“He’s claimed you as mate, lass,” Liam said after a silence. “I had the feeling he would.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Myka asked, her heart beating hard.
Spike didn’t look at her, keeping all his attention on Liam. “It means I want to bond with you, Myka, under sun and moon, to make you my mate for life.”
“Oh.”
For life. Forever.
Liam shot her a look of sympathy. “It’s a lot to take in, lass. You can refuse the claim if you want.”
Spike’s snarl filled the air, and Liam snapped his gaze back to him. Myka saw other Shifters coming out of houses, sensing, hearing, smelling the confrontation. She’d witnessed violence in the fighting ring, but she knew that if violence erupted here between Liam and Spike, it would make those fights look like tussles in a kiddie pool. This would be a true fight, and it would end in blood.
“Spike’s right,” Myka said to Liam. “You do treat him like he’s stupid as a brick.”
Liam blinked. So did Sean. Spike didn’t, keeping his focus on Liam.
Myka plowed on, pretending that Liam’s white-blue gaze didn’t make her want to run like the full-of-herself mare had run from Spike.
“He puts his ass on the line for you any time you demand it. Then when he goes home to take care of his son instead of salaaming to you, you act like you can’t trust him. And then, you can’t let him figure out on his own whether I’m dangerous to Shifters. Isn’t part of his job as a tracker to do stuff like that?”
“Not when it’s personal,” Liam said.
“It wasn’t personal at first. I was just some woman who told him, Guess what? You’re a dad. But no, you figured he was too stupid to check out whether or not I was harmless by himself.”
Sean spoke up for the first time, his rich Irish voice quiet. “She has a point, Liam.”
“Of course I do.” Myka bathed them both in her best glare, pretending she wasn’t shaking all over. “This mate thing is between me and Spike. No one else. If you want to know who I am and all about me, come over for a beer, and I’ll tell you. I’m a simple person with nothing to hide. Now if you’ll excuse us, Jordan’s probably wondering where his dad is.”
No one said a word. Myka made herself turn her back on the double blue stare of the Morrissey brothers and walk away.
She passed Spike, who didn’t look at her, and strode all the way to her pickup, not letting herself gasp for breath until she’d jumped inside and slammed the door.
*** *** ***
Spike’s rage lightened and lightened until he was ready to run down the street laughing and turning handsprings. Wouldn’t that freak out all of Shiftertown?
Liam watched in astonishment as Myka walked away from him, his alpha fury having taken one in the kisser. Sean leaned back against a porch post, hands in his pockets, and started to grin.
“Is she reminding you of anyone, Liam?” Sean asked.
“That she is,” Liam said. His eyes softened from Shifter to human blue again. “I think she likes you, son,” he said to Spike.
“I’m not your son.” Myka’s declaration might have made Spike’s heart soar, but she’d been right, and Liam wasn’t getting away with his shit. “Stay the hell away from Myka. I mate-claimed her. She’s off limits now.”
Liam raised his hands, but the gesture was anything but surrendering. “I follow the rules. I concede her to you. She’s your responsibility.”
That meant that if Myka did anything considered harmful to Shifters—betraying their secrets, leading an insurrection, whatever—then Spike would pay with his life.
“So be it,” Spike said, using the ritual words.
Liam released him. The alpha clan leader calmed back down into his laid-back persona and called out to his nephew. “It’s all right, Connor. Bring back my daughter now. The bad time’s over.”
Spike didn’t wait for good-byes, apologies, or forgiving Shifter embraces. He walked away, toward the pickup where Myka waited, the tether of the new bond between him and her pulling him all the way.
*** *** ***
Ellison and Dylan were still at the house when they reached it. Dylan, of all people, had Jordan sitting on his knee in the living room, telling him a story about Shifters of long ago.
Dylan, Liam’s father, looked much like his sons, except his hair was going gray at his temples, and he had a few more lines on his face than did Liam or Sean. Other than that, no one would know he was already nearing the end of his second century.
