Mate Bond

  Manticore was the word that flashed through Kenzie’s head, but it didn’t matter what it was called. It was big, powerful, and very, very angry.

  The thing struck out, its flailing claws and tail catching walls, ceiling, doors, Shifters, Turner. Turner screamed as a huge paw smashed him in the stomach.

  “Whistle,” he yelled at Brigid, who came at him. “I control it with a whistle . . . !”

  “Do you mean this one?” Brigid straightened from Turner’s fallen body with a silver object in her hand. “What a pity. It appears to be broken.”

  Turner gasped as he scrambled up from the floor. “You stupid bitch!”

  He went for her. Cristian stepped in front of Brigid to protect her, then Bowman’s charge caught Turner, and they both went down.

  Kenzie, human again, shoved Ryan back inside the room with the booths, ignoring his “But, Mom!”

  Bowman was fighting Turner, but Bowman had been hit worse than Kenzie had. Though fiery pain seared her stomach, she could last long enough to get Turner. She snatched up the piece of rebar Bowman had dropped and ran to help.

  Bowman was all over Turner, and the monster beast was all over Graham, Reid, Pierce, Brigid, and Cristian. Help was barreling down the hall in the form of Jamie, Cade, Gil, and other trackers, but there wouldn’t be enough of them to stop it, Kenzie realized. She’d had twice as many Shifters fighting with her against the first monster, and they hadn’t been able to make a dent in that beast. Only Bowman’s quickness with the truck had saved them, and even then, the monster had chosen to run off. Or perhaps Turner had summoned it back with his whistle, now in pieces in Brigid’s hand.

  Bowman’s Collar was going off as he fought Turner, and that and his injuries slowed him. Turner took advantage and drove his Fae dirk blade under Bowman’s foreleg, deep into the fur and skin there.

  Bowman’s snarls turned murderous, but blood bubbled out of his mouth. Kenzie shrieked and smacked Turner with the rebar.

  Turner dropped, but the next moment, Kenzie was flying through the air, the beast batting her aside. The thing grabbed Bowman as well, tossing him the other way, its tail sending him sliding across the floor to slam into the cement wall. Bowman lay still a moment before he climbed unsteadily to his wolf feet, shook himself, and stumbled back toward Kenzie.

  The beast had Turner. Its claws ripped into him, spilling out blood, guts, bile. Turner screamed and screamed, alive and in agony. The sound burst into Kenzie’s skull, and even with all the horrible things Turner had done, Kenzie started to crawl to him, to help.

  Bowman reached him first. He shifted to human, got behind Turner, seized his head in his strong arms, and broke his neck.

  Turner fell dead at his feet. Bowman’s throat was lit up with his Collar, and the beast, deprived of its victim, attacked Bowman instead.

  * * *

  Bowman heard Kenzie shouting, but he was too busy to call out to reassure her. Giant arms came down to crush him, claws bigger than any Shifter grizzly’s raked across his stomach.

  Speaking of grizzlies, one filled the hall, Cade’s roar a match for the beast’s. Cade jumped onto the creature’s back, teeth and claws deadly, but he barely slowed the thing down.

  But there was Jamie, leaping with his cheetah’s speed. Cristian was darting in and out as wolf, Pierce came in with his sword, and Reid was fighting with twin iron-bladed knives. Brigid had retrieved Turner’s dirk and fought alongside Cristian, stabbing and dodging with incredible speed.

  Kenzie was hurt. Her body was covered with blood and mud, her face streaked with cuts. Her stomach was a mess of black blood, and the way she staggered told Bowman she wasn’t doing well.

  He wasn’t either. The beast came at him again, and Bowman fought with madness that kept him on his feet. The charm on the necklace Gil had given him flopped uselessly against his chest, below his crackling Collar.

  Where was Gil? Bowman distractedly saw that the man wasn’t fighting with them, but he was battling too hard to see what he was doing.

  No, there he was, supporting Kenzie, taking her out of the way of the fight. Kenzie leaned against the wall, her face paper white, too much blood on her skin.

  Bowman saw Gil stop a little way from the beast, hold up both hands, and start shouting in a strange, phlegm-clogged language.

