Mate Bond

by Jennifer Ashley

  “Mmm,” was all Bowman could say.

  “Wise of you,” Kenzie put in. “How were you so certain you’d found Shifters? Did you see one shift?” Her voice was warm, interested. She was trying to charm him—a good way to figure out what he wanted from them.

  “Not exactly.” Turner leaned one hip against his desk. “As I say, I was in Ireland, doing postdoc studies in villages on the west coast. In one, the locals swore that they were protected by ‘magic people’ who lived in a ruined castle in the hills. Even the villagers who struck me as being practical and modern believed in the otherworldliness of these people. The consensus was that they were Sidhe—their name for the Fae. Good ones, they said, for a change. They kept the village safe; everything had started going right when the magic people came. So they said. They also swore up and down that the people could turn into lions.”

  Kenzie lifted her brows as she studied him over her cup. “And you believed them?”

  “Not at first. I thought they were messing with me, trying to find out how much the gullible anthropologist would swallow. But the story was repeated by so many, and the people in the next village told me the same things.” Turner let out a breath. “So I looked for these magic people, but of course I couldn’t find them. One night in the little camp I’d set up near the ruined castle in question, I heard them prowling around, watching me. But I never saw them out there. However, in the village one day, I saw a man, about as big as you, Bowman, who had the most amazing blue eyes. He was staring at me from across the high street, and I couldn’t look away. It was the wildest feeling. Almost sexual, I’d say, even though I’m not gay. He just held me with those eyes and released me when he chose. When I could finally look away, I blinked, and he was gone.”

  Bowman listened in disquiet. He had no doubt Turner had spotted a Shifter. The description plus the location made Bowman think he knew which Shifter Turner had seen—sounded a lot like Dylan Morrissey. He must have chosen to let the curious American get a look at him, no doubt ready to lead him away from the rest of his pack.

  “So you were convinced?” Bowman asked.

  “Not quite. But interested enough to pursue more tales, once I’d learned to keep my mouth shut around my colleagues. I set off on a worldwide quest, looking for more ‘magic people.’ Eventually, of course, Shifters were revealed as real, I was offered a position at Asheville, and here I am. I’m now one of the leading authorities on all things Shifter.”

  He finished, smiled at them, and walked to the kitchen to refill his cup.

  Kenzie held her coffee away from her, frowning a little.

  “What?” Bowman asked her under his breath.

  “I smell something.”

  Bowman smelled coffee. Strong, filling the cabin. He moved the cup from his nose, as Kenzie had, and rested it in his hand on the sofa.

  He began to breathe deeply, pulling air into his lungs, forcing himself to sort out odors. He processed them for a long time before he found what had instinctively troubled him. The faint but unmistakable odor of Faerie.

  Not strong at all; barely discernible. He glanced again at the map, which was marked with mountains, rivers, valleys, farms, towns. He knew a ley line ran alongside Shiftertown—a ley line was a sort of magical artery of a network that stretched around the globe, near which magic was enhanced and gateways to Faerie could be found. If Bowman was right, that same ley line snaked down to cross near here.

  The scent didn’t come from Turner. Bowman surreptitiously inhaled when the man came back to refill their cups. Nope, Turner was human. He was not half Fae; not even one quarter. Anyone with Fae blood had a distinctive odor.

  A Fae might have been here though. While Fae had difficulty in the human world, with all its iron, Bowman had heard that they could take magical precautions against iron poisoning. But even then, their spells didn’t last long.

  Not that Bowman knew a lot about the Fae. He had experts like Pierce for that information, and he tried to think about Faerie and the Fae as little as possible.

  He exchanged another glance with Kenzie, but she gave him a slight shake of her head and looked up at Turner again.

  “This book on Shifters,” she said. “I’d love to read what you have so far.”

  Turner flushed with sudden pleasure. “Really? I’m flattered. Would you? And maybe . . . give me some pointers? I want to get it right.”

  “Happy to,” Kenzie said. “Do you have a copy I can take with me?”

  “Why not read it right here?” Turner asked, giving her a hopeful smile. “While you enjoy some more coffee and stay warm?”

