Mate Bond

  Kenzie answered with wordless cries, their love ringing through the woods. Nothing mattered in the world—not the Collar that gleamed on Kenzie’s throat, not the threats outside Shiftertown, not even the problem of the mate bond.

  Only this mattered, joining with Kenzie, loving her, being one with her. And at the same remaining two, because no way could one single being feel This. Damn. Good.

  He was coming. Bowman heard words leave his mouth. “You’re beautiful, Kenz. You’ve got the finest ass, the hottest . . .” More phrases, from poetic to filthy came in time with his thrusts. She was hot and slick, and embraced him with her whole body. “I want to be inside you, and never . . . come . . . out.”

  Kenzie’s hips rocked with his, her strong arms steadying herself and, at the same time, him. She was Bowman’s anchor, his reality. His necessity.

  He loved her, and the hell he’d ever let her go to some asshole who claimed he had a mate bond with her. Screw the fucking mate bond.

  Bowman’s cries turned to howls. Kenzie’s joined his. Their wolves, buried deep within them, rejoiced in the moonlight, for this mating, this joining of bodies and twining of souls.

  Bowman found himself on the ground, still inside Kenzie, tears stinging his eyes. Kenzie’s face was wet too, but her smile was wide.

  She put up her hand and wiped a tear from Bowman’s cheek, then they collapsed together into the soft pine needles with warm kisses and touches, murmuring things to each other that weren’t really words at all.

  * * *

  Bowman often left Kenzie directly after loving, especially when they shared an intense coupling. She lay quietly under him now as he stilled, and braced herself for him heaving to his feet and walking away.

  She was surprised, then, when Bowman remained on top of her, gently kissing her neck, licking where he’d bitten her. Kenzie didn’t want to move much, in case it reminded him to go, but she couldn’t help running her fingers through his short hair, liking the silken buzz of it.

  Dappled light touched Bowman’s shoulders, brushing the sculpted beauty of his back, his legs, the rise of his buttocks. Kenzie thought she could lie here under him forever, his strength surrounding her.

  He raised his head and kissed the tip of her nose, then her lips, with slow tenderness. The sweet kiss led to something deeper, going on for some time.

  Bowman lifted his head. His eyes were the same color as the moonlight, his Collar a black streak against his sun-kissed throat.

  “We’re good together,” he said in a soft voice. “You and me.”

  Beyond the darkness, Shiftertown was lit up, music blaring, Shifters yelling and carrying on. Kenzie couldn’t see them from where she lay, but she could definitely hear them. Probably half the county could.

  “Yeah,” Kenzie answered, smiling up at Bowman. “We are.”

  She touched his face, feeling the burn of whiskers, and traced his lips. Bowman caught her fingers with his teeth. He drew her forefinger all the way into his mouth, working it the same way he would her nipple. He did so for a time, until Kenzie moved beneath him, fires stirring like the leaping flames of the bonfires.

  “The Goddess made us for each other,” he said when he released her finger, licking it one more time. “I knew when I first saw you. I looked past all those scared Shifters, and you were standing there, straight up and take-no-shit, helping the cubs, getting in the face of the human guards who tried to mess with you. I never wanted to look away.”

  “I couldn’t look away from you either.” Kenzie sent him a grin. “But we had to, or we’d still be there.”

  “When I knew I had to take a mate, there was no question who it would be.”

  Kenzie drew her hand through his hair again. She knew he’d come to her to keep Uncle Cristian off his back, but Cristian had other nieces. Bowman could have made a different choice.

  “I’m glad you picked me,” Kenzie said softly.

  Bowman started to laugh. The sound was warm, low, and made her shiver. “Seriously, Kenz, if I’d tried to mate-claim anyone else, you’d have come after me and killed me.”

  “Possibly.” True, Kenzie had never bothered to hide her interest in Bowman. She hadn’t chased him, but when she’d seen him around Shiftertown, or at the roadhouse, she’d made sure he looked at her. She’d flirted, swayed her hips, contrived to be wearing the tightest clothes she could when she knew he’d be at the bar. When she’d danced with other men—human or Shifter—she’d look over at Bowman and give him a challenging look.

