Mate Claimed

CHAPTER TEN

Iona stared at her, this being the first time her mother had talked this much about the Shifter who was Iona’s father. “Why did you refuse him? If he was charming and handsome and irresistible, why?”

Penny looked evasive, her gaze straying to the cars filling up to head to the Bellagio for the reception. “It’s complicated.”

Iona tightened her hold on her mother’s hands. “Tell me. Please, Mom. It’s important that I know.”

Penny heaved a long sigh. “I didn’t go with him because I already knew your stepfather. Howard and I had…an understanding. We’d planned to finish college and then get married. I never thought I’d meet anyone who would make me betray him, but then I met Ross. I fell hard in love with him. I’d never felt like that before, and to be honest, I never have since.”

Iona had always known that Howard Duncan was her stepfather, but she’d grown up calling him Dad and loving him as much as she loved her mother. Howard had done all the dad things, like attending Iona’s soccer games, and teaching her to drive, and surprising her with a car on her eighteenth birthday. He hadn’t minded that Iona wasn’t his real daughter and was the child of a shapeshifter.

He’d loved Iona for herself, and that was all there was to it. Howard had been a wonderful man, and the family’s grief at his death had lasted a long time. They still grieved him.

“Mom, you can’t stand here and tell me you never loved Dad.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Penny flushed. “Of course I loved Howard. You know I did. What I had with Ross was different. But I knew I couldn’t give up my entire safe life to be with him. I was too scared and ashamed. I didn’t know at the time that I was pregnant with you. So I told Ross I could never be his mate.”

Iona imagined the Feline Shifter asking Penny to be his mate, looking at her like Eric looked at Iona. Intense, protective, compelling—telling her what would happen and willing it to be so.

“What did Ross do?” Iona asked softly.

“He took it hard. But in the end, he understood. He said he’d fooled himself thinking I’d go off with him.” Penny shrugged. “And then he disappeared. By the time I knew I was going to have you, I had no idea where to find him.”

Iona thought some more, processing this with the knowledge—or half knowledge—she’d grown up believing. “Mom, you didn’t marry Dad until I was five.”

Penny heaved another sigh, old regret in her eyes. “I know. I told Howard the truth, all of it, when I found out I was pregnant. I couldn’t lie to him. He was very, very angry—he had every right to be—and he went away. I thought it was over for good. I had you on my own and didn’t meet Howard again until five years after that.”

“I remember.” Iona recalled with precision, though she’d been such a small child, meeting Howard for the first time. She remembered how his kind eyes had widened when he’d looked at her, how he’d crouched down to hold out his hand to her.

She’d liked his blue eyes and his smile, how gentle he’d been with her. Howard and Penny had sat up well into the middle of the night talking, not only that first night, but many subsequent nights.

Finally, Iona had said, in front of both of them, “Mom, why don’t you and Howard get married? He could be my dad, and he wouldn’t have to drive home at three o’clock in the morning.”

Penny had been embarrassed, but Howard had said that Iona was very smart. A few months later, Penny and Howard had married, and a few years after that, Nicole had come along. They’d been one smiling, happy family.

One smiling, happy family with a daughter who had to turn into a panther every so often or go crazy.

“If you decide to go to Eric,” Penny was saying, releasing Iona’s hands, “I’ll understand.”

“I haven’t decided anything.” Iona took a step back. “I don’t want anything about what I am to blow back on you.”

“I can take care of myself, Iona.” Penny smiled. “Have for years.” She glanced again at the line of cars. “Nicole is waiting for you. It’s her day—let’s be happy for her.”

“Iona!” Nicole was shouting from the limousine. “Come on!”

“Go,” Penny said sternly.

Iona let out her breath and kissed her mother’s cheek, her emotions still swirling, and scurried away to pile into the back of the limo amid satin skirts and too many flowers.

The reception at the Bellagio was in one of the grand ballrooms. The food was good, and Iona caught herself taking helping after helping. Even Clay stared when the tray went by and Iona shoveled another ten canapés onto her plate.

