Mate Bond

  Her knees went slack, but Bowman’s strength poured into her and kept her on her feet. Thinking about how Serena had seen him bare in the parking lot, even if he’d only wanted to scare the woman, made Kenzie growl even as she kissed him.

  My mate. Mine.

  She slid her hands behind his neck and dragged him against her. Bowman bit down on her lip, the kiss taking over her mouth.

  Kenzie gasped for breath, but Bowman wouldn’t let her breathe. He wouldn’t let her move, or go, or do anything but frantically kiss him back, watery need flowing through every limb, as snow danced around them.

  “Goddess,” came the irritated voice of Pierce, the Guardian. “Would you two get a room?”

  His voice jolted Kenzie out of her building frenzy. Almost. She remained plastered against Bowman, feeling the hard ridge of his cock against her abdomen even as Bowman turned his head to glare at Pierce, his eyes hot with anger.

  When they’d first moved to this Shiftertown, Kenzie and Pierce had gone out together for a while. Before that, neither of them had ever tried a cross-species relationship, and Kenzie knew that most of what they’d shared had been curiosity.

  They’d gone their separate ways by mutual agreement not long after, and Kenzie and Pierce had remained friends. This had been a few years before Kenzie and Bowman had mated, but their past relationship always drove Bowman crazy.

  “What do you want?” he snapped at Pierce.

  “The ritual is done,” Pierce said, giving Bowman a hard stare in return. Guardians were the few Shifters who could look a leader in the eyes without fear. “The creature has already turned to ash.”

  “So quickly?” Kenzie didn’t back away from Bowman, but she blinked in surprise. “I thought something that big would burn for a while.”

  Pierce shrugged, which moved the Guardian’s sword on his back, its hilt rising above his left shoulder. “It’s a magical being, like Shifters. Ashes to ashes, very fast.”

  “Interesting,” Bowman said, his body starting to relax. “Save me a sample of the ash, and bury the rest.”

  “Right.” Pierce nodded to Kenzie—not Bowman—and turned and walked away.

  Bowman carefully stepped away from her. “Take Ryan home,” he said.

  Kenzie didn’t move. “You can’t kill Pierce, you know. You’d have to hold a Choosing for another Guardian, if the Goddess even let you live after that.”

  Bowman gave her an annoyed look. “I know.”

  “Seriously, it was over a long time ago. I don’t think we had anything to even be over.”

  Bowman had started to turn away, but at her words, he swung back, gripped Kenzie by the arms and pulled her against him again.

  “You think I can stand knowing any second you could walk away from me, and I wouldn’t be able to stop you?” His fingers bit down. “That if you feel the mate bond with another male, you’ll go—and you won’t care? Do you know what that does to me?”

  Bowman released her to put both his hands to his chest, digging into his sweatshirt. “It tears me up inside, right here. It messes with me until I can’t sleep, or think, or feel anything but wanting to grab you and keep you with me no matter what. I’m fucked up because of you, and every time you smile at another male, it fucks me up even more. So have a little pity, all right, Kenz? You’re killing me—a little bit every day.”

  Bowman twisted his shirt while Kenzie stared, openmouthed, at him, Then he made a sound of disgust at himself, swung on his heel, and left her.

  * * *

  Bowman stayed out until very late that night, on into the small hours of the morning. Kenzie heard him return, entering the house quietly.

  He did this sometimes when he couldn’t keep his anger down around Kenzie. He’d never disappear for good, she knew, because he wouldn’t leave her or Ryan unprotected. He and Kenzie had to present a united front, no matter what they felt in private, so the other Shifters would remain stable and calm.

  The Shifters picked up on any dissonance between the two, instincts making them edgy. After a while those instincts would cancel out any good that Kenzie and Bowman’s mating of convenience had wrought. Shifters could split themselves again between supporting Bowman’s pack or Cristian’s, or splinter into individual clans, each species shutting the others out.

  As much as the world tried to humanize Shifters, as much as Shifters presented themselves as human in order to reassure the world, they were still animals. As animals, they had a heightened instinct to survive and to protect their immediate families, at any cost.

