“Thank you,” Iona said sincerely. She had the feeling she’d be asking for advice from both Cassidy and Nell a lot.
“Hey.” Graham stopped next to Iona, his tattoos sharp in the bright sunlight. He opened his arms. “I question your taste, but the blessings of the God and Goddess go with you, Iona.”
Iona let Graham hug her, aware that Eric was breathing down Graham’s neck from the other side.
Instead of giving Iona a perfunctory hug and releasing her, Graham wrapped her in a powerful embrace that lifted her from her feet.
“And I’m not just sucking up to you because you’re the leader’s mate,” Graham said as he held her. “You have balls, Iona. Good thing for Eric that you do.”
Graham finally thumped her back to the ground, and Eric shouldered his way between them, a low growl in his throat.
Iona grabbed Eric’s hand to draw him away. Eric left with her, but only after he and Graham had exchanged long gazes promising violence.
Iona and Eric were pulled into the circles of dancing Shifters, finding themselves in the midst of laughing, shouting—and growling and howling—males and females of all three Shifter species, in both human and Shifter form. Bears, wolves, and wildcats surrounded her, but Iona was with Eric, his hand on hers like a secure tether, and she wasn’t afraid.
She let herself be swept up in the celebration, very aware of Eric’s hard body by her side, and of her rising mating frenzy.
Misty found Graham sitting by himself on top of a picnic table in the middle of Shiftertown, a little way from the uproar that was filling the place.
She’d arrived to find the streets beyond the gates deserted but heard the commotion behind the houses. She’d parked her large black pickup on a quiet side street, then walked the rest of the way to see what was going on.
She’d found what looked like a free-for-all bacchanalia—wild animals writhing around each other and with tall humans, some of the humans clothed, others naked, men and women alike. Music blared up and down the yards. Misty had realized, after the first few freaked-out moments, that they were dancing.
Graham had been easy to spot sitting on the table, surveying everyone like a god, a bottle of beer held loosely in his hands. Though the other Shifters pretty much ignored her, Graham saw Misty coming—she felt his gaze on her all the way across the revelry.
Misty hopped up and sat next to him, for the first time nervous about being near him. Too bad, because she liked him. Graham was a big, tough guy with bad-boy appeal, but when she looked into his strong face and winter gray eyes, she saw a man who had to make hard decisions and hid his emotions behind harsh words.
There were two kinds of leaders, Misty had learned—the bullies that pumped themselves up by belittling others and those who were men good at command. The first were weak, the second strong. Graham, she sensed, was the second type. Misty’s instincts about this were good, honed by growing up in neighborhoods where it was survival to tell the difference.
Graham McNeil had power. His large body exuded it, his huge muscles solid—no sagging flesh on this man.
“Hey,” she said when he didn’t say anything to her. “Am I crashing a party?”
“A mate blessing.”
He watched her in quiet contemplation, his stare not letting her go.
“Mate blessing? What’s that?”
“Male and female Shifter joining,” Graham said. “Like human marriage, only better. The male in this case is the asshole Feline who beat me so bad the other night.”
“And you came to his wedding?”
Graham made an indifferent gesture with his beer bottle. “It’s a Shifter thing. We fight, we agree to hate each other, we move on. Everyone has a place, everyone knows what it is.”
“That’s good. I guess. Better than having to fight your way out your door every morning.”
His gaze fixed on her even harder. “You’re talking from experience.”
“Grew up in a bad neighborhood in Los Angeles. This is better. Las Vegas is Sin City to some, but for me, it was a fresh start.”
Graham listened, all his awareness on her. When she fell silent again, he said, “What are you doing here? In Shiftertown? Today?”
She shrugged, doing her best to be offhand. “I was talking about getting a tattoo. Remember—you suggested I come to Shiftertown and find you when I made up my mind? You’d take me to the best artist, you said. I’d like your opinion on the design too.”
