“Yes, but with our help,” Kenzie said, keeping her impatience in check. “We attacked it, and Bowman got it after we harassed it a lot.”
“Got it with what? His teeth? His claws? His body odor?”
“Don’t be a shit,” Kenzie told him in English. “With Cade’s truck, and I’m betting you already heard the story, so don’t mess with me.”
Cristian lost his derision as he let out a real laugh. “No wonder Cade snarled at me. He must be in mourning. He worshiped that stupid truck.”
“It wasn’t as funny as it sounds. Bowman was nearly crushed to death, and even then the thing only ran off.” She remembered her terror as she’d rushed to Bowman lying bleeding under glass and bent metal. She’d nearly wept in relief when she found him still alive. “That creature didn’t die. It’s still out there.”
“I know.” Cristian stopped, turning a sharp gaze on Kenzie. “What is Bowman doing about it?”
“He’s getting over being hurt first.” Kenzie returned his look with a scowl. “He doesn’t want to rest, but I’m making him stay down for a while. And you’ll leave him alone while he recovers.”
Cristian gave her an innocent look that Kenzie didn’t believe for a minute. “You think I would rush in while he’s injured and try to take over Shiftertown?”
“Yes,” Kenzie said steadily.
“Give me credit for some honor, please, sweetling. When I fight him, we will do so on equal footing. I would not creep up on him while he is down and take him out.” Cristian looked genuinely hurt that Kenzie would think so, but Kenzie knew better. Her uncle would take any advantage he could—he always did.
In his sweats, his skin sheened with perspiration, Cristian looked like any other man out for a jog—any tall man in great shape. Cristian was a hundred years older than Bowman and had a hundred and fifty on Kenzie, but he was at the height of his strength. “My niece, when I do take Bowman down, you must be ready to decide whose side you are on. I will not let you get in my way. And if I defeat him, you must be prepared for those consequences too.”
Kenzie glowered at him. “Don’t threaten me, Uncle Cris. You know I’m not afraid of you, and you’re just pissing me off.” Not exactly true—she did worry a lot about what Uncle Cristian got up to.
Cristian knew she did. “You share no mate bond with Bowman. We all know this. If he dies, you will be free, not dead inside yourself. When that day comes, I know you will be strong. I will need you.”
“I’ll stand by him,” Kenzie said, her jaw so stiff it hurt. “He’s my mate. Unlike some people in this family, I know what loyalty means.”
Cristian’s lip curled. “If you refer to me killing my father to take over the clan, he was very old and knew it was his time to die. He fought well, and was grateful to go out with some dignity. He smiled at me when the Guardian came to send him to dust. He knew I could well look after the pack and Afina.”
Kenzie had heard this version of the tale before. “So you’ve said.”
“Times were different, Kenzie. All clan leaders gained their position by the death of the leader before them. None of this politeness—Pardon me, Dad, while I take over the clan, and you go live with your girlfriend.”
Cristian was talking about the Austin Shiftertown, where leadership had recently switched without bloodshed. The understanding the Morrissey father and son had reached was, to Kenzie, much preferable to a fight to the death. She certainly didn’t want to think about Ryan and Bowman trying to kill each other.
“It wasn’t exactly like that,” Kenzie began, but Cristian shook his head, not interested.
“I should lead this Shiftertown by right of hierarchy, not to mention strength and experience. You’re a sweet woman to stick by your mate, but don’t push me, Kenzie. I’m still your clan leader.”
“Not anymore,” Kenzie said. “I switched when I left to live with Bowman, remember?”
Cristian’s hands went to her shoulders. “You never lose your connections, niece. You’re Dimitru pack, and always will be. The sooner you understand that, the easier your life will be.”
Kenzie’s throat hurt. She’d made a pledge to the O’Donnell pack as soon as she and Bowman had been mated under sun and moon. She was the flag of truce between the packs, Ryan their hope of permanent unification. When Ryan was leader, the clans would be one.
But Ryan, at the moment, was an innocent cub who only wanted to play with his friends.
“I have to catch up with my son,” she said to Cristian. “Don’t talk to me anymore unless you’re passing the time of day or telling me how Grandma’s doing. I’m tired of you trying to turn me against Bowman.” She made a gesture like a baseball ump signaling an out. “Not gonna happen.”