  “I’m afraid we should be going,” Kenzie said, shaking her head. “Our son will be worried, plus we should report the shooter.”

  “It’s still pretty dark,” Turner pointed out. “Dangerous out there until full daylight. And as I say, I’ll give you a lift.”

  He returned to the kitchen without noticing the two Shifters’ discomfort. “Do you think he’s harmless?” Kenzie whispered into Bowman’s ear. “Or not?”

  Bowman liked the way Kenzie’s breath tickled him, but he didn’t know how to answer.

  Kenzie quietly put her coffee aside and moved to the front door. She stopped, stymied, and pointed at the keypad that took the place of a doorknob. There was no other latch, bolt, or keyhole; no other way to open the door.

  “Oh, that has a code,” Turner said, coming back out of the kitchen. “Keeps squatters out when I’m not here.”

  “What about the windows?” Bowman asked. “They don’t look very sturdy.”

  “Looks are deceiving.” Turner smiled. “They’re wired to give an intruder a nasty shock when the alarm is on.”

  “You booby-trapped your own house?” Kenzie asked him, still at the door.

  “You’d be amazed at the people who come out here,” Turner said, with a quiet sigh of disapproval. “Drug dealers and pot growers, gangs, people trying to hide from the law. Or just hunters. After someone trashed the place once, I got wise.”

  “Why do you come out here?” Kenzie asked. “If it’s so dangerous?”

  He shrugged. “I like the quiet. I can think better. My dad left this house to me, and the property—why should I give it up because of scum like that? Besides, when I’m here, I can visualize how it used to be for Shifters in the wild. You lived pretty close to the bone, didn’t you?”

  Kenzie had, in Eastern Europe. Bowman’s pack, which had lived north of the Great Lakes, had been hunted, first by Native Americans, then by colonials.

  “Yes,” Bowman said.

  “Ever miss it?”

  Bowman shook his head, his look deadpan. “I like indoor plumbing.”

  Turner laughed. “So captivity is better?”

  “I didn’t say that. But we almost died in the wild. Our females stopped having many cubs. Now everyone is healthier, and more cubs are born.”

  “But you and Kenzie just have the one?” Turner asked.

  Bowman saw the pain on Kenzie’s face, and his voice turned to a growl. “Yes.”

  Turner continued, not noticing the warning. “But maybe if you’d all remained in the wild, she might have been infertile altogether. So you’re right, you have benefited.”

  “How about you stop talking and open the door?” Bowman suggested. He rose, putting his bulk between Turner and Kenzie. “Enjoyed the coffee. Now it’s time to go home.”

  Turner looked blank. “Sure, if you truly have to. Let me by so I can put in the code. Before you go, though, I want to fix up a time to talk to you, Kenzie. You can come back here, or if you’ll let me go to Shiftertown . . . ?”

  “We’ll discuss it.” Bowman stepped aside and pulled Kenzie next him.

  Turner touched numbers on the keypad, but before he could push the door open for them, it was wrenched out of his grasp from the outside. Cristian stood on the doorstep, completely dressed, his breath fogging in the dawn light. His large motorcycle was parked in the clearing behind him.

  “There
you are,” Cristian said, his accent thick. “My mother is calling, calling, and every time I’m sure the sniper is going to hear. What are you doing? We need to go.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kenzie gave a shiver of relief as she walked into her own house in Shiftertown. She was dressed again, Cristian having thoughtfully rescued all their clothes. They’d ridden triple on Cristian’s big black machine back to the arena, where Bowman’s bike still waited.

  Ryan bounded into the kitchen in his wolf cub form as Kenzie and Bowman walked in the back door. Ryan sprang from the floor into Kenzie’s arms and began licking her face.

  “Stop that.” Kenzie laughed and held her son close, burying her nose in his fur. “What are you doing up so early?”

  Ryan kept licking, his tail wagging like a big puppy’s. He yipped happily at his father but snuggled down in his mother’s arms, not ready to leave her. Though Ryan was twelve in human years, in Shifter terms, he was still a little cub, though his wolf body was getting bigger by the year. He had long legs and big ears and huge paws the rest of him hadn’t yet grown into.