  Kenzie sat in the dark in bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, as she heard Bowman go into Ryan’s room. She knew he’d cross to the bed and look down at Ryan asleep for a moment, then smooth his hair or press a kiss to his forehead before leaving the room and softly closing the door.

  Bowman entered their bedroom, where Kenzie waited, and halted on the threshold. All the lights in the house were out, but Bowman could see fine in the dark.

  “I thought you’d be asleep.” He came inside and shut the door, and Kenzie let out her tense breath. She’d worried he’d turn away when he saw her awake, to go sleep on one of the living room couches.

  “I couldn’t,” she said. “I wondered if you found out anything.”

  “Not much.” Fabric whispered as Bowman’s clothes slid from him, his belt clinking in the darkness. “The driver for the trucking company did steal the truck, but he sold it pretty quickly. Then he got caught boosting another truck and has spent the last six months in prison.” Kenzie heard his jeans hit the floor. “He’s not involved in this, as far as I can tell.”

  Kenzie tried to keep her tone conversational as Bowman approached the bed, though her heart was pounding. “Who did he sell the truck to?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Pierce is on it, along with all the Guardians, on their network. I also called Eric and Liam.” He made a sound like a grunt. “Because you know how much I love talking to other Shiftertown leaders.”

  Kenzie smothered a laugh. Eric was the leader of the Las Vegas Shiftertown, and a Feline, and Bowman didn’t much like Felines. But then all Shiftertown leaders were competitive with one another. They could work together, but the heightened awareness in a roomful of leaders gave off a distinctive odor.

  “Did they know anything?” she asked.

  “Nope. They’ve never heard of a creature like it. A griffin, or whatever.”

  Bowman got into bed as he spoke, bashing his pillows into shape as usual. Kenzie knew he wouldn’t act awkward, or apologize for his outburst at the arena, or defend himself in any way. He’d carry on as though nothing had happened.

  That’s what they always did. If they kept their relationship businesslike, all was well. As soon as they moved into emotions, everything went to hell.

  “Both Liam and Eric want to send a couple of their Shifters to help us look around,” Bowman said. “I told them I’d think about it.”

  Kenzie adjusted for Bowman’s bulk in the bed, the sheet sliding from her bare torso. “An outsider’s perspective might be useful. They both have good trackers.”

  “I said I’d think about it.” Bowman resolutely closed his eyes. “Go to sleep. We have a lot more to do tomorrow.”

  He pulled the covers up over his chest and pretended to drift off.

  Kenzie sat still and watched him. Her Shifter sight let her see him in the darkness, his bronzed shoulders and hands against the pale sheet, his eyes closed, hiding their glitter from her. His lashes were thick and very black, curling against his tanned face.

  She knew he wasn’t sleeping by the rigidness of his hands, which clenched the sheet. When Bowman slept, his fingers relaxed, the powerful grip finally calming. His breathing would deepen, his chest rising and falling in long, slow cycles. Bowman also snored when he slept hard, a fact he fervently denied.

  At the moment, his fingers were stiff, his breathing shallow and quiet.

  Kenzie slowly and carefully eased herself down beside
him. She slid down farther without disturbing the sheets, until her nose was level with the heat of his bare hip.

  Before he could reach down and stop her, Kenzie locked her hand around his far hip, raised her head, and did what she’d dreamed of doing out by the arena today. Bowman’s cock was already hard, so he had to be thinking about it too.

  “No.” Bowman jumped, his hands coming down to push her away.

  Too late. Kenzie was already rubbing her tongue along the underside of his cock, reveling in the dark taste of him.

  The grip that Bowman meant to stop her instead closed on her hair, his fingers threading it. “Kenzie, you little shit,” he whispered.

  Kenzie smiled as she worked him into her mouth. The sheet trapped her, as did his hands, but Kenzie didn’t care. She was nestled in a warm cocoon with her mate, darkness, and the fine feel and taste of his cock.

  As she licked, nipped, and suckled, the smooth head bumped her lips, her nose. She nuzzled him, his skin wet from her tongue, and wanted to laugh.