She told herself she was upset by her mother’s revelations, trying to reconcile what she’d learned today by stuffing herself. But she knew that wasn’t quite true. She’d been hungry like this all week.

Nicole should be the one wanting to eat, with the baby. Iona wasn’t anywhere near pregnant, unless Shifters could be impregnated by kissing. And touching. Licking, biting…

She shivered and popped a canapé into her mouth, whole. No, Shifters made babies the usual way. She’d been shown that when she’d held Eric last night, the pulses of his seed spilling over her hands.

Shifters made babies—cubs—with sex. The mating frenzy, Eric had told her, shutting themselves away from the world and making love like crazy, not coming out for days.

Then what was the matter with her? Iona’s metabolism was burning up, and she was so hungry.

She polished off her canapés and grabbed another handful while Clay was giving his best man’s speech. After that was dancing. Iona had a tissue at her eyes for Nicole’s entire first dance with Tyler. Nicole was so beautiful, so happy. She even smelled happy, the scent of her perfume and excitement overlaid with the scent of her pregnancy.

Iona’s skin itched as she cried, and she had to force herself not to scratch. What the hell had Eric done to her?

Dancing helped a little. Iona did her obligatory dance with Clay, then she whirled around the floor with her friends, male and female, working off her restlessness. She hoped to exhaust herself so she could sleep tonight, but it didn’t work. She just got more hungry.

Finally, as twilight darkened the wide desert sky, Nicole and Tyler left for their honeymoon. Iona joined the throng behind the hotel, and Nicole threw her bouquet.

The bouquet of roses and baby’s breath flew up into the air, tumbled end over end, ribbons streaming, and landed right in Iona’s hands. She squeaked, jumped back, and dropped it.

Laughter echoed among her friends. “Don’t be afraid of it, Iona,” they said. “Take it, girl!” “You’re next, you know it.”

Iona picked up the bouquet with trembling hands, smoothing the ribbons. “I’ll keep this for you, Nikki.”

Nicole laughed, kissed Iona’s cheek, and waved good-bye. She was going. Off to Hawaii to lie on a beach, while Iona carried on without her.

One of Iona’s friends grabbed her hand. “Party time. Let’s go out to that Shifter bar, you remember it? The one where the Shifter guy tried to pick you up?”

Iona did remember her utter shock when Eric had sat down next to her that night. His presence had blown her away, and she hadn’t been the same since.

Iona disengaged her hand. “No thanks,” she said, as politely as she could. “I’m tired, and I need to look in on some work. You all have fun.”

They protested and cajoled, but in the end, they gave up. Iona was a pathetic workaholic, in their opinions, but they laughed when they said it. Iona gave the bouquet to the care of her mother, walked away from the celebration, got into her red pickup, and drove to the office.

The gate at the site was locked, but Iona had the keys with her. She unlocked the padlock, being careful about keeping dirt and grease off her pretty satin gown. She drove the truck through the gate, parked, and went back to lock the gate after herself.

The sun had gone, but floodlights lit the back of the site to prevent theft of costly equipment and supplies. The trailer office was dark and looked deserted, but Eric’s motorcycle was parked behind it.

Iona’s heart beat faster as she climbed the steps and opened the door.

Eric looked up from her desk. He’d taken off his coat and hung it on the chair and rolled up his sleeves, baring sinewy forearms. Iona drank in his male scent, fresh like the night.

The blueprints for the new Shifter houses were spread over the desk in front of him. The lack of light didn’t seem to bother him, but Eric was Shifter. He’d be able to see well in the dark.

He got up and came to Iona as she shut the door. Without speaking, Eric put callused hands on her elbows and ran his hands up her bare arms.

The itchiness eased, but a new hunger flared. Eric gathered her to him, tilted her head back, and kissed her. His tongue chased hers, his lips slow, savoring. The frenzy of last night was still there, but not quite the same. Iona tasted something a little different in him, though she wasn’t sure what.