  Bowman’s laugh went low, as though he remembered the same things. “No ‘possibly’ about it. You drove me frigging crazy. I remember once, you mooned me in the roadhouse parking lot. I thought I was going to die. If we’d have been alone, I’d have grabbed you and taken you right there.”

  “Yeah?” Kenzie slanted him a smile. “I remember you shaking your head and walking away with Cade and Jamie.”

  “And keeping Jamie from running after you like the horny Feline he is. Of course I wanted you, Kenz. You have the best ass I’ve ever seen. And being Shifter, I’ve seen a lot of naked asses. Trust me, yours is the prettiest.”

  “Are you trying to get into my pants, Bowman O’Donnell? Thinking you have a right to any female you want?”

  “Your pants are way over there, Mrs. O’Donnell. The only female I want is you. You and your great ass.” He looked down at her chest, her skin pearlescent in the moonlight. “Your tits aren’t bad either.”

  “Watch it,” Kenzie said. “My evil uncle will make you mate-claim me.”

  Bowman’s voice went low, all teasing gone. “Way too late for that.”

  He growled as he kissed her, hungry, savage. Kenzie tried to kiss him back, but Bowman broke away, seized her by the hips, and rolled her facedown.

  Kenzie pretended to try to scramble away, but she shivered in happiness when Bowman caught her and dragged her back to him.

  Bowman plunged inside her from behind, thrusting with the power that would join them, body and soul. Kenzie laughed into the cold, crisp air, loving him, until her laughter wound into joyous cries.

  * * *

  Bowman walked with Kenzie back to the heart of Shiftertown later that night, hand in hand. Kenzie was sore, her knees scraped raw. Bowman moved a bit stiffly himself.

  They found Ryan at the cub slumber party, watched over by Afina and other older Shifters, including Cristian. Ryan begged to stay the whole night, and Bowman gave the okay. As long as he didn’t go to the zip line, not at night—and not without him or Kenzie.

  “You mean because they’re all starkers up there,” Ryan said. “It’s only unmated Shifters, Dad.” He made a face. “They’re just trying to have sex. Like you and Mom. Not interested.”

  One of the girl cubs laughed, but she looked sublimely uninterested as well. Cubs had no hormonal urges until their Transitions in their twenties, and then—watch out. Kenzie would have about another fifteen years before she had to deal with Ryan going through his, but she knew those years would fly by.

  Kenzie kissed Ryan good night, then Bowman did, and they walked out into the darkness.

  “I’d better go up to Cade’s and make sure there’s no mate Challenges,” Bowman said, sounding regretful. “They’re drunk on beer and frenzy. I don’t need Shifters trying to fight each other to the death while hanging from a zip line.”

  Kenzie laughed, but she understood his worry. Shifter rules said no Challenges on mating ceremony night, but when feral needs flared, rules got flushed.

  Bowman stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, looking like a wild animal trying to wear civilized clothes. Whiskers were stark black on his face, and his was hair rumpled, his eyes slightly bleary with all the lovemaking they’d enjoyed.

  “Check on the Shifters not trying to get some tonight,” Bowman said. “Make sure they’re all right.”

  “That won’t be many, but I will.”

  Kenzie should turn and walk away now, businesslike. They both had jobs to do, keeping
Shiftertown safe. They’d meet up later at home, compare notes. Like always.

  Tonight, Kenzie didn’t want to look away from Bowman. She kept her gaze on him as he stood a few feet from her, his breath steaming in the cold. His eyes caught hers, the silver gray piercing her to the heart.

  Finally, Bowman gave her a nod, turned around, and walked up the street, heading for the end of the zip line. His boots crunched in the loose stones on the asphalt, then darkness swallowed him, and he was gone.

  Kenzie sighed, wishing they didn’t always have to be Shiftertown leaders. If they were ordinary Shifters, they could lock themselves away and continue what they’d enjoyed in the woods, not emerging for days.

  Making herself do her job, Kenzie looked in on the indoor Shifter parties going on, making sure that Shifters who needed to go home got there. She left the parties behind, ignoring the slurred pleas for her to stay, and finally went back home. A few hours in the quiet wouldn’t come amiss.