Dylan had a stare that could tear the flesh off a disobedient Shifter. He’d been one of the first Shiftertown leaders, having to figure out how to keep three species of Shifters who’d been thrown together into close quarters from killing each other. The Austin Shifters had not only survived with his help, but thrived.
Jordan, oblivious to dominance issues for now, played with a stuffed jaguar Ella must have dragged out of the attic while he half-listened to Dylan.
Spike walked to Dylan, lifted Jordan away from him, and handed the boy to the startled Myka.
“Get out,” he said to Dylan.
Ellison came out of the kitchen at top speed. “Hey, Spike. Calm yourself.”
“Out,” Spike repeated to Dylan. “This is my territory.”
“Spike . . . shit.” Ellison’s distress plucked at him, but Dylan stood up, his gaze never leaving Spike.
“He’s right,” Dylan said. “I don’t belong here.” He didn’t move, though. “Did you find out who was stalking Myka?”
“Yes. Your son.”
Dylan’s eyes flickered. “Liam doesn’t consult me on everything he does. And I don’t consult him.”
Spike believed him. The flicker had been pure surprise.
Dylan didn’t try to touch Spike when he walked past him, and he didn’t turn his head to look at Myka or Jordan. He was acknowledging that Myka was Spike’s, and sending the message that he wouldn’t interfere. He’d have known as soon as Spike and Myka walked in that Spike had made the mate-claim, in any case. He’d have scented the change in Spike, smelled Spike’s scent-mark on Myka.
“Take care of your cub,” Dylan said, then he was gone.
“Did I hear him right?” Ellison asked. “Mate?” He looked Myka up and down, boldly, but Spike didn’t feel a threat there. Ellison understood. “Aw, man, I’m too late again. A beautiful woman comes to Shiftertown, and she’s mate-claimed before I even get a chance. She’s even wearing shit-kickers.”
Myka looked down at her pointed-toed cowboy boots, even dustier than Ellison’s. “I like kicking shit.”
“See? A woman after my own heart. And I have to bow out again.”
“You do,” Spike said.
Ellison flashed him a look. Behind his joking Spike saw his envy. Too many males still ended up mateless, even these days.
Ellison winked at Myka, then he came to Spike and put his hands on his shoulders. “Congratulations, man.” His grip clamped down. “You deserve it.”
Spike put his hands on Ellison’s shoulders in return. Ellison refrained from hugging Spike, likely sensing that Spike was too volatile, turned away, chucked Jordan under the chin, and breezed out.
“Spike,” Myka said. “I mean, Eron. We need to talk.”
“In a sec.” Spike turned away and sought the emptiness of the kitchen, pulling out his cell phone and punching in a number. “Gavan,” he said, when the Feline answered. “I want to meet.”
Chapter Thirteen
Myka spent the morning on the phone trying to come up with five-hundred thousand dollars. Her fellow trainers thought they might raise a hundred and fifty between them, including what Myka could add, but that was it.
Banks and investors weren’t interested. Stables didn’t make money. Horses ate the profits—literally. More than one lender said that to her, thinking it hilarious.
Spike still hadn’t returned when it came time for Myka to leave for Jillian’s funeral. She asked Ellison to come back and help Ella with Jordan
, even though she thought Jordan was probably safe enough with only his grandmother. Myka was angry at Liam for going behind Spike’s back to spy on her, but she didn’t think the man would he’d harm Jordan.
She agreed with Spike about not taking Jordan to the funeral. Jordan seemed to understand, with perception a human child might not have, that his mother had been beyond saving. Jordan kept mentioning the Summerland, saying he was glad his mom was safe there.
Myka didn’t want to upset his new equilibrium by taking him to a funeral home with grieving adults. Again, Jordan seemed to understand, and told Myka to tell his mom he loved her.
At the funeral, Sharon was surrounded by her immediate family, who rallied around to comfort her. Sharon told Myka she was getting by all right, and some tension left her when Myka said she thought Jordan would be fine living with his father.