Anger flared in Cristian’s eyes, making the gold spark. “You’re still family, Kenzie. Still pack. I’ll talk about what I damn well please. Soon, you’ll have to remember who you are.” He gave her a long look. “You’ll understand, in the end.”
Without giving Kenzie a chance to answer, he turned his back and walked away, picking up into a jog a dozen strides down the road.
Kenzie watched him go in disquiet, knowing the abrupt back-turning for what it was. He was telling her he wasn’t afraid to show her his vulnerable side, because it made no difference. He was stronger than any Shifter around and always would be.
Soon, you’ll have to remember who you are.
Kenzie didn’t like the hint, or the implication that he’d oust Bowman sooner or later. Had he anything to do with last night’s attack? Had he figured out a way to clear Bowman out of his way? She didn’t see how, but, as she’d thought at the beginning of the conversation, Uncle Cris could be slippery.
Damn him. Whatever he’d been on about, he made the crisp winter air oppressive. Kenzie watched her uncle jog away for a time before she quickened her steps down the road the rest of the way to Cade’s.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bowman didn’t like the thought of Kenzie and Ryan out there alone. Not today.
He started out of bed, letting out a grunt of pain when his leg reminded him it wasn’t all the way healed. It wasn’t agonizing anymore, but very stiff, the muscles pulled all to hell. The break itself would already be fused, or close to it, but the soft tissues were going to ache and annoy him for a while.
He managed to make it to his feet. Bowman balanced on his good leg while the splinted leg stuck out like a white flagpole. Damn doctors.
All right, so they’d been nice and patched him up. He knew he’d have spent a worse night without the doctors in the clinic helping him out, but Bowman wasn’t in the mood to be grateful. He just wanted out of the bloody splint.
He managed to swing his leg up to the bed. He reached for one of the Velcro straps that held the splint to his leg and tugged at it. Nothing happened.
Frustrated swearing filled the room. Good thing everyone had left the house, because this was just stupid.
Bowman gave a harder yank. The strap ripped open, but he lost his balance and fell on his backside on the carpet next to the bed. “Shit!”
The front door to the house swung open, sending a draft of cold air inside. Damn it—another Shifter on his territory, and Bowman was flailing around like a bug on his back.
“Bowman? You in here? I know you are—I can smell you.”
Bowman let out his tense breath. “Jamie. Get the hell back here.”
Jamie entered the room with his usual restless energy. He didn’t exactly laugh when he saw Bowman, buck naked and sprawled on the rug, his bad leg stuck up straight, but his mouth twitched and his ferocious eyes looked dangerously near to twinkling.
“Man, you got screwed over.” Jamie folded his arms and stared down at his alpha. “Want me to get a crane?”
“Shut the hell up, and help me get this splint off.”
“Sure you should?” Jamie asked. His tatts moved as his arms tightened.
“I’m sure. Get me out of this thing.”
“All right¸ but if yo
u hurt yourself because you took it off too soon, it wasn’t me who helped you, all right? If Kenzie finds out, she’ll tear my balls off.”
“Don’t worry, she’d be so busy ripping me a new one you’d have time to get away.”
Jamie crouched next to Bowman, reaching for the strap around his ankle. “Didn’t it occur to you to pick out a more submissive mate?”
“Nope.” Bowman tugged on another strap at his thigh. “If I had a mate so meek she obeyed my every command without arguing, I’d be bored out of my mind. Although sometimes . . .” He thought of Kenzie’s sparkling eyes and sassy smile. No, he liked her just the way she was.
“Speaking of Kenzie,” Jamie said, “I saw her talking to Cristian. They were on the upper road, in a lonely stretch, the two of them going on about something.”
Bowman swallowed the anger that built up in his throat. “He’s her uncle and pack leader. Of course she talks to him.”
“More like arguing. I couldn’t hear, but I could see. He was trying to intimidate her.”
“Was she intimidated?”
Jamie snorted. He tore open the last strap and helped Bowman gently pry the splint apart. “What do you think? She looked pretty mad.”
