Her hair smelled like roses, since she’d showered before they left, with the bath products she liked to use. Mason complained that their bathroom smelled like a lady’s salon, but Mason would understand when he started looking for a mate. Plus, Broderick told Mason, Joanne smelled a hell of a lot better than his three sweaty brothers.
The plane bumped along, the makeshift seats uncomfortable, but Broderick didn’t mind. He had Joanne on his lap, snuggled against him. Everything was good.
Daragh’s Sword of the Guardian lay in a sheath next to Broderick. Sean had offered to carry it, but Broderick insisted. He didn’t want to let it go, not yet. His reluctance bugged him, and he didn’t like what it might imply. But for now, Broderick had to do what he had to do.
Cilla huddled in a seat by herself, under the watchful eyes of Spike and Tiger. She looked miserable, but Broderick understood why Joanne insisted she come with them.
The girl needed to learn that every action, large or small, had consequences. Just because Cilla couldn’t see the people she was hurting, didn’t mean they weren’t hurt, and didn’t deserve some reparation. The fact that Cilla had helped drag Remy and Joanne out of Faerie, plus had been coerced by one of the scumbag Fae, gave her some points with Broderick. Though weighed against Daragh’s death, the balance was still not in her favor.
Broderick at first had wondered whether Cilla and her crew, or the Fae, had been behind blowing up the munitions plant as well, but Dylan said no, according to Sean. Dylan seemed to know all about it, but he wouldn’t say anything more.
The leader of the Shiftertown in Montana, Eoin Lyall, met them at the plane and drove them into Shiftertown himself. It was deep in the woods, cities few and far between in this area. Ranchers and farmers didn’t want Shifters nearby, so they lived in a place that was remote, dimly lit because of the thick canopy of trees, and a bit wild.
The large house Daragh and his family occupied lay in the center of this Shiftertown. Shifters came out to watch Eoin drive Broderick, Joanne, and Sean through the twisting roads to the heart of their community. Spike and Tiger came behind with Cilla, driven by Eoin’s second.
Daragh had been laid out in the living room of the house, on a plain, single bed that was likely his own. He lay in state, with candles burning around him, in this public room so that other Shifters could come to pay their respects and say prayers over him. They’d dressed him in the clothes similar to the ones Broderick had seen him in, jeans and T-shirt, as though they wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.
As soon as they were admitted, Joanne slipped her hand from Broderick’s and went to Daragh’s still body, laying her hand on his shoulder. “I hate seeing him like this.”
Broderick joined her, looking down at the Shifter who’d sacrificed himself to save their lives. “I’m thinking he’s not too thrilled with it either.”
Joanne glanced up at Daragh’s family—his mother, his brother, and a sister. Daragh hadn’t been mated, had no cubs. Broderick burned inside. Daragh should have had the chance to find a mate, fall in love, be a dad.
“He was a good man,” Joanne told them. “Fearless.”
His mother, a dignified Feline Shifter, gave Joanne a nod. “We know. Thank you, child.”
Tiger came forward, his fingers on Cilla’s shoulder. He didn’t drag her, but Broderick knew Cilla had no choice but to go where Tiger wanted her to.
Daragh’s family obviously knew who Cilla was. Sean would have filled them in when he told them Broderick and party were coming. The brother and sister had deep anger in their eyes, but Daragh’s mother simply looked at Cilla.
“I’m sorry,” Cilla said, tears in her voice. “I’m so sorry.”
Daragh’s mother reached over from where she sat and took Cilla’s hand. “I’ve had a chance to think since Daragh was killed,” she said. “You can waste a lot of time on guilt and grief. You were caught in ambition and greed, which can enslave any one of us. You were forced into aiding the Fae but then decided to help another caught in his power. Daragh died for that, gave his life so a man could be saved. That is the memory I will keep.”
Cilla sat down next to her and cried. Daragh’s mother put a soothing arm around her, but she watched Broderick and Joanne.
Broderick rumbled, “He gave his life several times over. I’m going bring him a little peace.”
Without waiting for anything else—no speeches, prayers, or rituals—Broderick unsheathed Daragh’s sword.