Graham finally looked away from her. He moved his gaze to the couple in the center of the crowd, a tall man who knew how to move his body in the dance, and a black-haired woman with a garland of flowers on her head. Red gerbera daisies and white roses, woven with a red ribbon. Good choice.
When Graham spoke again, his words were clear. “The thing about Shifters, sweetheart, is that we’re very good at knowing when people are lying.” His gaze switched to her again, skewering her all the way through. “And you, sweet baby, stink of lies.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Fear licked down Misty’s spine, a primal terror felt by small animals when a huge wolf had them in his sights.
He can’t hurt you, she told herself. Shifters wear Collars to keep them under control. Sure. Graham looked like that Collar totally controlled him. And he’d told her he’d been in a fight with the thing on him.
“You’re right,” Misty said, her throat dry. “I suck at lying. A guy called Kellerman is blackmailing me to spy on you. You heard of him?”
“You know I have.”
“Actually, I don’t know anything at all. I’d never met him before, or any Shifters before you either. He thinks you’re up to something and need to be watched.”
“He’s right about that.” Graham fixed her with unblinking gray eyes. “He shouldn’t trust me. He’s doing something underhanded, and I’m going to find out what and stop him.”
“I don’t want to be in the middle of this.”
“You’re already in the middle of it, sweetie. This is what happens when humans talk to Shifters.”
Graham took one of her hands between his. His hands were gigantic, Misty’s swallowed in them, but his touch was incredibly gentle.
“How did he convince you to come here?” Graham asked. “By the look on your face, you didn’t decide he was wonderful and wise and deserved your obedience.”
“No way in hell. My brother is in prison and up for parole. Kellerman said he’d block Paul’s chances if I didn’t help him.”
“Dickhead. Why is your brother in prison?”
Misty didn’t like talking about it, but under Graham’s stare, her tongue loosened, and the words came out.
“When Paul was eighteen, he and his friends stole a car. To go joyriding, that’s all. They were drunk and out to have fun. They got into an accident, and the people in the other car were killed. Paul was tried for grand theft and manslaughter and given twenty years.”
“Is that a lot for a human?”
“More than the situation called for. Paul wasn’t driving. He was in the backseat, and he didn’t break into the car either. His friends did that. The kid who was driving was killed too, and the prosecutor came down hard on Paul and the friend that survived. The people in the other car were rich and prominent, and their family had a lot of influence. The judge decided to make an example of Paul. One stupid mistake, and Paul pays with twenty years of his life. But he’s up for parole and maybe early release. Kellerman says he has influence, and that if I don’t help him, he’ll make sure Paul stays there for the whole sentence. So here I am. I can’t jeopardize my brother’s chance to get away from the gangs who beat him up every day. He needs to come home.”
Graham listened without moving. No change of expression, no nodding. It was like talking to a statue, except for his watchful eyes.
When Misty finished, Graham said, “Don’t worry about Kellerman. When Eric and I are done with him, he won’t be able to influence a traffic light. But here’s what you do: You run back to K
ellerman and tell him some good dirt on me. We’ll make something up. And then you tell me everything you can about Kellerman.”
“Be a double agent, you mean?” That sounded dangerous but preferable to Kellerman having a hold over her.
“Sure.” Graham ran his thumb over the inside of her wrist, a tickle of heat on her skin. “And I’ll help you pick out a tatt.”
“I’m so sorry about this,” Misty said. “When I saw you at the bar, this is not what I meant to happen. I just wanted to talk to you.”
Graham’s callused thumb moved across her wrist again. “Why did you?”
“You looked interesting. And in pain. And lonely.”
Graham stared down at her, and Misty again tried to read what was in his face. A powerful man might take what she’d just said as an insult.
Graham cupped Misty’s cheek, turned her face up to his, and kissed her.
It was a slow, strong kiss that promised a multitude of pleasure. His lips were firm, opening hers without concern. He tasted faintly of the beer he’d drunk and more of himself, the bite of maleness Misty hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.