  “Goddess and God.” Bowman spoke with jaw clenched. “Damn you . . .”

  Kenzie kept on him. His hips moved under her mouth, Bowman wanting to thrust. He’d come any minute, and she’d swallow him, the seed of her beloved mate.

  But it wasn’t meant to be. Bowman reached down, seized her, and dragged her up and out from under the covers. She couldn’t fight the strength of him, not when he was like this—needing and angry.

  He had her down on the mattress before Kenzie could say a word, his mouth on hers, his knee forcing her legs open. Then he was inside her, every Shifter inch of him. Their hips rocked together, sweat making his fingers slick where he held down her wrists.

  Bowman thrust into her, this loving rapid and fierce, until he came, snarling, and fell on top of her, breathing hard.

  Kenzie smoothed his hair, her own climax quiet this time, but still powerful.

  Bowman’s head was cradled on her breasts when sleep finally took him. His grip relaxed, his hands growing slack, but Kenzie never moved, drifting off to sleep in the strong embrace of her mate.

  * * *

  Bowman’s cell phone going off dragged him awake before daylight.

  He rolled out of bed to grab the phone from the pocket of his jeans, his body protesting. Only a little of his soreness was residual from his injured leg—frantic sex with his mate always took its toll.

  Bowman was highly aware of Kenzie sitting up in the dark behind him, the sheet hugging her breasts. Her eroticism was like a stinging slap. He could never ignore her.

  Nor could he ignore the insistent phone. Shifters didn’t have access to the scores of ringtones humans did, so it gave a shrill, tinny brr-brr. Bowman had noticed, as he noticed everything, that humans, given the huge selection of sounds their phones could make, stuck overall with the same few.

  Caller ID told him the number calling was private, but no one would call a Shiftertown leader at four thirty on an icy morning if it weren’t important.

  “What?” he asked in a rasping whisper, not wanting to wake Ryan in the next room.

  “In the woods near the burn site,” came a muffled voice, pitched to hide the caller’s gender. “Come now. It’s important.”

  “Why the fuck should I?”

  “You need to.” The caller sounded anxious, and now Bowman knew she was female. “I don’t like what he’s doing. I thought he was right, but now—this is bad. I need to show you, or you’ll never believe me.”

  Behind him, Bowman heard Kenzie’s phone give the faint buzz that said she had a text. Kenzie leaned to the nightstand to grab it, stretching the sheet over the curve of her hips.

  “Who is this?” Bowman demanded.

  “I’m—” The woman broke off with a gasp. “Oh, shit! I have to—” And the phone went dead.

  Bowman slammed his finger onto his recent calls list, but it didn’t give him any more information than before. Private caller.

  He threw down the phone to find Kenzie texting, her thumbs moving rapidly. Bowman could never get the hang of texts. Either talk to me or go the hell away was his motto.

  Kenzie finished her message, waited a moment, then read the return message when her phone buzzed again. She typed two letters with her thumbs and hit the send key hard.

  “Cristian?” Bowman asked.

  “Yes.” Kenzie looked up from scowling at the message. “How did you know?”

  “I can almost smell him through the phone. And no one else can piss you off as much with a text message.”

  “You could,” Kenzie said darkly.

  “I don’t text. What did he want?”

  For answer, Kenzie showed him the phone. Cristian had first written, I found out something about that Serena. Come to me and speak.

  Kenzie had written, Just tell me.

  The reply: She has passed on information about Shifters that I fear has endangered us. You need to come. Meet me in the woods near where the monster died.

  Kenzie’s NO blazed in response.

  Bowman nodded, indicating he was finished reading. The fact that Cristian had written in English meant he fully expected Kenzie to share the message with Bowman and wanted nothing to be lost in translation.

  “We have to go out there,” Bowman said. As Kenzie opened her mouth to protest, he said, “My call was from Serena, I’m pretty sure.”

  Kenzie looked at her message again. “Crap, you mean Uncle Cris is hunting her out there?”

  “Something’s going on. I need to find out.”