The blade rang softly, the runes dancing in the candlelight. The candle flames around Daragh rose higher as Broderick passed the sword above them.
Broderick placed his hand over Daragh’s heart. “Rest easy my friend. And yeah, maybe you would have kicked my ass. We can have a rematch in the Summerland.”
He curled his fingers on Daragh’s chest, then withdrew his hand. Flipping the sword over, Broderick rested it point down over Daragh’s heart. He drew a breath, and thrust it home.
The candle flames shot high then dropped back down to the merest flicker. Broderick swore he saw Daragh’s body stiffen, then it shimmered, became nothing but dust motes that glittered in the candlelight, then collapsed down onto the empty bed.
Broderick heard a sigh, felt a breath of wind touch his face, faint laughter on the breeze. The laughter held relief and not an ounce of pain.
Thank you, a whisper sounded, and then faded to silence.
Chapter Nineteen
“Stay.” Eoin Lyall stopped Broderick outside Daragh’s house as the Austin Shifters headed back to the vehicles.
Joanne slipped her hand into Broderick’s, feeling the warmth around the burn the medallion had left. Her heart had lightened once she’d seen Daragh become dust—his soul freed. She wished she could have seen the expressions on the faces of the Fae when he disappeared from their clutches.
“Stay, why?” Broderick asked Eoin. “I have things to do at home, a mating to schedule, brothers to yell at.”
“We’ll have another Choosing.” Eoin pinned Broderick with his Feline stare. “We have no Guardian. You sent Daragh to the Goddess, not Sean. She might choose you.”
The look in Eoin’s eyes told Joanne he believed with all his heart that the Goddess would touch Broderick, that She’d simply been waiting for him to appear.
“No,” Broderick said sharply. He held Daragh’s sword, which he still carried, up by its hilt. “Not only no, but hell no. Double hell no. I’m not going to be a fucking Guardian.”
Sean, who’d stopped next to him, blinked, but offered no criticism.
“Here.” Broderick pushed the sword at Eoin. “Take it. I don’t ever want to see it again.”
Eoin hesitated. Broderick let go of the hilt, and Eoin caught the sword before it fell.
Broderick had no trouble giving the sword back, Joanne noticed. When he’d had the medallion, and when they’d retrieved the sword from Cilla, he’d been very protective, not wanting anyone else to touch sword or medallion unless he let them. That compulsion seemed to be over.
“Let’s go,” Broderick said to Spike and Tiger. “We have a plane to catch.”
“Wait a sec.” Joanne looked back to the porch, where Cilla stood next to Daragh’s mother. His mother already looked more relieved, her worry about Daragh’s soul gone, though her grief would doubtless never leave her. “Cilla, are you coming?”
Cilla shook her head. “I’m going to stay here. I’ll try to help them—for whatever that’s worth.”
Daragh’s mother nodded. “We’ll look after her.”
And they would, Joanne understood, with an intensity only Shifters could manage. Cilla needed that, Joanne realized, a discipline her life had lacked.
Joanne nodded at Cilla, acknowledging her self-imposed penance. Sean had told them that Dylan, with the help of Fionn, had been searching for the Fae who’d hurt Cilla’s former boyfriend, but so far they’d found nothing. Either the Fae had gone back to Faerie or was hiding very well. Now that his master was dead, he likely would
stay hidden.
“All right,” Joanne said to Cilla. “But the next time you get in over your hacker head call me.” Joanne mimicked holding a phone to her ear and gave Cilla a stern look.
“I will,” Cilla said. “Promise.”
Once the plane was rumbling under them, heading home, Joanne laid her head on Broderick’s shoulder.
“I guess the sword chose you,” she said.
“What?” Broderick roused himself from a half sleep. The plane’s drone was soothing, all the Shifters drooping. Spike was stretched out on a hard bench, one tattooed arm over his eyes.
“I said, the sword chose you.” Joanne repeated.
Broderick’s gray eyes flickered. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You found the medallion, which fell off the sword, no one else. You didn’t want to let it go. You got into Faerie and found Daragh, and then you sent him to dust. Not Sean, not Tiger, not Spike. You.”