  Bowman slammed the door. He dumped the manuscript Turner had given them on the table and made for the refrigerator.

  Kenzie’s grandmother, Afina, came out from the hall that led to the bedrooms. Though she’d reached her three hundredth year, Afina was tall and strong, with barely any gray in her dark hair. Humans sometimes mistook her for Cristian’s sister rather than his mother.

  “You are back then?” she asked. “And Cristian? You left him alive?”

  “For now,” Bowman said, a carton of orange juice in his hand. “Can’t say that for everyone out in the woods tonight. I need to make some calls.”

  Bowman tumbled Ryan’s fur, and Ryan’s tail whacked against Kenzie’s side.

  “Ask Cristian for his version of things,” Bowman said to Kenzie. He dropped a brief kiss on her cheek and was out the door, his cell phone already at his ear. “Cade,” she heard him say, “Wake the hell up already . . .”

  Then he was gone.

  “Adventures?” Afina asked in Romanian.

  “Too many. Ryan, honey, go clean up, and I’ll make us breakfast.”

  “I will,” Afina said as Ryan squirmed out of Kenzie’s arms and scampered away. “You have had too much happen to you. Which you will tell me all about.”

  * * *

  Talking to her grandmother did help Kenzie calm down a little. It always had.

  Grandmother Afina could be a ruthless fighter, and she was Shifter to the core, but she could also hold Kenzie until all the bad things went away.

  After Kenzie had lost her immediate family, Afina had been the only person that had kept her going. Shifters could die of broken hearts or terrible grief. They stopped caring about eating or sleeping until either the wild animal in them went feral—pretty much forgetting about the human part of themselves and reverting to living on crazed instincts—or their neglected bodies simply ceased working. Kenzie, just a cub and wanting life, had nearly gone feral, but Grandmother Afina had pulled her back from that edge. Kenzie would always owe her for that.

  She saw Cristian walk toward them from up the road, but he stopped at the edge of the snowy yard, not coming up the walk. This was Bowman’s territory. While Afina had been coming here to check in on Kenzie from the moment she moved in, Cristian refused to stand anywhere so infused with Bowman’s scent.

  Kenzie and Afina left the house and crunched through the snow to talk to him. Ryan banged out after them, still wolf. He ran around and around the three adults, trapping them inside a furrow in the two-inch snowfall.

  Cristian watched Ryan play for a moment, then raised a troubled gaze to Kenzie. “What was that stink out there? At that trailer house? Humans are crazy.”

  Kenzie folded her arms against the cold. “We’re not sure, but we thought we smelled something Fae. Or Fae-born.”

  Cristian gave her a brief nod. “I smelled it too. We should investigate.”

  “I’m sure Bowman is already doing that.”

  Cristian’s expression turned weary. “I know you think your mate is a superhero, but he can’t be everywhere doing everything. He was caught off guard with that shooter and the man in the trailer, and so was I. We need to learn more.”

  “That’s why he has trackers,” Kenzie said, but without conviction.

  Cristian gave her a sharp look. “Bowman cannot investigate the murder of the young woman, the monster and its death, the sniper, the odd professor, and whatever other things are going on all at the same time.” His brows drew down over his wolf-gold eyes. “I want to discover who was shooting at me and almost hit me. And who was shooting at my niece. You are still Dimitru pack at heart, Kenzie, one of mine. I refuse to let this sniper get away with trying to kill you.”

  Kenzie raised her hands. “If you’ll stop talking, I’ll tell you I agree with you. We should check it out.”

  “Not we.” Cristian pinned her with a stare as intense as Bowman’s. “Me.”

  “Uncle, you can’t go running around out there with a shooter on the loose. And you can’t without talking to Bowman first—why don’t you two work together? That was the whole point of my mating with him, wasn’t it?”

  Kenzie heard the rising pitch in her voice, and she tried to suppress it. She was running on lack of sleep, too much adrenaline, worry for Bowman, and irritation at Cristian for trying to use any excuse to undermine her mate.

  Cristian stepped to her and laid his hands on her shoulders, his touch surprisingly gentle.