  The beast stopped. Turned. Cade and Jamie fell from its back, as did the huge wolf that was Graham. The beast swung all the way around, its bizarre face moving as it sought Gil.

  Gil didn’t look happy to be skewered by that gaze, but he kept chanting, hands held high. The beast began swaying back and forth, following Gil’s voice as though mesmerized by it.

  Pierce took the opportunity to shove the Sword of the Guardian into the creature. Deep into it. Pierce’s hands remained around the hilt as he struggled to pull the blade out again.

  The beast blinked. It shook itself away from Gil, turned and caught Pierce with one giant fist, sending him flying, then fixed on Bowman again.

  Rage lit its eyes. It pulled the sword out of its side, raised it in clumsy paws, and plunged it toward Bowman. Bowman rolled to keep the sword from hitting his heart, but he felt the blade go into his abdomen and all the way through him, down into the floor.

  He lay there like an insect pinned to a board, blood running from his torn body. The beast roared and raised its fists to strike him again.

  Kenzie leapt up the monster’s arms as they came down, climbing it as though it were a giant, animated tree. She slammed onto its back, her strong legs clamping its sides.

  “Mom!” Ryan shouted to her from below, and tossed her the rebar she’d dropped.

  Kenzie raised the iron bar, her other hand locked around the creature’s head.

  “Stay the fuck away from my mate!” she yelled, and drove the bar straight through its throat.

  The beast roared. It thrashed, gurgled, sprayed blood, caught the others with its tail as they tried to get out of the way. Ryan sprinted back inside the lab, disappearing from the hall.

  Walls cracked. The steel door the beast had come out of bent from its hinges and fell to the floor with a loud clang.

  Kenzie was thrown off of the monster, landing on her back on the hard floor. Cristian grabbed her and hauled her out of the way. Bowman, stuck to the floor by the sword, could only thrust his arms over his face as the beast fell.

  It struck the ground with a wet slap, like a giant water balloon. Blood sprayed everywhere with a stink that made Bowman start to fade into unconsciousness.

  The great tail hit him, dislodging the sword and a good chunk of Bowman’s flesh with it. Bowman rolled, every movement torture, and rescued the sword before several thousand pounds of dead animal could smash into it.

  Bowman staggered to his feet, covered in his own blood and the beast’s, struggling to stay upright.

  “Here,” he said to Pierce, shoving the sword at him. “Go for the heart.”

  Pierce, his face so pale freckles Bowman never knew he had stood out on his skin, closed his hand around the hilt and moved to do his job.

  Bowman limped to Kenzie. Cristian held her in his lap, and Kenzie fought to breathe, blood trickling from her mouth. Ryan was with her, his small hands squeezing hers. “Mom,” he whispered.

  Bowman took her gently from Cristian, cradling the mate he’d loved from the first moment he’d looked at her. Kenzie’s eyes, the ones that had arrested him from across the crowded, cold gym, opened, warming when she saw him.

  “Did we get it?”

  “You nailed it, baby,” Bowman said. “We kicked its sorry ass.”

  “Good.” Kenzie smiled, the sexy, sly smile he adored. She touched her chest, over her heart, then put her hand on the center of his chest. “I feel it,” she whispered. “Do you?”

  A burning sensation seared him where she touched. Bowman went utterly still as wild hope flooded him. “Yeah.” He pressed his hand, covered with blood, over hers. “I feel it, right here.”

  “Good.” Kenzie smi
led again, looking so happy that Bowman’s whole body hurt. She reached out her other hand and pulled Ryan to them. “Good,” she repeated, then her grasp went slack, and she fell, limp, against Bowman’s chest.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Kenzie peeled open her eyes. She took a breath . . . and spent a long moment calming herself down from pain. Her body pounded, her side burned, and her legs felt as though someone had broken them and glued them back together.

  A quick downward check showed her lying in bed in a hospital gown, her bare legs free of any kind of splints, though bandages tightly wrapped her middle.

  She opened her mouth to call out. Ryan—was he all right? And Bowman? What had happened to everyone? Her last memory was falling against Bowman, safe and content in his arms, but he’d looked as bad as she felt.

  The only thing that came out of her throat was a groan. This was bad.

  Something rattled. “Kenz?”