Bowman shrugged as though the news didn’t alarm him. “If something’s up, she’ll tell me.”
“You trust her that much?”
The splint came away, and Bowman breathed a sigh of relief. Then he dug his nails into his skin as air hit it. Everything itched.
“Yes. I do.” Bowman bent a fierce eye on Jamie as he scratched away at his leg. “You’d damn well better trust her too, or we have a problem.”
“Oh, I trust her,” Jamie said, stacking the pieces of splint and setting them aside. “But I don’t trust that Romanian werewolf an inch.”
Calling a Shifter a werewolf was an insult—Shifters were a living species; werewolves were movie monsters humans turned into after they were bitten. “I hear you. Help me up.”
Jamie lent his sinewy strength while Bowman struggled to get his bad leg under him. Jamie pulled him upright, and finally Bowman was standing.
His hurt leg was annoyingly weak, and Bowman made a face as he tried to put weight on it. “Why did you come?” he asked Jamie. “Or did you sense I was going to get out of bed and fall on my ass?”
“Because of seeing Cristian,” Jamie said. “I didn’t like the idea of you here alone and hurt while he was wandering around.”
Jamie backed away, letting Bowman find his balance on his own, but Jamie’s touch had helped Bowman some. Shifters needed one another’s comfort, strength, the sense that they were part of a group. Being alone was a terrible thing for a Shifter.
“Thanks,” Bowman said. Jamie made such a good tracker because he could anticipate his leader’s needs without being told, and took initiative with what he thought was right.
“You’re welcome.” Jamie looked him up and down and folded his arms again. “But if you think I’m helping you get dressed, you can forget about it.”
“Just find me some pants,” Bowman growled.
* * *
Walking to the landing end of the zip line gave Bowman a chance to stretch out the still-healing leg, as well as show every Shifter in Shiftertown that he was already up and feeling much better.
He and Jamie didn’t pass anyone on the way, though. They were all at Cade’s, friends and rivals alike.
Cade had rigged the zip line he’d been going on about high up on a hill above his own house, with a platform in the tall trees. The line ran almost the length of Shiftertown, gliding down the long hill to another platform at the bottom, where Bowman and Jamie headed. Cade had tested the zip line extensively on himself, figuring that if it could take his weight, then it would be safe for cubs.
Why the hell Cade had decided it was a good idea to put up a zip line at all, Bowman didn’t know. When he’d asked, Cade had given him his straight-faced look and said, “Bears just want to have fun.”
A bear was coming down the line now. It was a cub, in its grizzly form. It clung to the handle with its oversized paws, its back legs dancing as it descended in a rush toward Bowman. At the last minute, the cub dropped from the line to land on the platform with precision.
He bounced up and ran to Bowman, jigging around him, making happy little bear noises, which made Jamie laugh.
The cub, one of Cade’s nephews by the look of it, circled Bowman again, then Jamie, then sprang off the platform and scampered to the path that led back up the hill.
Ryan was coming down next. “Cowabunga, Dad!” He let go of the bar and leapt the last few feet down, landing in Bowman’s outstretched arms.
Bowman steadied himself on his good leg before lowering Ryan to the ground. “There, are you happy now?” Bowman rumbled at him.
“Nope.” Ryan wriggled away. “Have to go again!” He scrambled off the platform and ran up the path after the other cub.
Before Bowman or Jamie could say a word, another rider came barreling toward them. This time it was Kenzie, sensibly in human form, her hands locked around the bar, a crash helmet on her head.
She lifted her legs in a perfect right angle to her body, using the momentum to propel her faster. Bowman’s libido charged at the sight of his mate swinging gracefully through the air.
“Woo—hoo—hoo—hooooo!” she bellowed.
She was coming straight for Bowman. Jamie jumped well back, but Bowman waited for her. Kenzie loosened her hold and dropped at the last second, and Bowman caught her.
Kenzie was flushed with wind and excitement, her golden eyes sparkling. Bowman felt the chill of the wind on her, but her skin was heated with her own sweet warmth.
She flung her arms around Bowman and kissed his lips, her cold nose rubbing his cheek. “That was awesome,” she said happily, pushing away from Bowman. “Better than sex!”
