light going out of her eyes, Bastien’s blood roared with a renewed wave of rage, his fury directed at the people who’d taught her to expect abandonment. He fought the anger with brutal force of will, because that wasn’t what his mate needed right now. “If, however”—he held her gaze, made sure she was listening—“you want to join, you can become pack. You just have to ask Lucas and take the oath.”

  It wasn’t that simple, of course, but he’d make sure that for Kirby, it would be. The fact was, she’d be welcomed automatically into the pack as soon as they mated—but damn if he’d use her hunger to belong to rush her into the bond. He needed her to choose him, the leopard far too adoring of her to accept anything else.

  “I’ll sponsor you,” he said, strangling his own need and focusing only on hers, the protective, possessive heart of him unable to see her hurting in any way. “First you have to promise you’re not a spy out to do dastardly deeds.”

  Her smile branded his heart. “You’re wonderful.”

  Leopard arching under the verbal petting, he said, “We’ll also have to discuss the fact you may one day find your lynx pack and want to be with them.” Shifting packs was nothing a changeling did easily, but Kirby’s situation called for flexibility.

  “I can’t imagine it.” A wondering murmur, her claws kneading at his shoulders.

  She had no fucking idea what it did to him to see her so comfortable with herself in his company. Deciding he’d better get up before he acted on his most primitive instincts where she was concerned, he took them both to their feet. Then, as they cleared the table, he luxuriated in the feel of her padding around in his space. Small and sexy and smelling of him, she was perfect.

  When he tugged playfully at her ear after she came to hug him, she shivered, then blushed. Grinning, he nibbled at the tip of one ear. “So, my lynx likes her ears touched.” The discovery delighted both parts of his nature.

  “It’s weird.” But she purred against him when he repeated the caress.

  God, he was going to have so much fun with her in bed—fun his body wanted now. Gritting his teeth, he reminded himself she’d been through a hell of a lot in the past thirty-six hours, and snuggled her close. “Want to watch a movie and make out?”

  “No.” A glare out of eyes gone translucent gold. “Not when you’re all talk, no action.”

  “You are so in trouble.” Adoring her for making no effort to mask her desire, he stalked her backward to the large floor cushions in front of the comm screen. “Big trouble.”

  “I’m quaking in my boots.” With that sassy comment, and though a blush shaded her cheeks, she slid one small hand over his erection.

  Bastien lost it.

  Her breasts were crushed against his chest the next instant, as he took her mouth in a kiss so sexual it burned, her nipples hard points he wanted to touch, to taste. Raising one hand, he went to close it over a plump mound when his leopard raked its claws through his gut in a harsh reminder of what was at stake.

  Breaking the kiss so suddenly it left them both off balance, he cupped her face, spoke before she could. “I don’t ever want you to regret being with me,” he said, hiding nothing of what he felt for her. “I never want you to question the first night we spend together, wonder if your choice was driven by shock or fear.” Agony seared him at the mere thought of it. “That would fucking break my heart, Kirby.”

  Kirby had been falling for Bastien since the second they met, but at that instant she tumbled head over heels. He was hers and he was wonderful. Retracting the claws that had sliced out when he so abruptly broke contact, she petted his chest. “I would never regret being with you.”

  Only Bastien would do for her, no one else. She didn’t need experience to know that what they had was special, a gift. “But”—she pressed two fingers over his lips when he parted them as if to speak, fierce emotion threatening to choke her—“I can see how a protective, stubborn leopard might think tonight might not be the best time to get naked and have a really, really good time.”

  He growled deep in his chest.

  Scrunching up her nose at him, she said, “I promise to protect your virtue.” That was when she realized he’d given her the sexual reins, this strong, dominant male, who, instinct told her, liked to take the lead. How could she do anything but adore him? “I’ll settle for first base.”

  Green eyes gone night-glow met her own. “I’m constantly being suckered by the women in my life,” he muttered, and when she raised her eyebrows, added, “To think I took you for shy.”

  Grinning, she nuzzled a kiss to his throat. “Instead of a movie, maybe we could talk about your family?” she suggested, still diffident about asking for emotional intimacy.

  It took him less than fifteen minutes to have her in hysterics with tales of his “feral” childhood. When he started in on Mercy’s inspired ideas to run off women she didn’t think were good enough for her brothers—including the “infamous” kitten defurring incident—Kirby gulped. “I guess I better prepare myself.”