When he released her, Misty struggled for breath. “What was that for?”
“You look interesting,” he said, his face straight. “And in pain. And lonely.”
“I am. The last two.”
“Then sit here with me awhile,” Graham said.
She shouldn’t. Misty needed to get back to the shop and help her employees fill orders, talk to the wedding party for Saturday, make sure they were stocked with emergency bridal bouquets—this was Las Vegas, after all.
“Yes, all right,” she said.
Misty gazed across the yards to where the woman danced, twirled by another Shifter, while the man laughed. Yes, she was surrounded by crazed animals and naked people, but they didn’t take away from how the man and woman gazed at each other. That was what happiness looked like.
Graham’s body was warm beside her, his hand strong over hers. Misty wasn’t sure where this would go, but for now, she’d enjoy it. Snatch happiness where it’s found, she’d learned. Happiness dissolved all too soon.
“I thought the mating ceremony would make my mating frenzy go away,” Iona said as the music slowed. “But I’m still hungry.”
Eric wrapped his arms around her and swayed into her warmth. “The mating ceremony increases it, love. There’s only one way to conquer the frenzy.”
He read the heat in her eyes. “Too bad all these people are here.”
“They’re busy.” Eric scooped Iona up into his arms, her loose skirt fluttering.
“Eric, wait…”
Iona trailed off as the Shifters started to cheer. They knew exactly where Eric was taking her and what they’d do when they got there.
The cheer grew as Eric carried Iona from the circle and back to his house. The Shifters broke into laughter, applause, louder music, and more raucous shouting as Eric and Iona disappeared inside.
Eric took Iona to Jace’s bedroom, laid her on the bed, and closed the blind against the bright afternoon and the crowd outside.
“I’m barely keeping it in, love,” he said, ripping off his boots.
Iona lay back, so sweetly waiting for him, his dark-haired beauty, her clothes mussed and hair tousled. The garland of daisies and roses had fallen halfway over one blue eye.
Eric fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, fingers shaking. To hell with it. He ripped the shirt open, buttons pinging to the floor, while Iona laughed at him. He peeled off the shirt and T-shirt underneath, then got out of his jeans.
He liked how Iona’s gaze went to him as the underwear came off, her eyes taking in his cock standing straight out, dark and hard. Her eyes changed to her Shifter’s as she got to her knees, reaching across the bed for him.
Oh, yes. Iona’s hot hands closed around his cock, tugging him closer. Eric lifted the garland gently from her head and tossed it to the nightstand, then he ran his hand through her silken black hair. He tugged open the catches of her shirt, spreading it apart.
She wore a bra underneath, a white slash of lace. Eric sprang the hook, and Iona heaved a sigh of relief.
“I hate wearing bras anymore,” she said. “They chafe. They never used to.”
Iona had to release Eric’s cock so he could pull the lace from her warm breasts. He didn’t mind, because he could catch the weight of her breasts in his hands. Her skin was so smooth, like the finest satin.
“Your panther doesn’t want to be fettered,” he said.
“I suppose in the wild, you always went naked?”
“No way in hell. Scottish winters were cold.”
“Winters here are warm,” she pointed out.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t cuddle up.”
Eric undid the button on Iona’s skirt as he pushed her backward to the mattress. He tugged off the skirt, then the panties, and then she was bare for him.
He wanted to pause to look at her, taking in Iona’s beautiful nudity against the sheets, her full breasts, flat belly, her twist of hair between her thighs. He wanted to look his fill of her half-closed blue eyes, her sultry smile, the black hair spread across his pillow.
But his need called to him. He craved her, needed to fill his mouth with her taste. Eric hooked her knees over his arms, spread her legs, and lowered himself to drink of her.
Iona groaned with pleasure as he licked and drank the honey between her thighs. The scent and heat and taste of her stirred the frenzy higher, and Eric let the madness come.