The funeral was as sad as Myka had thought it would be. But she was glad she had the chance to say a good-bye to her friend, the fun-loving young woman who’d lived hard and died too quickly.
Afterward, Myka drove back to Spike’s house. His Shifter neighbors up and down the street watched her return, knowing something had changed between her and Spike. A few raised hands in greeting, many simply watched.
Myka sensed the change in herself as well. Her body felt different—stronger somehow. Her thoughts were restless, and a warm ache spread from her chest to twine her entire body.
Ellison reported that Jordan had wanted to talk a little bit about his mother, but he’d enjoyed having Ellison turn into a wolf so he could ride on Ellison’s back. He was now sleeping off the excitement of that adventure.
“Y’all need to teach him the difference between wolf and doggie,” Ellison said as he put on his hat to leave. “Hurt’s a wolf’s pride.”
Ella laughed at him and told him to get on home. Myka was too restless to talk and paced out on the porch, waiting for Spike.
The ache in Myka’s heart eased as soon as Spike’s motorcycle rounded the corner a little bit later. Jordan was still asleep, and Myka met Spike in the driveway as he swung off his bike, dusty and grim.
Spike slid one arm around her, touched her chin, and pressed a firm kiss her lips. He smelled of dust and the road, sweat and musk.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.
A simple statement, but one that turned the ache to sweet delight.
Spike parked his bike and went inside with her, his arm firm around her waist. “Will you stay here tonight? I’ll make sure Ellison or Ronan is here to protect you and Jordan.”
Her ease dissolved into alarm. “Where will you be?”
“Fight club.”
Myka stopped. Spike’s face had hardened again, his expression one of a man who’d made a tough decision but was determined to carry it through.
“What are you going to do?” Myka asked softly.
“Give Gavan what he wants.”
Spike turned away, heading for the stairs. Myka mounted the staircase behind him, following him into his bedroom at the top of the stairs. The room was cleaner than a bachelor bedroom had a right to be, but he did have an extra pair of boots lying on floor and a few dirty clothes piled in a chair.
“What do you mean?” Myka asked, closing the door behind them. The room was warm from the afternoon sun beating on the roof.
“I mean I’m going to fight who he wants me to fight and win.”
“I’m going with you,” Myka said.
Spike stripped off his shirt and headed for the closet, the dragon on his back moving with him. “You’ll be safer here.”
“I don’t care. If this mate thing means I have to do everything you say, then forget it.”
Spike turned and frowned at her. “It doesn’t.”
“Okay, then. I’m going.”
Spike rummaged for a clean shirt. “Being my mate means I keep you safe, no matter what. So I want you here.”
“I went to the fight club before, remember? From what I understand, no one’s allowed to fight outside the ring, or do anything that will disturb the Shifter pecking order.”
“Nope.”
“So I’d be safe there. Because it’s neutral ground.”
Spike came out of the closet, his expression grim. “Not necessarily.”
“You mean because of Gavan?”
“Yep.”
“He’s not asking you to kill anyone, is he?”
“Nope.”
Myka put her hands on her hips. “You have a limited vocabulary, Spike, you know that?”
“Fighters do.” Spike pulled a black shirt on over his head and unfolded its Harley logo down his chest.
“You’re more than just a fighter.”
“I know that.”
“Well, I want to be more than a fighter’s girlfriend. What does Gavan want you to do? Explain. I’ll get it.”
Spike let out a sigh, letting go of his stubborn, cryptic look. “He wants me to win fights against strategic targets. He believes that will weaken these Shifters in everyone’s mind, so when he challenges them for dominance, they’ll already know they weren’t as strong as they thought they were, and give him a better chance. Dominance isn’t only about strength—it’s about convincing others you can best them without it having to come to a fight. He’s offered to let me become his champion, so I get to be right there next to him when he takes over—after I help him take over. He’ll be leader of his Shiftertown, and I’ll be his second and his enforcer.”
Myka listened in silence, her alarm building. Spike turned to a small, square mirror on the wall and ran a hand over the stubble on his face. “To hell with shaving. I’ll just be shifting.”