  Kenzie scrambled out of bed, beautiful and naked. The streetlight outside touched her breasts with a misty glow, and Bowman wished he could forget all about human pseudo-groupies, strange mythical monsters, and her pain-in-the-ass Uncle Cristian and take her back to bed.

  Kenzie leaned over to retrieve her clothes, not cooling his distracted body. “I’ll call my grandmother to come watch Ryan. I hate to wake him.”

  “He’s already awake and you know it,” Bowman said, watching her cover her beauty with drawstring sweatpants, a thin camisole and a sweatshirt. Clothes easy to remove for shifting. “But yeah, call her. If Cristian’s out rampaging, Afina will be up and worrying anyway.”

  Kenzie settled her sweatshirt, shutting him out of her body again. Bowman realized he was holding his jeans in nerveless fingers while he stared at his mate.

  She gave him a what-are-you-doing? look as she pushed past him, her phone already in her hand. Bowman hurriedly finished dressing and ran out to catch up to her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The drive back to the arena was dark and cold. Bowman rode his motorcycle, happy to be able to again, his back warmed by Kenzie clinging on behind.

  The moon was still in the sky, rendering the world black-and-white. Snow had fallen all yesterday afternoon, but the clouds had cleared as Kenzie and Bowman slept. The ground glittered in radiant silver, the towering trees like cut black silhouettes. The wind was icy, the temperature in the teens. Weather like this was dry rather than damp, air burning inside the nostrils and lungs.

  Kenzie had wrapped a scarf around her nose and mouth, but Bowman rode with only his leather jacket zipped closed to keep out the winter. Cold never bothered him.

  The road wound through tree-dense hills. They met no approaching headlights, overtook no one. On this January Sunday morning, humans were staying snug in bed before rising for church, or had just crawled home to sleep off their wild Saturday night.

  Bowman cut down into the farms and then up another hill to the arena. He parked where they had when they’d found the griffin and dismounted the bike, sniffing the wind.

  He smelled decaying monster, overlaid with cleansing fire, the woods at night, and Kenzie, who’d come up close behind him.

  Faintly, from a distance, he caught a new scent—that of human death.

  Bowman didn’t need to tell Kenzie to follow. The motorcycle would be safe enough here, hidden in shadows. He moved off into the darkness behind the arena, following the
moonlit trail. Kenzie walked noiselessly behind him.

  Bowman veered from the site where the pyre had been. Smoke hung in the air, but the fire was long gone. His Shifters would have made sure it was completely out before they left.

  Down another hill, mud frozen beneath their feet. Kenzie gripped Bowman’s hand as they climbed down slippery rocks and found their quarry at the bottom.

  Bowman wasn’t surprised to see Cristian Dimitru sitting in a crouch beside the body of Serena, the pseudo-groupie, possible-reporter. She had been shot twice, her chest black with blood, her eyes staring upward. She was very dead.

  * * *

  Kenzie took a step back and said a quick prayer to the Goddess. She never liked the smell of death—no Shifter did—whether the corpse was human, animal, or otherwise.

  Bowman didn’t like it either, she could tell by the tightness of his shoulders, but he joined Uncle Cris on the ground, both of them looking over the body.

  Bowman pinned Cristian with a hard gaze. “Did you do this?”

  Cristian’s golden wolf eyes narrowed, the gray streaks in his hair pale patches in the darkness. He looked much like his wolf at that moment, a great black beast with yellow eyes.

  “You think I would make this kill?” he asked. “With a gun?”

  Shifters disliked guns. They were loud, smelled, and could damage innocent bystanders. Much better to go for a direct, silent kill with teeth and claws.

  “You texted Kenzie about Serena,” Bowman said. “And now she’s dead.”

  “She was being hunted.” Cristian’s accent had all but evaporated. “She came here to meet someone, but either that someone turned on her, or another followed her and chased her. She ran a long way, but in the end, the bullets found her.”

  “Who was hunting her?” Kenzie leaned down, hands on her knees, to join the conversation. She avoided looking into the woman’s open eyes.

  “I did not see,” Cristian said regretfully. “But I smelled. A man. With a gun—as you can see.”