He filled his himself with her goodness, teasing her tight berry until she was squirming, lifting her hips from the bed. He licked some more, washing the sensitive skin with his tongue, then Eric lifted himself up, slid up the length of her, and entered her in one stroke.
Wildness spiraled through him as he thrust once, twice, and again, and again. Iona’s hot sheath squeezed him, wet and tight, the sensation erotic as hell.
This time, at least, he was loving her in a soft bed, not on the back of a couch, the floor, or a mat of pine needles. The leopard in him remembered the satisfaction of being with her panther in the stark cold of the woods. The clouded memory sent excitement through him, and he thrust that excitement into her.
“Eric.”
The moaned word made him crazy. Eric increased his speed, holding her down, loving how her legs twined his and urged him on.
Forever, my Iona. Forever.
He heard snarls come from his throat and her answering cries. He saw the feral beast in her eyes and felt his in himself. Collars couldn’t tame him, and would never tame her. They’d go wild together.
Iona’s claws were in his back, tearing his skin. He growled at her, and she made a snarling noise in return. She was losing control, and right now, Eric didn’t care.
Being inside her erased every worry he had, every empty space, every fear, every doubt. There was only Iona, and this room, and the heat between them. He would love her until they couldn’t move, and then they’d sleep, then they’d love again.
The afternoon sun had reached its highest point by the time Eric hit his climax, spilling his seed in her while Iona bit and licked his shoulder. His back would be a mess, but so what? Shifters healed quickly.
Eric rolled over, pulling Iona on top of him, and they slept for a short time. They woke when the sun started to sink, and Iona smiled down at Eric before she wriggled herself onto his cock.
He held her there while she rode him, the lovemaking less frenzied this time. Iona’s eyes closed to slits, her smile sexy as hell. Sweat slid between them, and the round of her breasts moved sweetly against his hands.
Iona lay down on him when they finished and fell asleep with him still inside her.
When they woke again, it was fully dark. The party outside still raged—Shifters loved a good party.
Eric and Iona pulled on a few clothes and crept out to the kitchen, where they raided the refrigerator and carried the food back to the bedroom to satisfy their
hunger.
Energy restored, the frenzy returned. Eric shoved the plates and boxes off the bed, flipped Iona facedown on it, and pulled her hips back toward him. The leopard in him liked this—the natural way—as he entered her from behind. Eric the human only felt Iona around him, heard her cries of delight, felt her move on him as she squirmed against the bed.
They ended up with Iona flat on the mattress, Eric on her back, his whole body covering her.
They loved like that until they fell asleep again. When they woke the next time, Eric rolled over with her, and started loving her once more.
The mating frenzy, a cool voice said in the back of his brain. Nature’s way of ensuring the continuance of the species.
Shut up, Eric responded, then heard nothing but Iona’s cries and his own, as their loving went on into the night.
In the first light of morning, Iona peeled open her eyes to find Eric facedown next to her. He lay on top of the covers, his face relaxed in sleep.
Eric was a beautiful man. Liquid bronze skin covered a body of sculpted muscle, his waist tapering to a tight, bare backside. The tattoo that covered his shoulder and trailed down his arm invited her tongue, the scratches on his back testimony to her frenzy last night.
She moved to stretch and stifled a groan. Every muscle was sore, her mouth raw from Eric’s wild kisses.
Life with a Shifter. Exhausting.
And yet, something within Iona had relaxed, a tightness dissolving. She’d spent her life up to this point knowing she was different and would never fit in, no matter what she did. She’d learned to pretend, to act human enough that she made it through school and college, enough so she didn’t concern her mother and sister.
Then Eric had come into her life. He’d told her bluntly that she was denying her Shifter side, and he’d been right.
This man wanted her to explore that forbidden part of her—all of it. Iona had been terrified at first, but she knew that she was perfectly safe learning about her Shifter self, because Eric was with her to guide and protect her.