  Her heart raced, which hurt, then settled into warmth. Bowman. She turned her head.

  Bowman was in the hospital bed next to hers, the two of them separated by a few feet of space. Above each of them were machines that beeped, and tubes snaked from bags on stands into their arms.

  The moment she saw Bowman and his stormy gray eyes, the quiet warmth behind her breastbone flamed into white-hot heat. It cleansed rather than hurt, humming like an electric current, filling the air with a clean scent like a breeze after a grueling storm. Kenzie gasped for breath, but found it flowing sweetly into her lungs, erasing the aches of the fight.

  Along with those hurts went the despair of long years of watching, wondering if she and Bowman would ever be complete.

  “Bowman,” she whispered.

  Bowman gazed back at her, the quiet joy in his eyes matching her own.

  She swallowed. “Ryan?”

  Bowman nodded, answering in a low voice. “Is fine.” He grinned, which turned up the warmth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “He looked after us while we lay on the floor in pools of blood. They cleaned him up, checked him out, and let him go home with Afina.”

  Kenzie sank back in relief, ready to bask in the new feeling of contentedness. And yet it was more than contentment. A vibration deep in her body promised good things to come.

  Bowman was here, whole. They were together. She thought about the way the two of them had shared thoughts during the danger in Turner’s lab, and excitement blossomed inside her.

  Then she blinked, as Bowman’s words clicked, one by one, into place. “Let Ryan go home? Who did? Where the heck are we?”

  Bowman’s smile grew. “Hospital. After you passed out, campus police and town police were all over us, but they were nice and brought us to the hospital instead of taking us to jail.”

  “Jail?” Kenzie asked in alarm. “They wanted to arrest us?”

  “They did arrest us.” Bowman lifted his left wrist, which was attached by a handcuff to his bed. That explained the rattling noise. “You were so far gone the doctors wouldn’t allow them to cuff you. They were afraid of circulation problems.” The look in his eyes showed her the worry that had caused him.

  “So after they patch us up, they’re taking us in?” Kenzie asked. “Who? You and me?”

  “Everyone. You should have heard what Cade called the officers who shock-sticked him into submission and shoved cuffs on him.”

  “Crap on a crutch,” Kenzie said indignantly. She, Bowman, and their Shifters had saved the day, kept a dangerous creature from escaping, and got rid of a man who was a sociopathic nutjob, and they’d been arrested. “So after this . . . we go to prison?”

  No. Kenzie needed to explore this new feeling, this connection with Bowman. She had to know . . .

  “Maybe not.” Bowman looked way too calm as he lay back on his pillows. Bandages wrapped his abdomen, but he’d either refused the hospital gown or slung it off. The thin sheet was draped over his lower body in a way that made Kenzie regret all the pain she was in. If they both felt better she could slip out of bed, climb over him, move the sheet, and . . .

  Not being able to jump her own mate made her restless. “Why not? What’s going on?”

  “Your uncle Cristian is busy explaining everything to the police. Brigid is helping him.” Bowman glanced around the room as though looking for listening devices, and spoke carefully. “Cristian is telling them how Turner contacted Brigid, an anthropology professor from Romania, begging for her help. How she phoned Cristian, a Shifter she knew, who rounded up a group of Shifters to help contain Turner’s experimental creature. Unfortunately, Turner was killed in the melee, but we managed to put the beast down. Which was still lying dead in the hallway. Pierce’s sword had no effect. The newspapers are having a field day.”

  “Oh.” Kenzie relaxed again. Uncle Cristian had a silver tongue; he was the best negotiator she’d ever met. The fact that Bowman lay here, confident, letting Cristian handle it, told her better than words that everything was going to be all right. They’d made it through another crazy week in Shiftertown.

  Kenzie reached for him. The movement took way too much effort, but Bowman stretched his hand toward her as far as he could in the cuff. Their fingers touched.

  The contact sparked all the way up Kenzie’s arm to her heart. Heat blossomed in her chest, and she swore she felt her wounds start to close.

  “The touch of a mate,” she said softy.

  Bowman’s smile warmed her again. “And maybe the mate bond?”

  Kenzie caressed Bowman’s blunt fingertips, loving their familiar roughness, his strength. “Do you think so?”