  Bastien scowled where he lay on a large floor cushion, muscular arms crossed behind his head. “I was planning to tell her soon, but—”

  “Don’t worry about leaving me alone for a few hours,” she interrupted before she could stop herself, shifting to her knees on her own cushion. Bastien’s family was a core part of his life and she needed to know they’d accept her. If they didn’t . . . “I—I want you to tell her.”

  Scowl even heavier at her blurted-out statement, Bastien hauled her down to sprawl on his chest. “I was going to say Sage is going to blab anyway, so it can wait.”

  Kirby nodded but clearly didn’t do a good job of hiding her nerves because, eyes narrowed, he continued to speak. “If I had my way, I’d have introduced you to the whole damn lot of them the instant after we met.” The unadulterated pride in his tone made her eyes burn. “I just didn’t want to scare you with the lunatic asylum straightaway.”

  Kirby’s laugh was shaky, a little wet. “Really?”

  Bastien stroked her hair off her face. “Really.” Damn the people who’d taught his mate she wasn’t good enough, the scars so deep even her lynx’s knowledge of their bond couldn’t keep them from breaking open. Only constant love and affection would achieve that goal. Bastien had every intention of showering Kirby in both. It would be his pleasure and his privilege.

  “The second my mother knows about you,” he warned, “she’s going to start knitting booties for her grandchildren—and she’ll call you up, ask which patterns you prefer. Mercy’s barely three months along and she’s already in possession of enough booties for a football team. One with teeny tiny players.”

  Kirby’s shoulders trembled as she struggled to keep a straight face. “No?”

  “Oh, yes. Be afraid, be very afraid.”

  A firm shake of her head. “I already like your family.”

  “They’ll love you—after they make you run the gauntlet. Because you know, you could be a devious wench out to break my heart.” He thought about Mercy, decided another warning was in order. “My sister is really overprotective. Show no fear.”

  Kirby bared her teeth. “Bring on the kitten defurring tools.”

  “That’s my lynx.”

  CHAPTER 10

  After a night of exquisite torture holding Kirby’s warm, curvy body against his own without it going any further, Bastien spent the day coaching her on how to shift at will, as well as how to handle senses that had become far more acu
te now that her lynx was out of hibernation.

  With the mating bond not yet set in stone, he was brutally possessive of her, but suggested they call in Dorian for a couple of hours. “Dorian learned to move in cat form as an adult,” he told Kirby, “so he’ll be able to explain things better.” The other male was also already mated, thus less apt to set off Bastien’s aggressive instincts, instincts he couldn’t fully control this far into the mating dance.

  Kirby agreed to the instruction, but she was wary with Dorian.

  However, and in spite of his violent dominance, the white-blond sentinel proved a patient teacher who had Kirby smiling at him by the time the session ended. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m so glad Bastien asked you to come over.”

  Dorian didn’t respond to the heartfelt words with an affectionate touch, as Bastien knew he normally would have; the sentinel had no doubt picked up on Bastien’s precarious equilibrium. “You’re doing me a favor,” the other male said instead. “Finally I get to teach someone.”

  He thrust a hand through his hair. “You have no idea the razzing I took from the others when I fell on my ass my first few hunts.” A scowl directed at Bastien. “Bas here sent me a nice sensitive card with a leopard in diapers on the front.”

  Kirby’s mouth dropped open. “Bastien, you didn’t.”

  Cuddling her close, he rubbed his jaw along her temple. “Sheesh, Kirby, it’s not like I could hug him and say motivational bullshit.”

  Dorian’s snarl was belied by the amusement in his vivid blue eyes. They both knew the razzing had been affectionate, the entire pack overjoyed at his ability to shift.

  “I’ll see you both later,” the sentinel said now. “I promised my mate and son an after-school drive to get ice cream.”

  It wasn’t long after Dorian’s departure that Kirby’s phone rang, the records request she’d filed answered not by social services, but by a detective who’d been on the job at the time of the fire. “I never forgot you,” Detective Shona Bay said, the intensity of her dark gaze apparent even through the small screen. “You were so tiny, so shocked. I carried you to the hospital myself, your poor little feet were in such bad shape.”