Jamie let out a howling laugh. Shaking his head, he sprang off into the woods, making himself scarce. Bowman growled, and Kenzie gave him an impish look.
“What?” she asked, one hip canted. The crash helmet made her look sexy as hell.
She was still making him pay for the vet sitting on his bed and rubbing his leg, was she? Bowman increased his growl, which Kenzie pretended to ignore.
Two could play at that game, Bowman decided, his heartbeat speeding heat straight to his groin. If Kenzie wanted the payback challenge, he’d meet it. And he’d show her he played to win.
* * *
To Kenzie’s surprise, Bowman agreed to let the cop, Gil Ramirez, into the house. No arranging a neutral location like the coffeehouse a half mile outside Shiftertown. Bowman gave Ramirez directions when he called Kenzie’s phone, and opened the door himself when Ramirez arrived.
But then, this was Bowman’s territory. He liked to control it like he controlled everything else.
“Ramirez,” Bowman said. He didn’t offer to shake hands or make pleasantries; he simply filled the doorway, staring down at the man before he took one step back and moved so Ramirez could enter.
Welcome to my territory, he was saying. I’ll honor you as a guest as long as you leave my mate and cub alone, don’t nose in my business, and don’t make me want to kill you.
Ryan was still at Cade’s for the cookout Cade was having tonight. Ryan had gone on the zip line a couple more times, and Kenzie had followed to keep an eye on him, leaving Bowman to wait less than patiently for them at the bottom.
Bowman was on edge, and in pain, Kenzie could tell, but he’d let Ryan have his fun when he could have simply grabbed his son by the scruff and dragged him home. He’d agreed to let Ryan stay behind under Cade’s and Jamie’s supervision, knowing he’d be well looked after by the trackers.
Bowman also didn’t want Ryan here when the cop came—Kenzie understood that.
True to his word, Ramirez wasn’t in his uniform, wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and a leather jacket against the increasing cold. The mild day was at an end.
Ramirez gave Kenzie a nod as h
e shucked his jacket. “Kenzie.”
“Gil,” Kenzie answered.
She took the jacket and hung it up for him, because that was what humans did. The wife in a traditional human household, she’d gleaned from television, was a hostess who made the guest comfortable and her husband look good—a custom Shifters didn’t always share. The male Shifter and his mate stood side by side against any stranger, keeping him from invading their home. They wouldn’t care about the invader’s comfort.
Bowman shot Kenzie a look, both because she’d taken the coat and because she’d called the man Gil. Bowman’s gaze burned her as she finished hanging the jacket on the wooden coat rack in the front hall.
“Won’t you sit down?” Kenzie asked, gesturing to the couches in the living room. Bowman, behind Gil’s back, rolled his eyes.
“Why don’t you get him a beer, honey?” Bowman asked, the snarl in the words ruining his imitation of a TV husband.
Gil, oblivious to their tension, shook his head as he sat down. “Nothing for me, thanks. I have a long drive back, and I don’t get behind the wheel after even one drink.”
Kenzie walked past Bowman and sat on the end of the couch Gil had taken. “That’s wise,” she said. “What a good cop would do.”
Gil’s intelligent eyes fixed on her. “Yeah, that’s what I think.”
Kenzie only smiled at him. Bowman sank down on the other sofa, hiding his grimace of pain. He pretended to be relaxed, but he was ready to spring at any sign of danger.
Kenzie ran her hand along the sofa’s muted brown fabric, taking comfort from it. She’d redone the living room not long ago, finding soft but sturdy furniture in the earthy colors she liked, adding splashes of bright red and deep blue in pillows and pictures for contrast. The two couches were chunky instead of elegant, but they had deep cushions and were oh so comfortable.
Bowman had declared he didn’t like them, but the day after Kenzie had found them at the closeout store and had Cade haul them home in his truck, Bowman had fallen asleep on one, Ryan curled on his chest. Both males had been sleeping deeply. Kenzie had snapped some pictures. For blackmail, she’d told Bowman when she’d shown him the printed photos. He’d grown furious, chasing her and pinning her to snatch the pictures away, which had led to some of the best sex she’d ever had.
Mate Bond Page 9