“You’re the one who got us into Faerie,” Broderick reminded her, “whether we liked it or not. I just stumbled in.”
“Because you had the medallion, which also let me into the Guardian Network so I could learn how to program the portal. It wanted us to find Daragh and release him.”
Broderick’s arms tightened around her. “Huh. If it wanted us to save him, why not simply lead us to the sword so we could go to Montana right away? Why waste time with Faerie?”
“So you could meet Daragh and want to help him, instead of just sending Sean up there to do it. Plus, we had to find and free Remy.” Joanne tapped Broderick’s chest. “Face it, big guy, you were the Chosen One.”
“God and Goddess spare me,” Broderick growled. “Next time, someone else can be chosen. And I’m not going to be a Guardian. No way, no how. The Goddess can suck it up.”
“Not you.” Tiger, who’d been asleep, or so it seemed, opened his eyes and bathed Broderick in a yellow stare. He flicked the gaze to Joanne, then back to Broderick. “Your cub.”
Broderick stopped. So did Joanne. “Wait, wait, wait a second,” Broderick said. “What are you talking about?”
“Joanne is carrying your cub. Take that cub to a Choosing, and he will be Guardian.”
Joanne stared at him in shock. “Cub? No, we just …” She broke off, face heating.
“From that mating will come a cub,” Tiger said, unembarrassed. “He will one day bear a Guardian’s sword.”
Spike was awake now, listening avidly. Sean burst into musical laughter. “You’re for it now, Brod,” Sean said. “Tiger’s never wrong about these things.”
Joanne placed her hand on her abdomen and leaned against Broderick, her heart beating rapidly. A cub. With Broderick. Terrifying … and so, so wonderful.
Broderick stared, open-mouthed. “Tiger, you are one seriously scary Shifter, you know that?”
Tiger looked annoyed a moment, then his expression cleared. “Not scary to Carly. Or to my cub. Come and see him when he’s born.” His brows drew together again. “But not too close.”
Joanne pealed with laughter at that. Sean joined her, Spike gave his silent smile, and only Broderick went on growling.
But that was Broderick, and what he did. Joanne would take him and his snarling growls over all the laughter in the world.
***
“Why did you bring me back here?” Joanne asked Broderick a day later.
They stood in his warehouse, truly alone this time, because Broderick had threatened his brothers with dire fates if they went anywhere near it this afternoon. And evening. Maybe all night.
Broderick liked the way Joanne looked admiringly over all he’d created, marveling at the workmanship, intricacy, artistry.
But now she was done with the tour and wanted answers.
“Why do you think I brought you here?” he asked her.
“Privacy,” Joanne said. She gave Broderick a little smile. Well, she wasn’t naive. “But we could have had privacy at my house.”
“There’s more here,” Broderick said. “No neighbors to call the police if it gets too loud.”
Joanne’s smile widened. “Will it get loud?”
Broderick gave up being subtle and stepped against her. “I’m barely holding it in, Jo-Jo. I’ve been in mating frenzy for you for days, but I’ve been busy fighting for my life and saving people and doing whatever a stupid-ass piece of metal wanted me to. But now that’s over, and I get to do what I want to.”
He seized Joanne around the waist and lifted her to a high workbench, which he’d made sure he’d cleaned off before he brought her here.
Joanne rested her arms on his shoulders. “Yeah? And what exactly do you want to do?”
“Have you ever seen a Shifter in mating frenzy?”
“No.” Joanne rubbed the back of his neck.
“It’s not pretty. It’s not champagne and roses. It’s raw, and real. What we did before was tame.”
Joanne leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “You’re my mate. So you keep saying. I assume mating frenzy leaves both mates intact?”
Broderick could barely nod. The frenzy was gripping him, dissolving anything civilized.
Joanne wrapped her arms tighter around him. “Then stop worrying about it,” she said.
The next moment, she squealed as Broderick tore her shirt straight off. She wore a thin silky shirt with spaghetti straps underneath instead of a bra, and Broderick tore that off too.
She rocked back in a denim skirt and bare chest, her startled cries turning to laughter.