  Not meant to be. A car sat in the narrow driveway of the O’Donnell house, and when Kenzie walked inside, she found Gil Ramirez in her living room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Sorry,” Gil said, when Kenzie paused on the threshold. “I let myself in. When I called him tonight, Bowman said it would be all right to wait here for you.”

  “Bowman said . . .” Kenzie trailed off and slammed the door, sliding out of her jacket. “Bowman so needs to learn to text me.”

  Gil chuckled. “He’s an old-fashioned guy. I can respect that.”

  Kenzie made an impatient noise and walked through the living room to the kitchen. “Did he tell you to help yourself to beer? Or did he want you to wait for me to be the gracious hostess again?”

  “If it’s a bad time, Kenz, I can talk to you later.”

  Kenzie turned around with two bottles of beer to see Gil standing in the living room looking apologetic. She flushed.

  “No, it’s fine.” She came back in and handed him a bottle. “Bowman just drives me crazy. Not your fault.”

  Gil accepted the opened beer, gestured to the sofa, and waited until Kenzie had seated herself before sitting down beside her. Human courtesy.

  “So a mating ceremony today?” Gil asked, sipping beer. “Celebrations in my family can be pretty wild too.”

  “Your family is from here?” Kenzie said. “North Carolina, I mean?”

  “No, I’m not native to the Carolinas. Most people think I’m Cherokee, but my family are from far away, and we left there a long time ago.”

  Kenzie eyed him in curiosity. “From where?”

  Gil shrugged. “You wouldn’t know it. You’re from what’s now called Romania, right?”

  “I am. Bowman’s from Canada. Did you come here to talk about where we’re all from?”

  “No, I came here to talk about our case.” Gil set down his beer and pulled a manila envelope from the inside of his jacket. “I found out about Serena Mitton, the girl who was shot. You interested?”

  Of course she was interested. Kenzie noticed that Gil had turned the questions about him neatly aside, but she said nothing as he pulled out papers and photographs.

  “Death was from two gunshots to the chest,” he said, scanning a sheet, “from a nine millimeter. She died quickly, the report says. Her name was Serena Mitton. She grew up in Baltimore and moved down here to attend UNC at Asheville. She stayed and became a research assistant while she worked on her master’s degree, in the anthropology department.”

  Kenzie’s eyes widened. “Did she work for Dr. Turner?” She’d told him all about Dr. Turner when she’d called him this morning.

  “Nope. She was an RA in the lab of one Dr. Jane Alston. From what Dr. Alston told me, Serena did no work for Dr. Turner, and didn’t interact much with him either. Nodded to him in the hall, maybe, but that’s it.”

  So why had the woman been found dead within a few miles of Turner’s trailer house? Near where the beast had been killed? After she’d called Bowman saying, I don’t like what he’s doing. “I don’t believe in coincidences,” Kenzie said.

  “Well, they do happen, but in this case, I agree with you.” Gil gathered up the photos: a head shot of Serena and one of the entire department staff. Turner was in that one, at the other end of the row from Serena, looking geeky and professorial, as he’d been when Kenzie had met him. “I checked out the shell casings from the sniper shooting too,” Gil said, “but forensics couldn’t find any useable fingerprints on them.” He closed up the envelope but left it on the coffee table.

  “So you don’t know who shot Serena, or who shot at us in the woods, or whether the two are connected?”

  “I do not. But I’m working on it.” Gil leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “What I do know about is that thing you were calling a griffin. Dr. Pat, the nice veterinarian, shared her findings with me, plus I studied some tissue samples. It’s an animal all right, but magic went into its making. That much was obvious.”

  Kenzie blinked and tried to look surprised. “Magic?”

  Most humans didn’t know anything about magic, or at least, not the real kind. There was magic deep inside Shifters, and in the Collars, and in the Guardian’s sword. None of it was stage-magician, make-things-disappear magic, but it was there, and it was powerful.

  “Yes, and I know you know what I mean.” Gil’s dark eyes held seriousness. “There is no way that creature could have lived, not in this world, without a boost of magic. Fae magic, I’m betting.”

  Kenzie got to her feet very fast. “What the hell do you know about Fae magic? Are you Fae?”