  “I felt you,” Bowman said, his smile dying. “When you were in the mists, when you were so far from me.” His Adam’s apple moved with a swallow. “I heard you calling out, in my dreams.”

  “I heard you.” Kenzie remembered the clammy touch of the mists, her fear, her anger, her need to be next to Bowman. Then she’d heard his voice, shouting her name.

  “And then we could talk to each other, in Turner’s lab,” Bowman said, his deep voice awakening every need inside her. “We could speak without words.”

  “Can you hear my thoughts now?” Kenzie asked.

  Bowman stilled a moment, then shook his head. “No. But it’s different now.”

  “I know,” Kenzie said softly.

  Their touching fingers brushed each other’s again, a tingle of warmth. Kenzie had expected an explosion of incredible emotion when she and Bowman finally found the mate bond, but this quiet awareness was no less intense.

  They were bound together. Bowman glanced from their caressing fingers to her face, and Kenzie caught the storm in his eyes.

  She wet her lips, longing to spring across the chasm that separated them and into his arms.

  “Is it real?” Bowman asked quietly.

  “It’s burning me all over,” Kenzie answered, her cheek pressed to her pillow as she locked her gaze with his. “What do you feel?”

  “Fire,” he said. “And love. The most incredible love for my hot, golden-eyed, kick-ass goddess of a mate. It hurts with every beat, but damn, it’s the best thing I’ve felt in my life.” Bowman’s look turned dark, a feral smile spreading across his face. “And I can’t stop thinking how amazingly sexy my mate looks in a hospital gown and nothing else.”

  Kenzie closed her fingers around his middle one, letting her fingertips dance suggestively. “If I could, I’d get out of this bed, pull down that sheet, take you in my mouth, and show you what I want to do when we get home.”

  “Yeah?” Bowman leaned down and licked across her fingertips, his tongue hot and wet. “And if I wasn’t handcuffed to the bed, and could actually move, I’d be pushing you back into that bed. Maybe turning you over, because that gown ties in the back. Wouldn’t even need to take it off you for what I have in mind.”

  “Mmm.” Kenzie flicked the tip of his tongue with her finger. “I’m starting to feel better.”

  “Touch of a mate,” Bowman said.

  “We’d heal mu
ch faster if we could touch each other all over,” Kenzie pointed out.

  “We should make them push our beds together.” Bowman’s eyes sparkled. “And see how much we can touch with me cuffed. Might be fun.”

  “Sure, challenge me, Bowman.” Kenzie gave him a saucy look as her heart cried out in gladness. “See what you get.”

  “Little devil.” He drew her finger into his mouth, suckling, and heat squeezed deep in Kenzie’s body.

  A cleared throat made her jump. Bowman’s teeth closed on her finger, not releasing her, as he shot an irritated glance at the intruder.

  “I’d tell you to get a room,” Gil said. “But . . .”

  Bowman pretended to ignore him, but Kenzie looked limply at the man. She was still angry with Gil, but too wrung out from the fight, and much too interested in reveling in the mate bond, to bother.

  “I see you two have finally figured it out,” Gil said.

  Bowman released Kenzie’s fingers and turned a growl on Gil. “I want to know why you’re the only one not chained to a bed,” he snapped.

  Gil shrugged. “I’m a police officer. I was investigating Turner’s activities and happened to be on the spot when everything went down.” He winked at Kenzie.

  “Shit.” Bowman sank back to his pillow, but he captured Kenzie’s fingers again and didn’t let go of her. The touch made Kenzie’s strength grow.

  Kenzie skewered Gil with her gaze. “How do you know about the mate bond? What was all that shit about me feeling it for you? I still want to gut you for that.”

  Gil approached their beds, and Kenzie wondered how she’d ever thought him simply a human cop. There was an ancient air about him, of a being who’d seen much, suffered much, and become wise instead of broken.

  “I don’t know,” he said, losing his smile. “I felt something, Kenz.” He pressed his hand to his chest. “I’d been feeling it for a while—a long time—seeking the other side of my heart, I guess. And the first time I saw you, I saw the mate bond in you.” He put his hand in the air between Kenzie and Bowman, near their joined hands. “Very faint, but it was there. When you sat in the patrol car with me, you almost glowed with it.”