Eric pressed his thumbs to the corners of her mouth, opening her to him. This kiss was warm, loving, taking its time. The Shifter called Ross must have kissed her mother like this—leisurely, confident, knowing he’d wooed a woman to him against her better judgment.

When Eric eased the kiss to its end, Iona nestled against his shirt, closing her eyes to hear the rapid beating of his heart.

“Why were you at the wedding?” she asked. “Someone might have seen you.”

“I didn’t want to miss a family ritual so important to you,” he answered, voice rumbling beneath her ear.

Why did that idea please her so much? “I’m happy for Nicole. Sad for me.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Eric smoothed her hair. “Humans make weddings about families going their separate ways. Shifter weddings are about drawing new family in.”

Drawing family in. That sounded so nice. Throughout Nicole’s childhood, Iona had protected her little sister as much as Nicole had protected her. Saying good-bye to Nicole tonight had been hard. No, not hard. Impossible.

But Nicole would be back, and Iona would surprise her with her remodeled house, and they’d visit each other all the time. All was not lost.

Right now, though, the good-bye felt like finality.

She drew back from Eric, liking the comfort of him too much. “How did you get in here? Everything’s locked up tight.”

“Because I’m good, sweetheart. Let me show you what I want you to do with the plans.”

He led her by the hand to the desk and turned on the light—for her benefit—and spread out the blueprints.

The houses the architect had designed were simple, nothing complex for Shifters. The basic house was a long rectangle, with a living room and kitchen taking up one end, and a hall leading to three bedrooms taking up the other. A bathroom nestled between bedrooms one and two. That was it.

“Simple is good,” Eric said. “We can do false walls in two of these closets that will open to steps down to the underground rooms.”

“Underground rooms? What underground rooms?”

Eric smiled up at her, his flash of teeth predatory. “That’s where the real Shifter houses are. Downstairs. We like burrows. Especially the bears. Sometimes, in deep winter, getting Shane and Brody to come out is a hell of a job.”

Iona didn’t laugh. “I’ve never heard of this.”

“It’s not something Shifters share. That’s why you tell no one.” He pinned her with a stare.

“Not tell my crew why they’re digging the foundation so deep? They’re not stupid or blind.”

“Shifters will do that work,” Eric said. “We’ll cover it up. We’ve done this before. Your job is to get an altered set of plans into the hands of your head builder and make him think there’s nothing wrong.”

He looked up at her, his eyes warming. Iona realized that she leaned over him, her bare arms and half-bare breasts about an inch from his face. Eric didn’t bother pretending not to look, his gaze sinful.

Iona stood up and rubbed her arms, the itch returning. “That’s all? Give him altered plans and make him think there’s nothing wrong with them?”

“I have Shifters who can redraw them for you. They’ll look legit. And the original, real plans will stay with the human committee and be public record.”

“The guys we hire aren’t stupid,” Iona said. “They’ll know something’s wrong.”

“Be persuasive. And their bank accounts will have some nice bonuses in them, far more money than the humans will pay.”

Iona thought about her foreman, who’d worked in Las Vegas, a city once run by criminal families, his entire life. If people wanted hidden rooms in their houses or hotels, he probably wouldn’t blink, nor would he bother to tell anyone about the sudden influx of money to his checking account.

“Shifters are going to come up with this money?” Iona asked. “You all lived in poverty in the wild and aren’t allowed to have high-paying jobs, right?”

“You let me worry about that,” Eric said.

“You’re seriously trusting me.”

“I have to. I have no choice.” Eric stood up. “Sit here. I’ll show you exactly what we need.”

Iona’s body kept flushing hot, then cold, like she had a fever, and she was hungry again. The finger food from the reception wasn’t cutting it. A gallon of beer wouldn’t go down too badly either.

Eric leaned over the plans, his torso close enough for her to lick. She wanted to lean into him, fasten her teeth in his shirt, maybe tear it to little shreds with her panther teeth to get to the man inside.

His gaze flicked to hers. “You paying attention?”

“Sure.” Iona licked her lips. “Sure.”