  “Kenzie, child,” he said, reverting to his native language. “When I was a young Shifter, my territory was caught between that of Ottoman Turks and the Austrian Empire. Trust me when I say that my life has calmed down a great deal since. Survival then meant to stay alive at any cost—here and now surviving is simply following a set of rules. Humans, especially in this country, are more—how do you say it in English?—touchy-feely. I can deal with one man and his rifle.”

  “Huh. Are you sure it was only one?”

  “I think so. And it was not the man inside the cabin. Different scent.”

  Kenzie had decided that too. She also knew she had this snowfall’s chance in hell of stopping Uncle Cristian doing whatever he wanted.

  “If you go back out there, you be careful,” Kenzie said sternly. “We don’t need to be searching for your dead body on top of everything else.”

  Cristian gave her a smile that warmed his eyes. He could be a handsome man, when he let the ice crack. “Look at it this way—if I am shot, Bowman will have his victory. None of my nephews will be ready to fight for leadership for some time. Perhaps it would be better for everyone.”

  Afina scowled. She was half a head shorter than her son, but her glare could have knocked over a building. “Not better for me,” she snapped. “I refuse to lose another child before I am old enough to call for the Guardian. This Shiftertown will not be better without you. If nothing else, your antagonism of Bowman helps him be a stronger leader. He’ll do anything to keep you out of power.”

  Kenzie hid her smile. Cristian might rule the clan, but Afina never let him forget who’d raised him.

  Cristian and his mother exchanged a long look before Cristian let out a sigh. He stepped away from both of them, pretending he hadn’t just let his mother win another argument.

  “Fine then,” Cristian said to Afina. “You can come with me.”

  Afina blinked, surprised at the turn. “All right, I will,” she said.

  “I’m driving,” Cristian said. “The Ottoman Turks were less frightening than you on a motorcycle.”

  Afina only smiled.

  “Wait, now I have to worry about both of you?” Kenzie asked, annoyed. “This isn’t trading up.”

  Cristian became serious again. “You worry about your mate, Kenzie-love. He is perhaps too furious, too obsessed with what is happening. One reason I did not oppose him taking you as mate is I knew you could keep him calm. That is what y
ou must do, or Shiftertown will suffer.”

  Kenzie had known this for years, but Cristian’s words gave her a qualm. “Sure. No pressure.”

  Cristian’s smile made his eyes crinkle, and he pulled Kenzie to him for a hug.

  Kenzie wrapped her arms around him, remembering how, when she’d been a child, his strength had bolstered her. Her uncle could be a total shit, but he’d also saved her life, time and again.

  “Keep in touch,” Kenzie said, releasing him. “I mean it.”

  “I will make him,” Afina said. She also enfolded Kenzie in a hug, hers scented with woods, coffee, and cinnamon rolls. “You look after your mate. And your cub.” She gave Kenzie a kiss on the cheek before letting her go. “And get some sleep, granddaughter. You look terrible.”

  “Aw, thanks.”

  Afina gave her a big smile, then turned and walked away with Cristian. They started arguing about something before they even hit the end of sidewalk, then they turned the corner, their voices fading.

  Kenzie let Ryan play a little more before she called to him to return with her to the house. Once inside, he raced to his bedroom to shift and dress—he was getting too modest to shift to a naked human in front of his mother. Kenzie warmed up the cinnamon rolls Afina had made. The good kind—huge and dripping with icing.

  She licked icing off her fingers, took out the new cell phone she’d picked up on the way home, and called Gil. She knew Bowman would probably have already talked to him, but Gil’s warm voice when he answered lifted her spirits. Kenzie ran her finger through the bowl of icing and told Gil everything.

  * * *

  “Are you going to shut down the fight club?” Jamie asked.

  He walked beside Bowman with his restless Feline energy, pissed off because he’d missed the excitement in the woods early this morning. Around them, Shifters were starting the day, sweeping snow from porches and driveways, the cubs playing in the winter wonderland.

  Bowman pondered Jamie’s question. “We might have to move it. The human cops are all over the place up there now, investigating Serena’s murder. Poor woman.” Death was a waste. Serena had annoyed and worried him, but she’d not deserved to be murdered.