Broderick had her planted farther back on the workbench before he ripped off her skirt and panties, then paused to claw off his own clothes.
He parted her legs and stepped between them, pulling her close and growling.
Mate. My mate!
The first plunge into her was sweet. Joanne spread her legs wider, urging him in. Broderick lowered her back onto the high workbench while he stood, thrusting into her. He loved how her head rocked, her body arched, how she clung to his wrists with fingers that left marks.
The sex was basic and primal. Beautiful. Joanne shrieked and yelled, laughed and screamed. Broderick wasn’t silent—he shouted, groaned, let himself plunge into every brilliant second of it.
“I love you!” Joanne said, her words ringing through the room.
“Love you, Jo-Jo. Love you so much. You beautiful, beautiful woman.”
Broderick held her thighs, fingers tight, as he thrust hard. Joanne’s words grew incoherent, as jumbled as his thoughts.
Mate, love, fucking sweet, want to be in you forever …
Without a conscious decision to do so, Broderick lifted his hand, the one imprinted with the Celtic knot, and laid it between Joanne’s breasts, over her heart.
A hot sensation jumped from there to his own heart, and Joanne sucked in a sharp breath, looking stunned.
The mate bond. He knew it. Tiger had known it.
The joy that had eluded Broderick all his life, the one he’d pursued without understanding, folded itself around him. His Joanne carried his cub, and Broderick was complete.
Didn’t mean he was going to abandon the mating frenzy and weep with happiness. Broderick kept thrusting into her, the erotic sensations twining with love and making everything three times as hot.
They both ended up on the workbench, Joanne’s legs wrapped around Broderick’s torso as he joined with the woman he loved.
When they came, it was intense. Broderick could barely breathe, had lost all power of speech, and only groaned when his seed left him to bury itself inside Joanne. Joanne laughed and cried out, wrapped herself even tighter around him, and held on as they rode it out.
After a long time, they wound down, holding each other, kissing lightly, then more strongly with hot, loving kisses. The mate bond heated the air between them.
Broderick’s palm tingled, and then the music boxes began to play. Not with the jangle that had announced the opening of the gate to Faerie, but with a soft, muted
tone that sweetened the air.
To the music of what Broderick and his family had created, he and Joanne held each other, touching, kissing. It was the beginning of a long time of happiness to come, but the happiness of the moment was overwhelming.
Joanne kissed him, her smile warm. The silvery music wound with the mate bond and sealed two halves into a whole.
End
Read on for an excerpt of
White Tiger
Shifters Unbound, Book 8
Chapter One
It was almost time. Addison Price slid the coffeepot back on the heater, unable to keep her eye from the clock. The diner closed at midnight. Every night at eleven fifty-five on the dot, he came in.
Tonight, though, eleven fifty-five came and went. And eleven fifty-six, fifty-seven.
She’d have to close up. The owner liked everything shut down right at midnight. He’d come in about fifteen minutes later and start going through the accounts for the day.
Eleven fifty-eight. The last customer, a farmer in a John Deere cap he must have picked up forty years ago from all the grime on it, grinned at her and said, “Night, Addie. Time to go home to the wife.”
He said that every night. Addie only smiled at him and waved good-bye.
Eleven fifty-nine. In one minute, she’d have to lock the door, turn the Open sign around to Closed, help with the clean up, and then go home. Her sister and three kids would be asleep, school day tomorrow. Addie would creep in as usual, take a soothing shower, play on the Internet a little to unwind, and then fall asleep. Her unwavering routine.
Tonight, though, she wouldn’t be able to analyze every single thing the white-and-black-haired man said to her and decide whether he liked her or was just making conversation.
The second hand on the analog clock above the pass to the kitchen swept down from the twelve toward the six. Eleven-fifty nine and thirty seconds. Forty. Forty-five.
Addie sighed and moved to the glass front door.
Which opened as she approached it, bringing in warmth of a Texas night, and the man.
Addie quickly changed reaching for the door’s lock to yanking the door open wide and giving him her sunniest smile. “Hello, there. Y’all come on in. You made it just in time.”