The hunger, the itching, the heat—she knew what it was. Need for Eric. She didn’t want a big, juicy burger; she wanted to devour him. If she rubbed herself all over him, that might soothe her burning skin, her boiling blood.

She reached out and covered his big hand with hers. It was so warm, so strong. Iona raised his hand to her lips and kissed his palm.

“Eric,” she whispered.

“I know,” Eric said, voice low. “I know—”

The door of the office slammed open and a large man Iona had never seen before barreled in. His dark hair was buzzed ultra short, his eyes were gray and glittering, and flame tattoos wound around muscular arms bared by a short-sleeved T-shirt and biker vest. A Collar hugged his neck, but even if he hadn’t worn one, everything about him, including his rife scent, screamed Shifter.

Eric was up from the desk and in front of him before Iona could rise or ask what hell he was doing there. The Shifter met Eric face-to-face, not even glancing at Iona.

“What are you doing here, Warden?”

“Get out,” Eric said.

“Fuck you. My trackers say you’ve been coming here and talking to the women who own this company. You sleeping with one of them? All of them, maybe? To get them to do what you want—and to help you screw over me and my wolves?”

Eric tried to force the other Shifter back out the door, but the big man wasn’t budging. “Is she one of them? Not bad. I get why—”

McNeil stopped, his eyes fixing on Iona and becoming white gray. He inhaled once, sharply. “Son of a bitch. She’s Shifter.”

Eric’s snarl rumbled through the trailer. He blocked the other Shifter with his body, his teeth becoming Shifter, lips pulling back from fangs.

McNeil’s eyes lit with feral fire. “Fair game,” he said, triumph in his voice.

Eric swung to Iona. His eyes were shining green, his pupils black slits. “Iona Duncan, I claim you as mate under the Goddess and before a witness.” He spoke rapidly, drowning out the growls of Graham McNeil, who was trying to get around him.

“I Challenge,” McNeil said.

The two Shifters faced each other again, both bulking large, barely containing their shift. McNeil’s hands grew coarse black hair, claws like thick needles sprouting from spread fingers. Both Shifters’ eyes were glittering, primal.

They weren’t men anymore—they never had been. The beasts of their true selves shone through, uncaring of human rules and restrictions, of anything civilized. They were males confronting each other over a very basic conflict—wanting a female.

Graham spoke, his voice guttural. “Name the time and place, Warden.”

“Fight club. Tomorrow night.”

“Done.”

They remained in place, neither giving way. Graham’s Collar sparked once, but Eric’s stayed silent.

Though they didn’t move, tension crackled between them. At any second, one might strike, and then the fight would be on. To the death.

Iona didn’t know how she knew this, but every nerve hummed it. She came around the desk and shoved her way between the two Shifters.

It was a scary place to be, but Iona put her back to Eric and glared up at Graham. “Get out. You’re trespassing. Go before I call security.”

Graham, as though he just now noticed that Iona stood in front of him, switched his gaze to her.

His eyes were terrible. McNeil’s irises had become very light gray, almost white, the red rage of his wolf glowing in the black of his pupils. His lips curled back from fangs, and his stare skewered her like a rabid dog’s on a rabbit.

Iona kept her head up and returned his gaze, somehow knowing that if she looked away, he’d crush her, even with Eric standing there. Graham growled low in his throat, and Eric gave him an answering growl.

Finally Graham moved his gaze from Iona to Eric. “Tomorrow night. Then I take her away from you.”

Eric said nothing. His enraged snarls filled the room, his body vibrating against Iona’s back.

Graham kept his gaze on Eric as he took three steps backward to the door, then he turned, contemptuously, and made his exit, slamming the door behind him. Iona heard his footfalls, the rattle of the fence, then a motorcycle started up and glided away.

Iona swung around. “Eric, what…?”

She stopped, her words dying. She’d never seen Eric like this, his eyes blank with rage, his body so tight that when he moved his head to look down at her, it was like he bent his neck on a stiff hinge.

“Get the blueprints,” he said, voice harsh and strange. “We’re going.”

“Going where?”

“Home,” Eric said. “My home. In Shiftertown.”