  Gil rose to meet her, looking offended. “Hell no, I’m not Fae. But I know about them. I know about the ley lines that run through this Shiftertown and all the way to where you found the thing dead. I’m a bit of a shaman, myself.” He contrived to sound modest.

  Shaman. So that was why he’d seemed off. Shamans were human, not Fae, thank the Goddess, but they were able to sense and use magic that was inherent in this world.

  “I see,” Kenzie said cautiously. “What does your shaman knowledge tell you about the creature?”

  “That it wasn’t born here. Poor thing. Probably bred and raised beyond a gate to Faerie and shoved through to be set on you. The questions are—by whom? And why?”

  “By the Fae.” Kenzie’s anger rose. “In their never-ceasing quest to kill off Shifters or enslave us again.”

  “No,” Gil surprised her by saying. “I’m not sure a Fae did this, or at least, had control of the beast on this side of the gate. The smell was wrong, and the tissue samples were definitely animal. But the Fae bred Shifters, right? This was the same kind of thing—breeding with magic thrown in. As though someone was trying to redo what the Fae did with Shifters, only making it bigger and stronger.”

  Kenzie felt ill. “Not anything I want to hear.”

  “I bet you don’t. But look on the bright side. It didn’t work. Bowman hurt it with the truck, sure, but the thing died of natural causes. Had heart failure, Dr. Pat thinks. Its body couldn’t sustain its size and broke down. Whoever bred it didn’t succeed.”

  “This time.” Kenzie’s blood grew cold. “What about next time?”

  “If we can find out who did it and stop them, there won’t be a next time.”

  “We hope.”

  Gil looked unworried, which was irritating of him. Then again, he wasn’t a Shifter, target of every Fae vendetta.

  He gestured her to the sofa again. “This isn’t all I came over to tell you, or I’d have waited until I knew Bowman would be here. I wanted to talk to you.”

  Kenzie let out a breath and resumed her seat. “What about?”

  Gil sat down again, facing her, his beer untouched on the coffee table. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask you about the mate bond.”

  Kenzie started. “The mate bond? Why?”

  “Is it true that a human can form one with a Shifter?”

  “Yes.” Kenzie’s heart beat faster. “I know several human
and Shifter couples who have it. The humans, after the mating ceremonies, get a dose of Fae magic to extend their lives to match Shifter lifespan. That’s from a treaty from the Shifter-Fae war. Fae are shits, but they honor treaties. A pride thing. Why?” She heard herself babbling, but Gil watching her closely with his warm eyes was making her nervous.

  “What does it feel like?”

  Kenzie swallowed, and her eyes stung. “I don’t know. Unfortunately.”

  “I heard you don’t have one with Bowman.” Gil leaned forward and touched her knee, a gesture not of sexual need, but of sympathy. Friendship. “I know it hurts you, and I understand why. I’m asking you this for an important reason.”

  Kenzie’s fingers moved restlessly, her throat hurting. “I hear that it’s a warmth in the chest, in the heart. There’s an answering warmth in the mate. That’s how it starts, but then you know. You know with your whole being.”

  “A warmth, here?” Gil pressed his closed fist to his heart. “You sure?”

  “As sure as I can be without feeling it myself.” Kenzie’s gaze went to Gil’s hand, her attention sharpening. “Why?”

  “Because I think I’m feeling it.” Gil dug his fist into his sweatshirt. “It’s there, and it won’t go away.”

  Kenzie rose abruptly. What was it about Gil that had her jumping up and down like a jack-in-the-box? “Maybe you have heartburn. You should go see a doctor.”

  Gil was up beside her. “I don’t, and you know it. Are you sure, Kenz, that you aren’t feeling it too?”

  He curled his other fist and pressed it to her chest, right between her breasts. Again, the touch wasn’t erotic or suggestive, but a gentle press, a friend helping a friend.

  The tingling in Kenzie’s heart she’d been trying to ignore blossomed into heat. Not sharp heat, but an agreeable warmth that tried to loosen and relax her.

  “No.” She jerked back in panic, breaking the contact. The tingling receded but didn’t go away. “You’re a shaman, you said. You’re tricking me.”

  Gil stepped close to her, and Kenzie found herself looking into the eyes of a very strong man, an alpha in his own right. He hid his power behind smiles and a self-deprecating manner, but it was there.