“It can’t be that simple, can it?” Myka asked.
“Not shaving? Easy for me.”
“I know you know what I mean. It can’t be as simple as you winning a bunch of fights, and Gavan taking over.”
“Nope.”
Myka fell silent again. She knew good and well that Spike wouldn’t simply give in to Gavan and do whatever he wanted. She also knew he was angry at Liam and wasn’t about to crawl over there giving him Gavan on a platter. Spike was up to something underhanded.
“Let me help,” she said.
“Shifter shit is dangerous, Myka.”
“I know. But aren’t I going to be your mate? Or whatever that means? I think you’d better explain that part to me.”
Spike came to her, his eyes taking on the golden hue, his big hands closing around her arms. “It means the mate of my heart. You to me, me to you, one. Under the light of the Mother Goddess, the moon, and the Father God, the sun, you’ll join with me. We’ll share our lives, and no longer be separate, apart.” His fingers bit down. “The mate-claim means all other males have to back off. No one will hurt you or even touch you without going through me. I keep you safe, and if you accept my mate-claim, then we bind. For always.”
His face was set, eyes on her. To be with this man—this strange, crazy, wild but tender man . . . Myka wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or drown in hope.
Spike touched his forehead to hers, his hands shaking on her shoulders. “I don’t want you to promise now,” he said. “Let me finish with Gavan first. Then I’ll convince you to be mine.”
Myka let her arms drift around him, clasping his warm back. “How are you planning to do that? Convince me, I mean?”
Spike lowered his head and nipped her lips. “I can think of a lot of ways. But you’re so strong. I’ve never met a woman as strong as you.”
“Shifter women have to be stronger than human ones.”
He touched her chest, flattening his hand between her breasts. “You have strength of heart. You have the strength of a survivor.” He kissed her lips again, his mouth hot. “I want more than survival, and so do you. I say we come together—and live.”
Myka’s heart beat faster. “Yes.”
Spike touched the corners of her lips, opening her to him, slanting his mouth over hers. His tongue swept inside, hea
t and goodness, strength and caring. This man had so much caring in him, and it came to her through his touch.
Myka leaned into him. Spike let the kiss turn hard, his hands moving down to her breasts, teasing the nipples through her shirt.
“Myka,” he said, savoring her name. “Let me do what I need to do. And then . . .” He kissed her throat, licked her neck. “Then we’ll talk.”
“Fine by me.” Myka kissed his chin, loving the rough feel of the unshaved whiskers. “But you still haven’t told me what you plan to do.” She tightened her arms around him. “I’m not letting you out of this room until you do.”
Spike slanted her a wicked grin. “I was right. You are a little shit.” Then he kissed her again, lowered his voice, and told her.
Myka started smiling long before he finished. “No way am I staying behind and missing this. I want to help. Tell me what I can do.”
*** *** ***
The night was fully dark by the time Myka and Spike pulled up to the gigantic abandoned hay barn that housed the Shifter fight club. Spike climbed out of the truck to look around before he’d let Myka out, inhaling the air unclogged by city smells.
The rain that had graced them last night was long gone, the sky clear and thick with stars. Out here, away from the towns, the remoter constellations were visible, clustering in faint smudges of white.
Tonight’s matches must have been broadcast far and wide, because the dirt around the barn was packed with vehicles—cars, pickups, motorcycles. Shifters and humans mingled in the makeshift parking lot, either walking purposefully or strolling leisurely toward the barn. Those who saw Spike lifted hands, called out greetings, or told him he’d better kick some ass because they had a lot riding on him.
They didn’t know the half of it.
Spike had called in favors tonight. He’d asked Ronan and Nate to watch over the house and Jordan—Ronan because the bear was huge, formidable, and trustworthy, and Nate because he knew Gavan and could anticipate the kinds of things he’d pull. The Morrissey family was not to so much as set foot on the porch until everything was settled. Ronan and Nate, though they both worked for Liam too, understood.
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